Page 25 of Cold Front
ELI
The Rusty Rink Bar & Grill was bustling with noise as I walked in, the low hum of chatter mixing with the clink of glasses and the sound of a hockey game playing on the TV above the bar. It was packed tonight, mostly with a mix of locals and students who looked like they’d been there since the first period started. Not exactly my crowd, but I wasn’t going to let that bother me.
I was here to work, so that’s what I was going to do. I headed for a corner booth, a little away from the louder groups but still close enough to the action that I wasn’t totally cut off. I’d considered sitting at the bar, but I was pretty sure Niall would have an aneurysm if I put him in a situation where he could barely hear me over the noise.
The booth gave me space to spread out my things—laptop, notebook, camera—and get set up. Asher would probably tease me for going ‘full work mode,’ but that was just how I rolled. I was good at multitasking, and right then, that meant getting the social media posts and photos sorted out while the others worked on the branding stuff.
Yeah, I’d gone ahead and bought a camera. I figured it was time to upgrade. Nothing fancy—no high-end, pro-level gear like what career photographers used—but a solid camera that could handle more than just quick snapshots. Something good enough for this Marketing Principles assignment and whatever else I decided to explore.
I ran my fingers over the camera body, adjusting the settings. It was still new enough that I was figuring things out, but I liked the feel of it, the weight of it in my hands. Made everything I shot feel more intentional.
I was still trying to figure some things out when I heard Asher’s voice, unmistakable, cutting through the noise. He had that grin plastered on his face, and his energy filled the room.
“Yo, Eli!” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Bet you’re already working. You seriously need to chill, man.”
I chuckled and pushed my laptop aside. “I’m getting there. You know, just getting everything ready. No big deal.”
Asher slid into the booth next to me, completely at ease. His eyes were dancing as he surveyed the place. “We should come here more often.”
I smiled, setting my camera down. “Maybe?” I shrugged. “Don’t know if Niall would like it here, honestly.”
“Speaking of Niall,” Asher said, glancing toward the door just as Niall walked in, scanning the room. The second he spotted me, his features went carefully neutral, but there was a flicker of something guarded in his eyes. It wasn’t exactly unfriendly, it was more like a ‘you’re here, fine, whatever’ kind of look.
Niall made his way over to the booth, pushing past a couple of people without much effort. He moved like someone who was used to people making space for him—not in an entitled way, just like it was a fact.
His gaze flicked to me, then Asher, before he dropped onto the seat across from me, his broad shoulders eating up space. “Hey.” His voice was low, and the nod he gave was brief.
Asher shot him an easy grin. “Long day?”
Niall exhaled through his nose. “Something like that.”
I closed my notebook, tilting my head. “Practice?”
Niall’s eyes flicked to me, unreadable. “Yeah.” His tone wasn’t exactly warm, but it wasn’t cold either—just matter-of-fact.
We all got burgers and fries and ate in relative silence—a silence that was comfortable, even though Niall and I weren’t on the best of terms. When we were done, Asher pulled a sketchbook and pencil from his bag, flipping to a blank page.
“All right, let’s get into it.” He started sketching as he spoke, his strokes quick but purposeful. “I’m thinking high energy—bold colors, sharp angles, maybe some motion blur to make it feel dynamic. A design that screams, ‘Hockey is badass, and you don’t want to miss this clinic.’”
Niall exhaled, leaning back. “Bit dramatic.”
“Yeah, but dramatic sells,” I said, tapping my pen against my notebook. “We want people to actually show up, right?”
Niall didn’t argue, just shrugged. “As long as it gets the right people.”
Asher grinned. “See? He gets it.” He tilted the sketchbook so we could see the rough outlines of his idea—a stylized hockey player mid-shot, bold lettering slashing across the top. He gestured between us. “Eli’s handling the photos, I’ll refine the layout, and you—” He pointed at Niall. “You can give us the hockey player’s perspective so we don’t sound like clueless amateurs.”
Niall folded his arms. “Right. Because that’s my specialty.”
“You’re the team captain, aren’t you?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure that comes with the job.”
Niall’s expression twitched, like he wanted to argue but couldn’t.
Asher’s phone buzzed, and he checked the screen. “I’ll get started on the flyers, but I promised Gigi we’d finish our art pieces tonight, so I gotta head out.” He slid out of the booth, pointing between us. “You guys can keep brainstorming without me.”
Niall gave him a barely-there nod. Asher gave me a side hug, grinning. “Catch you later, man.”
Asher was out the door in a heartbeat, and just like that, it was just me and Niall.
