#k/da all out ahri | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lila-rose · 3 months

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This story is dedicated to @sydnikov as part of the 2K24 Winter Fic Exchange. I apologize if it's not precisely what you wanted, Sydney. The story initially was much longer and had Jack getting injured and reconnecting with his ex-girlfriend. But I think I overdid myself and ran into some GI issues that may be exacerbated by stress. As a result, I was forced to cut things short. I also apologize if Jack or the Devils seem out of character. I had never written to them before, so I had to take a shot in the dark.

Pairing: Jack Hughes x OFC

Words: 11.5K

Additional Tags: @aqueersouthofthemasondixonline @kurlyteuvo @callsign-denmark @behoright @likegoinghome @wyattjohnston

"Looking at me. Naw, come get it. Like what you see then you have good vision. Boy, this beat was so different. Let me show you what you've been missing," Maisy sang to her reflection in the mirror, using her nude lipstick as a makeshift microphone.

K/DA's beat reverberated throughout the white tile bathroom from an iPhone speaker buried underneath the mountain of cosmetics spread across the marble countertop. Mascara and cleanser leaked out carelessly screwed tops, creating a disgusting mosaic that undoubtedly needed to be cleaned and disinfected at some point. But only two things mattered to Maisy then: perfecting her makeup and stopping the butterflies in her stomach. After Ahri, Akali, Evelynn, and Kai'Sa reached their chorus, she returned to reality and painted the deep beige tint over her lips.

Her phone vibrated with a notification somewhere underneath her morning routine disaster. Digging through, she saw a glimpse of her white and gold phone case, which suffered collateral damage from her blush.

"Aww, shit!" Maisy cursed, wiping off the powder with an old towel and hoping she wouldn't have to dig anything out of the tiniest crook and cranny. Once the phone was clean again, she swiped down on her notifications and realized she had a text message from her father.

Dad Sent at 8:15 am I can't believe you're starting your first day with the Devils. It seemed like only yesterday that I was taking you to your first game. Best of luck, Mae. I love you!

Tears threatened to spill over Maisy's cheeks and ruin her makeup as she reminisced about her first hockey match and the photographer who was kind enough to immortalize the day. As autumn arrived in Newark, a chill permeated the air, and the verdant foliage surrounding the Pearson family home had long since turned burgundy and orange. Maisy sat at the kitchen table, stuffing her face full of cucumbers and trying to unscramble words for her first-grade homework. Her mother, a beautiful woman with waist-length chestnut hair, stood and julienned vegetables over the kitchen sink. From the driveway, a pair of headlights from a black Honda shined through the kitchen window, causing Mrs. Pearson to lift her forest-green eyes from her work.

"It looks like Daddy's home," she said over her shoulder to Maisy, who paid her mother no mind.

Within minutes, a dark-haired man dressed in a stuffy gray suit and a Prudential Financial computer case over his shoulder entered the home. Before stepping into the kitchen, he placed his keys in a catch-all tray in the mudroom entrance and his black loafers into the shoe rack. "Hi, Girls!" he greeted.

Mr. Pearson shared a kiss with his wife before turning his attention to his daughter. "How was school, Mae-Mae?"

"It was fun. Did you know that the Pilgrims first sailed here on a ship?"

"I did. They came here on the Mayflower. Maybe we should start calling you Mayflower!" Mr. Pearson jokes, patting Maisy on her chestnut hair. "But I have something that you may like."

Maisy climbed out of her chair to face her father, who placed his work bag on the ground and began to search through the pockets. After a few moments, Mr. Pearson produced an official envelope from Prudential with his name on the front and handed it to his little girl with a soft smile. Maisy did her best to open the envelope with her tiny fingers and pulled out a pair of red and black tickets to see the New Jersey Devils in the company's private suite at their eponymous arena in the Central Ward.

"What do you think? Do you want to go?" Mr. Pearson asked.

Maisy clutched the tickets to her chest and spread her lips into a large grin. "Yes, please!"

"Alright. It's not for a couple of days. But I'll pick you up from school, and we'll have a blast," Mr. Pearson replied before heading up the stairs to change out of his work clothes.

Mr. Pearson graduated with his Bachelor's and professional degree from Rutgers University and chose to dedicate his Juris Doctorate to Prudential. Most days, he would look over corporate contracts and occasionally had to persuade his bosses that Karen did not have grounds for a lawsuit because Brenda in Customer Service refused to transfer a call to her supervisor. But working for an insurance giant that was successful enough to buy the naming rights to an NHL stadium had its perks. Mr. Pearson had a few decorations in his office to bring life to its dull corporate atmosphere, including a picture of his wife and daughter and some artwork Maisy brought home from school. But the most helpful thing hanging in the office, by far, was the Devils' schedule.

Being only a few minutes down the road from the Rutgers campus, the Prudential Center, named the Continental Airlines Arena at the time, provided quick and accessible entertainment for the college-age Mr. Pearson and his roommates. They could typically scrape a few dollars together and secure decent seats to watch the Devils, and the boys in red have been a staple in his life ever since. A large flat-screen TV hung in his office, where he could watch his games if he ever needed to bring work home or if he wanted to free up the television in the den for his wife and daughter.

Occasionally, little Maisy would turn the ornate, brass doorknob to the office and poke her little head in. If Mr. Pearson weren't busy, he would allow Maisy to sit on the small black leather couch and turn the screen so they could watch the game together. Maisy would fixate her light brown eyes on the TV and watch the players go up and down the ice. She tried her best to understand what was occurring on the ice; sometimes, she would have to stop and ask her father to clarify something, which he did in the simplest way possible. Regardless, she soon began to understand the game using cues on when her father would cheer and when her father would boo. Mr. Pearson would look back over his shoulder with a smile and a sparkle in his eye as he saw his daughter enjoying something that had brought him so much catharsis over the years. It soon became their father-daughter activity to sit in the home office and watch the Devils games whenever their schedules permitted.

On the game day, Maisy and Mrs. Pearson woke up early to select an outfit for the game. They settled on a beautiful little dress with a black top and red polka-a-dots, and a red bow fastened on Maisy's right hip held a piece of tulle fabric over her matching skirt. For her hair, Maisy requested to divide her locks into pigtails with red and black hair bobbles. And as for her shoes, she selected a pair of sparkly black Mary Janes.

Maisy was the talk of her class that day. Many of her classmates approached her and asked why she dressed up, to which Maisy proudly proclaimed that she and her father were planning to see a Devils game later that evening. A few peers groaned as the teacher instructed everyone to take their seats. Whatever the lesson was that day, Maisy couldn't tell you because the teacher's voice seemed to fade into the background as she eagerly awaited for the clock to strike three. She watched the thin, black, minute hand agonizingly tick away above the classroom door. Every once in a while, she would try to divert her attention to their colorful classroom or the worksheet her teacher handed out as the daily assignment to make the time go by faster, but her eyes always found a way back to the clock itself.

Eventually, her suffering subsided as the school bell, at long last, rang its jarring melody, causing the school children to break into an excited cacophony as they rushed into the halls. Maisy did her best to dodge her way past her classmates as she clutched her bag to her shoulders and ran out the door. Stepping out onto the cement stoa, she found her father standing before her, smiling and waving as promised.

Father and daughter had to make a stop home for Mr. Pearson to throw on his old Martin Brodeur jersey that he kept for an occasion like this and explain their plan for the evening to Mrs. Pearson. Once they settled everything, the twosome climbed back into the car for dinner.

They traveled to a charming little American-style dinner on Broad Street down the road from the stadium. It sat in a small brick building with a red awning out front with the name Broad Street Tavern written in bold, white letters. What the restaurant lacked in curbside appeal, it made up for in its interior design. Several patrons sat at the metal bar and the reclaimed wood tables, enjoying a hamburger or other American fare by a roaring fire.

A waitress approached Mr. Pearson and Maisy within minutes of entering and led them to their table with a pair of menus. Due to the special occasion, Mr. Pearson allowed Maisy to indulge, getting her whatever entree she wanted and some ice cream. He quizzed Maisy on her hockey knowledge while dipping his French fries into her hot fudge sundae. Maisy, at first, wrinkled her nose at her Dad's strange eating habits. However, after some coaxing, she finally acquiesced and dipped a French fry into her chocolate ice cream, discovering for the first time the delectable balance of sweet and salty that she still sometimes enjoys almost twenty years later.

After they had filled their bellies, Mr. Pearson and Maisy headed to the Prudential Center. They used the parking garage tucked away at the end of the arena where VIP ticket holders — or anyone willing to spend $40 to park their car — could spare themselves from a long walk in the chill New Jersey climate. Maisy grabbed her Dad's hand and followed him to a large entrance decorated with portraits of the Devils, where her Dad handed their distinctive tickets to the usher. The woman dressed in red and black looked at the tickets, smiled and nodded, and opened the doors for Maisy and her dad.

The two walked the glass walkway that led to the luxury suites, high above the regular ticket holders mulling about through the concourse, exploring and buying their stadium food for the game while they waited for the game to start. Maisy turned her head and stared at the sea of people down below and, for once, felt grateful that her father's profession prevented her from getting lost in that nightmare.

It only took a minute or two for Mr. Pearson to reach the private concourse reserved for the suites, and it was evident that anyone willing to shell out the cash for a bit more privacy would get what they paid for. A chef in a white coat sliced meat under a heat lamp while their colleagues ran behind them, putting ingredients on the grill or in the fryer and ensuring the grab-and-go counters were well stocked. Several pairs of tables and chairs sat in a semi-enclosed eating area and faced large screen TVs, allowing whoever was hungry to follow the action on the ice without missing anything. The floor also contained multiple comfy couches and armchairs interspersed with Devils memorabilia, stretching back to their run as the Kansas City Scouts in 1974.

Maisy's mouth fell open slightly as she looked around at the luxury the piazza offered. She was so surprised she couldn't hear her father calling her name.

"What do you think, Maisy?" Mr. Pearson asked, shaking his daughter’s hand to get her attention. "Do you like it?"

But a shocked Maisy could only nod, causing her father to let out an audible laugh.

"Well, we probably won't be able to sit here all the time. But if you ever want to go again, I could pull some strings. C'mon, let's go find our suite!" Mr. Pearson said as he escorted his daughter down the hall.

There was one other perk of being a Prudential employee: the CEO's suite. The company designed it when it first purchased the naming rights to the stadium in 2007. It wanted a place to impress some of its more affluent clients. But sometimes, they were generous enough to allow their workers to use the room for private parties or to take their daughter to their first hockey game. The space was about the size of a single-bedroom apartment and several rows of padded seats near a sliding glass window. In the back was a small dining area with a fridge and a countertop well-stocked with snacks, drinks, and anything the patrons needed.

But to six-year-old Maisy, it wouldn't matter if her father and his bosses treated her like the princess of the world. What mattered was that she could finally enjoy something that had brought her and her father together outside the four walls of the family's home office.

During the intermission, Mr. Pearson had brought Maisy down to the regular concourse to visit the Devils Den to pick something up for his daughter to commemorate her first NHL game. She selected a small red and black teddy bear, whom she promptly named NJ after the team's mascot. There was still some time left before the second period, and Mr. Pearson inquired from Maisy whether she wanted to stay on the regular concourse or go up to the private suite.

Maisy tilted her head and stared into the distance, weighing her two options. On the one hand, returning to the private suite would rescue her from dealing with the crowds of people wandering outside the store. But on the other hand, she never knew what she would find if she did explore.

After thinking, Maisy looked up at her Dad and excitedly announced, "Let's go explore!"

Mr. Pearson nodded and led his daughter back out and into the congregation of fans. The main concourse was not as nice as the private concourse. Maisy held tight onto her father's hand as endless lines of people seemed to pass, chatting about the first period. Others stood around with beers in their hands or waited in a long concession lines for the second period. Despite clinging to her Dad as close as possible, Maisy couldn't help but take in the sights and smells of a Devils game. She scanned the large murals covering the walls and turned her ears to pick up on what some of the grown-ups were saying about the game for posterity.

During their walk, the two encountered a pair of Devils staff holding cameras next to a backdrop.

"Daddy, let's take a picture for Mommy!" Maisy stated as she dragged her father over to the photo booth.

"Say cheese!" instructed the photographer once the two had selected a background for their snapshot.

Maisy couldn't have known then, but that game was pivotal in her life. Watching the match from the CEO's suite was such a magical experience that Maisy resolved to grow up and work for the Devils to help recreate the same happiness for the later generations of fans. She wanted to become precisely like that photographer who had helped her enshrine the start of her journey.

Returning to the present, Maisy shifted her gaze from the picture to her face in the mirror and smiled, reminiscing about all the hard work that went into bringing her to this moment — her summer job at the Den, internships at the Newark Museum of Art, position on the Rutgers women's ice hockey team, and Bachelor's in Fine Arts. It led to this moment where Maisy would walk proudly into the Prudential, not as a fan but as an employee.

She stopped the playlist on her phone, which had long moved on to Fifth Harmony, and began addressing her bathroom calamity. Re-screwing the caps, Maisy collected everything and dumped it into an acrylic bin sitting on the free-standing bookshelf next to the counter before wiping down the countertop with some disinfectant. She took a step back to look over her work once everything was spotless and mentally scolded herself that, as a recent college graduate, she did not precisely have the money to risk losing her security deposit because she fixated on making herself look beautiful rather than taking care of her apartment.

Domiciled a block away from the Prudential Center, Maisy didn't have to go far to get to her new place of employment. She could see the arena from her apartment window. She spent many nights reading about daguerreotypes and the works of Adams and Cartier-Bresson for her courses, listening to the faint sound of the goal horn from the stadium and dreaming of the day she could proudly proclaim herself as one of their photographers. It would only take a few-minute walk and a couple of left turns to get to work, so Maisy looked over her outfit and belongings to ensure she had everything ready for her first day.

The clothes she selected for the day were a change from the skirts and sweaters she wore during her college days. When the call came in from the Director of Human Resources that Maisy had gotten the job, her best friends immediately took her over the river into New York City to buy her several outfits that would make her look more professional. She didn't exactly know what kind of work attire the Devils' creative teams wore, so she opted for an outfit that was both professional and casual by using a dark blue pants suit, a matching blue and off-white striped sweater, minimalist brown belt, and a pair of off-white slip-ons. Looking over herself in the bedroom, Maisy let out a relieved sigh upon seeing that her work outfit was devoid of makeup, strings, or tears.

"Lenses … check … Filters … check … Memory card … check … " she mumbled as she looked over all the slots in her camera bag. Everything seemed to be coming together, but not even that idea could assuage the butterflies flying around her stomach.

She checked her phone and realized it was finally time to face the fire. It was time to head over to the Prudential Center. "You have this, Mace. You already have the job, and the only way that you could fuck it up is if you take bad photographs. But you can't take bad photographs, can you? I mean, you could if you wanted to. But you don't because you went to Rutgers, one of the most prestigious schools in America, for your Bachelor's in Art."

Maisy continued her pep-talk as she fetched her black woolen overcoat from her hall closet and swung her work and camera bags over her back and shoulder. She stepped out in the hallway, locked her apartment with her keyfob, and pushed the down button on the elevator. Thankfully, since most people would be at work by 9:00 am, there wasn't anyone around to listen to Maisy’s endless monologue. The elevator arrived at the ninth floor with a ding and opened its doors, allowing Maisy to enter onto its tiled floor. She requested the lobby and gently began to rock on her toes as she watched the screen go from nine to eight to seven and so forth. Some of her wished the elevator would get stuck somewhere during the ride down and it would take the Newark Fire Department several hours to get her out. But alas, the lift did its job and brought Maisy to the lobby.

Maisy exited the elevator and readjusted her bags before heading towards the door. A young woman in an indigo suit, paying homage to the name of the apartment building, stood behind a dark gray modern desk, typing away at her computer.

"Have a good day, Maisy!" the front desk woman said with a wave. "Best of luck with the new job!"

A nervous Maisy gave her a friendly wave in return as she left the building. Buttoning up her coat, she took off down Broad Street, where the Devils' Creative Director promised he would be waiting to let her into the Staff entrance. She did her best to meander down the sidewalk, trying to slow her gait. However, as she neared the arena, she saw a glimpse of a tall, dark-haired gentleman wearing a pair of khaki dress pants and a black Devils pullover. He stood before a large black door with a matching metal marquee above that read STAFF in large, white letters. There was only one option for who this person could be: the Creative Director.

Maisy took one last deep breath and plastered a large smile, attempting to hide her anxiety as she approached the man. "Hi, Mr. Gambiano!"

"Please, call me Nick. You're part of the Creative team now, and we're nowhere near as fussy as the Front Office or Legal. We all operate on a first-name basis," the man responded.

"Right. I'm sorry, Nick. I'm ready for my first day of work."

"Sounds good. Come with me, and I'll introduce you to everyone!"

Nick produced a keycard from his pocket and swiped it on the scanner to keep the staff entrance locked away from unwanted visitors. The box beeped, turned its light green, and opened the door with a click, allowing Nick to pull.

"Ladies first!" he joked, gesturing for Maisy to enter.

The entrance led into a bleak white stone hallway that desperately needed some decorations. Only an old, framed corkboard with various notices hanging from it decorated the walls. On either side, several large gray doors stood, leading to different offices. Nick gently bypassed Maisy and stopped at the door frame to her right, conversing with whoever was inside.

"Maisy, c'mere. I want to introduce you to our security team," he explained.

Maisy poked her head around the corner and looked into the office. To the security team's credit, they did their best to brighten up their austere surroundings with pictures and other posters. Two men sat in front of desks with multiple computer screens with security footage from several places in the building, from the entry gates to the concourse. A few others enjoyed a quick breakfast or coffee to begin their workday at the small kitchenette. Everyone lifted their gazes and greeted Maisy with a friendly smile, welcoming her to the Devils' crew and promising they would get her a security badge by the end of the day. In the meantime, she could use a guest keycard that would allow her to get into various other parts of the arena, such as the tunnel and the employee elevator.

One by one, Nick and Maisy visited each door in the hallway, meeting the departments that kept the Prudential Center up and running, such as the Facilities Management Team and Groundskeeping and Landscaping. Maisy's shoulders drooped, and her gaze softened with each pleasant face she met, discrediting her fears that morning and finally settling the butterflies in her stomach. Once the two greeted everyone correctly, Nick led Maisy to a massive red freight elevator at the end of the hall.

"This is the maintenance elevator," Nick explained as the cage doors opened, allowing himself and Maisy to enter. "I don't take it too much because you never know when someone needs to bring down a large delivery. There's another one up the stairs that's a bit nicer. But this one is closer, so I thought we could use it for convenience." He placed his keycard on another reader and pushed the button for the seventh floor.

Upon arrival, the two stepped into a large, colorful open area. There were no designated offices on this particular floor. Still, it was evident that the employees who worked there all had their areas, given the eccentric collection of mismatched furniture. Various people mulled about, checking the broadcast equipment, discussing the season's social media strategy, and designing their graphic design templates.

"This is the Broadcast Floor," explained Nick. "All of the team's creative and social media specialists work here — social media, graphic design, broadcast, radio, and photographers, like you, Maisy."

He wandered deeper into the floor, taking time to say hi to some of his colleagues, with Maisy in tow. Unlike the departments working in the basement, few paid Maisy any mind. Some would give her a quick smile or nod before returning to their work. Maisy allowed their quietness to roll off her shoulders because she knew how annoying it could be to arrange an artistic vision and have someone constantly interrupt you with trivial things. Eventually, Nick and Maisy arrived at a group of people moving various graphic elements into place to create distressed posters of the Devils.

Nick cleared his throat, capturing the team's attention. "Everyone, this is Maisy. She's the Junior Photographer for the season. I expect you all to make her feel welcome."

"It's nice to meet you, Maisy," a thin, gray-haired man with angular features said, standing up from where he was fiddling with his camera and filters. "My name is Thomas, and I'm the photography director for the team. I will be helping you get acclimated to the job. Why don't you sit while we wait for Human Resources?"

Maisy shook Thom's hand, taking the empty seat next to him. She watched as he popped out a memory card from his camera, entered it into one of the USB drives on a nearby computer, and pulled up a project the team had been working on. The piece featured a distressed photo of Nico, edited to look like he was gritty and exhausted, standing in a sea of water in a raging storm.

"Wow, that's pretty cool!" Maisy complimented.

"Thank you!" replied Thom. "The theme that we went with this season is resilience. The guys gave it their all during last season's Playoffs. As a result, we wanted to message the other teams that, come hell or high water, New Jersey will persevere.

Together, Maisy and Thom walked through the proper steps of helping the Graphic Design team make artwork for the club's social media teams, from tips and tricks for getting the best shots of the players in the Prudential Center to uploading those photos to the company computers. After some time, a stuffy woman dressed in a business outfit strode to the group.

"Are you Ms. Pearson?" the woman inquired from Maisy.

"Yes?"

"I'm from Human Resources. Follow me, and I'll help you complete your paperwork."

"Don't worry. HR is a lot scarier than it looks. Just don't do anything reckless," Thom muttered to Maisy.

Some other Graphic Design members overheard Thom’s instructions and giggled as Maisy grabbed a folder of essential documents from her tote. She slowly rose from her chair, trying to avoid eye contact with the HR lady, who glared at the laughing bunch from behind her wire-framed glasses with pursed lips. Maisy silently followed the woman toward the employee elevator that Nick referenced earlier. It wasn't much smaller than the freight elevator in the basement. But Maisy still found herself fidgeting and clearing her throat, doing whatever she could to alleviate the deathly silence that permeated the air between her and the HR person.

A few minutes later, the lift finally arrived a few floors below, and Maisy stepped onto carpet. A gray plaque on the far plaster wall offered directions to three separate offices: the Legal Department was to the right, the Front Office staff was straight ahead, and to the left was Human Resources. She followed the stuffy HR lady into her corresponding office, where multiple employees kept their noses in their work, not even giving her the time of day. Eventually, Maisy and the woman arrived at an average-looking conference room with a medium-sized circular table and multiple black leather swivel chairs arranged around it.

"Have a seat," the HR woman instructed, taking a seat and readjusting the glasses on her face.

Maisy followed her instructions and took the nearest chair. She opened her folder of essential documents, such as a copy of her social security card and passport, and folded her hands in her lap, not wanting to show any signs of trouble.

Despite her appearance, the HR lady was reticent but polite, walking Maisy through her W-4 and Payroll information and answering any questions Maisy may have about the job expectations and benefits. When the HR woman concluded everything, Maisy shook her hand and stepped back into the Human Resources offices. An analog clock on the wall read that it was half past ten, meaning the players should arrive shortly for practice. Wanting to make a good impression, Maisy returned to the Broadcast Floor and scooped up her camera backpack from the corner of Thom's desk, where she left it for safekeeping.

"Would it be alright if I head down to the tunnel?" Maisy inquired.

Thom lifted his head from the digital album of player portraits the team had taken several days earlier. "I don't see why not! All you have to do is hop back onto the elevator and push the R button for the rink."

Maisy nodded and threw her backpack onto her shoulders. Upon reaching the tunnel, the elevator doors opened to a long, intimidating hallway. It resembled the basement connected to the staff entrance with its white-stone walls, several stick racks, and equipment bins pushed to the side. Memories flooded Maisy's mind as she recalled the few times she got to greet the Devils as they walked down onto the ice. They were once her idols and played a critical part in how she shaped the early years of her adult life. But now, these same men were her co-workers, and this was her place of employment.

Several Bauer sticks stood in one of the racks, waiting for the team to arrive. Maisy bit her lip and looked in both directions but saw no one. It would hurt for her to have one little touch, would it? Just one touch?

"Hey, what do you think you're doing!?" a tenor voice exclaimed.

A red and black glove caught Maisy's wrist before she laid a finger on the twig and pulled it back. Her eye drifted upward to see his slightly tan, youthful features. His face had a stern expression, but his gray eyes did not show malice toward Maisy. Several strands of his shoulder-length hair poked out from his matching red helmet.

"I asked you a question," the young man said, lowering his voice. He moved his face closer until his pink lips were only a few inches from Maisy's.

Maisy's eyes grew wide as the tiniest wisp of his body spray flooded her senses. She wanted nothing more than to free her arm from the man's grasp and try to stop the blood flowing to her cheeks, but his hand remained firm on her forearm. "You … you're…" she stammered, trying to ignore the growing lump in her throat.

"Yes, I'm Jack Hughes, and you need to answer my question. Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"Maisy. Girl. Newest junior photographer for the New Jersey Devils."

"Do you have anything to back up your claim?"

Jack let go of Maisy's wrist to allow her to reach for any proof. She gently removed the black security lanyard from around her neck and handed it to him.

He flipped the card back and forth, scanning the plastic piece for spelling errors or other inconsistencies. "This is pretty good. You girls are getting good at replicating these things," Jack finally said.

"It's not fake, jackass. I got it from the Security te一"

"Ms. Pearson?"

Maisy and Jack turned their attention to the source of the new voice, one of the security guards. He looked between the two before clearing his throat and continuing, "I wanted to come and bring you your official security badge. Nick said that you would be down here."

"Yes, of course. Thank you so much for bringing it all this way," Maisy replied, turning and smirking at Jack. She yanked the guest keycard out of his hand without resistance and returned it to the guard. "I greatly appreciate it!"

"So … you do work here?" Jack asked Maisy, who exchanged a wave goodbye with the man.

"Yeah, that's what I just said about five minutes ago," stated Maisy.

An uncomfortable Jack shifted on his blades and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you or anything. We've had problems in the past of psycho fans making homemade security cards and using them to get into off-limit places like our locker room."

"Like the fabled underwear thief?"

"How did you know about that?"

"It was all over Devils Twitter a few years ago."

"That was one awkward meeting with the Front Office. But yeah, just like the girl who broke into our belongings and stole our underwear during games."

"I can't fault you for being suspicious. Even though it was impressive that the underwear thief managed to elude the Devils for several weeks, it wasn't fair that you had your privacy violated. Not everyone understands the boundary between fantasy and reality. I would've done the same thing if I saw some random girl I had never seen before wandering the tunnel."

"Thank you for understanding. Let's try starting over now. I'm Jack." He tucked one of his gloves under his arm to free a hand and extended it.

"Maisy!" she responded with a shake.

One by one, the Devils slowly wandered into the rink for practice. A few of them stopped upon entering the hallway to take notice of Maisy, exchanging gentle whispers amongst themselves as they observed how relaxed Jack looked while conversing with her. The elder Hughes was not known for idling when a big game was approaching. Though it was still the pre-season, the Devils needed to use this crucial time to perfect every little aspect of their play, mainly if they wanted to make it to late April. Their match against their rivals in Southern New Jersey, the Philadelphia Flyers, went splendidly, with the Devils winning against Philadelphia in a surprising 6-0 shutout. Everyone seemed eager to get their blades dirty after the team fought so hard to make it to the second round of the 2023 Playoffs but tragically lost to the Hurricanes in overtime. Their passing and puck handling were almost flawless, and the Flyers never seemed to be able to get comfortable anywhere on the ice.

But New Jersey had little time to celebrate because the league scheduled them to face their cross-river rivals, the New York Rangers, in a few days. During the 2022-23 season, the Devils kept the Rangers mostly at bay, finishing five points ahead of New York. The team also rallied to return from several multi-point losses during the postseason to close the series and move on to the next round. Undoubtedly, the Rangers would be just as eager to prove to the Devils and the rest of the league that they grew from their mistakes.

"I should get going," stated Jack, looking over his shoulder and realizing that Ruff and most coaches and players had arrived. "But it was nice to meet you, Maisy."

"Likewise," Maisy responded. "Best of luck with practice. I'll be sure to take some wonderful pictures for you."

Jack walked down to the end of the tunnel where Luke was waiting for him, while Maisy wandered in the other direction to the photographer’s hole. The Devils did not know who the Rangers would start in their goal. But because professional ice hockey also involved a few mind games, they practiced as if Laviolette would start Shesterkin by working in three groups to set Daws and Vanecek off-balance and try to get the puck into the net. Everyone lined up at middle ice with Jack and several forwards near the left wall, another line of forwards at center ice, and the defensemen waiting on the other side. At Ruff's whistle, two forwards and a defenseman would start skating down the ice as their teammates moved down the queue.

Jack glided down the line as his teammates ran through the drill. Each time he arrived at his new spot, his eyes would drift over to Maisy, who stood on the rink floor, talking to the photography director and taking snapshots of the team. Nico tried several times to start a conversation, but Jack responded with an affirmative grunt and forced his friend's voice to the back of his mind. He tried searching for a reason to explain why he felt so enamored with a woman he only met almost an hour earlier. Perhaps she wasn't like the other girls who flocked to him as a professional hockey player or that she stood up to him. Whatever the reason, he knew he didn’t want this to be the last time he saw her.

Suddenly, Jack felt the sting of Nico's stick blade against his calf. "Ow! What was that for?" he yelled, recoiling his leg.

"GO!" Nico shouted, pointing down the ice with his stick.

Jack followed the direction of the twig and realized that the second forward and his brother were already well into the offensive zone and prepared to take a shot on Daws. He skated as fast as he could to catch up with his teammates as Daws slid back and forth across his crease, attempting to anticipate where the puck would come from. In a moment of synchronicity, Jack, Luke, and the second forward realized that Daws failed to see Jack joining the action, giving them the opening they needed. Luke passed the puck to Jack, who tucked the puck into the back of the net under Daws' flank. As the attacking trio returned to their cheering lines, Daws fell on his side with his legs in the air. Players came and went until the coaches noticed a pattern of success with their current goaltender. At this point, Ruff blew his whistle for Vanecek to replace his partner. Vanecek took one last sip from his water bottle before placing his helmet on his head and giving a friendly blocker bump as he made his way to the pipes. Once Vanecek prepared himself and the coaches set up the puck back at center ice, Ruff blew his whistle again to complete the exercise a second time.

Like with Daws, the players went through their routine of trying to get the biscuit past their goalie, except this time, Jack was a bit more attentive to his place in line lest he wanted to face the wooden wrath of his captain again. Practice continued as planned until the team felt more prepared to face the Rangers, working on their shooting and defending against New York's robust checks. Eventually, practice slowed to a trickle until the players started mulling about and holding friendly competitions between themselves, such as seeing how many times they could bounce a puck on their sticks before it fell to the ice.

After noticing that his players were getting tired, Ruff blew one last whistle. "Alright, that's enough!" he called out. "Everyone, gather around!"

Jack, Nico, Luke, and several others skated over and took a knee before Ruff while the rest of the team remained standing. They listened intently as the head coach congratulated them on successful practice and reminded them that Rangers had everything to give when they met New Jersey in Newark for the first time since their elimination. A loss would not count against their record, but the Devils could still not afford to undo all their progress during the off-season and the first pre-season games. They needed to match the Rangers at every corner of the ice. But for now, the team deserved several days of rest to recuperate and reflect on the lessons they learned during today's practice to prepare themselves physically and mentally for their game in a few days.

Ruff dismissed the team, and Jack immediately rushed into the tunnel without a second thought. Perhaps it looked strange to his teammates, but he wanted to be the first in and out of the locker room to catch Maisy one last time before heading home. He flew into the room and immediately began to unlace his skates, stripping himself down to his jock before rushing into the showers with his post-practice clothes. Doing his best not to trip over the bathroom tile, he selected a few bare essentials 一 shampoo, soap, washcloth, and towel 一 set out by the Wellness Department before every practice and game. Jack didn't need to smell like he finished a cologne commercial, but he didn't want to make a second horrible impression by smelling sweat as he selected a shower stall and turned on the water.

The faint sound of conversation and the bathroom door opening and closing came through the shower's spray as Jack allowed the warm water to trickle down his chest and abs. A sigh escaped his lips, and his muscles slowly began to relax. If the Devils did lose to the Rangers, his body wouldn't soon forget the work ethic necessary to try and beat them. After some time, Jack grabbed the soap from the stall's built-in corner caddy and began to wash away any spec of dirt from his body. He gave his appendages a final glance, deeming himself presentable to Maisy, before turning off the shower and wiping himself down.

"You okay?" Luke inquired as his fully dressed brother returned to the dressing rooms.

"Yeah, why?"

"Because you've just been out of it since I saw you talking to that girl in the hallway."

Jack rolled his eyes and continued to dry his locks. Luke was the quietest of the Hughes children but also had the biggest heart and wouldn't hesitate to check up on his elder brothers if he thought something was wrong. "I'm fine, and her name is Maisy," he responded.

"Who, do tell, is this Maisy?" asked Nico from the other end of the row as he collected his stuff from his locker.

"She's the newest photographer for the team."

"Maybe you should ask her out. You seem to like her a lot," Luke suggested, putting on a pair of sweatpants.

"That's not a good idea!" Nico retorted.

"Why?"

Luke froze in place and looked between Jack and Nico with his downturned eyes, trying to decipher whatever silent message they exchanged. Jack widened his eyes and tilted his head, almost as if to tell Nico that he piqued Luke's interest, which meant that he had to tell Luke what happens when personnel get involved with the players.

Nico pursed his lips before turning to Luke and saying, "We generally try to avoid going out with the female employees because the organization can fire them for having romantic relationships with the team.”

"They were serious about that?" Luke murmured under his breath as he finished dressing.

"Yes, they were," responded Jack, tossing the used towel into a nearby laundry bin. "But don't worry, I wouldn't count saying hi to a girl five times before awkwardly shuffling off would constitute having a romantic relationship with someone."

"I still think you should get her number."

"Why?"

"I mean, if she could get The Big Deal to smile, she seems cool."

Jack shifted his gaze to Nico, looking for a final piece of advice from his captain.

"It's up to you. But if you do give her your number, I would suggest that you try to keep the relationship as professional as possible. You don't want to be that person who ruins a girl's career because you couldn't keep it in your pants."

Jack nodded as he threw his black duffel bag over his shoulders and exited the locker room. He watched as the equipment managers ran back and forth, putting back the pucks and the sticks from practice. But as far as Jack could tell, there didn't seem to be any sign of Maisy. Jack reassured himself that she had to be down there as he slowly wandered the hallway. There wouldn't be any reason she would have to return to work so soon. He poked his head in every corner, searching for any sign. However, as the minutes passed without success, Jack's expression started to sour, and a slight frown formed. If she wasn't in the tunnel, she could have return to the Broadcast Floor to learn how to touch up her photos. Jack could request access to the Broadcast Floor if he wanted to. The only problem was he would have to explain to Ruff why it was a good idea to allow the team's star player near their newest hire to give her his phone number.

As Jack tried to formulate a backup plan, a woman's laugh broke through his thoughts. He couldn't place a face to the giggle, but his heart already knew who it was: Maisy. Clearing his head, Jack rushed to the source of the voice and found Maisy conversing with the photography director over the pictures she had taken during the practice. Jack couldn't do anything in that moment lest Jack wanted to risk exposing his plan to the director, so he was content to watch for several moments. His frown transformed into a smile as he watched how her lightly freckled cheeks lifted every time she spread her lips to reveal her perfect, white teeth or how she sometimes lifted her manicured nails to her nose to stifle her laughter.

The photographer director left after a while, leaving Maisy alone. Jack immediately placed his back to a nearby wall and kept perfectly still to prevent the photographer director from noticing him as he passed. He relaxed his body once the photographer was safe and revealed himself from his hiding spot.

"Hey, Maisy!" he said, shoving his hand into his pocket, trying to act natural despite feeling his heart skip a beat or two.

"Hey, Jack! I saw you during practice. You looked good out there. Do you feel ready to face the Rangers?"

"Yeah, yeah … but, umm … I wanted to come and apologize again and see if I could get your number."

"My number?" Maisy asked as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Aren't most guys supposed to pull out some cheesy pick-up line like, 'Are you a camera? Every time I look at you, I smile.' I heard that one a lot while I was a student."

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm not that kind of guy," Jack reassured, keeping Nico's advice at the front of his mind. "Just like a pair of friends going to get lunch or something. That's not awkward, right?"

"I thought you hockey-types usually go after the long-legged, skinny, blonde model-type of girls."

"Some do, but not all. I prefer a girl more like you — a short and feisty one who looks, well, healthy."

Maisy smiled a bit before placing her camera bag on the floor and pulling out a pen and paper from a small side pocket. "I suppose we need to test your theory of not being like other guys."

"I should get going," she continued, handing Jack a neatly folded paper square. "There's still a few more things I need to learn before heading home. But if you ever get bored, hungry, or bored, text me, and maybe we could do something together."

Jack unfolded the paper and smiled at the pristine handwriting that wrote out Maisy's numbers. He could hear Nico's voice in his head, admonishing him for putting himself in a situation that would probably end up with either the Devils reprimanding Maisy, Jack, or both. But Jack's consciousness quickly shooed Nico away like an exasperated linesman trying to break up a scrum and didn't get paid enough. He knew that he needed to be careful moving forward. Still, he wanted to learn more about Maisy and perhaps himself, particularly if he had never felt this way about a girl. His gaze lifted once more to see the steel doors of the elevator closing on Maisy's visage as she waved to him.

"Win against the Rangers for me!"

A hockey photographer's life was unlike your typical 9-5. Many artists worked long nights, reviewing their photos and ensuring that everything looked right before submitting them to the team, league, or even Getty Images. Thankfully, Maisy would be able to make it home before the sunset. Thom, Nick, and the other members of the Creative Team wanted Maisy to stick around so that she could learn more about how the team would use her pictures to create art for the club. It was interesting, but Maisy couldn't wait to return to her cozy, warm apartment and change into something more comfortable.

She hung her keyfob on a mahogany key rack in the entryway and placed her bags near the little island in the kitchen before opening the small door protecting the closet in her one-bedroom apartment. There were clothes of various colors and textures sticking out from every angle in the little shoebox. The accommodations worked so well for Maisy while she was studying at university. Still, she was starting to get tired of the lack of space and decided to save up enough money to move out while she struggled to hold back the clothing avalanche that was threatening to spill over. Once Maisy felt the disaster subsided, she stepped back and looked at the mess for anything that looked clean and comfortable. Eventually, her eyes picked up a distressed band tee and pair of shorts. As Maisy finished putting on her shorts, her phone rang from the kitchen, catching her attention. A picture of her and her father standing in front of the wrought-iron Rutgers gate leading to the campus with her diploma popped up on the screen, causing Maisy to smile. Mr. Pearson had long since gone gray, and he was even considering retirement, but his eyes and smile still retained that same energy he had all those years ago.

"Hi, Daddy!" Maisy stated after a moment of reminiscing.

"Hi, Mace! Is this a good time to talk?"

"Yeah, I figured you would be calling. I just got home from the Prudential Center."

"Really, I never would have guessed! Anyway, how was your first day of work? Did you meet any cute hockey players?"

"DAD!"

Maisy and her parents talked well into the evening about everything, how she met some of the team, loved her new co-workers, and was happy to do something she loved. Once she had given her parents a play-by-play, her mother started a saga about how she ran into a book club member at the grocery store, which Maisy pushed to the back of her mind while searching her refrigerator for something quick she could make for dinner. As her mother babbled, Jack was the only thing she had on her mind. It felt like there was a massive debate going on inside her head. One side of her wanted to tell everyone that she had given her phone number to Jack Hughes, the Jack Hughes. Another part told her to keep things on the down low because it wasn't very professional for her to rush into a workplace situationship on her first day at her big-girl job. It didn't hurt that Jack Hughes had her phone number. All she needed to do is be careful when approaching this situation.

"Maisy, are you there?" her mother asked, interrupting Maisy's train of thought.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm probably just tired from a long day of work."

"Alright, then, we should probably let you go. But we want to see you the next time the Devils have the day off!"

"Sounds good. I'll call you when I have more information. Love you!"

"Love you, too! Have a good night!"

Maisy disconnected and breathed a sigh of relief that her mother didn't pry any further like a detective interrogating a homicide suspect. She wouldn't know what to say if anybody asked her about her feelings for Jack, so it is best to keep things quiet for now. After sifting through various bottles and containers of Tupperware, Maisy finally settled on a container of sesame chicken from yesterday that she should probably hurry up and get rid of. With a belly full of food and an episode of her favorite reality blaring on the TV, Jack had almost faded into the back of Maisy's mind until her phone vibrated with a text message.

Jack Sent at 9:30 pm Hi, Maisy. It's Jack. 🙂

Maisy glanced over the phone, thinking it was probably her parents or some promotional text message from a store that she had forgotten to opt out of. But when her brain registered what the message said and who the sender was, she immediately sprung from her stupor and into action. Jack Hughes was texting her, which meant that it was go time. A thousand thoughts danced around Maisy's head as she attempted to figure out how she was supposed to handle this situation. Eventually, she took a deep breath and typed a generic greeting back before shutting off her phone for the night.

She plugged her phone into the little floating shelf beside her and immediately climbed into bed. Starting your dream job and meeting one of your favorite players, who also turned out to be super cool and accepted your phone number, takes a lot out of a girl. And Maisy wanted nothing more than this day to end. But as she laid her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes, she couldn't help but wonder if she was doing the right thing.

The Rangers game eventually came around, and the Prudential Center filled up with equal parts Devils and Blueshirts fans. Being the only member of the photography team to appear in the public eye, Maisy decided to dress up a little bit with a powder blue blouse and a pair of matching nude pants and heels. She waved to the security guards, who stood outside the staff entrance in their neon yellow jackets, feeling very proud and sophisticated as she swiped her keycard to enter the building. Ordinarily, she would be standing in line with the other fans with her father's old Martin Brodeur jersey. But tonight was Maisy's night to shine, to show how hard she worked over the years to obtain this position.

Maisy journeyed up to the Broadcast Floor, where Nick, Thom, and everyone else were busy preparing for the game. She retrieved her setup from the equipment lockers, activated the appropriate settings, and returned to take pictures of the players entering the arena. Jack hadn't responded to her message from last night, so Maisy figured that he understood that she didn't want to rush into this relationship. However, that didn't stop her stomach from threatening to spill the contents of her lunch in the streets.

After moments, she noticed movement across the parking lot, where the players traditionally parked their cars. Her eyes adjusted a bit and discerned the slicked dark brown hair of Brendan Smith, poking out from the top of his BMW driver-side door. Maisy smiled as she recalled rumors she had seen online of the rosy-cheeked Brendan, one of the team's more organized and punctual guys. He smiled at her and greeted her with a raise of his coffee cup before heading inside the stadium with the help of the security team. One by one, the players began to trickle in after Brendan – Dougie, Jonas, Nico, the other Nico, and Vtek. However, there was no sign of Jack. Players generally had to be at the arena three or four hours ahead of game time to prepare for the match, and Jack was cutting it real close. Maisy entered a vicious cycle of checking the time and lifting her head again. His delay was not helping Maisy's already heightened anxiety as she debated what she should do about the situation. She had his phone number and could certainly text him.

Thankfully, there was no need for intervention as Jack and another player, whom Maisy identified as Luke upon closer inspection, came running up to the door. She took a snapshot and shouted, "You're late!"

"Blame Luke!" a breathless Jack called back as he gently shoved his brother into the hallway.

Maisy giggled as she took one last photo and followed the Hughes brothers into the stadium. All the players disappeared into their locker room to dress for warm-ups while Maisy went to the ground floor to take pictures of the fans in the stands. It wasn't much longer afterward that the Rangers and Devils emerged to warm up for the game, and a deluge of fans descended upon the glass to try and compete for either a stick or a puck. As Maisy stuck her lens through the hole in the glass, Jack skated up to her and placed his face right up to the lens, giving him a fishbowl appearance. She smirked, turning off the flash and taking the picture of Jack for posterity.

Jack skated away to join the other players in helping Vancek and Daws warm up and the goal. The Devils won 2-1, causing the Devils fans in the building to leap from their seats in celebration. They hugged and high-fived each other as the disgruntled Rangers fans gathered their things to head back over the river. Meanwhile, the elated Devils lept from their bench to give Daws his congratulatory head bumps and the Blueshirts filed silently back into their locker room.

The games came and went over the proceeding months. As planned, New Jersey returned with a vengeance from their elimination during last year's Playoffs. There were a few teams who had the Devils' number. But the boys in red did their best to hold on and secured the second spot in the Metropolitan Division. However, that wasn't the only big narrative that circled through Newark that fall. Despite their promise to remain just friends, Jack and Maisy slowly started to break their boundaries one by one. They didn't do it outright to avoid suspicion, but rumors about their respective departments were circulating. Their families, friends, and co-workers could see it in how they smiled at each other, or they always seemed to find time to talk

As everyone suspected, Maisy and Jack's relationship grew underneath the surface. Their first date was pretty simple because they didn't want anyone – or even themselves, for that matter – to know that they had feelings for each other. It wasn't a big deal or anything. Jack invited Maisy for a hike and picnic at the South Mountain Reservation in West Orange. Both of them rationalized that there was nothing wrong with them getting a little exercise, particularly considering that Jack is a professional athlete and food was necessary for the body to rebuild muscle after exercise. There was nothing romantic about Jack and Maisy sitting together, surrounded by the beautiful leaves, laughing and conversing away from the prying eyes of the fans and the Devils organization.

There was one problem, though. These casual dates, which were nothing more than two friends and co-workers hanging out, soon became a pattern. Jack and Maisy would lie awake at night, contemplating their mistakes and how they should proceed. One day, on a team break day, Maisy was lying on her sofa, listening to music and surfing social media, when a text came in from Jack.

Jack Sent at 1:05 pm I'm bored. Do you want to go out and do something?

Maisy smiled as she sat up and clicked the notification on the top of her phone. She asked what Jack wanted to do, and Jack said he wanted to go to the Newark Museum of Art. Maisy pursed her lips at this idea. It wasn't the fact that she didn't want to go to the Museum. She still had many friends from when she interned there during her college years and popped in occasionally to see them and what new exhibits the facility has. But Jack never showed an overt interest in art. He thought Maisy had incredible talent and sometimes asked her about different photography terminology. Besides, he seemed more than content hanging with his brother or playing video games — typical guy things. Maisy was still intrigued all the same.

Jack Sent at 1:05 pm I just thought it would be fun.

Maisy just shrugged her shoulders and found a cute outfit before heading out to the Museum as planned. She pulled into the small parking lot beside the old stone building and selected a spot next to Jack's dark gray Mercedes-Benz Sedan. Despite its mundane appearance, the Newark Museum of Art had a lot of space and held tons of exhibits. Maisy opened the door and approached the white desk in the middle of the foyer, where a man and woman sat behind a glass countertop.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Maisy!" the gentleman exclaimed, causing the woman to look up from whatever she was doing on her computer. "Have you come back to visit the little people?"

"You're never little to me," Maisy replied, pulling out a pamphlet from the plastic holder on the countertop and opening it. "I'm here to meet a friend. Are there any new exhibits that I should know about?"

"There is a new exhibit that documents art from various cultures in America during the 20th and 21st century that I think you may like," the woman said, standing up and pointing to the page Maisy had open in the pamphlet.

"Sounds cool! It was nice to see you guys again!" Maisy responded as he waved goodbye and headed to the large, colorful arches leading to the exhibits.

"Of course! Don't be shy and come see us again!" the man and woman replied as they returned to work.

Maisy stepped onto the modern exhibit floor and wandered through some individual pieces as she examined the map. A lot had changed since she was just a teenager, working there to help stage pieces, sell tickets, and direct to the people where the bathrooms were. However, there was one thing that stayed the same: its eccentricity. Public historians had one main job, and that was to make history more accessible to the public. The Museum's art director certainly had that covered by ensuring that every exhibit was fun, interactive, and different than the last. Some say that it is a bit tacky and prefer the more sophisticated stylings of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. But it worked for the everyday citizens of Newark, got more people in the building, and made the place feel a bit more homey.

Maisy had no idea where Jack was in this whimsical maze, but that gave her more reason to wander around and see the Museum. She took the advice of the guides sitting at the front desk and visited the exhibit on Modern American Art. It was a gorgeous exhibit that featured art from many of the country's minority populations, from Indigenous Art to the Harlem Renaissance. Maisy stopped and looked at each piece of art, admiring the mediums and use of color as she wandered the different halls. She had almost forgotten about Jack until she saw him staring at a statue of Aphrodite of Knidos in an ongoing exhibit about ancient art history. Jack had his face turned to the installment, but Maisy could tell he put more effort into his appearance today. It wasn't that Jack was unclean or anything. As someone who spent half of his week in his suit and another half under several layers of padding, Jack usually liked to dress down on his days off, typically wearing a basic T-shirt and jeans. However, today, Jack looked extremely dashing with his brown hair brushed back, matching black shirt and pants, and matching gray sweater.

Maisy joined Jack at his side. "It's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

"Even though she's missing her head and limbs, you can still see there is beauty in how much care the sculptor put into the piece," Jack responded.

Afterward, there was an awkward science between the two, and a feeling of easiness settled into Maisy's stomach. There was a reason why a well-dressed Jack had brought her to a place that played such an essential part in Maisy's life for several years. The only problem was that Maisy did not know whether this was a good or bad sign.

"She kind of reminds me of you," Jack finally said.

"What do you mean?"

"Over the past few months, I have gotten to know Maisy, the photographer. But I haven't gotten to know the other sides of Maisy in the past few months. I'm pretty sure everyone has seen it, but I don't think we can remain friends — or at least not remain friends without acknowledging our underlying feelings."

Maisy shifted the strap on her purse and looked down at her ballet flats. This is the one thing she feared. She promised herself that she would never allow herself to land in this position when she accepted Jack's phone number. He was super sweet and did so much for her. He made her laugh, made it a point to talk to her every day after every game, and checked up on her whenever they had the day off. Maisy had written off the behavior as Jack just trying to be excellent. However, looking back on everything, she considered whether Jack developed feelings for her, she developed feelings for him or both. The problem was that if she indulged in these affections, she might lose the job she had worked so hard to obtain.

Was she ready to take this leap?

Jack's gray-colored eyes watched Maisy as she considered her options. "What are you thinking?"

"I think that's a lot to ask for. Surely, you know what happens to employees, particularly female employees, to get involved with players!" Maisy replied.

"Yeah, I have. And I'm not suggesting that you jump right into a relationship with me, but it would be a bad idea for us to let these feelings foster.

Maisy took a deep breath and asked, "What if I did take that chance?"

"Are you sure about that?" inquired Jack.

"Yes, I am definitely sure," Maisy finally confessed, letting go of her purse strap and relaxing her shoulders. "I have spent all of my life preparing for this job. Not once have I ever had time to think about the fact that this job is not guaranteed. And if I am ever going to let go of my fears of losing this job, I have to let go of my attachment to this job. And there's no one I would rather risk my job for than you, Mr. Hughes."

A large smile appeared on Jack's face as he grabbed Maisy's hand to bring her closer. Maisy could feel the calluses on his fingers, where he had spent so many days learning how to shoot pucks with his father and brothers on the homemade pond in their backyard. Yet, they were gentle and soft, reassuring Maisy that her decision would not go to waste. "Well, then, I think we should reintroduce ourselves," Jack joked. "My name is Jack Hughes, and I'm Maisy Pearson's boyfriend."

"It's nice to meet you, Jack Hughes. My name is Maisy Pearson, your girlfriend," Maisy replied with a giggle.

Without a moment's hesitation, Jack pulled Maisy in for a kiss. It all happened quickly, but it felt natural, like their bodies had been waiting for this moment for months. Maisy softly smiled, and her eyes fluttered shut as her mind began to process the sensation of Jack's lips being against hers. The kiss was warm and tender but delicate and tempting. It would be remiss of her to say that she didn't want more. She could see images of her and Jack sharing a passionate kiss several months later when their relationship was much more profound, and they weren't worried about any potential repercussions because of Maisy's job. For now, though, Jack's kiss was just enough to let Maisy know that there was something more that they could explore.

After a few moments, Jack broke off the kiss and offered Maisy his elbow. "Now that is settled, why don't you show me around the Museum? I hate to admit, but I kind of pulled that Aphrodite thing out of my ass."

"Oh, that's really nice to say to your new girlfriend!" quipped Maisy, giving Jack's shoulder a little slap as she linked her arm with Jack's.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Jack said. "Everything that I said was true. It was just a little hard to make up on the fly because I'm not good at this art thing at all."

"What color do yellow and blue make?"

"Uh, blue?"

"Look, you're learning!"

"Well, it's easy when you have such a smart and beautiful teacher!" Jack answered as he escorted Maisy deeper into the Museum and the great unknown.

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