althea dela cruz, a college student learning to become an nhl physician and jack hughes, the devils number one draft pick of 2019 have some (or a lot) history together.
from being neighbours to each other in toronto, to becoming best friends who sw...
i hear a knock on my door. "hey you almost ready?" jack asks from outside my room.
i let out a frustrated groan as my hands try to move the zipper of my dress up my back. "almost!" i give it another few tries before i decide to give up my career as a contortionist. the sweat beading on my forehead makes me realize that i have no other option but to ask for help.
i walk out of my room and into the living room. "jack?" he's sitting on the couch in a navy blue suit with a simple but slightly wrinkled white button-up. the button at the very top is left open which gives him more of a relaxed fit.
"yeah?" he says diverting his attention to me. i stand in front of him with my arms crossed, reaching over to my back a little bit to keep my dress from moving around and showing something unwanted.
"would you be able to zip my dress?"
his eyes wander over me. "um, yeah," he says in an unsure voice.
i turn around as he stands up from the couch. jack's cold calloused fingertips brush against my upper back when he moves my mid-back length hair over my shoulder. i feel his cool breath go down my back while mine stops. goosebumps take over my skin as well as embarrassment and i hope jack doesn't see them. he steadily zips up the back.
i face him again and move my hair back. "thanks," i say and it comes out more quietly than i intended.
"yeah," he replies–nodding his head and matching my tone. "and you look um–very nice," he comments, nerves slightly racking his voice.
a soft smirk makes its way onto my face. i love how i can make the jack hughes nervous–even if it's a little bit.
i look down and admire the dress, it's a long ankle-length black dress that hugs my figure and shimmers in the light with a queen anne neckline that i paired with black lace-up heels. it makes me seem done up but not to the point where i'm trying too hard.
"you don't look bad yourself," a newfound confidence taking over my voice. i look up and down, "shirt's a little wrinkly though."
he lets out a chuckle. "hey i didn't get a chance to go to the dry cleaners."
"dude, you don't own an iron."
he looks around, "no..." he says quietly.
i raise my eyebrows, "seriously." was i expecting him to own an iron? i guess not really if i think about it. does he even know how to iron his clothes?
"well, let's start moving before we're late," he says changing the subject.
i grab my phone and a cute tiny handbag that matches my dress and we start to head on out.
i guess jack was feeling extra gentlemanly today as he decided to open my door and help me in. "oh and cute earrings by the way," he notes and sends me a wink before closing the door.
a light blush takes over my face as realize what he's talking about.
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here's what i was visualizing for the dress and shoes
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