Capturing the Wild: Hockey Romance

Chapter 2: Mr. Abercrombie

I never expected that falling in love with two people could happen so effortlessly. Brunch with Bryn and Kyla was a perfect symphony of warmth and comfort, as if I had unknowingly stumbled upon a place where I truly belonged. We went to a local place, just around the corner from the apartment that I figured the girls went to quite frequently, considering the waitress greeted them with a cheerful smile and already knew their orders. After indulging in what I could confidently say is the best egg's benedict I have ever had, we talked for hours, and soon enough, my pounding headache was gone and I was back at home getting ready for a night at the bar with my new friends.

A thin layer of makeup, a touch of mascara, and brown eyeliner accentuated my features as I looked in the mirror. Cheeks naturally flushed, a few freckles on my nose - I looked... almost pretty.

You got his Brooks. First night out in the new city. Can't be that hard right?

Bryn texted me that she was coming over to pre-game around 9pm, and we were going to meet Kyla at the bar around 10pm. Kyla was working tonight, but she had the early shift, so she should be cut around 11pm and we would be able to spend a few hours together before the bar closed. It's 8:20 now and I am frantically going through my closet for something to wear. It being September in Minnesota, it was getting pretty chilly outside, so I wanted to make sure I wasn't going to get cold, while still looking hot as hell. It's only Friday, and I don't start work until Wednesday, so I definitely need to make the most of this weekend, before I become extremely busy.

I relinquished the fact of how fast I felt connected to Bryn and Kyla. It only took one night to feel like I belonged somewhere, and I was grateful that they warmed up to me so easily. They were so quick to include me in their plans and accept me as if I had been their friend for years. Opening myself up to their warmth felt like breaking free from a self-imposed age. Despite my usual hesitation toward strangers, especially when they invite themselves into my home, Bryn's excitement and genuine personality swept away any reservations, and once I met Kyla I knew that Cameran knocking on my door might have been the best thing to happen. I was thankful for that. This new friendship felt like a gift, one I was grateful to receive.

After trying on countless outfits, I finally settled on a royal blue lace bodysuit that is sheer around my stomach and makes my tits look great, with a pair of black leather pants and of course my converse. This was always one of my go to outfits in University so I'm hoping it would work that same magic in the States. My hair is down in loose waves and I am currently sitting in front of my mirror contemplating if I should add two braids to the front or leave it as it is. As I pondered my appearance, Bryn came strolling through my front door without knocking and stopped dead in her tracks.

"You look smokin! Holy shit I wish I had your body!" She yells while her jaw remains on my floor. I can't help but blush on the compliment.

"Are you kidding me? Look at yourself" I retorted as I walked over to her, to spin her around and appreciate the light pink bodycon dress that fit her figure perfectly. Her blonde hair was in a slick back pony and curled at the end, making her look like a real life barbie. Her look was complete with small white heels and her make up was flawless. I silently wished that I had skin as perfect as her.

"We're both babes" She says and blows me a kiss. "Cameron is going to miss me now huh. Mama's definitely getting laid wearing this tonight". She finishes, clearly already over Cameron and looking for a rebound.

Bryn and I downed multiple shots while waiting for our Uber, and were both at the point of confident, but not drunk. While partaking in some shots of liquid courage, Bryn deemed my hair flawless without braids, however that is the only suggestion that was deemed valuable, as she attempted to convince me to wear a pair of black heels that would most definitely break my ankle. No way in hell was I going to be wearing any sort of torture device on my feet, when my trusty converse were convenient and would be able to remain on my feet rather than dangle in my fingers on our way home. The obvious winner.