6. Jaymie
Jaymie
There’s nothing worse than watching your team win without you.
Alright, maybe the worst thing would be losing without you, as in if you weren't hurt, the game would have been a win... But still—being in the box instead of on the bench while the guys skate their asses off? It’s a special kind of torture.
The kind where your leg itches under the tape, your coffee goes cold in your hand, and you start mentally playing every shift like you could will yourself onto the ice.
The Hellblades pulled off a win, barely. Logan scored late in the third with one of his absurd off-angle wrist shots that always seemed to defy physics. The arena lit up. Fans screaming, players pounding their sticks. I felt the energy buzz right through the glass, down to the pit of my stomach.
And I wanted to be out there so bad it hurt.
Instead, I was watching from a borrowed seat, chewing on the inside of my cheek and trying not to look as bitter as I felt.
Six more weeks.
Six more weeks of bands, stretches, slow walks and Mallory’s smug little smirk every time I whined.
Okay. The smirk wasn’t so bad. That was the only plus side, I got to meet Mal.
By the time I made it to Logan and Ava’s place, the game was already being replayed in the background on their flat screen, and Ava had curled up on one end of the sectional with a blanket, hair piled on top of her head like a cinnamon roll.
“Hey, benchwarmer,” she called as I stepped inside. “You bring snacks?”
“Only emotional baggage,” I replied, tossing my jacket over the back of the couch.
“Even better. ”
Logan was in the kitchen, pouring out drinks, probably that artisanal ginger beer Ava made him get into last spring. He handed me one with a crooked grin. “That win was for you, buddy.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, taking a sip. “You pull it out of your ass in my honor?”
“You know me. Nothing motivates more than Jaymie's disapproval.”
Ava patted the cushion beside her. “Come sit. We’re were just going to watch SNL. You can heckle the monologue and pretend you’re not dying inside.”
I collapsed onto the couch and let my head fall back. “I am absolutely dying inside.”
Logan chuckled, settling next to Ava and throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Good. Use it. Channel the rage.”
“Real helpful,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help smiling.
They were disgustingly good together—like two puzzle pieces that had finally stopped pretending they didn’t fit.
I’d never admit it out loud, but being around them made everything feel.
.. quieter. Calmer. SNL started, and we heckled the cold open like we always did, me throwing out dad jokes, Logan pretending to be above it all while still snorting at every sketch, Ava quoting punchlines before they even landed .
Somewhere between Weekend Update and a painfully awkward sketch involving a talking fridge, Ava nudged me with her foot.
“So?” she said.
I blinked. “So... what?”
She tilted her head, sly. “You’ve been weirdly quiet for the last half hour.”
“Pretty sure I’ve been crushing it with my one-liners.”
“Not the same. You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
Logan chimed in. “The 'Jaymie wants to ask someone out and is overthinking it to death' look.”
I rolled my eyes. “There is no such look.”
“There is,” Ava said, sitting up straighter. “And you’re wearing it like it’s custom tailored.”
I paused, glanced between them, and sighed.
“It’s Mallory,” I said finally.
Ava’s eyebrows shot up. “The hot trainer?”
“She’s more than hot,” I said quickly. “She’s... sharp. Funny. Gives me shit constantly. It’s kind of awesome.”
Logan smirked, “You like being bullied. Noted.”
“I like her,” I said, trying not to sound defensive.
Ava leaned in, her face lighting up like she’d just discovered a new favorite rom-com. “Jaymie Prescott has a crush.”
“Stop. ”
“Oh my God,” she whispered theatrically. “He’s blushing.”
“I’m not.”
Logan just sat there, smug and amused. “You gonna ask her out or keep flirting with resistance bands?”
“I want to,” I admitted. “But I don’t know. It’s tricky. She’s technically working with me. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”
Ava sobered a little at that. “That’s fair. But... she seems like the kind of woman who’d let you know if she wasn’t interested.”
“She told me ‘next time’ when I invited her over for dinner,” I said. “In the elevator. After she accused me of stalking her.”
Ava grinned. “Bold move.”
“She was teasing. I think.”
“Did she smile?”
“Yeah.”
“Then she was into it.”
I ran a hand over my face. “I feel like I’m in high school.”
Logan lifted his ginger beer. “High school with better hair and worse knees.”
“Thanks for the support.”
“Anytime.”
Ava leaned over and squeezed my arm. “Seriously. If you like her, ask her. Just be honest. Be you. ”
I looked between them, Ava, warm and supportive, Logan, quiet and wry, and felt something in my chest loosen.
“Alright,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
“Damn right you will,” Ava said, turning back to the screen. “Now shut up and watch the sketch. It’s about hockey players crying during Disney movies.”
I leaned back, let myself laugh.
And thought about Mallory’s smile all over again.