Off The Ice | NHL Imagines

If Only

Luke Hughes
565 words
Not requested

A/N: yes. Luke's poem is the one from 10 things I hate about you.

"If only there was a way to tell you how much I hate you." y/n stood in front of the class of 60 students. She could feel every individual set of eyes on her. She looked up from her paper, her eyes glancing around until she found one person in particular. Luke Hughes.

"I'd tell you how much I hate when you chew gum, how much I hate when you draw on the corners of my paper, how much I hate when you're seen with someone other than me." y/n took a breath, regaining her emotions since they're one wrong word away from spilling over.

"I'd tell you how much I hate when you kiss me." She stopped. She looked back up at Luke. She couldn't read him, she never could. She never knew what he was thinking. She looked back down, her vision blurring.

"If only there was a way to tell you how much I love you." She took in another breath before continuing.

"I'd tell you how much I love when you come over unannounced, how much I love when you kiss me without warning, how much I love when you show me off." y/n looks up again. Luke's expression finally readable. His eyes are glossy, but yet he looks happy. He's... proud of her.

"I'd tell you how much I miss the way loved me. I'd tell you how I still love you. I'd tell you leaving you was a mistake. I'd tell you that I wished for, but didn't expect, a second chance." y/n's eyes never left Luke. She meant every word and he needs to know that. She was going to make sure he knew.

"So, here I am right now, telling you how I hate you, love you, and miss you, and how I want you again. If only there was a chance you wanted the same." And like that her speech was done. She closed her notes and walked back up the steps of the lecture hall and back to her seat that was across the aisle from Luke. The moment she sat, he stood. He walked down the steps and opened his own notes, his words ringing through the air.

"I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme." Laughs are heard from a few people in the crowd, but y/n doesn't laugh. She cries. She cries over her love, her miss, over her Luke.

"I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it that you're not around. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all." Luke takes in a shaky breath as he closes his notes and walks back up the stairs. y/n grabs his hand as he turn to his seat. She stands, her head tilted so she could look into Luke's eyes. She kisses him and she knows her if only is reality.