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THIRTY-NINE
OCTAVIA
"Istill don't see why we're going out for dinner. We never go out before a game," I grumble, trailing behind Morgan and up the cobblestone leading to Lucy's Diner.
After seeing my parents yesterday, it pushed me to concentrate more on school. I was finally catching up on my piles of homework this afternoon when Morgan decided to storm into my bedroom and launch the entirety of my closet at me.
After a torturous hour of hair pulling and being poked in the eye with my mascara wand, she had me looking good enough to be seen by the public.
She grabs my hand and quickens her pace. "Because the guys wanted to. And I'm dragging you along because I don't want to be the only girl there."
Rolling my eyes, I open the door for us and follow her in. "Like you've had a problem with that before."
We turn the corner and I halt in my steps. I make eye contact with the one person I was scared shitless to see tonight. I don't manage to push the butterflies down fast enough. The corners of his mouth twitch.
He smiles and I can’t help but return it. I whip my head to look at Morgan and see that she's standing next to me with her arms crossed, smiling innocently. She ignores the daggers I'm shooting at her and drags me to the table.
"Hey, guys! Sorry, we're late. I had my hands full getting this one ready."
She crawls into the booth beside Matt. The only seat left is next to Oakley. Of course. Oakley coughs awkwardly, signalling for me to sit down. He moves over, leaving me more than enough space. I smile gratefully at him and sit down.
Our arms brush when I settle beside him and I curse myself when the undeniable shiver runs through my body. Morgan snickers before I raise my foot and kick her under the table.
"You look good." Oakley's raspy voice snaps me out of my reverie as I find myself getting lost in how close we are.
It's tough to keep my hands folded on my lap when I notice his lack of facial hair. I want to reach out and run my fingers along the smooth skin, but I don’t try.
"You shaved," I choke out. That's not a good sign. He only kept his beard for me.
"Figured it was time for a change." His words slice through me, and I have to tear my eyes away from him before I break down in front of everyone.
I manage to avoid conversation with Oakley for the remainder of the dinner and by the time we're all done, I can't help but feel like I've really lost him.
???
I've had the inkling that Morgan has been up to something all night. The dinner I could have blown off, but this? No. Now I'm sure she's up to something. If she weren't, she wouldn't be standing in the arena parking lot holding Oakley's hockey jersey out in front of her, demanding I put it on before we go inside.
"He doesn't want me wearing that. Trust me." I try to get her to put it away, only for her to shut me down. Is she deliberately trying to hurt me?
"Put it on. Please? For me?" she pleads, even going as far as to pout.
I shake my head at her childish behaviour but reach out and take the silky material anyway. I’m hit with a wave of nostalgia and have to quickly blink the tears away before they ruin the makeup Morgan spent way too much time doing.
In a swift movement, I have the jersey over my head and hanging loosely off my body. "There? Can we go inside now? Please?"
She nods her head excitedly and hooks her arm in mine, leading us into the building.
“Why aren't we sitting in our usual seats?" I ask as soon as we get down to our ice level seats. We've been sitting in the same seats for the past two years, so I can't help but be a little confused at our sudden switch up.
"These are the only ones Matt could get tonight." She waves me off and says hello to the teenage girls beside us. I suspiciously sit down beside her just as the team heads onto the ice for their warm-ups.
I watch in disbelief as Oakley skates over to Adam, grabs him by the shoulder and fist-bumps him. Since when is that a thing?
"I was shocked too. They’ve been boxing every day together," Morgan puts in, clearly sensing my curiosity.
The song blaring from the speaker's changes and my favourite song starts playing throughout the arena instead. My eyebrows shoot up and I look over at Morgan to see the giant grin she's wearing as she points out to the ice. I follow her gaze and gasp—my jaw drops.
The team has spread out in a straight line in front of us, with several players holding a paper sign in front of them.
