The Minnesota Miracle [kirill kaprizov]

Chapter Seven

It's been a while.

It's now Christmas break, and fortunately, it's not so bitterly cold in Minneapolis as it typically is around Christmas.

Kirill let me "temporarily move" into his apartment for the break, though I'm sure he'll change his mind once the off-season comes and he'll be home for the summer as well at his place in Moscow. Yay, more city life. Not like I get enough of that in Minneapolis.

I was just chilling on the couch watching some interesting show before the door opened and closed.

"What's up? How'd practice go?" I asked as Kirill appeared at the corner of my eye. He had a white shirt on with some gray sweatpants with his usual gray beanie.

He groaned. "Alright," he responded.

I turned the volume down on the television. "You alright?" I asked him as I stood up and walked over by him.

He shrugged, but a smile beamed from his face. "Are you going in that?" He asked me as he pointed to my oversized Wild shirt, covering my black spandex I had underneath.

I glanced down at what I was wearing, then I looked at him in confusion. "Where am I going?" I said.

He chuckled. "Did you see the message? I said I was taking us out to eat," he told me as he pulled out his phone and showed me the message he sent me about an hour ago.

My eyes widened. "Shit! I was so invested in this show, I-I'm sorry—"

"Kenzie, don't be. Besides, we've got about...uh, thirty minutes. Enough time for you to change," he said, then he winked before heading to the bedroom.

I frowned as I looked down at my clothes again.

I changed into a short, black dress with a denim jacket. I slipped on a pair of black ankle boots before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

Kirill comes out in a more relaxed outfit, though obviously not what he normally wears.

He smirked. "Ready to go?" He asked.

I giggled. "More ready than you," I said as I poked him in the nose, making his face go all red.

He rolled his eyes, opened the door, and we headed out to his car.

The car ride to the restaurant wasn't all that long; probably just about a ten minute drive from Kirill's apartment complex.

"I just felt like we needed to go out to eat, you know?" He told me as he put his elbow on the center console next to mine.

I smiled, still looking at our hands dangling off of the console. "I understand," I said.

Kirill glanced into my eyes with the returning smile on his face before focusing his attention back onto the road.

He pulled onto a side street and parked alongside. We were on the block of a rustic-looking building, having weathering bricks and ivy growing along the brick walls. We got out of the car and Kirill led the way to the place that we were going to eat.

The interior was absolutely beautiful. Paintings, chandeliers, dim lighting, candles—I loved this aesthetic. It hasn't even been three weeks and Kirill knew me all too well. How romantic and sweet of him.

"Last name?" The waitress asked at her podium of menus and bundles of clean silverware.

"It's Kaprizov," he answered.

The waitress slid her finger down a yellow sticky note before tapping it. "Gotcha," she said. "Just the two of you?"

He nodded his head. The waitress also nodded her head, grabbed the menus and silverware bunches, then told us to follow her.