S C O T T

"Why the fuck would a cat need a fishing pole?" I snapped, snatching the toy off of the shelf in front of me. I loosely held it with one hand and turned it to Elle, "This is stupid."

She grinned at me and reached forward, twisting the knob on the side. There was a string hanging out of the edge of the pool, and the more Elle twisted the knob, the lower the string went. And that was when I noticed the toy mouse daggling on the edge.

"It's a toy, you idiot," Elle snickered and grabbed in from my hands, tossing it in the cart (which was already filled with a ridiculous amount of toys), "and we're totally getting that."

Elle and I had been cat shopping four an hour, and I was sure we had gotten too many for Miguel. We'd found a normal-sized cat liter box, but Elle insisted that I should get three bags of cat liter. Because, apparently, you have to change it all the time. So, reluctantly, I grabbed three bags. Elle helped me pick out the cat food, and, after getting a bunch of different cans, I figured we'd be okay for a while.

I was wrong.

Elle dragged us over to the toy sections, and, for the past half-hour, she had been picking out different toys for the cat. I couldn't even imagine why a cat would need a mouse-shaped ball that rung every time you rolled it, but Elle insisted Miguel needed it. Plus, she tossed it in the cart so I didn't really get a say.

Elle grinned and reached forward for another toy and I sighed, walking behind her and putting my hands on her shoulders. Her head whipped around and she shot me a confused look as I gently pulled her back from the shelves and towards our cart.

"Did you see that toy, though?" Elle protested, shrugging off my shoulders and falling into step with me, "Miguel would've loved it!"

I snorted and pushed the cart into line, standing behind the one other customer in the store. It was almost eight and I couldn't fathom why anyone would decide now was a good time to go cat shopping. I wasn't complaining, though, because Elle didn't have a problem going shopping now and I was grateful for that.

I grinned and scratched the back of my neck, yawning loudly, "I'm sure Miguel's gonna appreciate the other toys you made me buy him."

"Kittens love toys." Elle stated, crossing her arms over her chest and shooting me a dry look, "Connor and you are so screwed."

"You're always optimistic," I muttered, and she just grinned back at me.

At that, I raised my eyebrows, shooting her a curious look. Elle had seemed to know the kind of food kittens liked, and the kind of food that was also good for their stomachs. She knew what kind of toys would be good, and even told me that the scented-liter was the best kind. But she never said how she knew that stuff.

"I have a kitten," she said, grabbing the stuff out of our cart and dropping it onto the counter. She turned to me then, eyes lighting up as I loosely held a can of food, "Scott, our kittens can have play-dates!"

I rolled my eyes and scooped up the toys, placing them down on the counter, "No, I'm not letting our kittens hang out. You've probably brain-washed yours into making fun of people's hockey skills."

"They could be BFK," Elle told me, a wide grin on her face. I just quirked an eyebrow in her direction, lips tilting up into a half-smile, "you know? Best friend kittens?"

I busted out in laughter at that, unable to help myself. Elle shot me an unamused grin and I leaned against the counter, resting my forehead against the cool surface as I laughed. I pushed myself up and grinned at her, biting my lip to get from laughing again.

The cashier rang up the toys and I slid my car across the counter, turning back to Elle, "You just assured that there will never be any kitten play-dates."

I grabbed the bags and shoved them in the cart. Elle reluctantly followed me out and we walked across the dark parking lot, my eyes locking on my car. I still had to drive Elle back home, but all I really wanted to do was go home and sleep. I had practice tomorrow, and I was intent on getting enough sleep and being ready for it.

"I think you're just mad that your cat would have more friends than you," Elle teased, smirking at me. I shook my head and unlocked the car, opening up the back door and tossing the bags inside the back, "do you ever clean your car?"

I slammed the back door and slid into the drivers side, starting up my car and snickering at Elle's expression, "Occasionally."

Truthfully, I rarely ever cleaned my car. I always planned to, but the wrappers and old cups continued piling up, and then I just never had the energy to clean. So, eventually, I just started shoving all the trash under the seats and praying that I would actually get around to cleaning before it started over-flowing and spilling onto the seats.

I hadn't gotten to the point of cleaning my car yet, but the trash hadn't spilled out from under the seats, so I figured I was still good. Elle, on the other hand, was glaring down at a stray wrapper on the floor that I must've forgotten about.

"I thought guys were supposed to love their cars," she hummed, leaning back in her seat and playing with the radio.

"I love my baby," I defended, gripping the steering wheel as I turned on her street, "and come on, it's only a few wrappers. It adds personality."

"Scott, there's a half-eaten muffin stuck your floor."

Okay, so maybe the time of having to clean my car had come.

I just frowned and pulled in front of her house, trying to remember the last time I had even eaten a muffin. I didn't get much time to think, though, because Elle un-buckled her seatbelt and leaned forward, giving me a quick hug. But - unlike the kiss - I reacted and wrapped my arms around her waist, squeezing her gently back.

Elle pulled back and pushed her door open. She paused and turned back to me, a wide grin on her face, "Good luck at try-outs tomorrow."

She pushed the door open and I sighed, leaning my forehead against my steering wheel. I leaned back and rubbed a hand down my cheeks, trying to stop myself from blushing. Which, honestly, was a bit of a hard thing to do when Elle was around. Groaning, I leaned forward, head landing awkwardly against the steering wheel. I pushed myself forward, and shot up when the horn beeped loudly.

I turned and saw Elle stop at her top step. Even from where I sat, I could see the amused look she was shooting me.

And - shit, I was flushed. Very flushed.

I woke up at exactly eleven.

There were so many times I had been almost-late to practice, and, now, during tryouts, I intended to make it exactly on time. Or early. Either one was a thousand times better than coming late, struggling to get my gear on before practice properly started.

I shoved my feet into a pair of sneakers and grabbed my hockey bag off the floor. Slinging it over my shoulder, I stepped out of my room and padded down the hall, poking my head in Connor's room to see he wasn't in there. I bit my lip and stepped into the living room, laughing at what I saw.

There was a mound of blankets on the floor and Connor was sprawled out on them. His dark hair was matted down and he was streatched out, limbs tangled in all the blankets. Miguel was asleep on Connor's chest, his tail half-way onto Connor's face. I snorted and slipped into the kitchen, laughing when Miguel's tail brushed against Con's nose.

I ate quickly and grabbed my keys, shoving them in my bag and stepping around Connor's sleeping form. He stirred slightly in his sleep and I slipped out the front door, opting to let him wake up to Miguel sleeping on him without me there.

The drive was quick and I pulled into the parking lot, seeing how many less people there usually was. I grinned and slipped out the drivers side door, still ecstatic with the news that I hade made the first cut. I was half-way to making the team - two more tryouts to go, and then I would know if my dream would come true.

I walked through the halls quickly and slipped into the rink, being greeted by one of the strangest sights yet.

Jay and Edi were standing on the bleachers. Jay's hands were on Edi's shoulders, and he was belting out the lyrics to I Knew You Were Trouble, shaking Edi's shoulders with every ridiculously high-note he sang out. A couple of the other guys were shooting him weird looks, but Jay just kept on singing.

I laughed at the two and jogged up the bleachers, stopping next to them. Jay stopped singing and grinned at me, ruffling up his dark hair and letting go of Edi's shoulders. Edi shot me a grateful look, and I took that moment to realize both Edi and Jay made the first cut, too.

Thank god, I thought, grinning at them both. During the practices, I had become fairly close with them and I was glad they both made the team. Out of everyone who I saw was still in here, I was glad that the two people I considered close friends were there.

"Your singing is awful," I pointed out, grabbing my pads and strapping them on.

Jay gave me a defensive look, brown eyes wide, "Edi just got dumped - "

"It was mutual," Edi cut in, leaning back and elbowing Jay roughly in the ribs. He grabbed his helmet and shook his head, sighing, "kind of," he frowned, then, blue eyes narrowing, "no, I got dumped."

"Exactly," Jay said, looking at me through the visor on his helmet, "and I knew she was trouble from the start. So it only felt right to sing that song," Jay smirked and grabbed his mouth-guard, awkwardly adjusting it, "plus, it's a more polite way of saying I was right."

I grinned and leaned down, lacing up my skates quickly and grabbing my helmet, "Still doesn't change that you're a bad singer, man."

"It was right in my ear!" Edi glared at Jay, prepared to elbow him in the ribs again. Jay grinned and held up his hands, taking a step back, "I swear to God my ears were two seconds from bleeding."

"You'll thank me," Jay started, pulling off his helmet and shaking his dark hair out, "when you're a professional hockey player and she's in the stands, wishing she didn't dump you. Then you can tell her she can suck your - "

"Scott!" a voice called out, cutting Jay off.

Jay frowned, "That wasn't where I was going with that."

I turned and saw Elle making her way over, grinning at me. Edi and Jay shared a smirk and I rolled my eyes, waving as she made her way through the bleachers. She was in an oversized Marlies' jersey, Monroe written on the back. Her blonde hair was straight, and her light eyes were practically sparkling.

"Hi Edi," Elle smiled and waved at him, and Edi waved back, "Jay, your singing is really bad."

"Nice to see you, too," Jay said sarcastically, but he still grinned at Elle. He stepped back and dropped down onto the bleacher next to Edi, giving Elle and I some space.

"You're gonna do great," she promised, and I grinned at her, grateful for the constant encouragment she had been giving me lately, "I mean, you have to do great. I'm still counting on getting that jersey, you know."

I smirked, "Very helpful: do good so Elle can get my jersey," I fingered my jersey, pulling at the material, "actually, I was starting to get kind of attached to it.."

"I think you'll be more attached to a proper jersey. Or maybe even a Leafs' one."

"There's an incentive!" I laughed, and nodded my head along with what she had said, "do good so I'll end up with a Leafs jersey. I like it."

Elle rolled her eyes, "Do good so I'm not stuck braving this season alone with just Jay singing every practice."

My dream was to make the team; to become professional and be able to spend everyday of my life playing hockey. But seeing Elle everyday would be a plus.

Tryouts went by fast, and in what seemed like no team, I was just standing on the ice as everyone cleared off. Today's practice had been a lot like yesterdays; we did the weave, puck-handling, and had a scrimmage at the end. And I was confident I had done well. (Elle shooting me a thumbs-up from the bleachers also added to my confidence).

I leaned against the wall of the rink, pulling off my helmet and gloves. I ran a hand through my sweaty, wavy hair and pushed it back from my face. Edi was sprawled across the ice, blonde hair stuck to the floor. Jay was standing next to me, his helmet by his feet.

Jay turned his head to me, brown eyes locking on mine, "So you and Elle are basically married, eh?"

I choked on air. Coughing, I bent forward and blinked, trying to stop and collect my breath. I sucked in a deep breath, the cold air helping me. I blinked again and looked back up at him, stunned at what he had said.

"What?" I muttered, rubbing my eyes.

He snorted and patted my shoulder, a wicked grin taking place on his face, "Nothing, nothing," he sing-songed, glancing at the bleachers, "have you asked her out on a date yet?"

I gripped my stick in my left hand, glaring at Jay, "No."

"Are you going to?"

"No."

"So that means someone has to help you out," Jay nodded to himself, a determined look on his face, "I got'cha."

Before I could say anything, Jay was waving his stick frantically and shouting out Elle's name. She turned and stared at him on the ice and he grinned, dropping his face and shaking off his gloves. Jay wrapped his hands around his mouth and leaned forward, sending me a sly wink before turning back to Elle.

"Scott wants to hang out tonight!" Jay shouted, putting emphasis on the words hang out, "So you should say yes and come to his apartment at seven! He'll even take you somewhere nice!"

Elle turned and looked at me, shooting me a questioning look. I did want to hang out with her, and Jay had already made the plans, so there really wasn't a point in saying no.

I shrugged and grinned, holding my arms apart and taking a few steps back, nodding my head.

"I'll be there," Elle grinned back at me.

Two questions ran through my mind: what exactly had Jay meant when he said hang out? What exactly was tonight going to be?