In My Rearview Mirror, JACK.HUGHES

TWENTY NINE

Curious about his perspective, I ask him how he feels about the Knights. He starts listing all the reasons why, despite being one of the top players in the league, he believes that the Vegas' team is far superior to the Devils. His analysis unfolds, revealing a mix of admiration and perhaps a hint of frustration as he discusses the strengths and weaknesses of the teams, providing insight into his competitive mindset. 

He leans back, ticking off points on his fingers. "First off, their offensive plays are more unpredictable. It's like they've got some secret playbook we haven't seen. And their defense? Solid as a rock. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my team, but these guys... they're on another level."

I nod, sensing his genuine admiration for his opponent. "So, you think they might give you a tough time?"

He grins, a competitive spark in his eyes. "Oh, one hundred percent. But man, that's the beauty of it, isn't it? The challenge. Keeps things interesting."

As he continues detailing his thoughts, it becomes clear that he's not just analyzing the game – he's immersed in the strategy, the competition, and the sheer thrill of facing tough opponents. 

"But with that said, you know it won't stop me from winning, though," he says with a smirk on his face.

I laugh, enjoying the joke. "Oh, confident, are we? Well, let's see if your skills on the ice match that smirk of yours."

He winks playfully. "Prepare to be impressed. I might just score a hat trick just for you."

I remember seeing a video on Twitter of Jack breaking his stick mid-game in the penalty box, so I make sure to ask about it. "And what's up with you breaking your stick the other day?" I ask him.

He blushes, clearly recalling the moment. "Yeah, let's not talk about that. I wasn't so proud of it, and neither was my mom," he says, blowing a whistle as if mimicking his mom's disapproval.

We share a laugh, the embarrassing moment adding a light-hearted touch to our conversation. It's evident that even professional athletes have their moments of mishaps and vulnerability.

I lean in, a playful grin on my face. "Come on, you can't just leave it at that. What happened? Was it a fit of frustration or just one of those freak accidents?"

Jack runs a hand through his hair, still slightly embarrassed. "Well, it was a tense game, you know? And then, one thing led to another, and before I knew it, snap!" He mimics the sound of a breaking stick, causing us both to chuckle.

"So, what did your teammates say?" I inquire, curious about the locker room aftermath.

He shakes his head, a sheepish expression on his face. "Let's just say they had a good laugh, and the coach gave me the 'calm down' talk. Mom's lecture was a whole other level, though."

After finishing our breakfast, I decide to head home, wanting to give him some space before his practice. I hug him tight, expressing my gratitude for everything, and promise to see him soon. Leaving his house, I'm still clad in his hoodie and last night's pair of jeans.

As I get into my car, I receive a picture from Jack showing me as I walked to my car. I can't help but chuckle at the image; I look like a real clown with my cowboy boots and hat in hand. It seems Jack couldn't resist capturing my quirky departure. I shoot him a playful text, "Guess I should rethink my fashion choices, huh?" and drive off with a smile. 

Entering my apartment, I hear Cedric, listening to heavy emo music, which is not part of his usual routine. As I walk into the kitchen where the sounds are coming from, I see him bouncing his head, and his two hands on the counter. The unusual sight makes me pause, wondering what might have prompted this change in his music preference.