I shivered as I tried to open the door to the apartment building, balancing a box on my hip as I attempted to put my key into the lock. My fingers were numb, which made it difficult.
"Here," a voice said from behind me. I turn and see a man in a jersey with a duffel bag over his shoulder. He pulls out his key and easily slides it into the lock, opening the door for me.
"Thanks," I say, teeth chattering. He looks at me with a furrowed brow.
"Not used to the cold," he asks as he walks into the lobby of the building behind me.
"Not at all," I reply, repositioning the box I was holding. He looks at me and the box.
"You new or somethin'?"
"Yeah," I nod. "Just moved into 3B."
"I'm 3C," he says, following me up the stairs.
"The fuck is that high pitched yelling I hear through the wall? Sounds like someone screaming 'tit fucker'," I say, looking at him as he smirks.
"That'll be Big Sexy," he laughs.
"Big Sexy," I repeat.
"My bird."
"A bird?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Nothing. Just wasn't expecting that." My hands have started to warm up and I'm able to put my apartment key in the door easily.
"What's your name," the man asks me, leaning against his own door. I look him up and down, trying to get a read on him.
"Veronica. Ronni," I finally answer.
"Shoresy," he introduced himself. "Where ya from?"
"Massachusetts."
"The hell you doing in Sudbury," he asks, looking confused.
"Am I being interrogated?" I switch the box I'm holding to the other hip.
"Sorry. Just don't see too many Yanks coming up here." He switches his bag to the other shoulder.
"Hockey player?"
"Yup."
"You any good?"
"The best," he smiles, showing off his missing tooth. I look at his jersey.
"Bulldogs?"
"Blueberry Bulldogs," he corrects. A laugh escapes me and his eyes narrow. I bite my lip to keep from laughing more.
"Sorry," I chuckle. "Didn't expect that either."
"We're the best in the league. Never gonna lose again," he says, trying to cover for the ridiculous name. "You like hockey?"
"Never watched or been to a game," I confess. Shoresy feigns shock, his hand covering his mouth. I smirk at him. "Us Yanks are more into football."
"So you like that, then?"
"Never watched or been to a game," I repeat, laughing. "I'm not really a sports person."
"You just haven't found the right one yet. You'll love hockey," he says confidently. Something about his cockiness is endearing.
"Will I?"
"Come to a game and see for yourself."
"Maybe I will," I smile, open to the idea. "See you around, 3C." I open my door and go inside, setting my box down.
I look around my new apartment and feel a sense of happiness and dread. Happiness at finally being moved and dread at the idea of unpacking. I decide to save the unpacking for the next day and call it a night. I go to my room and change into a baggy shirt to sleep in, hearing Big Sexy yell 'Tit Fucker' through the wall. I laugh a little at the absurdity before climbing into bed and getting warm under the covers. Before long, I fall asleep.
