Despite swearing off athletes for good, Freya Pfieffer can't help but fall for the sweet and perfectly endearing defenseman who meets her gaze at a Montreal Canadiens game. Freya is left spinning-wondering if she should make an exception for Cole Ca...
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𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕪𝕒
When the guys arrive, of course the two people Freya didn't want to see appear at the entrance behind Kirby. Freya faces her drink, certain the blush in her cheeks will give away her embarrassment. Jess joins the men at the door, barely beating a swarm of patrons who request pictures and autographs. The men politely oblige before heading towards the bar, where Freya is still refusing to look up.
"Mon Frey," Jess exclaims, "they're taking us to the private part of the bar!" She nearly drags Freya out of her seat, so hurriedly that Freya barely has time to grab her drink and follow. Frazzled, she bumps into the player closest to her.
"Fuck," she mutters when she looks up at him. Shit. She hadn't meant to say the word aloud, but of course—she did.
And—of course— she immediately recognizes the man she's collided with: Cole Caufield, number twenty-fucking-two.
Yeah, I wish I were dead, Freya screams internally, frozen in place.
But then, something strange happens, a smile breaks across his face, and he lets out a little laugh. "Sorry about that," he remarks, helping Freya steady herself with a hand on her arm. When he lets his touch fall away, Freya notices its absence.
She can't help but smile back. "No, no," she hurries, "that was all me."
Cole grins again, searching her face for a beat before starting to follow his friends towards the back of the bar. He doesn't go too fast though, Freya notices, almost like he's waiting for her to keep up. She does, picking up the pace to meet his stride.
He's only four or five inches taller than Freya, but she still has to lift her chin to take in his features as he walks past the end of the bar. His light brown hair is swept back, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. A permanent smile seems to play ever so slightly on his lips, which sends a rush of butterflies into Freya's stomach.
"Nice jersey," he observes, not even looking to his right to face her.
"Oh." Freya clears her throat as nonchalantly as she can. "Thanks, it's—it's actually not mine. It's my friend's. Well, her dad's actually, I guess."
Stop talking, Freya, you're rambling!
Cole hides it well, but Freya notices the little flash of disappointment that turns over his expression, even though he's quick to shake it away. "It's right here," he says, gesturing towards the door beside them.
They're all the way in the back corner of the bar, where a bouncer stands at the entryway. "Good to see you, Cole," he grumbles, pushing open the door behind him.
This room is significantly quieter: its only patrons are Kirby, the four players he's brought along with him, a woman who appears to be with one of them, some older, rich-looking folks, then Jess and Freya.
Freya can't help but feel underdressed next to all of them, what with her old, torn jeans and baggy jersey. All she wants is to get the hell out of this place, but she opts instead to sink onto the sofa beside Jess, who now sits next to Kirby.
Kirby notes, "I should've told you guys not to get drinks until we got here—we've got a running tab that we'll put you on, don't worry."
Freya watches as Jess laces her fingers between Kirby's. "That's so sweet of you," she replies, eyes sparkling.
Though she's only known Jess for about a month, Freya can't help but adore her confidence and positive attitude; Freya only wishes some of it would rub off on her.
Messages
Conversation with Tate 😈
Tate 😈 hey baby, how was the game?
Freya game was fine, but now we're out with some of the players and i'm kind of freaking out.
Tate 😈 Oh no, Frey :// whats going on? need me to come and beat someone up?
Freya yeah, please come stomp me to death with your stripper heels so that i do not have to continue experiencing this night
Tate 😈 noooooo is it that bad??
Freya no, its fine. im just intimidated by attractive men. and you know how i feel with athletes :/
Tate 😈 i'm so sorry frey. i have to go back out because some regulars are gonna start arriving soon but please call if there's an emergency. you've got this ❤️ ily
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It's the man that Freya recognizes as the Canadiens' captain that draws her attention away from her phone.
"Hey," he begins, extending his hand over the coffee table between them. "I'm Nick." He motions towards Cole beside him on the couch. "This is my buddy, Cole. But I imagine you already knew that." He grins.
Freya tugs at the hem of her jersey, plastering on a smile. "Oh, yeah, actually the jersey isn't mine. I've never really watched a lot of hockey."
It clearly catches Nick by surprise. He glances at Cole out of the corner of his eyes, but Cole is only looking at Freya. She feels hot under his gaze, so she lifts her drink to her lips and takes a long swig.
"Oh," Nick murmurs, "well, I hope you enjoyed watching us tonight."
Freya nods, though she's not sure how convincing it is. "It was a lot of fun," she assures him, stealing glances at Cole, even as she directs her response towards Nick.
Jess's hand comes down on Freya's thigh, catching her by surprise. "Wanna go out into the main part and dance for a little bit with me?" she asks hopefully.
It was a good strategy, Freya knew: she did love drinking and dancing with her friends, though she hasn't gotten as many chances to do so since moving from Jacksonville. Freya is positive her friend is only looking to give her an escape so they can talk without the guys hearing it, so she agrees, letting Jess take her by the hand.
The men come out, too, to get drinks and engage a little more with the fans eager to meet their team's stars.
As Freya and Jess step onto the dance floor, where bodies are writhing to the music, Freya finally lets out a little sigh of relief.
