--
"You think you're so tough hm?" He says, getting closer to me. Both of our eyes lustful, deep and glued to each other's.
"I am" I certify the one standing in front of me, our proximity making me nervous, but I'm refusing to show any signs of it...
* Riptide by Vance Joy * Little Talks by Of monsters and Men
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After hours we finally get home, it's a 6pm on a Friday. We're leaving Sunday morning.
I get out of the car, carefully closing de door otherwise my brother would yell at me, and run towards the front door of the big wood house in front of me, the one that's so familiar. I knock on the door, and almost immediately my mom greets me, I hug her and give her a kiss on the cheek, soon after walking further inside the house until I spot my dad. He is sitting on the leather couch, reading a newspaper. I guess he didn't hear that the vistors had arrived. I take my chance and sneakily walk behind him, and then try to scare him as I roughly place both of my hands on his shoulder. He jumps a little as he adjusts his glasses and looks at me, a smile appearing on his face instantly. "Hey there sniper! Didn't think you two were arriving until later tonight" He exclaims, embracing me into a hug.
Sniper is how he calls me since ever, because ever since I learned how to play hockey and score goals, I've always made the hardest shots. When the net is wide opened, with the goalie on the other side just not covering only a minuscule space of that part, that's where I aim for. I like to think that it would be harder for the goalie to get the puck if it's aimed where he doesn't expect it.
And he calls my brother "Tender", since he's a goalie.
My dad only calls us our actual names when he's mad at us. But Rory and Wardo, which are our actual nicknames, I don't think I've ever heard him say it, maybe he doesn't even know it honestly.
"I'm doing great pops, missed you so much" I tell him enthusiastically, excited to see him again. "I missed you too sniper" He completes.
We let go of the hug and my brother greets him. "And how you doing Tender? Keeping a good eye on her?" He asks on a serious tone, one which Wardo nods. "I don't need a babysitter" I comment before he can say anything.
"I see how it is, however I think-" My dad starts talking but is interrupted by my four dogs.
Dusty, Hattie, Skipper and Tilly.
Yeah, I know how it sounds.
All hockey terms.
I did warned that me and my family are hockey obsessed. I can't do much about it, my dad is a professional coach and an ex NHL player.
Tilly is a presa canario, his name is Tilly because in hockey terms it pretty much means fight. Only because he's the scariest one. He's 4 years old but could never hurt a fly.
Dusty is a pitbull, and his name is dusty because in hockey terms is the one that sits most on the bench, collecting dust and he's the laziest one, even though none of my dogs are mainly aggressive. He's 6 years old.
Skipper is a german shepherd, she's a female and named after skipper because it means leader, and she's the oldest, being 8 years old.
Hattie is a female as well, she's a Rottweiler. Hattie means a player who scores three consecutive goals, and she is the most sporty one. Also, she is the youngest, being only 2 years old.
I love them all. They all come running when they see me and my brother, we give them some love and go to the living room to go back to talking.
Our house is big, but it is not modern. It is not the type of house that looks like a commercial, it's more rustic.
(Example)
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The house is big, my family is wealthy indeed, we just don't like the dentist mode of things, for us, at least. We just feel that this type of architecture is more homey.
We have a big outdoor patio and garden, full filled with healthy plants and grass. Beyond the open field, we have a barbecue area, and where the pool is, we have the chairs implanted downward on the ground with a fireplace in the middle.
We have a wine ward down the house, and my room stays on the second floor.
My room is delicate, with cute bedsheets and a headboard. I have a fireplace and a balcony as well.
I love my house, it just feels comfortable.
We chat on the living room for a while, in the middle of it my mom leaves to cook us dinner.
"So, how are you adjusting sniper?" My dad asks and I smile in return, "Great, it's been awesome honestly." I confess and he nods in satisfaction.
"What about you son? How is soccer?" I know my dad hates the fact Eduardo does soccer other than be training for hockey, but is nice that he still asks. "It's been good. But hockey season is coming up" He changes subject.
"Yes! And since this will be my last year coaching the bruins, I need to do great, and it will be stressful for your old man here." He says, jokingly so the both of us chuckle. "When does the opening bruins game is?" My brother asks and my dad checks the date on his phone, "Only in the second of October. But practices never stop through the year." He says matter of factly.
"I'm excited to get the free tickets again" I comment and they laugh, agreeing with me.
"One of this days, after our first win I was thinking of calling them in, for dinner." My dad suggests, both of us nod, agreeing that it would be a great idea.
Me and my brother grew up with the team. My dad always said that trust is the number one thing in a team, so he loves the team bonding activities, and he believes that him being included into it, and making an effort to show how proud he is of each of them, is a great way to make them closer. So I've been close to multiple hockey players, famous ones.
Patrice Bergeron is the longest player for the bruins, and I love him and his children. He unfortunately just retired, in July 2023. However he knows he is always welcome in this house.
Well, anywho, we now start talking about hockey and data.
"Hey, guys! Dinner is ready!" My mom announces and we all jump into the diner room.
My dad sits at the head, I sit on the other, and my mom sits on the right, my brother on the left.
We chat as we eat, and it's delicious. My mom made lasagna, and it tastes heavenly.
After that I excuse myself and go take a shower.
As I leave the shower, I see that someone started following me on instagram.
Rafe Murray.
Holy shit.
"This has to be a joke" I tell myself as I dress up.
It's like midnight, what would he be doing, following me at this time.
I shrug it off, and don't follow back.
I just try to think of something else until i drift off to sleep, me and my pretty cutie dogs.
