Goodnight, Beautiful.

“Oh, boy.” Bristol held the nylon sweater in her hands and out in front of her as if it were radioactive. The look on her face was that of pure dismay as she gnawed on the inside of her lip. “Orange, I don’t look good in orange. Do you have anything less...goon-like?”

Tearing the garment from her hands, Kris Versteeg stuffed it back into the bottom drawer of his dresser and knelt down to look once again. His knees popped in the process and with the seconds ticking by on the clock, his patients were just about running thin. He had less than twenty minutes until he had to be at the arena, and with traffic, he’d be lucky to make it on time.

“Is white okay? Do you look good in white?” Bristol didn’t appreciate his sarcasm but to her it was better than wearing orange. In her mind, she would have much rather worn his old Blackhawks sweater but, being the good friend he is, Kris warned her not to.

“Yes, thank you.” Slipping her current shirt off, Bristol tugged the Flyers sweater over her head and straightened out the bottom after pulling her hair out of the collar.

Philadelphia hadn’t been her ideal city, but, if Kris was there, that’s where she was. Besides, she liked it better than Toronto. As an American-born girl, Bristol felt more at home and at ease knowing she was back on American soil. And if that meant she had to deal with wearing an orange sweater here and there, she didn’t mind.

“All you have to do is take a cab to the arena and after the game I’ll meet up with you and we can drive home together.” The nerves in Kris’ chest were tangled and tightening by the minute. He hated the thought of leaving Bristol in a city so unfamiliar to her but he knew strongly she could take care of herself. After all, he was the one who made her take self-defense classes after a couple of apartments in their neighborhood back in the City had been broken in to. Plus, the added pressure of him playing his first game in the Flyers gear wasn’t doing much to help either. He had to prove himself and Bristol knew it.

Bristol cupped Kris’ cheeks in her hands and pressed a friendly kiss on his lips, leaving a small trace of her peppermint lip gloss behind. “Stop worrying about me. The only place your head needs to be right now is kicking ass in tonight’s game.”

She could sense the nervousness in Kris and Bristol knew it would all flood away the second he stepped his skates onto the ice. He was a hell of a player and it would take only a few shifts until he became comfortable playing with his new linemates.

Kris kissed Bristol’s cheek before grabbing his equipment bag off the bed and resting the strap on his shoulder. It was clear this was Bristol’s first trip to Philly, or else his bag wouldn’t be in the bedroom, or let alone the apartment. The proper place for it was outside on the balcony.

“You, behave.” Kris pointed a finger at Bristol and she could see him through the mirror. She had examining her new look. It wasn’t red and it didn’t have a hawk head, but it’ll do. “This isn’t the Madhouse and people in Philly can be a little rougher than the people in Chi-town. And, whatever you do, for the love of all that is holy, do not bring up anything about game 6.”

“Okay.”

Her answer didn’t satisfy him and Kris wasn’t completely sure his point had been made. “Do not bring up—,”

“Game 6, I know! Now go, your going to be late.” Turning around, Bristol walked toward Kris and placed a hand on his chest, slightly pushing him out of the bedroom. “Good luck and have fun.”

With her ticket stub in hand, Bristol carefully walked down the concrete steps of the Wells Fargo Center looking for her row. The arena was alien to her, the atmosphere wasn’t what she was used to and for the first time in a long time she actually felt…intimidated.

Back home she had always been the one to make people move to the other side of the sidewalk as she walked past. It wasn’t because she was raging bitch and thought the whole city belonged to her, but rather, it was her looks. Most people didn’t find a girl with multiple piercings and a grunge-like style to be the nicest and warm-hearted person. If only they knew how wrong they were. Bristol was the kind of girl who you would want in your corner during the worst of times and had would give the shirt off her back to someone who was more in need.

Bristol came to a stop three rows up from the home bench. She would have liked an aisle seat but she knew Kris had little time to come by with a ticket and if seat 9 was the best he could get her, Bristol was going to take it. There was no way in hell she would give up an opportunity to attend a hockey game, even if it meant watching the Broad Street Bullies.

When Kris asked her to move out to Philly with him—he claimed it was because he wanted a piece of Chicago with him—she didn’t hesitate one bit. Besides, Bristol was ready to get out of Illinois and try something new. She was always searching for something bigger and better than what life had to offer, and she had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach that Philly would be just the city to fill that gapping hole.

Excusing her way through, Bristol apologized profusely to the other fans as she made her way down the row. Her tremendous use of the words I’m sorry were mainly used out of fear she would get her ass kicked. She could still remember how the sports fans of Philly had boo’d Santa at an Eagles game and they for sure wouldn’t hesitate to throw a couple of punches at her.

Removing her bag off her shoulder, Bristol set in on the floor and under her seat as she began to get comfortable. The sea of orange in front of her eyes amazed her and she felt a slight pang of guilt for not wearing the first sweater Kris had offered. She was just trying to get under his skin and bust his balls, but Kris knew it was all in good fun.

“Wow,” she heard a little boy behind her say as he poked her in an attempt to grab her attention. Bristol turned around and wondered what he was amazed about. “Where did you get that Versteeg jersey? They haven’t even come out with them yet.”

Bristol really didn’t know what to say. If she were to say something that became misunderstood, she could end up with another page on Facebook where fans professed their hate for the twenty-three year old woman after a rumor had been leaked she and Kris were in a relationship. From then on, Bristol vowed to never speak of her and Kris even having a friendship.

“Oh, I know someone who’s a friend of Kris and was able to get a few before they went on sale.” Nice lie, Bristol thought to herself.

After sixty-five minutes of play, it was hard for Bristol to watch Kris lose his first game as a Flyer against the Coyotes. She would have much rather see him play against a team where his skills could be matched and he could show the guys what his was really made of. He went from being a second-line guy in Chicago to back on the third. It was clear too that some of the veteran Bullies had their doubts about the ex-hawk being on their team, but, Steeger was a all around fun guy and it would take only a matter of days before he had them out singing karaoke at the local bars. That was how Kris and Bristol had met in the first place.

Following the strict instructions Kris had given her back at the apartment, Bristol flashed a laminated pass he had given her to a couple of employees and all of sudden she was given a superstar treatment. She waited in the hallways in which the changing room was located in and pressed her back against the cold wall. Occasionally a few guys would leave the room and flash her odd looks; looks that gave her the impression they thought she was a puck slut. She had seen their faces here and there on roster pictures during the finals last season but she hadn’t committed any names to heart.

With her hobo bag slung over her shoulder, Bristol consistently checked the time on her phone and wished Kris would hurry up. She hated waiting alone; it made her feel like she was back in high school as she waited outside for her mother to pick her up.

Once he finally came out of the changing room, Bristol stayed quite due to the fact there were a few other guys he had come out with. She was happy to at least see him smiling and having a good laugh. Typically a loss would put him in a mad mood until he could get home and turn on his Fergie CD’s.

Bristol stood with her arms crossed over her chest and occasionally she would push a curl over her shoulder. When he finally realized she was standing there, Kris grabbed Bristol by the wrist and pulled her into the group. There conversation only paused for a second so he could introduce the girl to his new teammates.

“So, this is my dearest friend from Chicago, Bristol. And, Bristol, meet Danny Briere, Daniel Carcillo and Claude Giroux.” Kris placed a hand on the small of her back and she shook their hands and gave them each a full-hearted hello. Since being introduced to Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane a few years back, there was no hockey player Bristol could meet that would leave her star-struck. Unless, that man was Sidney Crosby.

It was fairly unusual for Bristol to become shy around guys, but when she let go of Claude’s hand, she could feel her cheeks begin to burn. She just hoped no one noticed she was blushing and the fact her words were stuttering.

“Well,” Claude loosened the knot in his tie and adjusted the heavy equipment bag on his shoulder. “It’s getting late and I’m gonna head home. See you Thursday, Bristol?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here Thursday.” She mentally slapped herself for sounding so stupid. It felt as if her awkward teenage years were coming back to haunt her.

Kris tried to conceal his laughter by coughing and Bristol wanted to punch him in the shoulder. She knew how ridiculous she was being at the moment and she didn’t need Versteeg to rub it in.

Briere and Carcillo bid her and Kris goodnight as they began to follow Claude out. Kris waited until the three were out of ear shot and eye sight until he bent over in laughter. He hadn’t seen her act like a mumbling idiot since Kane had offered her a ride home after an early Sunday afternoon game.

“Yeah, I’ll be here Thursday.” Versteeg mocked the blushing woman and took the punch to the shoulder with pride. The physical pain was all worth if it meant he could make fun of Bristol. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. I’ve got leftover Chinese in the fridge.”

Kris wrapped an arm over Bristol’s shoulder as the two made their trek out to the player lot. She was still embarrassed that she wanted to catch the first flight back to Chicago so she would never have to face Claude Giroux again. It wasn’t until she had actually met him did Bristol realize he much cuter than his roster picture. “You’re lucky I like you, Steeger, or else I would have kicked your ass for mocking me.”