--
"You think you're so tough hm?" He says, getting closer to me. Both of our eyes lustful, deep and glued to each other's.
"I am" I certify the one standing in front of me, our proximity making me nervous, but I'm refusing to show any signs of it...
"Well, tell her that I miss our little talks Soon it will be over and buried with out past We used to play outside when we were young And full of life and full of love"
Little Talks by Of monsters and Men
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After hours we finally get home, it's a 6pm on a Friday. We're leaving Sunday morning.
I get out of the car, carefully closing de door otherwise my brother would yell at me, and run towards the front door of the big wood house in front of me, the one that's so familiar. I knock on the door, and almost immediately my mom greets me, I hug her and give her a kiss on the cheek, soon after walking further inside the house until I spot my dad. He is sitting on the leather couch, reading a newspaper. I guess he didn't hear that the vistors had arrived. I take my chance and sneakily walk behind him, and then try to scare him as I roughly place both of my hands on his shoulder. He jumps a little as he adjusts his glasses and looks at me, a smile appearing on his face instantly. "Hey there sniper! Didn't think you two were arriving until later tonight" He exclaims, embracing me into a hug.
Sniper is how he calls me since ever, because ever since I learned how to play hockey and score goals, I've always made the hardest shots. When the net is wide opened, with the goalie on the other side just not covering only a minuscule space of that part, that's where I aim for. I like to think that it would be harder for the goalie to get the puck if it's aimed where he doesn't expect it.
And he calls my brother "Tender", since he's a goalie.
My dad only calls us our actual names when he's mad at us. But Rory and Wardo, which are our actual nicknames, I don't think I've ever heard him say it, maybe he doesn't even know it honestly.
"I'm doing great pops, missed you so much" I tell him enthusiastically, excited to see him again. "I missed you too sniper" He completes.
We let go of the hug and my brother greets him. "And how you doing Tender? Keeping a good eye on her?" He asks on a serious tone, one which Wardo nods. "I don't need a babysitter" I comment before he can say anything.
"I see how it is, however I think-" My dad starts talking but is interrupted by my four dogs.
Dusty, Hattie, Skipper and Tilly.
Yeah, I know how it sounds.
All hockey terms.
I did warned that me and my family are hockey obsessed. I can't do much about it, my dad is a professional coach and an ex NHL player.
Tilly is a presa canario, his name is Tilly because in hockey terms it pretty much means fight. Only because he's the scariest one. He's 4 years old but could never hurt a fly.
Dusty is a pitbull, and his name is dusty because in hockey terms is the one that sits most on the bench, collecting dust and he's the laziest one, even though none of my dogs are mainly aggressive. He's 6 years old.
