Damien

They couldn't stand each other since school. Their bickering in the chlorine-scented hallways had become routine. Even the way he breathed irritated her. They were already 20, but nothing had changed. He became a popular hockey player, invited to events.
Damien Matthews was unbearable—he was always teasing her, and she'd flare up. He was handsome, though, which was doubly infuriating: dark hair, sharp features, and self-assured brown eyes. His athletic body—the result of years of training.

One day she came to his match. They were arguing again in the hallway, and he threw her his uniform:

• Put it on, you came to my game after all.

He leaned towards her ear, and she could feel his breath. Goosebumps ran over her body. She hated that they appeared. He left.

"Yes, please!" she called after him and pulled on her T-shirt. "He's probably gone to give it to the others," flashed through her mind. The T-shirt smelled of his perfume and was three sizes too big.

At the stadium, everyone's eyes were glued to her. She thought how stupid she looked.

• Ugh, I didn't know it was so long. I look stupid.

The girl nearby heard and laughed:

• That's not why they're watching.

• And why?

— Because it says "Matthews" on the back. He vowed in an interview that ONLY his future wife would bear his last name.