Post Olympic

Casey's

Well, sorry in advance for this one, 

Terms:

Puck bunny: girls that only really date hockey players and go out of their way to be with them. Their range of knowledge of the sport goes from zero to extensive, but that normally doesn't matter to the guy. 

Music (two songs, whoops):

Frio - Mike Stud
Get Stüpid - bülow
(shh, I know they're basically party songs, I understand)

alright, lets get to it

don't drink kids

-rabid

******************

"Our next game isn't for two weeks, can we please?" Ireland begs Hadley. Hadley looks at me, and I shrug, it's his team, they just have to know I'll run them dead tomorrow because of this slip up.

"Fine." He mumbles. Ireland pumps his arms and the team lets up a whoop.

"Casey's at eight boys!" He yells. "Nico!" I'm concerned that he's addressing me. "Do you want to come too?"

"Not really." I sigh.

"Please? It will be fun." Paxton coaxes. I look around.

"Do you guys really want me to be there?"

"Duh, you're cool." Keegan laughs. I shrug.

"Fine, but I won't drink." I haven't dared near a drink in my life, and this isn't about to change that.

Three hours later, I'm amidst a panic, I'm in a club with the Wolves, all of whom are dressed to impress. 

Sauerkraut looks phenomenal in the lowlight, wearing fitted dark khakis and a belt, an old t-shirt tucked into them and an unbuttoned black sport coat over it all. He's scary handsome, he's stunning. He's pure European fire, and I hate it. Girls are flocking him. I almost never catch him alone. Countless faceless girls hanging off him, flirting with him, touching him. I can't stand it.

Mine.

There's one particular redhead that he shakes off a couple of times. She grabs his arms, and brushes her hands all over his chest, feeling him up. It's all very annoying. Every time I see her, I want to strangle her more. She seems to be picking out the hockey guys, heading right over to Langley after Fenrir shakes her another time.

Langley is a frat boy. He's got a backward hat, jeans, and a hoodie with the arms cut off. Langley is showing off in all ways possible, and little ms. redhead is loving it. Bet she just wants her back broken by a professional athlete.

Puck bunny.

Fen didn't do anything with his hair after his post-practice shower. It's loose and wild. He's not known for hockey flow, but he's not known for tamed hair either. Every time another girl finds him, their hands end up in his hair. 

To which, I understand that completely. I've touched that hair before. I know the draw. It's a thick mess that practically begs to be grabbed. 

I'm sitting off in a corner people watching. Ireland has a fleet of girls dancing around him and he's loving every second of it. I set my head in my hands, but it's interrupted, a brown bottle is set down next to me, and none other than Fenrir himself sits down. I stare at him for a second, he already has a beer?

"Who's this for?" I ask, pointing to the uncapped bottle in front of me.

He lets out a sigh, holding his bottle by the very top of the neck and leaning back in his chair. "You."