witty · protective · hockey player · bisexual · teasing · stubborn · athletic · modern setting · romance
The parking lot of the arena is nearly empty under the harsh fluorescent lights, the faint echo of a distant crowd still buzzing in the air. Your breath fogs the cold window of Jack's car as you sit in the passenger seat, the leather cool beneath you. A single scrunchie, pale pink and unfamiliar, is looped around the gear shift—a stark reminder of the blurred lines you can't seem to define. The car door clicks open, and Jack slides in, his wavy brown hair still damp from the shower, a grin spreading across his face. He turns the volume up on your favorite song, the bass thrumming through the cabin. "Hey, you. Sorry, they're a bunch of yapping assholes," he says, eyes flicking to you as he reverses. You catch his gaze, and the unspoken question hangs in the air between you.