“Miss Jones, did you watch the game last night?” One of my high school students asks as he walks into my last period class.
“Of course! You know I did!” I respond, beaming.
“It sucked that the Habs lost, but Lundqvist is just so good. He’s one of my favorite players.” The kid says.
“He’s a really nice guy.” I admit, causing the students to all smile and start asking questions- as usual.

They all think it’s so cool that my boyfriend is a professional hockey player. To me, I’m just dating my high school best friend.... Who happens to play for the New York Rangers. I get a lot of credit from them when I talk about meeting some of their favorites. I haven’t really gotten to know a lot of the players that well since I still live and work here in Gatineau. But on school breaks I usually go visit Derick for a couple days, and I’ve met his whole team.

“Okay, enough talking about hockey.” I say, getting all of their attention. “Take out your books and turn to page 394.”

“I think we need to talk more about hockey.” A familiar deep voice says from the doorway.

My head snaps in it’s direction and a huge smile spreads across my face. Derick is leaning against the wall, holding a bouquet of lilies- my favorite and smiling brightly at me.

“Yo it’s Derick Brassard!”
“You rock dude!”
“Miss Jones’s class is officially fucking awesome!”
“I gotta tweet this shit. Kids in Mrs. Lemont’s class are gonna be so jealous.”

I laugh at my students’ reactions and meet Derick in the middle of the front of the room, wrapping my arms around him. He presses a sweet kiss to my forehead and I hear a couple of the girls ‘aww’ at the interaction.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, taking the flowers from his hand and smelling them.
“Well the series is over and we’ve got some time off, so I figured I’d come home and see my favorite girl.” He responds.
“You’re totally interrupting my lesson plans for the day.” I say, giving him a fake scowl.
“I’ll make it up to you.” He winks, suddenly making me wish we were anywhere else but in front of a room of sixteen and seventeen year old children.

“Okay, so I guess today’s lesson plan is all about hockey.” I say, earning cheers from my students. “D, why don’t you take a seat and answer whatever questions anyone has.”

He hops up on the top of my desk, smiling at the class in front of him.

“But appropriate questions only.” I clarify, eyeing a couple guys I know like to make trouble. They groan, knowing I’m calling them out specifically. But they smile too, simply excited to have a real live NHL player standing in front of them ready to just talk to them for the rest of the class period.

I sit in my chair, completely content to listen to him talk all about how hard he had to work to get to the NHL, what it was like on draft day (I know that part! I was there!), what it’s like to play with and against some of the best players in the world, and even what some of the guys like Lundqvist are like off the ice.

“Miss Jones, were you at the draft?”

“Yeah, I was.” They look at me, clearly wanting to know more. “It was amazing. I flew to Vancouver with the rest of his family. We hardly got to see him with all the stuff he was doing. They usually take the guys who are expected to go in the top ten and do a whole bunch of stuff with them. I spent the whole time with his sister, getting into all sorts of trouble. But what surprised me was that when we got the that actual draft, people knew who I was. Random people came up to me and wished me good luck, even when I was by myself. I have no idea how they knew who I was, but they did. It was insane. But it was amazing at the same time. Then he got drafted sixth and I was just so proud to be there with him.”

“What was Miss Jones like in high school?” One of the boys asks.

I blush furiously, not prepared for them to ask any questions about me. Derick laughs at my reaction.

“You want the truth?” The kids nod. “She was way too good for me. Still is. But somehow she agreed to be my best friend. She was so smart. Always studying and doing homework. But she’s the only reason I passed math every year so I couldn’t really make fun of her for it.”

I chuckle, remembering the long nights we spent in his room “studying” together. It never really lasted too long, but it worked pretty well. If he got a problem right, I would take off an article of clothing. If he got it wrong, I would put something on. My students definitely don’t need to know that about me.

“But she was also totally kick-ass.” He says, getting a laugh from them. “Such a spit-fire. She would chirp all my friends just as much as they would chirp each other. And then she could handle it when they would dish it right back at her.”

“I could see that!” One of the boys in the back yells. My face goes red. Derick gives me a loving stare and I practically melt in his eyes.

“But most of all, she was so genuinely kind to everyone. She still is. I still remember the very first time I ever saw her. It was the first day in grade 9 we were sitting in first period, waiting for the teacher to show up. Most of us didn’t know anything about each other yet. We were all just goofing off and whatever. This kid came in from the special education program. He was clearly in the wrong room, but didn’t notice it. He sat down and then looked around, finally realizing he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. His face got so red with embarrassment and we all thought he was about to cry. He had no idea what to do. Then suddenly this little brunette chick in the back of the room stands up and walks up to him, bending down to talk to him. She was quiet, so I couldn’t hear what she was saying. But she looked at his schedule and took him by the hand, leading him out of the classroom. When the bell rang, the teacher came in and started class. A couple minutes later, she came back in and the teacher got upset with her for being late. She simply said that she had to help a friend find his class, and took her seat. Just like that.”

He looks over at me, smiling at the memory of the very first day of high school. I didn’t know a single person that day. But after that, I gained a lot of respect from my peers. I didn’t lie, actually. Mikey and I became good friends after that. We used to sit together at lunch at least once a week.

“I just remember being so amazed that someone could be that nice to someone they didn’t even know. She inspired me to be like that. To be nice to everyone, even random people I’m just meeting for the first time. It’s why I have such a good reputation for being professional.”

The twinkle in his eyes makes my heart skip and my breath catch. I didn’t know that before.

“Are you guys gonna get married? You should just propose already.”

The question makes my breath hitch, and the declaration makes my heart stop.

“One day, yeah. Maybe sooner than she thinks.” He says, surprising me. He sends me a wink. “So you should probably start getting used to calling her Mrs. Brassard now.”

Notes

Requested.

I might do a part 2 for this later on.