Bad Idea~Jonathan Toews Fanfic~

Competition

What are we doing? I text Jonathan. What am I supposed to wear?

I stand in front of my closet, confused on whether I have to wear something casual, or dressy. My phone is hanging in my hand, my other hand on my hip. My phone vibrates a second later.

Just look cute, that shouldn't be hard.

"Ugh", I verbally groan. I toss my phone onto my bed and assess everything in my closet. My final choices have been limited to four. I lay them each out on the bed with their designated accessories and shoes. It's not too cold today, so I can get away with skirts and the short dress.

If it's a nice place, I probably shouldn't be wearing my Jack Daniel's shirt. I take that and it's red skirt out of the mix. I don't want to seem too conservative dressed in a million layers. I take out the flannel shirt and jeans with high boots.

I finally decide on something sort of simple. I go into my closet and find my black leather skater skirt, a long-sleeved shirt, and a magenta scarf. I put sheer tights under my skirts and pair grey booties to finish the outfit. Finally, I put my hair into a messy bun. 

I grab my magenta messenger strapped purse and move all of my necessities from my normal leather satchel into the small, compact bag. After thinking for a moment, I realize we have a breakfast meeting and I have to pack a bag, since I'll be at Kayla's for the night. I open my bedroom door and the house is completely silent. I try to keep my shoes quiet, but with five inch heels, that's not exactly a completed task on hard wood floors.

I finish down the stairs and to the front door. "Where are you going?" I hear as my hand touches the doorknob. I look to my left, into the family room, to see my father sitting there reading a book, or a journal maybe.

I walk the few steps to the family room arch way. "Kayla and I are thinking about getting an apartment together. We have a showing in Chicago at seven. Then, we have a dinner at eight with some of our friends. I should be back around midnight".

"Okay. Hope you like the place. Remember, we have a breakfast with Bowman tomorrow morning at nine. We're leaving at eight, You have to come, no choice". 

"I'll be at Kayla's for the night, but I'll be there". 

Dad nods and returns his eyes to the book resting on his lap. I take a silent sigh of relief and head out the front door, into my car. I text Jonathan quick before I head to the UC. Where do you want me to meet you?

I leave my small suburban neighborhood and get onto the highway. The South bound highway toward the suburban neighborhoods is flooded with people just like me who would be driving home, all at the same time. Few cars are traveling North bound into Chicago, so my drive only takes half an hour, not the hour it usually takes.

I park in the staff parking lot where I usually do and grab my phone, looking at the text Jonathan had sent twenty five minutes prior. Meet me on the bench.

I scan my ID on the outer door and walk through the tunnels, past my office and the training room, and through the door leading the way to the Hawks bench. I walk slowly and spot Jonathan there, sitting with his head down, looking down at his phone.

"Hey", I say quietly.

Partly shocked, Jonathan looks up at me. "Hey", Jonathan replies. He stands up and comes over to me, laying his hand on the small of my back and pulling me into him. His lips smooth over mine for a quick second before he moves away. "Wanna go for a skate?"

"Jonathan we skate together every day", I say to him, laughing slightly.

"But we've never skated alone together. So, that's what we're going to do. And then, we have dinner reservations at Gibson's at eight thirty".

"Gibson's, you say? How did you know that was my favorite restaurant in the entire city?" I smirk up at Jonathan.

"Lucky guess", Jonathan says, then turns to the bench seats. "Lace 'em up, Baby Q".

I laugh and walk over the bench, where both Jonathan and I remove our shoes and tie our hockey skates onto our feet. I finish first and step onto the ice, leaning over the barrier between the ice and the bench. "You're a slow poke", I joke. Jonathan rolls his eyes and laughs.

Before moving onto the ice, Jonathan grabs two hockey sticks. "One on one?"

"As long as I can beat your ass fair and square", I laugh as he steps onto the ice beside me, takes a hockey puck out of his pocket, and hands me the smaller of the two sticks.

"Game on, Baby Q".

Jonathan skates to the center of the ice and puts the puck down. I follow him as he gets in his stance for a face off. I mirror him across the mid line. "Three.....Two.....One", Jonathan raises his voice in anticipation.

"Go", I yell before he can.

I don't even move my feet for the puck like Jonathan does. I reach my hockey stick out and compromise Jonathan's chances of taking the puck. I corral the puck and shoot between my feet. I finally move physically, shredding ice as I turn around and go for the puck. I hear Jonathan behind me.

I take the puck with my stick and turn around, stunning Jonathan as I push him out of my way. I look behind me as I pass over the blue line into his zone. He's only about two feet behind me.

"No", Jonathan yells as I shoot the puck into his net. It hits the cross bar and into the back of the net.

I turn back to Jonathan who slows himself on his skates. I rush over to him and jump towards him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He catches me in his arms as I plant a kiss on his cheek.

"I haven't played hockey in almost five years. Thank you".

"You're welcome".