Heteronym

The past week had been the best week of my life. Maybe I was still high on my engagement, but I didn't care. Everything felt amazing like there was a rose colored lense over my vision. Beck wasn't my boyfriend anymore; he was my fucking fiancé. If I was having a hard time believing it, the rock on my finger was proof enough. Of course I had to remove it at practice and games, but other than that I never took it off. I was surprised no one had noticed the glittering six carat diamond. Anything larger would look ridiculous; I was completely captivated by the one on my hand.

I didn't want to know how much it costed. It probably worth eight of my cars and I knew that for a fact. A colorless, flawless clarity, with an excellent cut was not cheep. Let alone six carats. What was the rule? Two months salary? I guess that made me feel better because it was about that. That was still way too much to have on a finger though. It's a good thing our apartment had insanely good security,I'll leave it at that.

You can imagine that Finn was very excited that monday when he texted Beck right on schedule. My phone started blowing up in the middle of class at seven thirty in the morning from not only Finn but Sylvia too, because my brother told his wife literally everything. I'm pretty sure they didn't even drink water without telling the other one first. Though they definitely would argue the same thing about Beck and I.

We hadn't told anyone else yet. I think we were just going to wait for them to notice and if we did, we would confirm it. I mean, once everything crazy died down in the summer we would announce it with a post in Instagram or something, but not before playoffs or this close to my rape trial. It would be too 'distracting' or 'soon' in the eyes of the columnists. But if people noticed or the media noticed, so be it. I wasn't going to purposely hide the best part of my life. I was done with that a year ago.

"Are you feeling okay?" Zeke asked me from across the table in the coffee shop were we worked when we didn't need or have access to the lab. It was between both of our jobs and apartments so it made sense most of the time. Of course sometimes we went to each other's apartments, but not too often. Traffic wasn't usually in our favor, especially across the Hudson River.

"Yeah, why?" I asked defensively, glancing up from my lab report while continuing to type at a rapid pace. Admittedly, my typing was atrocious and everything I was saying was probably a typo but this still made me feel like I was being productive even if it was probably slowing me down.

"You've been smiling all week," Zeke pointed out blandly.

"Am I not allowed to smile?"

"No," the familiar voice of my other best friend filled my ears, causing me to turn and look up at the tall defender in his usual Nike leggings and black basketball shorts with a Rangers sweatshirt. "You're the low note in everyone's day. The word 'happy' isn't in your vocabulary."

"Gee thanks, Taylor  It's not like I'm depressed or anything," I drawled sarcastically as he took the seat beside me where I sat against the wall. Zeke and I had two of those small two sweaters pushed together to put our things but Taylor didn't mind the lack of table space, he just wanted a seat to drink his morning coffee in before continuing his run. It had become sort of an unspoken routine in the past months, with Zeke and Taylor becoming pretty decent friends. "You know our productivity takes a serious dip in the half hour you sit here and drink your coffee every morning."

"Welp, it's already taking you four years so I don't think I'm hindering you that much," Taylor said sarcastically, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Actually that's around two hundred sixty days a year for four years. Multiply that by half an hour and you get five hundred twenty hours," I murmured, turning back to what I was typing as the words rapidly appeared across the screen.