He Shoots, She scores

Chapter Forty: Weston | Hit Me

I'm walking on a cloud. There should be a word to describe this state I'm currently in. 'Happy' is an understatement. 'Ecstatic' cuts close, but it doesn't do the other feelings justice. Really, I'm a mixture of excitement, anticipation, hope, and peace.

I didn't know what I was missing until my lips touched hers. For someone who claims she's never had a boyfriend, she sure as hell knows what she's doing. For a second, my mind wanders to the possibility that she's had practice. You can kiss and make out all you want- doesn't mean you've been in a relationship before. I'd know that better than anyone else. But I squash the jealousy under my foot because none of that matters anymore. My past is irrelevant, and so is hers. All that matters is the present. And she's mine now.

Being able to touch her when I want to, sneaking kisses whenever we pass by in the halls, holding her hand on campus, holding hands when we're alone, whispering all the thoughts about her that I'd normally keep to myself. With Gracie around, I'm reminded of the most simplistic things that make life was worth living. Less shit annoys me, and everything makes me smile. I see a flower and it reminds me of her. I sit on the couch and it reminds me of her. I pass by Starbucks and order something I don't want just to see her for five minutes of my day.

Girlfriend. Gracie is my girlfriend. Fuck yeah.

We're all at the kitchen table having breakfast together like some all-American family. It's a recent tradition that was Gracie's idea. Since us guys have been hyper-focused on hockey and Gracie's been hyper-focused on her play, she said she was sad that we rarely see one another anymore. So she stated a new house rule: minimum once a week, we all eat together. Had this been a few months ago, I would've scoffed at her rule, but now here I am, bent around her little finger, cooking bacon and eggs for everybody to share. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Gracie and I are linking our hands together under the table. Eli is busy venting about the T.A who keeps giving him shit grades on his lab report, and RJ is telling us the story of his amazing date the other night with Nessa. Yup. Nessa, as in Gracie's best friend. Funny how life works out. This doesn't abide very well with Eli though, so Gracie tries to perk him up by offering to set him up with one of her theatre friends. "I'll be fine. I don't need a woman to be happy" Eli scoffs, viciously stabbing eggs into his mouth.

"Well it's my turn now to share some news." Gracie pushes her chair back and stands up. She tugs out a pile of tickets tucked under the waistband of her jeans. "Guess who got you guys front row seats to Tulsa's production of Footloose?"

Normally, the idea of watching a musical theatre production makes me want to gauge my eyes out. But if I get to stare at Gracie up on that stage for two whole hours, I'm gonna say yes. "We'll be there" I promise her, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "When is it?"

My girlfriend beams. "Next Friday at 7 pm sharp." She raises our held hands to her lips.

"Ugh. Get a room" RJ groans while fighting a grin. Ever since they both found out me and Gracie were together, they handled it their respective ways. Eli refuses to be in a room alone with us, and RJ makes a scene to show his visible disgust. But deep down, I know they couldn't be happier for me. And I love them both for that.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Fast forward to tonight, and we're in the locker-room, getting our gears and uniforms on. It's the big night. Probably the biggest night of my career. No pressure.

Things are tense in here. No witty jokes, no random dancing, no teasing. We're all in our own heads. We're getting in the mental spirit. But there's some laughing in the distance which contrasts starkly with the somber mood in here. There's a familiar voice. If I didn't know any better, I would've said it belongs to John. But wait-