For those of you who have been focusing on graduating magna cum laude instead of refreshing the Ice Queen’s blog every five minutes, let me catch you up on the days of Gerard Gunnarson’s life.
It began innocently enough. Gerard Gunnarson, star power forward for the BSU Barracudas hockey team, lost his hockey stick.I know…riveting stuff, right?But this is where fate, or perhaps cosmic comedy, intervened. He wandered into the campus library, radiating confused sunshine energy, and encountered one Elliot Montgomery. My aforementioned best friend, part-time library assistant, full-time cynic, and the last person on earth you’d expect to catch the attention of BSU’s most beloved himbo.
Elliot rolled his eyes approximately seventeen times while helping Gerard locate his stick (which was, predictably, exactly where he’d left it…in the restroom). But something clicked—and by clicked, I mean Gerard took one glance at my pint-sized sarcastic bestie and experienced what can only be described as a complete bisexual awakening.
Naturally, the Ice Queen was there for every second of it. Her first blog post, titledGerard Gunnarson’s Ass: A Cheeky Appreciation Post,waxed poetic about Gerard Gunnarson’s “gravity-defying glutes” with the kind of purple prose that would make Emily Dickinson blush. She described in vivid detail how his hockey pants struggled to contain what she dubbed “the eighth wonder of the world.” The post went viral within hours, crashing the campus Wi-Fi and causing a minor riot outside the Hockey House as students tried to catch a glimpse of the now-famous derriere. (And this is where I add a disclaimer that I may have taken some liberties there.)
It was the Halloween Bash at the Hockey House that marked the turning point. Gerard strutted around in a murdered football player costume that left nothing to the imagination (those pantsdeserved their own trigger warning). His eyes followed only one person: a certain grumpy boy dressed as a bumblebee who spent most of the night becoming one with the wallpaper.
The kiss that night—captured by dozens of smartphones and instantly shared across campus—left spectators breathless. As Gerard and Elliot’s lips met, the crowd fell silent, collectively realizing they were intruding on a moment that transcended the typical drunken hookup. This wasn’t just another Halloween party highlight; it was the beginning of something real. All while “Black Magic” by Little Mix played in the background.
The Ice Queen had an aneurysm over the whole fiasco. Her subsequent entry,Kisses, Milky Twilights, and Silver Moons Sparkling, Oh My!—which, as an aside, I must say was a crafty way of quoting Sixpence None the Richer and avoiding copyright issues—read like a police report.
Ever since that kiss seen ’round the world, Gerard and Elliot have been dating. Like normal people. Or, as normal as you can be when one of you is a gentle giant, and the other communicates through sarcasm and defensive eye-rolling. Gerard brings Elliot coffee every morning from The Brew (where Oliver Jacoby makes the drink and pretends not to be invested in their love life). Elliot shows up to hockey games, wearing Gerard’s jersey and acting completely confused about the sport, but being supportive nonetheless. They even study together in the library; Gerard’s massive frame folds into a chair too small for him while Elliot explains why his economics homework is wrong.
It’s disgustingly domestic, and it hasn’t escaped my notice that the Ice Queen has been notably silent since they became official. Some say she’s lost interest or is working on finding a new target. It could also be as simple as the fact that even anonymous bloggers recognize when something transcends gossip and becomes genuinely beautiful.
Gerard Gunnarson came to BSU as a hockey legacy with a famous father and will be leaving as a campus celebrity with a famous ass. But he will also leave behind something else: proof that love can find you in the most unexpected places, that sexuality is fluid and beautiful, and that the best stories are the ones we never see coming.
So, here’s to Gerard and Elliot. To massive hands holding smaller, dainty ones. To height differences that require tiptoes for kisses. May their love story continue touching hearts long after we’ve left this mortal plane.
And to the Ice Queen herself, wherever she may be plotting, while you’re incredibly creepy and borderline a stalker, thank you for creating this story, even if you didn’t know how it would end.
Sarah Piper is a junior majoring in journalism with a minor in drama (both academic and personal) and can confirm that Gerard Gunnarson’s eggplant is indeed also quite large. She can be reached at [email protected] or at the library, where she’ll be protecting her best friend from crazy fans with questionable boundaries.
5
DREW
Ever since Jackson’s roommate mentioned the school newspaper that day at the diner, I’ve becomeobsessedwith Sarah’s articles in theBerkeley Shore Gazette. This piece about the Ice Queen’s fixation on Gerard last semester is pure gold.
I save the article and read some more. There’s one about the dining hall’s mysterious Meat Surprise Mondays that has me cackling. Another exposes the underground Pokémon card trading ring in the Economics department. But it’s her hockey coverage I keep circling back to. Seeing my name in print, my stats broken down in her sharp analysis, sends a thrill up my spine that I’d never admit to anyone.
“Holy snickers, it’s cold!” Gerard hops from one large bare foot to the other beside me. He’s wearing hot-pink swimming trunks and nothing else. “Is it always this cold at the beach in January?”
“Yes, Gerard,” his boyfriend Elliot deadpans from the bed of my pickup truck. He’s snuggled under fifteen blankets and is drinking hot chocolate with Alex.“I warned you a hundred timesthis week. But did you listen to me?Noooo.Far be it from me to repeat myself that you will soon no longer have a giant penis.”
Alex chokes on his hot chocolate. As for me, I howl with laughter. Because Elliot is absolutely right—the second we jump into the ocean, our penises will become half the size of what we’re used to. The thought horrifies Gerard, if the expression on his face is anything to go by.
“But I love my giant penis!” Gerard wails. “It’s one of my favorite things about me.”
“Oneof?What are some other things about yourself you favor, G-man?” I ask, even though I know where this is going. Judging by the scowl Elliot throws my way, so does he.
“Well, let’s see. There’s my ass, which is internet-famous, you know.”
“We know,” we all say together.
“And my smile. It melts even the hardest of hearts.” He winks at Elliot, who throws up his middle finger. “And then there’s my charming personality, my unbridled optimism, my?—”
“Unbridled?” I snicker. “Where’d you learn that word? On word of the day toilet paper?”
Gerard’s cheeks turn pink, and I laugh again.
“It was a Christmas gift from Elliot,” he mutters.
Oliver bounds over, rubbing his hands together and blowing into them. Kyle, Nathan Paisley, and the rest of the team follow close behind.
“Guys!” Oliver’s massive frame bounces, making his pecs jiggle. “I stuck my big toe in the water, and holy mother of all that is frozen, it’s as arctic as you’d think! My toe instantly went numb. This is going to be epic!”
