Plié and Clout

Chapter 59: Hockey Never Sleeps

you know, I love living in the united states (no the fuck i don't) my point is, we've completely eliminated the need for a second wave of covid!!!!! By keeping the first one going!!! anyway, my neighboring school district literally just cancelled school in the fall until further notice because these bitches are too stupid to put on a goddamn mask, like shut up karen and wear it, it'll cover up those nasty ass thin lips of yours anyway. it might make you more attractive, if that's possible. But fr, i cannot handle more online school. 

also did this mf get hacked???? like okay what are they gonna do with my boring ass info in the first place and in the second place what do I do to get them to stop. 

(hello and welcome to my wattpad account, hackers, I like hockey, cussing and steph sagamore)

-rabid

***

STEPH

She's gone when I wake up. That's about the only thing I register for the first fifteen seconds of being conscious. I roll over and swipe my arm across the sheets on one side, then the other, then move my legs around, hunting for her warmth. My only instinct is to cuddle back up into her and fall back asleep again.

But she's not here. At first my brain goes into a panic, wondering if what I remember from last night is even real, or if I just dreamt it up. But that's solved when I see out her bedroom window to the little alleyway visible from her room. I'm definitely here.

Then I start to worry that she's un-forgiven me. That I'm about to walk into the kitchen and see her sitting down with a mug of tea, ready to tell me to get the hell out.

I want to go back to sleep and hope she's back in bed with me when I wake up again, but it's light out and if she's out of bed, I've overstayed my welcome here.

So I sling my legs over the side and look for my hoodie that I dropped on the floor last night before gladly crawling into bed with her and crashing harder than ever.

I try to stand up, the sweatshirt is on the other side of the bed if I remember correctly, but my knee gives again, causing me to fall right back down again.

So it's going to be fussy today then, huh.

God, and I'm sore. I don't want to go to practice today, I don't at all.

But I have to, for the team. So I hold my kneecap and stand up, going lightly on that leg, hobbling to the other side of the room and putting on pants. Hopefully Jorgen won't notice, the second I get my blood pressure up enough the blood in the area will swell it back up enough so it doesn't hurt.

I pull the hoodie down over my chest , trying to ignore how my arms kinda feel like jello. 

Then, after hyping myself up a little bit, I push open the door and walk down the hall toward the kitchen.

Ah.

Oh.

Fuck me.

"Morning, Steph," she chirps at me from her position at the stove, cooking something that smells very similar to eggs.

I can't keep my eyes off her.

"Am I dead?" I croak.

Her sleeves are rolled up so they don't get in the way of the pan... Her legs are bare... Her hair is up in her usual morning style...

And that's definitely my name on her back.

"No?" She laughs, turning around to me, raising her eyebrows. "Why? Are you feeling alright?"