From Hating to Loving || Luke Hughes

Don't Call Me That

Logan

First week of classes at Michigan, and I'm already ready to drop out. Digital media is no joke, i swear they're trying to break up. 

I've just gotten back to my dorm, tossing my bag onto the chair and debating between a nap or crying, when Lily bursts in like a damn tornado.

"Logan! LOGAN! We're going to a party tonight!" she shrieks, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Lily, for the love of God... be excited quieter, please," I mumble, flopping back onto my bed.

She ignores me entirely. "Ethan invited us to their house!"

I squint at her. "And Ethan is...?"

She rolls her eyes. "On the hockey yeam. Duh."

Of course. "Lil, you know how I feel about hockey players," I groan.

"Yeah, yeah, 'the less interation the better,'" she parrots with a dramatic hand wave. "But come on, its the first week! And I promise, I'll get us invited to other parties. This is just... research."

"Fine," I sigh. "But you can't leave me alone."

"Deal!" she says, already skipping toward her closet.

I tell her I'm takinng a nap and I'm out the second my head hits the pillow. Three hours later, I'm jolted awak by her pouncing on me like a rabid cat. "GET UP! Time to get hot!"

Groaning, I roll over. "I hate everything."

She ignores me again. "I picked out your outfit!" she says proudly, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Please tell me it's not one of your tiny deathtrap outfits," I mumble, even though I already know the answer.

She shoves the clothes into my hands with a grin. "Bathroom. Now. Let's turn some heads."

Twenty minutes later, I'm dressed in the clingly little clothes she chose, lacing up my Converse because there are limits to my suffering.

Lily grabs my arm and drags me outside, practically skipping toward the party.

"They'll be tons of people there, Logan," she assures me. "Odds of running into a hockey player? Slim."

"But no zero," I mutter.

We walk into the house, and I immediately regret everything. It's packed. People are everywhere. I lost track of the number of red solo cups in the first two minutes.

To her credit, Lily stays by my side for a while. Until a group bulldozes through us and splits us up.

I head for the kitchen, the one safe haven I can think of, and go straight for the drinks.

"I haven't seen you before," a voice says behind me.

I turn. Brown eyes. Curly hair. Cocky smirk. Great.

"Could say the same to you," I reply, popping the top of my drink.

"I live here, actually," he says with mock offense, pressing a hand to his chest. "So I'm a little hurt."

"Let me guess, you're one of the hockey boys?" I snap, already over the conversation.

He grins. "Just one of the hockey boys? Wow. Harsh."

"Don't call me a puck bunny," I warn glaring.

"I didn't! I was just--"

"But you would have if I'd flirted back," I cut in, narrowing my eyes.

He steps closer. "Feisty. I like that.

"Say that again and I'll personally make sure no team ever signs you," I say calmly, dead serious.

He blinks, then chuckles. "You can't threaten me like that. Do you even know who I am?"

"Obviously not. Do you know who I am?" I shoot back, hands on hips.

"Luke Hughes," he says with a grin, offering his hand. Confident. Flirty.

I stare at it for a second, then smirk. "Logan Gretzky."

His whole face changes. "Wait. Like... Wayne Gretzky's daughter?"

I hold my head high and nod slowly, watching the realization wash over him. It's beautiful.

He recovers quickly, trying to fall back into small talk, but I shut it down.

"No small talk, Hughes. Ask what you want to ask."

"I just don't want you thinking I'm asking because of who your dad is," he says, suddenly shy.

"If you're asking me out, the answer's no," I say flatly.

"What? You didn't even give me a chance!"

"I don't date athletes. Especially hockey players," I reply, gesturing to him.

"Why not?"

"Sorry, Hughes. I don't know you like that," I say, backing away.

"Wait... can I at least get you number?"

I grin. "Hm... no. I'm an almost puck bunny, remember?"

"I didn't say that!" he protests, chasing after his dignity.

"Didn't have to," I toss over my shoulder with a smile. And just like that, I disappear into the crowd, looking for Lily.

Luke

Awestruck. That's the only word for it. I'm still standing in the kitchen, half-lost in thought about her, when Rutger claps a hand on my shoulder snapping me out of my daze.

"So?" he says, grinning like a kid who just watched a car crash in slow motion.

"So what?" I blink, trying to play it cool.

"I saw you talking to her. Did you get her number or what?" He's practically bouncing with curiosity.

I let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, not exactly. Turns out she doesn't do athletes. Especially not hockey players."

Rutger makes a face like I just told him Santa isn't real. "That makes no sense. We're literally the best."

"Not to Logan Gretzky," I say, finally dropping the bomb.

He freezes. "Wait, Gretzky? As in... Wayne Gretzky?!"

I nod. "Yup. That one."

Rutger lets out a low whistle. "Damn. The Great One's daughter is hot." He grins, nudging me. "You've got game, Hughes. Bag her."

"Yeah, sure," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "Any idea how she even got invited?"

He shrugs, already halfway to the fridge. "No clue. Probably knows someones on the team. Everyone wants in these days."

He grabs a beer and disappears back into the chaos of the party, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I crack open a beer and head over to a group of my teammates, but I'm only half-listening to whatever they're talking about.

Logan Gretzky. A girl who doesn't care about who I am, what my last name means, or that I'm supposed to be the next big thing.

She's different. And yeah, she turned me down tonight, but that's fine.

By the end of the year, she'll be mine.

And this whole "puck bunny" nonsense?

Just a misunderstanding we'll laugh about later.