It was a warm Friday evening when you and your best friend were wandering down the Riverside Marina in Detroit. Soft breeze was playing with your hair and nearly blew off your friend's designer hat.
"Stop laughing," she growls when the wind nearly blows her hat away once again. You look at her, barely containing the laughter: "I don't know why had to take the hat, you could've easily taken a cap and tuck your hair in."
"You could've taken something to prevent your hair from being all over the place," she snaps back and groans in annoyance as the next blow of wind nearly takes away her hat again.
"Y/F/N, do you see anyone here? You don't have to be all dressed up all the time, you know that?"
"It wouldn't hurt you if you tried being dressed up once in a while." Her attempt to out sass you, makes you chuckle and drape your arm around her shoulder: "Oh, Y/F/N, Y/F/N, you have so much to learn how to out sass people."
She glares at you and tries to fake anger, but cracks a smile anyway. Soon after, you are laughing out of control and you feel tears streaming down your cheeks. You look at your friend and see through the blur of tears that she is not better than you, her make up being smeared all over her cheeks and dripping on her shirt. Your laughing session continues until you feel something hit back of your head. Your laughter stops and you reach back to rub the hurt area.
"Hey, is everything okay?"
"Ow, no, I got hit by something..."
Your friend looks away and notices red Frisbee not far away from where the two of you are seating.
"Probably that thing?"
"It could be, but where did it come from?"
In the exact same moment as she shrugs her shoulders, two boys approach you. The one with dark brown hair smiles at you both, while his friend with blonde hair kneels down next to you: "Are you okay?"
His accent sounds European to you, but you don't know exactly where could this guy be from or what is he doing in Detroit. You nod however, still holding hand to back of your head where the Frisbee hit you.
"We are sorry," the dark-haired guy rubs back of his head nervously. Your friend leans down to you and whispers: "Luckily, two cuties are responsible for your pain, could be worse."
You shoot her a quick smile and shake your head: "I am fine, thankfully is wasn't too painful. Oh, this is Y/F/N and I am Y/N."
Blondie smiles widely: "Teemu Pulkkinen and this baby is Dylan-"
"I can introduce myself, Te," brunette cuts his friend short and flashes you both a wide smile: "I know he already told my name, but I am Dylan."
Your friend jumps up as soon as the introduce themselves: "Dylan Larkin of Red Wings?"
You should've known, she knows everything about every player in Michigan under the age of twenty-one, which is not surprising. Well... just weird. And she has been slightly obsessed with Dylan Larkin since his NHL debut. She even tried to get you to like him as well, so you could fangirl together, but you didn't budge. Honestly, you didn't see a reason why should you obsess over someone you don't even known, you were the down-to-earth part of the duo. But now when you met him, you could see why did she find him so special.
He is even more adorable in person than on pictures she has shown you so many times in attempt to get you to the "dark side". He offers her another smile and you can see her melting: "Red Wings fan?"
"Sports fan and from Detroit. Which makes me both, I think," she chuckles. He stretches out his hand: "Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too."
Somehow they start a conversation, leaving you and Dylan's friend out and in awkward silence. Until he breaks it: "I hope you are not hurt."
"Oh, no, don't worry, it was just a shock. I really didn't expect a Frisbee to my head," you chuckle and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, giving him a small smile.
