Hat Trick

1.

*Troy's POV*

"That was a shitty fucking call! Who even made you a ref!"

Is all I hear, from the other side of the glass, as I was quite literally BODY SLAMMED down on to the ice in the third quarter of our opening game against the Penguins.

We are literally in Philadelphia right now, and someone is screaming at OUR refs, about a Flyer getting body slammed on the ice.

I have been playing for the Flyers since I was 20, and I have never been more offended in my god damn life in the past 5 years.

Sam and Quincy came flying over to pull me up off the ice, and the second I turned in the direction of the screaming, all I could see was the long locks of curly black hair, eyes I wanted to swim in, and teeth that are basically blinding me.

Or, at least that is what is going through my head at this moment.

That was back in October.

It's now May, and we have been back in Philadelphia for 6 weeks since the off season started, and I have not been able to find those eyes since we got back.

"Troy!" Lachlin screamed from his drivers seat.

I flinched. "God, what Lach." I sighed.

"You picked this place because it's low key?" He nodded. "Are we going in or what?"

Since we got back, we have been bombarded by the press and paparazzi every where we go, and for the love of god, I just want to eat a meal and drink a coffee without a camera in my face.

My name is Troy McCarthy.

And as I said, I have been playing for the Flyers since I was 20 years old. 25 now. I have been rookie of the year twice in those past 5, unfortunately NHL play boy of the year one of those, which I still don't understand, and even with the new additions over the years, I am still being referred to as Baby Face. What fucking baby has a beard.

I love my life, my friends, and my team mates, but ever since that opening game, I haven't been able to stop thinking about the gorgeous little spit fire cussing out our refs.

But since we got back, I've been on the search for that smile.

"Uh, yeah." I nodded and got out of the car.

"The girl?" He pursed his lips as we walked in to a little coffee shop.

"Don't you think it's weird that I haven't been able to find her?" I closed the door behind me.

"I don't know Troy, you said she looked young. Maybe we'll see her on Drexel while we're doing the training program?"

"Yeah, maybe." I nodded.

We walked up to the counter and a young man was smiling right back at us. "Holy shit." He shook his head. "You're Lachlin Price and Troy McCarthy."

"Uh, yeah." Lachlin smiled. "We are. Hi."

"You guys killed your opener this year." He nodded.

"Thanks. You catch the game?" I smiled.

"Oh yeah, I went with some friends. Right behind the glass. You guys were insane."

"You play?" I raised my eyebrows.

"I do." He nodded. "I play at Drexel."

"Oh, we'll see you for that training program tonight." Lachlin nodded.

"Oh god, that's right. That starts tonight."

"Yeah, just conversation, going over everything we want to do. Us, Quincy Olden and Sam Payne. What's your name kid." I held my hand out.