In Sequence | H.S.

02.

Harry Styles.

Victory fueled the celebration tonight. The rounds of drinks felt never ending, and the admiration was pooling in from every angle. The second game of the season ended in another win for the team, and kicked off our journey to play-offs.

New and old fans surrounded us, hyping us up from the minute we walked through the front door of Charlie's Bar. It was a little run down on the exterior, but that meant it had life to give on the inside. It's in walking distance from our arena, but fucking Mitch let me learn not to walk the hard way, especially on nights we took a big win over the opposing team. A drunken sports junkie in the jersey of the player I scored on charged me after one of my first games. I drive to Charlie's now.

Only half of the team came tonight, the rest gave some bullshit excuse about not wanting to be hungover for our early morning practice tomorrow. Couldn't say that I gave too much of a fuck, their empty seats left more room for the puck bunnies that followed us here after every game. We all had our choice girl, the one we knew we could take home if no better option presented itself.

Paige was my bunny of choice. She wasn't as talkative as the rest of her friends. Much like myself, she was pretty goal-oriented, and once she accomplished what she wanted, she fucks off without me having to kick her out. We talk here and there, just enough to make our interactions pass without any awkwardness, but the only reason I keep her around is because she isn't clingy like the other bunnies. Arguably the prettiest out of the bunch too. She's got brown hair hits just below her collarbone, and her bone structure makes it no surprise that she does freelance modeling in her spare time.

She was sitting to my right tonight, my body a barrier keeping her tucked into the booth. Throughout our conversation with the rest of the guys, she kept her lips wrapped around her straw, lashes fluttering my way any time I glanced down at her. I knew exactly what she was implying, but I was still pissed off from this morning.

The only thing I wanted to fuck right now was some sense back into Madelyn.

She left without as much as a 'see you around', or 'thanks for the half-dozen orgasms, Harry'. I usually wouldn't give a shit if the bitch I brought home left before I woke up, it made the morning easier on me, but I didn't think of her as just another bitch to sleep with.

Our connection was almost immediate. Her looks alone peaked my initial interest, but she knew exactly what to say to keep me interested all night. We shared a lot of the same opinions, especially when it came to the romance bullshit. It felt like we'd never run out of things to talk about, and some weak part of me had hoped we could continue talking in the morning. Last night went without a hitch, so I don't have a damn clue as to why she left.

"This seat taken?" I latch my sneaker under the bottom of the bar stool, looking down at the redhead seated next to the vacant seat. She glances my way, probably making sure I'm not some sort of frat boy looking to roofie her. After giving me a quick one-over, she meets me with a pretty smile and shakes her head.

"All yours." She gives me the green light, and I intervene between her and the older man to my left who I saw checking her out from my table in the back of the bar. My presence was probably a relief for her.

"I'm here enough, it might as well be." I joke, trying to gauge her frequency here. I've never seen her before, but maybe our days just haven't aligned until now.

"Sounds like I stumbled into the right bar tonight then." She laughs, glancing over towards the bartender. "Service seems a little slow, though."

She didn't have a drink in front of her yet, but I could change that easily.

"The game down the street just let out about an hour ago. It's always a little slower on game nights." I turn on my chair to cheat my body towards her. Someone as pretty as her deserves my full attention.