I wanted to see him tonight — even if only through a screen.
It's stupid how much one person can miss someone after not seeing him for, what, two days? Two. Days. And yet it feels like decades have passed. Honestly, I think I need to get myself checked. There's no way this is medically normal.
I'm mid–self-diagnosis spiral when my phone suddenly rings, vibrating so hard it nearly flies out of my hand. I jolt upright, heart launching into my throat.
It's Zach calling.
I swear I tap "accept" faster than any human reflex should allow.
And then he appears.
God.
He's lying in his hotel bed, hair a little tousled, like he's been running his hands through it — that perfect messy look that should be illegal. The screen is filled with bare chest, because of course he's shirtless, because why would the universe give me a break tonight?
His smile hits instantly — bright, warm, the kind that lights up every pixel on my phone.
"Hey, beautiful," he says, voice low and velvety, like he's been saving it just for me. "Miss me?"
Miss him?
I'm two seconds away from licking the screen.
"I missed you," I admit, cheeks warming. "And—congratulations, by the way."
A lazy grin spreads across his lips. "Yeah? You watched?"
I shift onto my back, propping pillows behind me so my upper body's lifted a little. "Of course I watched. I'm very loyal," I tease. "You were insane tonight."
His grin widens. "Yeah? What part?"
"Oh, I don't know," I say dramatically, "maybe the part where you lifted that guy's stick so cleanly—when he was literally about to take a shot—that he lost it completely. It went flying, and you just scooped the puck like it was nothing."
Zach tries to bite back a smile. "I wasn't sure if the ref was going to call something on that."
"No, it was clean," I say. "Sam and I cackled watching that."
He nods, replaying it in his head. "That one felt good actually."
"And the score you made before the second period ended?" I continue. "That was crazy. The way you pulled the puck in tight and slipped between both defensemen? You barely had space, but you still kept control and got the shot off before anyone could get to you."
He lets out a small laugh. "I honestly thought I was about to get sandwiched."
"You almost did," I say, chuckling.
He stretches an arm behind his head, smirking. "I really like it when you talk hockey to me."
I blink. "What?"
"It's kind of..." His eyes drop to my lips before sliding back to mine."I don't know. It's like... when you talk hockey like that, it feels like you're talking dirty to me."
He drags his tongue across his bottom lip, then bites it lightly, completely unapologetic.
"And I start thinking about your mouth doing other things than talking hockey."
My face heats instantly. "Zach!"
He grins wider, absolutely shameless. "What? I'm just being honest."
