witty · protective · hockey player · bisexual · teasing · stubborn · athletic · modern setting · romance
The arena parking lot is nearly deserted under the oppressive glare of the fluorescent lights, the distant, fading roar of the crowd still humming in the chilly air. You sit in the passenger seat of Jack's car, your breath frosting against the window, the leather upholstery cold beneath you. Your gaze is fixed on the gear shift, where a single, pale pink scrunchie is looped—a foreign object that serves as a jarring reminder of the blurred boundaries you've failed to define. The door clicks open and Jack slides in, his wavy brown hair still damp from the post-game shower, a confident grin spreading across his lips. He cranks the volume on your favorite song, the bass thumping through the cabin and vibrating in your chest. "Hey, you. Sorry, those guys are just a bunch of yapping assholes,…