Wren: What do I wear?
I roll my eyes with a laugh and shoot back a message.
Me: Literally anything.
Me: I’m coming to get u in five mins.
She’s been freaking out over this for the last week, obsessing over an outfit. Hockey games at NU are the highlight of the week. We always get a full house even when the games are just friendly. Everyone loves the atmosphere, the rush and the energy that radiates off the players. I can’t wait to get myself back out there. As Coach doesn’t forget to remind us ‘It's what you do before the season starts that makes a champion.’
Coach has been checking in to see how I’m doing, and he told me that he’ll let me know as soon as he thinks I’m ready to play again. Wren has been easing me into getting back on the ice in my full gear but it’s a lot harder than I thought. Each time I step out there and I see the nets, I freeze up. I’m going to have to get there eventually. I'm going to need to put in Wren's dad's advice about playing when I finally get back onto the ice.
I need to.
For carter.
I drive the distance from my house to Wren’s apartment in a few minutes, trying not to miss the start of the game. I can only hope that if I drive, it can give us an excuse to go somewhere afterwards instead of driving straight home. I get to her door and knock twice before Kennedy opens it. A wide grin splits on her face and she lets me in.
“She’s through there,” she says pointing down the hallway. I look down the hall and then back to her. “When you hear frustrated groans, you’ll know which one it is.”
I wait for a second before following her directions. I don’t know why I’m so anxious to go to her room. I’ve spent a few nights here, as part of our contract to take late night photos but I’ve only ventured in the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. I usually come over late, after she’s finished practice and we hang out for a bit and take a few photos. I pull out the couch and I go to bed. It’s that easy. Most times, she’s gone to practice before I wake up. Sure enough, I hear frustrated grunts coming from one of the rooms and I knock on the door.
“Wren?” I ask wearily. “It’s me. Miles.”
“Yes, I know what your voice sounds likeMilesy,” she sighs sarcastically. “Open the door.”
Entering her room is like looking straight into her brain. A chaotic, beautiful mess.
The white walls are covered in music posters, figure skating posters and pictures of her and her friends. A shelf is covered from top to bottom in trophies, medals, and certificates. I don’t know why I’m surprised because I knew she was good but fuck. There is almost not room for anything else on the shelves.
A dressing table in the corner holds a vinyl player and a stack of Taylor Swift records next to it. And best of all, Wren is sat in the middle of the floor, surrounded by thousands of clothes in a sports bra and leggings. She looks up at me and her face drops in exhaustion.
“You’re going to have to leave me here. I’m not going,” she groans melodramatically. I crouch down in front of her and tilt my head to the side.
“Yeah, you are. I got you a present,” I say cheerfully, holding out my cap and my NU Bear’s hockey number seven jersey. She looks at them and then at me.
“Do you know how tacky it is for me to wear your jersey?”
“Well, who else’s jersey would you wear? If you’re gonna wear a jersey it needs to have my name and number on it. I’m not let anyone else thinking you’re someone else’s,” I challenge.Okay, maybe I do have a jealous side. Her mouth tilts into a grin, probably considering teasing me on it but I speak before she can. “Plus, it makes you look like you care and that we’re in a committed relationship.”
She groans before grabbing my shirt out of my hand and standing up out of her heap. She pulls she shirt over her head and looks in her full-length mirror. Naturally, the jersey hangs loose on her and falls halfway down her thighs. I stand behind her and put my hands on her shoulders. Wren looks at herself in the mirror, slightly unimpressed.
I love that she has my name written on her back. Believe it or not, I have never given another girl my jersey. Emily was never bothered but with other people I've dated, they get so territorial about it but I don't have to worry about it with her.
“See, you look fabulous,” I gush, smiling. She shakes her head and turns to me, my hands still on her shoulders.
“I look like I’m dating a hockey player,” she says before a horrified expression takes over her face. “Oh my God. I’mdatinga hockey player.”
I laugh hard while her jaw hangs open. I put my cap on her head and tap it. Her nose scrunches as I put two fingers under her jaw and close her mouth. “Yep, but we’re going to be late.”
“Why are you so worried about being late? You’re not even playing.”
“I know but it’s not the worst thing to be on time,” I retort. “You’re the one who likes to take hours to get ready.”
She huffs and we walk out of her room. Before we get to the door, we’re stopped by Kennedy and Scarlett, both with their mouths on the floor. Kennedy — like always — is dressed in denim dungarees with embroidered flowers on it as if she’s a preschool teacher. Scarlett is in black jeans and a pink tank top, cautiously walking closer to Wren.
“Amelia Wren Hackerly. Respectfully - what the fuck is this?” Scarlett says dramatically, motioning to Wren’s outfit.
“I am speechless. Like, no words,” Kennedy exclaims.
