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“Hey, baby?” You called out for Logan as he walked into the kitchen. He was going to grab the popcorn from the microwave for you guys to finally watch the movie.
“Yeah!” Logan answered back, his voice echoing through the living room.
When he walked back, you offered a smile, pulling your legs under you so you could be more comfortable. The popcorn was put on the coffee table in front of you and Logan pressed play on the movie. “What's up?”
“Remember that midterm exam I missed because I was sick?” You asked and watched out for his expression to see if he did recall it. It happened last month, so you wouldn't blame your boyfriend for not remembering.
Logan nodded in response, scooting closer to you on the couch and grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Yeah, you had a really high fever—”
“Don't speak with your mouth full.” You chuckled, covering his mouth with a hand. He only rolled his eyes but finished eating it before speaking again.
“What about the exam? You said you'd try to talk to your professor to see if you could retake it, right?”
You hummed softly, brushing a few of his curls that had fallen on his eyes. The strands smoothing out with your touch.
“She said it was alright and that I could take it on the fifth.”
“Oh, that's great, baby.” His hand froze when he was about to take more popcorn to his mouth. “On the fifth, you say?”
You bit your cheek, waiting for it to land fully in his brain that you were going to miss a really important game for him.
“Yeah.”
“Of this month?”
“Unfortunately. It's the only day available.”
He nodded slowly but you could see the way disappointment flashed in his eyes before he said it was okay.
“I'll make it up to you after the game, I promise, okay?” You mumbled with your lips glued to his cheek. “You'll play great, I'm sure.”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
It was an unspoken agreement that you'd go to every hockey game you were able to to support your boyfriend. It wasn't at all something difficult because you happen to be very interested in it.
Logan visibly brightened whenever he would see you from the ice. You'd wave back and that was the interaction you'd share until the match was over.
You weren't a couple big on PDA. You guys liked to keep things private and enjoyed being in your own little world whenever you had the chance.
So you had never worn his jersey that displayed his number during a game before.
But your plan had worked and he bought the exam thing really quick. You felt guilty seeing his face turn sad but it would be for a good cause. You wanted to see his reaction when he saw you were wearing his number; you wanted it to be a boost for him to win.
“Did he see you?” Hannah asked you, a giddy smile on her face.
“Not yet.” You chuckled at her excitement.
A twinge of that guilt flared up again in your chest. Remembering how his eyes had dropped, trying to hide his disappointment when you told him you couldn't make the biggest game of the season, made you want to run down to the sidelines and hug him right then. He had tried so hard to be supportive, telling you to ”go crush it” and that he'd play his heart out for you anyway.
You pulled the oversized fabric tighter around yourself, the familiar scent of his laundry detergent offering a little comfort.
“Go, Logan!” You yelled at the top of your lungs and quickly felt your face warm up in embarrassment.
The shout left your throat before you could overthink it, sounding incredibly loud even against the ambient roar of the stadium crowd.
For a split second, you wanted the stadium steps to open up and swallow you whole. Hannah let out a delighted giggle next to you, watching the field with wide eyes.
At the sound of his name, Logan’s head snapped up. His eyes scanned the front rows of the bleachers, looking a little dazed, until they locked squarely on you.
He thought he was imagining things. That couldn't be your voice, right? You were doing an important test. You wouldn't come tonight—No. No, that was definitely you.
What?
His brain trying to process why you were standing in the stands instead of trapped in a lecture hall taking an exam. Then, his eyes dropped to the oversized jersey engulfing your torso, recognizing the bright, bold numbers stretched across your chest.
His entire posture changed. The serious stance was replaced by a large, breathtaking smile that crinkled the corners of his big brown eyes.
“Oh, man.” Dean whistled when he saw Logan almost willingly to leave the rink.
Garrett and Tucker nudged Logan with playful grins in their faces.
“An exam, huh?” Logan called up over the noise of the arena, stopping right at the boards. He looked up at you, his large brown eyes bright with a mixture of sheer disbelief and pure affection. "You completely played me!”
“Love you!” You yelled back and sat back down beside Hannah, practically hiding your whole body behind her as she laughed.
When you finally looked down at the rink again, your eyes meeting his, Logan raised his hand and tapped his fingers right over the Briar crest on his own jersey—right where his heart was beating a mile a minute.
I love you too.
By the third period, the game was grueling. Everyone was sharing the same feeling, at the edge of their seats expecting a win for Briar Hawks.
With less than two minutes left on the clock, the match was tied. But Logan was Logan and he was the element of surprise. With a brilliant move, he dragged the puck between his own legs, leaving the defenseman stumbling through thin air. The goalie’s instincts weren't sharp enough. With a brutal, flick-of-the-wrist snap shot, he made the puck go straight into the net.
The crowd went absolutely wild. Thousands of people jumped into the air, screaming and spilling drinks. The student section went completely feral, banging frantically against the glass.
Tucker, Garrett, and Dean swarmed him in a group hug, lifting him nearly off his skates. But he didn't stay long with them to celebrate. Logan broke away from the celebration just long enough to look directly at you, chest heaving as he breathed heavily, his strands dripping with sweat on his forehead.
Once he finally caught your eye, he smiled and you thought his lips would split at some point. He ran toward the glass and jumped on the boards, calling out for you. You threw yourself down the steps to the very front row, leaning over the cold metal railing.
Your boyfriend dropped his stick onto the ice, his chest heaving as he stood on the ledge of the boards, hauling himself up just high enough to bridge the gap between the rink and the stands.
“You came,” he breathed out against your ear, his voice rough and full of emotion. “You're really here.”
When you pulled back just enough to look at him, that massive, brilliant smile was still splitting his face, his big brown eyes shining with pure happiness.
Before he could say another word, you leaned down and kissed him.
“I wouldn't miss it for anything, less alone for a stupid test.”
One of his heavy hockey gloves came up to gently cup the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, entirely uncaring that his teammates were down on the ice wolf-whistling and catcalling them at the top of their lungs.
Suddenly the no-PDA unspoken rule was completely thrown off the table and none of you could care less.