𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝑾𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝑺𝒂𝒚

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

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Tuesday, December 5th, 2017

Amidst the chorus of boos erupting with the Montreal Canadiens' goal, I hear "Oh, come on!" Julian's words mingling with the clinking of his oversized glass, the beer swirling inside as he expresses his disappointment with the unfolding events on the ice.

The game has commenced, and a palpable sense of unity envelops the bar. We are all cheering for the same team-the Blues, I think.

Although I'm not a hockey fan, the magnetic pull of the game on the screen captures my attention entirely. There's an inexplicable allure to the energy and intensity unfolding before me.

As I wait for a delayed delivery, I decide to make the most of my time by ordering a drink at the bar. Fate seems to intervene, placing me right beside Julian himself. He's donned in a Pietrangelo jersey and sports a Blues ball cap.

I steal the hat, attempting to blend in. He gives me a puzzled look, but I simply shrug in response, silently acknowledging my temporary charade.

Then, in an unexpected twist, I feel a presence pressing against my back. The firm grip of hands on the bar counter on both sides tells me who it is. Manny leans in closer, his voice low and barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

"Hey, girl," he greets me in a hushed tone. I turn to face him within the limited space I have, meeting his gaze. Manny remarks, "I see you've been converted," with a playful chuckle escaping his lips.

I can't help but smile in response, aware of Julian's watchful eyes as he groans at another Canadiens goal. Manny's attention briefly shifts back to the game before focusing on me again.

"Looks like you could use a break from all this noise," he murmurs, his gaze lingering on mine. "How about we find a quieter place to talk?"

The invitation hangs in the air, and though I have no reason not to trust Manny, I slowly shake my head. It's at this point, after four drinks, that I start making bad decisions.

As soon as I entered the bar, my eyes were drawn to the corner booth where I spotted them. How Sloane managed to convince her to go on a date, I have no clue.

It didn't matter, though, because Elizabeth seemed more interested in the brief conversation I had with two boys than her own date.

"Come on, (Y/n/n), I don't got all night," he said, his tone light.

"Alright alright." Teasingly reached into my bra, my fingers deftly retrieving a small bag. With a playful flourish, I presented it to Manny.

He swiftly took hold of my hand, bringing it close to him, a gesture to conceal the tiny bag from prying eyes in the room. Manny's voice carried a hint of concern as he looked into my eyes. "Are you drunk?" he asked.

I chuckle softly, feeling a warmth spread across my cheeks from the alcohol. "Maybe a little," I admit, my voice slightly slurred. "Now, where's my money?"

"Don't worry," He takes a step back, patting the palms of his hands over the pockets of his jeans. "I got your money, girl."

As I shift my gaze to the side, I notice her. She appears to be expressing an apology to Sloane, who is rising from her seat on the opposite side of the booth. Elizabeth also stands up, following Sloane for a few steps before coming to a halt.

It's clear she doesn't really want to catch up with her.

"Here," He says. My attention, drawn back, to his hand as they disappear from sight. He slips the bills into my back pocket. His fingers glide over the fabric of my jeans.