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“Hate when you do that too.” He sighed. “Why not keep it down, babe? I love it down.” He reached over to smooth my hair behind my ear, then paused as he studied the strains. “I thought you were gonna go blonder?”
I smacked his hand away, and he knew I was annoyed. He was always telling me this lately. He suddenly wanted me to have the standard look of a hockey girlfriend– long, bright blonde hair, always worn down, and that just wasn’t a priority to me. “I told you, my hair is fried right now, I need to give it a break.”
“Should ask Joe where his girlfriend gets her hair done. She looks great,” he muttered while buckling up.
I white-knuckled the steering wheel and side-eyed him. “Then why don’t you date her?”
He laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Calm down, babe. Just trying to help you out.”
“Well, I don’t feel helped, I feel insulted,” I said quietly. Why were we so on edge with each other? Ijustgot here.
He went back to his phone. “Jeez, what’s gotten into you? You on your period again or something?”
My mouth dropped open. I was about to lay into him over how I just drove three hours to be here in Columbus to see him off, but he cut me off by raising a hand. “Sorry, I guess I’m just nervous about this weekend. Don’t take that personally, you know I love you.”
You know I love you.Never justI love you.I’m not sure when he started saying that, but I’d grown to resent it. Because no, sir. Sometimes I didn’t know and I needed reassurance.
I threw my car in drive and pulled away from the curb.
“Ugh this shit makes my ears bleed, babe,” he said, pulling my phone off the aux cord and cutting Taylor Swift off mid-song.
I forced myself to swallow down my rebuttal. We just had different tastes in music. It didn’t matterthatmuch… did it? A little voice in my head whispered,He could’ve compromised and listened to my music sometimes though… But nope. I shut that voice down. It didn’t matter. It was fine. This emo music from the early 2000’s that we’ve listened to a million and one times wasfine.
When we got to the airport, I still got out and went around the car to give him a hug goodbye. Even if I was slightly irritated, I’d swallow down my annoyance because I cared about him and didn’t want to be a distraction from his game.
He gave me a hug and a quick peck on the lips. “Bye babe. Have a nice weekend, enjoy the apartment. You going to Orange Theory with Kelly tomorrow?”
My mouth moved into a thin line. If he said one thing about working on my ass again, I was going to lose my shit. “Maybe.”
“Send pics.” He wagged his eyebrows and grabbed my butt, making me crack a reluctant smile. That was alright to say, I guess.
“Have a good weekend,” I said, patting the lapels of his suit before turning away.
I watched him stride into the airport to meet up with his teammates, his phone totally out of sight when greeting them…
This year should’ve been easy. He was finally realizing his dreams and getting his shot in the NHL, but for some reason, it was straining our relationship. Because I couldn’t ignore the fact that he changed… Ever since he started getting called up this fall, he cared way more about appearances, and I was growing sick of it. With his constant comments about my appearance, he was starting to make me feel insecure, and I didn’t do insecure anymore. I grew up at the rink competing in figure skating, and I’d already fought through years of body dysmorphia to finally feel happy and at peace with myself. He was with me through some of those years, so he should’ve known. I probably just needed to remind him and then he’d quit nagging about things.
We were just going through a rough patch. We’d be fine. We always were.
Later that night, I was snuggled up on his couch watching his game. He was on fire tonight.
I did truly hate his celebration after he scored though. For some reason, I thought he’d change it after making it to the NHL, but nope. It was the same as usual: Head down, arms up like,Yupp, I just fuckin’ did that, give me all the applause. It honestly slightly gave me the ick. But he was the new guy. He was still finding his footing. Hopefully someone would tell him to knock it off and stop looking like an ego-maniac.
I guess I could tell him. We had a healthy flirt-to-roast relationship… Although, sometimes he became a little too cruel, and sometimes I wished he were a little more attentive. Not suffocating, just a little more caring. Like last month when I was having horrible period cramps and really wanted to just stay in bed instead of going out to meet his friends. I really wished he would’ve laid down behind me and comforted me. Instead, he said,Shouldn’t you be used to that by now? Get up, let’s go.He just wasn’t the comforting type. You couldn’t have it all.
That night, I tossed and turned, struggling to sleep on Garrett’s new, stiff mattress. When I finally felt myself drifting to sleep, a notification on my phone woke me up. With a frustrated groan, I reached over to switch off the sound before laying back down. Two seconds after my head hit the pillow, my phone buzzed loudly against the bedside table.
Then it buzzed again, and again, and again.
I reached for my phone and froze when I saw Tiktok notifications popping up like I just went viral. Panic ripped through my chest, and my mind raced, thinking I accidentally posted something inappropriate.
I scrambled to open my Tiktok and squinted hard against the brightness.
My heart finally slowed when I realized I was just being tagged in the comment section of a video of Garrett. Okay, weird, but it happened here and there, so whatever. Maybe he said something cute about me or something.
But as I watched the video, my stomach dropped.
Because there he was… My so-called fiancé, completely shitfaced, talking to a girl who looked too young to even be in a bar. And maybe it would’ve been more okay if they were just talking, but the way he was leaning, the way he brushed his fingers against her arm and bare waist… He was flirting.
