Mark Pavelich

52 3 12
                                    

In which the quietest guy on the team finds his voice talking to his crush about something he loves most: music.

Pav can't help that he's a quiet soul

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Pav can't help that he's a quiet soul. It's his natural inclination to observe - and get mounds of joy from observing - rather than participate. He can laugh along with the jokes, even if he doesn't add any details of his own.

Yet he curses his quiet nature when it comes to girls.

He's never been much of a ladies man because he's so quiet. Girls are usually attracted to his louder friends and the ones that are attracted to his silence find him to be a little too quiet after they get to know him. He has no interest in what they desire from him and he's not going to apologize for that. Yet, it hasn't come in handy with Y/n.

He's grateful he hasn't much interacted with the Mario's waitress for the sake of his roster spot. But he hates that the louder boys - Mac, Rizzo, Jack - seem to have gotten in good with her. The guys that any girl would pick first and Pav feels he can't hold any sort of flame to occupy the majority of her attention. As much as it breaks his heart to watch her laugh with them, he's filled with this general feeling that there's nothing he can do. And that hurts.

So he sits quietly and watches from afar. Bah and Buzzy encourage him to talk to her - noticing his lovestruck stare in her direction as she takes orders - but neither get very far. He refuses to make himself known within her presence. Lapsing into even more silence - if that's possible - when she's around. It's almost as if he's not even there.

Which is exactly how he feels right now. Crammed in a half circle booth at the local diner. The team wanted to have a bonding dinner, but there was enough of them they had to be split between to tables. Yet, the distance was not enough to keep them from talking to each other. They yelled from one table to the other, their voices steadily increasing as they try to talk over each other. Straw papers are being thrown to get attention or perhaps are being shot in a finger goal.

And yet, in all the chaos, Pav sits quietly, his eyes scanning his menu as he tries to decide what to order before she comes back.

Y/n has been a waitress here for as long as the natives can remember. Her parents own the joint and since she was born she'd been perched on her mother's hip, inundated with how the restaurant is run.

Some of the boys said she'd been taking their order since was 12, but only official claimed her place in the payroll when she turned 16. She seemed to enjoy the perks of her job, her hockey friends that would come in on Friday's, and she was good at it too. It was such a routine for her and the native Minnesotans that she wouldn't even give them a menu. The orders she did have to take, she somehow remembered with all the knowledge college has stuffed into her brain.

The boys never seemed to tire when it came to talking about her. At first it was just her regulars who'd watched her grow up, but after a team dinner everyone was talking about her. Including Pav.

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