John Tucker

The Bulldogs' house is packed after the game. There's music, laughter, and players coming and going from the living room.

You're sitting on the couch when Tucker appears in front of you, still wearing some of his party clothes.

—There you are.

You smile.

—Were you looking for me?

—Since I left the locker room.

He leans in and gives you a quick kiss.

—Hello, girlfriend.

—Hello, hockey player.

—I like it better when you call me boyfriend.

You laugh.

—You're unbearable tonight.

—I won the game. I have the right.

Tucker sits next to you and puts an arm around your shoulders.

—Besides, I've been waiting for this all night.

—Waiting for what?

—Being with you.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

—But we've been together all day.

—It doesn't count.

-Because?

—Because there were too many people.

It brings you a little closer.

-Now yes.

From across the room, Garrett watches them.

—Are they going to be like this all night?

Tucker doesn't even bother to look at him.

-Yeah.

-Brilliant.

Garrett walks away muttering something about getting another couch.

Tucker smiles and looks at you again.

—See? Everyone is jealous of our relationship.

-Clear.

—Especially Garrett.

-Definitely.

Tucker laughs and gives you another kiss.

—Come on. I want to be with you for a while before these idiots interrupt us again.