Early December 2015

There's something about John Tavares that many, including his teammates, don't know about him: he has a secret relationship with a thirty-five year old country singer. And not just any country singer but a certain female singer from the heart of Georgia. John doesn't really feel comfortable about telling anyone that he is really best friends with Jennifer Nettles.

It isn't that he is ashamed about the relationship, it is just more that he doesn't want to tell anyone and Jennifer doesn't want their friendship to leak out. Luckily, they've been able to stay to the dark and keep their friendship hidden.

But, it has been some time since Jennifer and John have seen one another. And they are planning to meet up and play lacrosse together. After all that's how they first met up...

****

Flashback to December 2004

John Tavares is so full of adrenaline as he steps onto the field, he can hardly hear anything over the sound of his own heart beating wildly against his chest. His sweaty fingers wrap around his lacrosse stick, tightening his grip, bracing himself to play for the first time since he has made the team.

He never thought the moment would come. It had been on the table before, sure. More than once, even. Not that he minds, though. He can live without glory. But that night he has not had to make the choice. That night, he has even thought, even just for a moment, that he is being given a chance to turn everything around; it is his chance to do something good that isn't dangerous and see his dad look proud of him for the first time in a long time.

No sooner than the thought occurs to him than he finds himself lying on the ground with a dull ache in the back of his head and the wind knocked out of him.

When he stands up, he shakes himself off and gets back in, but his shoulders are slumped, the corners of his mouth pulled down by the weight of his disappointment, his energy coming from an entirely different place.

Try not to look like an idiot, he thinks, quickly replacing his hopes of heroism.

From that point, most of the game passes in a blur, cliché as it is. He runs. He dives. He falls, and he falls, and he falls. And he gets up. And he tries. And he works so damn hard, the way he always does, the way he is so tired of doing. And when he sees the ball lying on the ground, unguarded, he looks around to see if someone is going to get it.

I can do it, he thinks. I can get it and I can score. Finally. He forgets about everything except how important it feels that he stumble forward and scoop up the ball; so he does just that.

Then he runs. The pulsing of his heart once again drowns out the roaring wind in his ears, his ragged breathing, and his inhibitions. He moves without thinking, without feeling, and then he stops moving. The noises of some small gathered crowd come flooding back in along with his own incessant stream of thoughts a thousand times a second.

He sees the goal and he hears the shouting and he feels the sweat beading on his back and he tastes bile rising up in his throat. And then with a twitch of his muscles the ball soars towards the goal, into the goal.

John chokes out an elated cry, inhaling deeply and cleanly and for the first time in so long, easily.

An instant later he is moving again, back in the game, scoring again. And again. And thinking the whole time that this is what it must feel like to be the stupid hero in all those teen movies, the one who wins the games and gets the grades and wins the girl. The lights of the field shine in his eyes and he smiles, he laughs, he feels exhilaration coursing through his veins.

Then it all vanishes.

He feels a sharp pain return to his head. He shoves himself up, finding that he is lying on his side, still on the turf. He pushes into a sitting position and finds himself looking at a gorgeous golden blond woman. She is shaking her head and appearing to be in pain.

"You okay?" John asks.

"Yeah, how about you?" she replies, asking him back with a thick southern accent...maybe country twang. She pushes back a strand of curly hair, revealing a pair of pretty hazel brown eyes.

"Uh..." John stammers. "I'll be fine." He scrambles to his feet and helps her up as well. "I'm John Tavares."

"I'm Jennifer. And that was all my fault! I should have looked where I was going and throwing..." She blushes and nervously tucks her hair behind her ear. "Guess I should stick more to singing, eh?"

"Singing? You're a singer?" John picks his equipment up and shuffles it all to one hand. He blinks at her and cocks his head.

"Well...I'm from Georgia, as you can tell...I sing country music...I'm looking to make it big actually. I play lacrosse in my free time though... Do you think, even at the age of thirty I can make it?"

"I think so. I'd love to hear you sing...maybe you can share a song or two with me?"

"Right now?" Her eyes go wide and she looks around.

"Sure, why not. I'm not feeling the lacrosse, it's not hockey."

"Hockey? You play roller or ice?"

"Ice."

"Oh. Well, sure, let's beat this game. I'm sorta tired and not feeling like playing today either." She smiles at him.

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and they walk off the field as the other players remain throwing the ball around, ignorant to the two leaving them.

****

John Tavares, now twenty-four, walks onto the chosen field. He spots Jennifer warming up in the center. She sees him and waves. He waves back and then skips over to her. He joins her in the warm up, exchanging words and conversation. Jennifer tells him about her music and being with Sugarland plus having a baby with her husband, while John talks about his hockey career and playing in the NHL with the New York Islanders.

Soon they are lined up across from each other. Just the two of them on the field, no one else. Sweat drips down John's face. His heart pounds, filled with adrenaline and anxiety, as he faces off against his childhood friend in Jennifer Nettles.

The ball is passed from Jennifer to John. A flick there, a flick here and finally the ball is in John's hold. He looks around and then looks forward seeing Jennifer glaring him down, ready to attack and get him. The time is at the top of his consciousness. This ball he holds, if he lands it in the goal, he will win. He will have the bragging rights.

The past games, which feel so long ago come to mind. All of them won by her.

John lobs it as hard and as fast as he can towards the goal, towards an unsuspecting, imaginary goalie, passing by Jennifer, who is sort of shocked. John's beating heart deafens him. The ball flies in the air like a bullet in the Matrix.

It seems everything is perfect, the shot, the timing. Everything. He has Jennifer this time.

Jennifer gasps and darts back. Her own adrenaline rises to new highs, her face in a grin inside the helmet. One step, two, she lunges forward with her lacrosse stick stretched out. Interception, the only thought in her mind.

Everything happens in a flash. John watches on as she lunges for the ball and hope departs him. Thook! He can hear the impact of the ball hits his best friend's stick all the way from his end.

"No!" John shouts, slamming his stick against the grass. "Not again! Ugh!" John takes his helmet off and throws it on the ground. He rakes his sweaty hair and falls down on the ground on his back with a thump, adrenaline and energy diminishing. Fudge, he thinks.

Disappointment radiates from him. He laments on his defeat while still on the ground. Freaking country singer! repeats in his head. He can't believe that his girl friend has beaten him AGAIN. He closes his eyes when he feels and hears the sound of steps coming his way. John can feel the person crouching above him. He slowly opens his eyes, gets on his elbows and sees Jennifer's cocky, smiling face without a helmet.

"Hey man, it was a good throw, in fact, everything was perfect. I was just better." She smiles cheesily at him. "But seriously, good game. You're getting better. Almost beat me this time, maybe in another few years you'll have me."

"Yeah. Gosh, where do you find time to stay so sharp? And after just having a baby too! Geez, you're one strangely talented warrior, Jennifer Nettles." He slowly gets to his feet and brushes the grass off of him.

"It's a secret, like our relationship," she responds with a thick country twang and a clever smirk. She taps John on the nose and walks off. "Want a second try?"

"Oh, you're on!"