It wasn’t the cold that made me wrap my arms around myself tighter. It was the sudden, hollow ache of realization that my world was changing. That standing here, outside the players’ exit in his jersey, I was making a silent declaration. One that couldn’t be taken back.
Was I ready to be seen?
To be judged?
To have strangers pick apart who I was based on who I loved?
My fingers curled in the oversized sleeves like I could disappear inside them. I hadn’t asked for the spotlight. I hadn’t wanted the attention or the noise. I just wanted Nick—the version of him that looked at me like I was the only thing that made sense in the chaos.
But loving him meant this. It meant whispers and stares. It meant being called things by people who didn’t even know my name.
And that terrified me.
I stared at the door, willing it to open. Not because I didn’t know who I was without him—but because I knew I was braver when he was near. Stronger.
Still, I didn’t look away. I didn’t back down.
I held my head high even as the doubt whispered in my ear.
The locker room doors burst open, and the noise hit me like a wave—laughter, shouts, the sound of skates thudding against concrete. My pulse kicked up as I leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the crowd for one person.
Then I saw him.
Nick stepped out like he was still mid-game, sweat dampening the ends of his hair, his jersey clinging to one shoulder and revealing the solid muscle underneath. His jaw was tight, eyes sharp. Electric. He looked like he could tear through the world and still have room to ruin me afterward.
And somehow, when his gaze found mine, everything else vanished. The crowd, the cameras, the voices I’d been trying so hard to tune out—they all disappeared.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. Just started walking toward me like he’d done it a thousand times in his head and wasn’t about to stop now.
I barely had time to breathe before he was in front of me, hands on my waist, lips crashing against mine like the kiss was the only part of tonight that mattered. I melted into him—every nerve ending lighting up, every ounce of restraint gone.
Gasps rippled through the fans near us. Phones lifted. Someone’s flash burst to life in my peripheral vision.
"Is that a wedding ring?"
"Are they… are they married?"
"No fucking way."
But I didn’t care.
I kissed him back like the world could burn around us, fingers curling into the fabric of his jersey, anchoring myself to this moment. To him.
And I didn’t flinch.
A flicker of insecurity clawed at my chest—sharp and unwelcome—but I buried it as Nick’s mouth claimed mine again, harder this time. His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging me closer until our bodies were pressed flush, like he couldn’t stand the thought of even air between us.
I kissed him back with everything I had, not because I wanted to prove something to them—but because I wanted to prove something to myself. That I could stand here, in front of everyone, and choose this. Choose him. Choose us.
With every beat of my heart, the fear dulled. I wasn’t some wide-eyed girl caught in a fantasy. I was part of this now—part of him—and I didn’t need permission to exist in his world.
And then it hit me. This clarity—blinding and warm—that it didn’t matter what they thought. None of them knew what it felt like to be held like this, kissed like this. To matter to someone who looked at you like you were his gravity.
I broke the kiss just enough to breathe, but I didn’t move far. My forehead rested against his, our breaths tangled in the cold air, and my skin burned with more than heat—it was defiance. Ownership. Not just of him, but of the life I was choosing, moment by messy moment.
Nick looked down at me, searching like he always did when words weren’t enough. And I didn’t need to say anything. He saw it. All of it.
This wasn’t a moment for the cameras.
