In My Rearview Mirror, JACK.HUGHES

TEN

Exiting our hotel room, I double-check the lock behind me, ensuring the door clicks securely. The soft glow of the hallway lights casts a warm ambiance as Braden's hand finds its place on my hip, drawing me closer.

"You look so gorgeous, M," he remarks, his words accompanied by a genuine smile. The resonance of his compliment lingers in the air as we make our way down the corridor.

Tonight, I've chosen a long black dress that hugs my figure elegantly. Sleeves cascade down my arms, adding a touch of sophistication, while a daring slit on the side reveals just enough of my right leg to make a statement. The open back of the dress steals the spotlight, plunging low and showcasing a hint of skin.

I've opted for a pair of black stiletto heels, a daring choice that challenges me to move with grace. The click of the heels against the hotel's polished floors adds a rhythmic soundtrack to our steps.

My hair, carefully curled and tie in half pony with a black bow, adding a subtle flair. In my hand, I carry a tiny Dior purse, practical yet stylish, holding little more than my essentials, including a nude lipstick that promises a touch of glamour throughout the evening.

The anticipation of the All-Star NHL weekend courses through me, a blend of excitement and nervous energy that keeps me on edge. This year's edition is particularly special as it's the second Christmas-themed celebration they've organized, adding an extra layer of festivity to the already exhilarating event.

Braden and I arrived in Vegas this afternoon, our schedules perfectly aligned after he wrapped up a practice session in New York earlier in the day.

The simplicity and quick pace of the All-Star NHL weekend contribute to the thrill. The gala tonight, where the players and their guests come together, sets the stage for a night of celebration and connection. Tomorrow, the focus shifts to the game, adding a competitive edge to the festivities. 

As we head towards the elevator, the anticipation of the night ahead hangs in the air, and the reflection in the hallway mirror affirms that tonight, we're ready to embrace the allure of the occasion.

"Thank you, Mr. Schneider. You might want to keep your eyes on me tonight; otherwise, someone might steal me from you," I playfully tease, biting my lips for added effect. My gaze momentarily drops to the floor as I navigate the unfamiliar terrain in these daring stilettos, fully aware that they might pose a challenge by the end of the night.

"I'm going to make sure that everyone knows that you're mine," he confidently declares, his words tinged with possessiveness. With a gentlemanly flourish, he opens the door for me, a gesture that complements the sophistication of the evening.

As we step outside into the crisp Las Vegas winter night, a slight chill hangs in the air, accompanied by a subtle humidity that adds a unique touch to the atmosphere. A cold wind swirls around, making me regret not bringing a coat, but the sacrifice seems worth it to preserve the elegance of my outfit.

The city lights of Las Vegas twinkle in the distance. Despite the cool weather, the anticipation of the gala warms us as we approach our waiting car. The chauffeur nods a greeting as we settle into the plush interior.

The drive is relatively short, the hum of the engine punctuated by the occasional gusts of wind. Vegas, always lively and bustling, takes on a different charm in the winter night.

"I know you tried to explain it earlier, but there are two teams," I say, pausing for Braden to nod in agreement. "They choose players from the official NHL teams, and then you guys play friendly games," I continue, seeking confirmation. He smiles warmly, correcting me, "Yes, exactly. And the teams are always different. Last year, I was not participating."