In My Rearview Mirror, JACK.HUGHES

FOUR

I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror and can't help but smirk. "Why the hell am I always hotter in this car's mirror?" I mutter, casually swiping on a fresh coat of lipstick. The confidence boost is real, and honestly, I'm feeling myself.

Olivia, riding shotgun, is watching me like I'm the opening act of a stand-up show. "Girl, you're so into him, it's disgusting," she says, laughing.

I roll my eyes, snapping the mirror shut with a flick. "Nah, he's just... Jack. My high school sweetheart, no big deal."

She gives me that look—the one that says you're full of shit—then dramatically swings her door open, ready to hit the night like she owns it.

Meanwhile, my phone's buzzing in my purse, probably Braden. Dude's called me, what? Four times? But no way I'm picking up. He can chill the fuck out for once. I shove the phone deeper into my bag, sealing it away like, "Tonight's not for you, bud."

"I'm pumped, M! Let's go!" Olivia's practically bouncing.

I give her a side-eye. "Girl, don't get too excited. It's just an apartment full of hockey players and some puck bunnies probably dying to give lap dances."

She laughs, and we step into the elevator, the air buzzing with whatever energy comes with bad decisions and cheap vodka.

As soon as we hit the floor, Olivia's out of the elevator like it's the 100m dash. Jack opens the door, looking all broody and hot with a red cup in hand. Of course, it's a vodka Red Bull—his go-to. The beat of 21 Savage's "n.h.i.e." bumps in the background, matching the chill vibe that's radiating from the room.

"Hey," he says, barely looking at me, like he's got some beef or something. Cold as ice. Alright, Jack, I see you.

Olivia? She's already mingling with the boys, not giving a damn. I stand there awkwardly, staring down at my shoes. "Should I take these off, or does this floor need the dirt?" I shoot him a glance, half-joking, half-annoyed.

Jack gives me a quick nod, like a silent shrug, which honestly pisses me off more than if he'd said something.

Then, just as I'm about to pop off, he breaks the tension. "Glad you came," he says, flashing me a rare smile. Oh, now you wanna be nice? I think, but I just smirk back.

"Don't make me regret it," I tease, pushing past him. "Where's the booze?"

"Kitchen. Knock yourself out." He shuts the door behind me, and I can feel the temperature shift—maybe this night won't be a total ice bath after all.

Olivia's already fixing herself a drink, so I grab one too, then head towards the living room. Laughter and loud cheers spill out as I walk in. The guys are flipping red cups like it's the Olympics of drunk games. 

The sound of laughter and cheering draws my attention to the living room, where the guys are focused in a game of flip the red cup. "Hi, guys!" I announce cheerfully as I approach the table to watch them play.

They all greet me in unison. While I don't recognize every face in the room, some are familiar.

"You came to game tonight! Jack told us," Mercer remarks.

"Yeah, I did. Don't tell my brother this, but you guys were amazing tonight," I say, putting extra emphasis on the word 'amazing.'

"You mean the Habs or the Devils?" Teases Nick Suzuki, the captain of the Mtl Canadiens. 

"I won't tell," I say as I remember that there's non Devils here. 

They burst into laughter, and one by one, they exchange fist bumps with me. The bonding is infectious, and for a moment, any lingering tension seems to dissipate.