Strawberries Taste How Lips Do

Of all days I had to get locked out of my hotel room in my tweety bird pajama pants and a ratty old Blackhawks baseball tee, it had to be the day where something important was happening outside of the hotel. When I checked in about an hour ago, there were cameras and a huge coach bus, people crowding in the lobby, the whole nine yards. I think I heard something about a concert or something -- maybe the artist was staying here.

I set my bucket of ice -- the whole fucking reason I was locked out -- next to the door of my room and shuffled down the hall to get to the elevator. As I turned the corner, I heard a few different male voices coming from the other side of the hallway. It's 12:30am, and I was thinking that it was pretty inconsiderate of them to be making this much noise. They seemed to be getting closer, so I rushed in and held the “door close” button.

Just as the doors were closing, the voices became clearer and a hand shot in and stopped them. I tucked myself into the corner as three nicely dressed men piled into the elevator. I didn’t really pay attention much past that, just stood and guarded myself for hope of surviving this without any unwanted attention.

“How could you be stupid enough to lock yourself out?” one of them asked. I was getting ready to berate him, to tell him to fuck off because how did you know that I did that, why are you calling me stupid, why --

“Oh fuck off, Trev,” one of the others said, playfully hitting “Trev” on the shoulder.

“You’re coming out though, right, Mutt?” the third said to him, playing with his watch.

“Nah, boys, not today,” the one called Mutt responded. “Beauty sleep and all that bullshit, eh?”

“Yeah, too bad your ugly ass is locked out, now isn’t it?” Trev responded. They all laughed and shoved each other lightly.

The elevator zooms down to the main floor and I squeaked out an “excuse me” to push past them and rush to the front desk. The lobby was empty now, and two of the three men from the elevator went towards the main doors. “Mutt” bid his goodbyes made his way toward the counter. I stole a quick look over my shoulder. If I were a cat, you’d be free to consider me dead. That quick glance did not disappoint. Even what I saw for the literal half a second was pretty nice.

“How can I help you?” the overly-cheery concierge chirped. I explained that I had locked myself out, just as “Mutt” was explaining the same thing to the other desk worker.

“Name?” they both asked.

“Maxime Fletcher,” I responded.

“Andrew Shaw,” he responded.

My eyes widened as the workers clacked away on their keyboards. Mutt. Of fucking course. The Hawks were in Pittsburgh this weekend. Some fan I am.

“Room number?” they both asked.

“2485,” I responded.

“2465,” he responded.

Silence as the keyboards clacked away.

“Now, Ms. Fletcher, it is my duty to inform you that there will be a --”

“$45 room key replacement fee charged to your bill,” Shaw cut in, and the desk worker smiled.

“Maybe done this a few times,” he said with a smile and a shrug.

I laughed to myself a little before nodding to the worker, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

It took about 2 more minutes of awkward silence before we received our replacement keys. I thanked the person at the desk and made my way back to the elevators. As I pushed the button for the elevator, my key slipped out of my hand and fell to the floor. Before I could get to the floor to pick it up, Andrew had bent down to pick it up for me.

“Nice pj’s,” he commented before handing me my key. I furrowed my eyebrows for a second before looking down at my shirt, shaking my head slightly.

“Thanks,” I offered, slightly embarrassed, tugging at the worn fabric. “I personally think it’s good luck, but I must have misplaced it for a while, considering the state of things…”

His mouth dropped open at my sarcastic comment, small smirk crossing his lips before he rubbed at his jaw.

“Either that, or those wingers have to get their act together,” I offered with a shrug, getting into the elevator and pushing 24. He followed in quickly after me, smiling and shaking his head.

“You gotta admit that one right winger is a looker though, eh?” he offered, nudging my arm a little.

“Oh yeah,” I answered, smirking a little. “Hossa is such a babe.”

“I’m Andrew,” he says after a short bark of a laugh.

“I know,” I said rolling my eyes, just as the elevator opens up to our floor.

We walked from the elevator lobby quietly until I offered a half-hearted goodnight and turned down my hallway.

“Wait--” Andrew called, as I was pretty sure he was going to. “Uh..”

“Max,” I supplied, filling the space he left.

“Max,” he tested, the corners of his lips turning up. “Nice pj’s,” he said, pulling his pant leg up a bit to reveal tweety bird socks.

I smiled and laughed a little more than I care to admit. “Bye, Andrew.” I called, walking down my hallway.

“Bye, Max.” I heard him say as I turned the second corner.

I got to my room, fully ready to just go to bed and rest before my presentation tomorrow, not even caring about the discarded bucket of ice outside of my door. I shoved the plastic card in the slot and removed it, ready to see the green light that allowed me into the room.

Too bad I was met with a red one.

Maybe it was just me. I tried a few more times with the same result and I was just about to admit defeat before I remembered dropping my card. I turned on my heel and walked back in the direction of Andrew’s room hoping that he was met with the same problem.

Sure enough, he had the same idea, and looked like he was just about to come back towards my room.

“Is this how you strike up conversation with every girl in tweety bird pajama pants?” I offered, holding his room key out to him.

“Nah, usually I just come right out with it,” he shrugs, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck. “I mean, how can you not? Tweety bird is practically irresistible.” He took his key and returned mine with the same movement. “Sides, the whole room key swap seems kinda much, yanno?”

“If you’re trying to convince me you didn’t do this on purpose, it’s not really working,” I said, yawning. It had to be around 1 now.

“I’m assumin’ you’re not from around here, then?” he asked, completely disregarding my comment, and gesturing to my shirt.

“Born and raised in Evanston,” I said, leaning against the wall closest to me. “Both of my parents were huge Hawks fans when they were younger. Still are, though my dad isn’t very fond of Kane. Calls him a waste of human and cap space,” I said, rubbing my eyes, stopping suddenly as I realized that I literally just said that to one of Kane’s teammates.

“Don’t worry, that’s the general reaction to Kaner now-a-days,” he waves off, leaning against the opposite wall as me. “I’m still not sure about the whole thing, to be honest.”

I hummed in approval before yawning again.

I should be asleep.

“Big day tomorrow?” Andrew responded.

I most definitely said that out loud.

“Yeah. I’ve got a presentation, so I’ve gotta be out of here by 8,” I said, lightly bumping my head against the wall a few times. “I don’t wanna.”

“Yeah? What’s the presentation?” He asked, looking genuinely interested.

“The working topic is Getting Andrew Shaw to Go Away so Max Can Be Functional Tomorrow and the Hawks Can Win a Game,” I said, filter falling to the wind as being overtired was finally catching up to me.

He laughed. “Sounds like an interesting presentation. I’m sure nobody will fall asleep,” he sassed.

“Well I mean, they aren’t watching you guys dwindle a power play down to nothing, so I think I have pretty good odds,” I came back, raising my eyebrow slightly.

Andrew joking clutched his chest, mocking getting shot. “I’m wounded!” We laughed for a second before I yawned. Again. “Should probably let you get some shut-eye then, eh?”

“Probably. Nice meeting you, though,” I said honestly.

“Yeah, you too,” He said, a small smile on his face. “Maybe I’ll catch you around Chicago.”

“Very big city,” I retaliated, but still smiling. “Night, Andrew.”

“Yeah, night.” Andrew said softly as I walked down my hallway again.

Once I actually got in my room, I set my alarm on my phone and collapsed in my bed. I grabbed my phone where it was abandoned on the side table and began to process that I had most definitely had casual conversation with Andrew Fucking Shaw.

After dismissing some notifications and setting my alarm, I opened up my messaging and typed in my best friend’s name.

To: Lorelai Huff
So I just met Andrew Shaw?? Like right wing for the chicago blackhawks andrew shaw. Like “i love shinpads” andrew shaw.

I waited for about a minute for the read receipt to flash, but it didn’t. Usually with something this out there -- mostly things she doesn’t believe me on -- she’s pretty quick to respond. By the time my phone flashed 1:15, I swiped “do not disturb” on and went to sleep.