Jack's pov
"Good game, honestly. Two goals in the last period. Very impressive, dude," Vince Dunn pats me on the back as I put on a smile. "Thanks, bud," I reply, appreciating the compliment, and sling my hockey bag over my shoulder.
Fist-bumping my teammates, I exit the locker room leaving my my hockey gear behind. The victory brings a sense of relief, especially considering it was a close game; winning by just one point. I can't help but feel a bit humbled, acknowledging how close Trevor came to winning. Despite having taken a shower at the rink, the anticipation of another one in the hotel room fills me with excitement.
We've decided to celebrate the victory with a night out at a sports bar organized by both teams. I look forward to joining my friends and teammates.
"Yo Z!" I shout at my friend at the end of the hallway. He greets me with a casual finger gesture. "Come on, baby, it wasn't even a real game eh," I grunt. "Fair enough. Are you coming tonight?" he asks.
"Yeah, why not. Are you?" I inquire. He nods, and together we exit the building. Thoughts of Morgan cross my mind, wondering if she'll be there with her little boyfriend. Earlier in the locker room, I overheard him expressing excitement about spending the night with her, referring to her as his "little cutie pie." The guy tends to keep to himself, not the most extroverted type, and prefers solitude.
Two buses are parked, one for team A and the other for team B. I head towards my bus, exchanging a wave with Trevor as he boards his. "Hughes supremacy!" Two of my teammates scream, showcasing team spirit, and I shake my head in a mix of amusement and discouragement.
Climbing the little stairs, I find an empty row, settling in.
Schneider enters the bus shortly after me. I follow his movements with a sidelong glance, predicting his choice of seating. True to form, he opts for the row next to mine. In an effort to avoid any unnecessary conversation, I turn my attention to the window, the passing scenery outside offering a distraction. However, Schneider beats me to it.
"Close call back there, huh?" he says, breaking the silence. I nod, acknowledging the intensity of the game we just played.
"So, how is it like to be a legend like you, Jack?" he jokes, and I furrow my eyebrows, unsure if it's meant as a compliment or not. "What do you mean? I guess I've always been like this," I respond quickly, my words a hasty attempt to deflect the attention.
I glance back at my phone, noticing a congratulatory message from my mom. I take a moment to respond to her and acknowledge other messages as the bus travels towards the hotel.
"Just saying, being a legend must be a heavy burden," he teases, clearly trying to make me his new friend.
I shoot him a cold look, "I thrive on winning, Schneider. Something you might want to try sometime," I retort, my tone cutting through the tension.
The weight of my own words lingers, and a subtle realization dawns on me – my role as assistant captain should have tempered my response.
Sensing the need to diffuse the situation before it escalates further, I force a half-smile and try to lighten the mood. "It was a joke, Schneider," I lie, attempting to backtrack and shift the tension.
As the bus door opens upon arrival, I rise from my seat and conduct a quick check to ensure I haven't left anything behind. Waving my hand to signal Braden to go ahead of me, he complies, and I follow suit.
As we walk into the hotel lobby, my eyes catch Morgan with her new friends waiting, though not for me. Opting to wait by the elevator as it descends, I notice the blonde-haired girl who shared my room the previous night. Memories of our shared experiences flood my thoughts, making my heart race momentarily.
She approaches Braden, congratulates him on the victory, and seals it with a rather intense kiss. Even her "non-boyfriend" looks taken aback, a silent confirmation that their relationship might be more complicated than it initially seemed.
Observing Morgan's enthusiastic congratulations to Braden, a wave of annoyance washes over me. In my eyes, he shouldn't be receiving hugs; I've had to bail him out multiple times during the game. I can't stand his perpetually positive attitude, and in my book, he doesn't really know how to play. He embodies the type of person I find insufferable.
People often label me as having a bit of an attitude, deeming me arrogant. However, it's not about arrogance; it's about a lack of trust. Rule number one: never let them know your next move. This philosophy has served me well in the world of hockey
Before stepping in to potentially diffuse the situation, I catch Eva's gaze. Her intrigued expression suggests she may suspect something beneath the surface. I give her a curt nod before entering the elevator.
After stepping into my room, I waste no time jumping into the shower and changing into a casual outfit. Opting for a black Yankees cap paired with a royal blue hoodie and black jeans, I opt for a laid-back yet stylish look. Taking a quick five minutes to browse my Twitter feed, I notice several people spotted us at the bar yesterday, but it's nothing new—I'm used to the attention.
Morgan posted a picture in her instagram story, and I can't help myself but to look at it for a couple of minutes, contemplating her happiness. The image captured a moment of celebration, surrounded by friends.
Sending a couple of snaps in the group chat, I grab my coat and use my phone to locate the restaurant for the evening.
I knew the restaurant was close to the hotel, but I didn't realize it was just on the other side of the street. Upon entering, I spot a few of my teammates and players from the other team who decided to join us. we've managed to occupy half of the restaurant's capacity.
I exchange greetings with a couple of guys, engaging in fist bumps.
We share jokes and discuss tonight's game, reflecting on how it played out. "Yes, we're going home tomorrow too," Bedard remarks, gesturing towards his real-life teammate, Alex Vlasic. I reminisce about the times when Alex and I played together on Team USA, but it's been a while since we've caught up. I seize the opportunity to reconnect with him. This is one of the aspects I appreciate about NHL events — the chance to meet new people and catch up with old friends.
I order myself a beer and, as I wait for it, I notice Braden Schneider entering the restaurant. However, there's no sign of Morgan, which makes me yawn in boredom. Usually, wherever he goes, she goes. I don't spot her, but I do see Trevor following him. In an attempt to appear taller, I get up from the bar, even though I'm already like five eleven.
Everyone around me seems thrilled to see Braden, except for me. "God, I had to twist his arm for him to come," Trevor grumbles as he signals to the barmaid to order a beer. I release a mirthless chuckle before taking a sip of my own. "Nobody twisted yours to do that. He could've stayed in his room. Can't stand him," I mutter, my disdain for Braden evident.
Trevor furrows his eyebrows, shooting me a side-eye as we observe Braden introducing himself to others. "What's wrong with you, Jack? You've been weird. Usually, you're not that serious." He's right—I'm usually not this reserved. Lately, I've been feeling under the weather, but my pride prevents me from admitting it.
You're the one who's weird, Z, let it go," I dismiss, flashing his biggest smile as the barmaid places his beer on the counter. However, the subject doesn't fade. "You're just mad because this guy has the girl that you want," he proclaims mercilessly. My face relaxes, and I purposely avoid looking his way.
"Stop assuming things. You don't know what you're talking about," I retort, my patience wearing thin. "Maybe you should leave her alone like you wanted first. Let her live alone—" Trevor pauses to take another sip of his beer before he continues, "Hate to be the bad guy, but don't you think that you've already hurt her enough," he chuckles, but I find nothing amusing about it.
A cold breeze sweeps in as someone enters. I glance over and realize it's Morgan with her new friends. They're engrossed in laughter over something on their phones, and all I can think about is how gorgeous her laugh is.
"Fuck off, Z. I'm honestly not thinking about her. If she's happy, then I'm happy. You're right, I'll leave her alone," I assert, my eyes still following her as she walks toward Braden. My jaw clenches when I notice the boy's hands sliding down to the bottom of her back, stopping his path at her ass. "Yeah right, that's why you can't stop staring at her," Trevor chides, rolling his eyes backward in exasperation.
The realization that Morgan has moved on hits me like a punch to the gut, a sensation I hadn't prepared for. The image of her with someone else, especially someone like Braden, stirs an unsettling blend of jealousy and regret. I take a deep breath, attempting to regain control of my emotions.
I guess I hate to think that I was just her type.
Trevor is getting on my nerves tonight, but I recognize that he's just trying to rationalize with me because he can read me like an open book. I can't be mad at him; he's my best friend, and I know the last thing he wants to do is hurt me. I push back a little, giving him a soft smile to signal that we can move on and laugh it off. Tilting his head backward, he lets out a laugh.
We transition back to a casual conversation, discussing our future plans for the next year. I never get bored with this guy; he's the funniest person I know. Even if you try to make him stop talking, he won't.
"I'll take another one," I say to the barmaid. "I'll take one too," a girl's voice on my left side chimes in. I don't even need to look to know it's Morgan.
"You don't even drink beer, eh?" I comment kindly, turning my head to her.
"And I think that you don't know anything about me," she replies, pointing at my arm with a soft smile. I turn my head back, realizing Trevor is gone, and scan the room for him.
"Oh, your little puppy is gone," Morgan jokes. "Oh, thank you so much," she exclaims to the barmaid, who hands us our beers. Morgan adds a bit of salt to hers, and when she takes her first sip, she moans in delight.
"Wow, that looked like it was much needed," I chortle, and she nods in agreement. "You were fun to watch tonight," she teases before taking another sip.
"Oh, yeah, really?" I smirk at her, and she nods again, biting her bottom lip. My cheeks turn red, and I quickly glance around, searching for any sign of Braden.
"Don't flatter yourself, I'm just trying to be nice," she catches me off guard with her comment. I respond with a dry "okay" and shift my attention to my phone, trying to appear uninterested. I don't want to give her the wrong impression by giving her too much attention.
"Am I boring?" she asks, pouting her lips.
"No, not at all. I just think that we shouldn't be talking right now," I gesture with my head towards Schneider sitting across the room. She looks over and grunts before adding, "That doesn't mean we can't be friends." She blinks several times, waiting for me to answer.
"Does he know?" I ask her seriously. "Know what? That we... you know," she says too loudly for my liking. My eyes widen, and I glance around to make sure nobody heard her. "Jeez, no. We are ex's," I whisper to her. She takes one last sip of her beer. "Nope!" she answers.
She smirks and nudges my shoulder playfully. "Relax, Jack. It's our little secret." She gets up from the barstool, tossing her hair back with a mischievous grin. "Besides, it's not like anything serious happened between us."
I can't help but chuckle at the way she downplays our history. "You've got a unique way of defining 'nothing serious,'" I retort, a hint of amusement in my tone.
I notice her legs softening as she leans on the bar, with her hand on her heart, she shakes her head before looking back at me with a drunk smile and tiny eyes. She appears a bit disoriented as she glances around, and a sense of concern starts to creep in. By the way she's acting, I can tell that the beer she just had wasn't her first drink of the night.
"Are you alright?" I gasp as I steady her to prevent her from falling. I scan the area, searching for help, but neither Trevor nor Eva is in sight. She manages to get up on her own, attempting to pull me away. "Yes, I'm fine," she mumbles off.
Concern deepens in my eyes as I realize she might have had more than she can handle. "Morgan, you don't seem fine. Maybe you should sit down for a bit," I suggest, my voice reflecting a mix of worry and care.
She sways slightly but dismisses my concern with a wave of her hand. "I'm good, Jack. Let's just keep the night going," she slurs, her words losing a bit of coherence.
"You really should slow down," I advise, my concern etched across my face.
She waves off my suggestion, insisting that she's fine. As I try to comprehend the situation, I realize how little I know about her current state of mind and what might have led to this level of intoxication.
"Seriously, Morgan, you've had enough. Let me get you some water."
"I'm not a child, Jack. I can handle my drinks. Besides, I don't need you babysitting me."
I lean back, studying her face for any signs of clarity. "I'm not trying to babysit you, Morgan. I just want to make sure you're okay. This isn't like you."
She rolls her eyes and scoffs, "Oh, please. You don't know anything about me."
"Well, maybe I'd like to," I retort, my concern mixed with a genuine desire to understand what might be bothering her. "What's going on, Morgan?"
I pay an exorbitant price for a water bottle from the bartender, silently lamenting the absurdity of charging for something so essential. Trying to keep a low profile, I lead Morgan to a more secluded area, away from the prying eyes of the crowded bar. It's not lost on me that she might wake up with a sense of embarrassment tomorrow, but for now, my priority is helping her regain composure.
I recall a summer night in 2020, a time when everyone sought solace from the collective gloom of the pandemic. Quinn, my proud big brother, witnessed my behavior as we shared our emotions with friends. However, my mother's anger the next morning, discovering me sprawled in the garden after inadvertently crushing her tomato plant, is etched in my memory. From a distance, our garden looked splendid, but up close, it bore the scars of our revelry.
Ignoring Morgan's refusal to drink water, I decide it's time to take her back to the hotel. As I gently guide her, her hand behind my neck, I can't help but feel a twinge of discomfort, aware of the potential misinterpretation from a distance. The icy wind outside the bar makes my eyes water, creating a blurred vision.
Trevor appear and gives a sympathetic nod, understanding the predicament. "Need any help getting her back?"
I appreciate his offer, but I decline, "No, I've got it. Just need to get her warmed up and sobered."
As we trudge through the cold, Morgan mumbles something unintelligible, her head nestled against my chest. Trevor walks alongside us, his hoodie providing a makeshift blanket for Morgan's legs.
"You sure she's going to be okay?" Trevor asks, glancing at Morgan with genuine concern.
"I hope so. She just needs to rest it off," I reply, a touch of uncertainty in my voice.
Trevor pats my back, offering support. "Let me know if you need anything, man. I'll catch up with you later."
"Hey, what are you doing?" Braden's voice echoes as he runs after us. I choose to ignore his question, but Trevor steps in, explaining that Morgan wasn't in a condition to stay.
"Maybe this wouldn't happen if you were taking care of your girlfriend." My frustration with the situation bubbles to the surface, fueled by my protective instincts.
Morgan, still draped against my chest, quickly corrects me, stating that she's not Braden's girlfriend. Trevor intervenes, urging her to save the conversation for later, but she responds with a tipsy giggle.
Braden scowls, his frustration evident. "She's not my girlfriend, Jack. And why the hell are you taking her? Let me handle it."
Trevor interjects, attempting to diffuse the brewing tension. "Jack's just making sure she gets back safely. No need to make a big deal out of it."
Morgan chimes in with a lighthearted tone, "Yeah, Jack's my knight in shining armor tonight. Thanks for the rescue!"
Braden crosses his arms, still annoyed. "This is ridiculous. You want to handle, then fucking handle it"
Braden's retreat towards the restaurant suggests a mix of embarrassment and perhaps realization. Trevor and I exchange a glance, eyebrows raised in shared confusion. If the roles were reversed, I know I wouldn't tolerate anyone touching my girlfriend the way I do. Ever.
Trevor breaks the silence with a low whistle. "Well, that got awkward real quick."
I shake my head, still processing the unexpected encounter. "Yeah, didn't see that coming."
Morgan, still slung over my shoulder, chimes in with a tipsy giggle. "Boys and their egos, huh? Classic."
As the elevator ascends, Trevor continues the conversation, "You know, Morgan doesn't seem to be indifferent either. I mean, she's obviously comfortable around you."
I glance down at Morgan, who's now asleep. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean anything. We're just friends, and tonight was a mess."
Trevor smirks, "Friends who end up in each other's beds sometimes?"
I roll my eyes, "It's not like that, Z. We've got history, like I said. But it doesn't mean we're getting back together. We both moved on."
...
Once in my room, Trevor and I carefully lay Morgan on my bed, hoping that she'll sleep until tomorrow. I prepare a glass of water and place it on the nightstand beside her. It's weird to think that two nights in a row I'll be sleeping on the couch.
After 30 minutes of sleep, Morgan wakes up feeling unwell, prompting her to rush to the bathroom. I'm not sure what got to her, but it's evident that she doesn't know how to drink with moderation. I can't help but feel a tinge of sadness for her; if she resorts to this, there must be a reason why.
Trevor glances at me, concern etched on his face. "You think she's okay?"
I nod, though my worry is palpable. "She'll be fine. Probably just needs to get it out of her system."
I crouch down beside her, maintaining a respectful distance. "You alright?" I ask gently, avoiding any tone that might sound judgmental.
Morgan looks up, her eyes reflecting a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. "Yeah, just... too much, I guess."
I pass her a tissue, and she manages a weak smile. "It happens to the best of us," I offer, trying to ease the tension. "Let's get you back to bed, and you can rest."
"No, please, I want to stay here, next to the toilet," she begs me. I accept, understanding that her comfort is a priority at this moment.
"What is this." I hear the two accomplices in my bed as I'm putting a wet towel on Morgan's forehead who's past asleep next to the toilet. "Is that a..." gasps Eva. From the bathroom I can see their reflection in the mirror and my heart drop immediately when I see Eva removes a black lace from my bedsheets .
I remember taking it off from Morgan's body last night and throwing them on our side. I assumed that she had taken them back. I jump on the bed to snatch them from her hands. Trevor and Eva laughing at me and they ask me whos lace is this. Instead of answering this question I chase them out of my room.
Eva rejoined us earlier to keep us company. She said that she wasn't surprise that Morgan was waisted because she apparently drowned herself in champagne earlier. "Thank you for your help, she'll be fine" I say before closing the door behind them.
...
Hey, everyone! I hope you had a fantastic weekend!
I don't usually share things from Jack's perspective, but do you enjoy it when I do?
Much love, xxx.