Adam's POV
"Just keep the hell away from me!" Phoebe yells again. She grabs my hand and pulls me to the door, leaving Andrew behind.
"Phoebe, who was that?" I ask as she drags me outside. When she doesn't stop, I pull my hand away and stop. Phoebe turns and looks at me, shocked. "Who was that guy?"
"That was my ex-boyfriend. I dated him a while ago." Phoebe says, taking a few slow breaths.
"I didn't know you dated other guys." I say, standing and staring at Phoebe.
She takes another deep breath. "He was the only other guy I dated. He ruined relationships for me."
"What did he do?" I ask, a little hesitant.
Phoebe looks down, biting her lip. "I'd rather not talk about it."
I nod, deciding not to push the subject. I walk back to Phoebe and hug her, letting her arms snake around me. "Let's get home. This night isn't over yet."
The next day.
I sit up on the couch, the blanket falling off of my chest. The TV is paused on one of Phoebe's favorite movies, the end credits frozen on the screen. Morning sunshine peeks through the windows, casting a slightly orange glow on the floor.
"Phoebe?" I call out, throwing my feet off the couch. I shuffle to the bedroom, where the bed is empty. I hear the shower start up, and the curtain slide shut. I walk over and see a note on the bathroom door.
Join me if you ever wake up. Love you. -Phoebe
I smile to myself. I slide my shirt off over my head, and toss it in a pile with my shorts and boxers. I slowly open the door, and shut it loudly, making sure Phoebe knew I was in here.
I step in behind Phoebe, my arms going around her waist. "Morning." I mumble, resting my chin on her shoulder.
Phoebe reaches up and behind her, tangling her fingers in my hair. "Are you growing your hair this season?"
"Just for the playoffs, I think." I say, closing my eyes. "Maybe get the mullet going then." I stop talking when I hear Phoebe laugh quietly. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing. I just can't wait for your mullet." She says, turning to me.
******
"You know I hate getting my photo taken!" Phoebe moans, laughing.
"This is a yearly thing. We all hate it, but we have to do it." I say, pulling on my shirt and buttoning it up.
The annual photo shoot for the Bruins was coming up. Each year, a magazine company in Boston does an entire issue on the players and their personal lives.
"You hate me!" She yells, laughing again.
I pull on my jeans and sneakers, lacing them up as Phoebe walks out of the bathroom. I stand up and turn, and sigh.
"Did this seriously just happen?" Phoebe asks, a small smile on her face.
I start shaking, trying to hold in my laughter. "How the hell did we dress the same?"
The only difference in our blue plaid shirts was that Phoebe's is long sleeved. Our black pants even matched.
"I can change if you want." I say, still laughing.
Phoebe has a smile crossing her face by now. "No, don't. I think it's cute." She says, bounding over to me and giving me a quick kiss.
"We need to get going." I say, lifting Phoebe off the ground a bit. Her legs wrap around my waist, flipping her hair over her shoulder. I press my lips against hers, my hands on her back.
