#taylor02

Annika would occasionally roll up in jerseys for games she was shooting. It usually was for a special occasion. Someone’s birthday, going for a milestone, whatever. But occasionally, she’d just wear one for the fun of it. A couple of the players she was friends with would joke that a guy hadn’t made it till she came to a game in his jersey, which, being the conceited piece of shit that she was, she loved. Naturally, when she was in a particular mood, feeling the need to fuck shit up, she rolled up to the Bruins in a game wearing Taylor’s jersey, along with a pair of her tightest leather pants, that happened to lace up the side. She was really going for it. 

After the game, pleased that she had sufficiently distracted him, Annika waited in the press room. She switched out of the jersey, putting on a white v-neck with a wide enough v that occasionally it would slip off one of her shoulders, leaning against the back wall and texting on her phone, waiting for Taylor to come out of the locker room. She looked up when she heard someone approaching, waiting an appropriate amount of time so as to not come off as eager, a smirk spreading across her face when she saw it was who she had been waiting for. “Not your best game tonight, was it?” she said in greeting, her head tilting to the side. “Have something on your mind?”