You were lying on your bed, on facetime with your friends.

Since it was a Sunday, you were wearing some shorts and a tank top.

You were chattering away, heading downstairs to grab some snacks, since you were hungry.

Just as you walked in the kitchen, the sight of the hockey team that your father coached greeted your gaze.

You groan and walk over to the fridge, trying to ignore all the stares you're getting.

Just as you were reaching into the fridge a jersey was pulled over your head.

Feeling warm and secure, you turn around and see Darren, your enemy standing shirtless in front of you.

You feel a rough hand on your cheek, tucking back a stray hair.

"They were looking you over."

He pulls his hand back, sighing and turns back around, glancing back once more at you.

"Oh, and you can keep the jersey, it looks good on you, love.*

He walks away and you pick up your phone, meeting your friends' wide eyed, open mouthed faces.