Sunday, October 10, 2010

Hold Up

So sorry about the lack of updates - school and all that. Trust me, I'm getting to this story, you wouldn't believe how many ideas I have in writing for where this is headed...just give me time to get to it! I'll be updating all my stories soon, don't worry :)

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Chapter 9

(JORDAN)


Max wasted no time in telling the team about our little adventure this morning with Geno’s special friend. I calmly corrected his exaggerations, but mostly for Geno’s sake, who was trying desperately to hide him face behind his sweater.
“Wait, was she hot, though?” Brooks asked.
“Not from where I was standing,” Max jeered.
“Gene, what were you thinking?” Flower asked, and we all turned to look at him. Geno glanced up. He hesitated, and then mumbled:
“She look good naked.” The whole dressing room burst into laughter, along with Geno, now free of his embarrassment. Everyone nodded in acceptance except for Sid, who blushed and turned away, fumbling with his equipment.





“And I don’t want the world to see me…because I don’t think that they’d understand…” Max sang, skating around in circles. “When everything’s meant to be broken…I just want you to know who I am…”
“Feeling a little sentimental today, Maxime?” I asked over my shoulder as I skated past him.
“It’s Iris,” he responded. “It’s a classic.”
“You’re a sap.” I said.
“Maybe so,” he shrugged, and continued humming to himself distractedly. I laughed, turning my attention towards Sid, who was hitting slap-shots violently into the net. I skated to a stop beside him, but he didn’t seem to notice my presence, as he continued shooting puck after puck into the net, an aggravated look on his face.
“You okay, man?” I asked him hesitantly. He simply grunted, not even bothering to glance in my direction. I decided it best to leave him be; Sid had his weird moments, just like everyone else, and I knew well enough that the only way to calm him down was to let him do his thing, and he’d get over it soon enough. I hoped that would be the case this time; it wouldn’t do to have our captain in a bad mood on game day tomorrow.

The practice went by slower than usual. Something was definitely off with Sid; his stride lacked its usual quickness, and his passes flew astray. He couldn’t catch a pass to save his life; it seemed like there was a hole in his blade. This wasn’t the Sidney Crosby we knew, and everyone’s attitude seemed to be affected by his play. A captain has a huge impact on his team, which is why it’s so important to keep a steady set of emotions throughout the season. No one shows a better example of this on a daily basis than Sid, but everyone’s allowed an off-day. We all just hoped it would last for only a day, and not any longer.

The moment we stepped off the ice, my thoughts went straight to Al. I got dressed as quickly as I could and jumped into my car, pulling out my cell. I almost caused an accident getting out of the parking lot and trying to text at the same time, and then again, almost running a red light. I passed by the Starbucks at the exact moment I received her text, and slammed on the breaks in the middle of the intersection. It could’ve been God on my side, or maybe it was just good timing, but either way, I couldn’t believe my luck.





I don’t think I’d ever been more thankful for Brooks Orpik’s existence. I was delighted for an excuse to take her to my house, and jumped on the opportunity. I was happy to see Sid in a much better mood when we got there; what I wasn’t too happy about was how attached he became to Al—couldn’t he tell how hard I was trying to steal her attention? I took advantage of my jealousy to play a few harmless jokes on the kid, which, incidentally, put me in a much better mood.

Max had a lifetime goal of getting on my nerves. He always wanted to get under people’s skin; whether it was on the ice against an opposition or with his own teammates. He knew I hated the way he played with that delivery girl’s feelings, and yet he continued to pull her around, bringing her hopes higher and higher only to bring them crashing down like I knew he would. I didn’t want to flip out on him in front of Al, so I excused myself to go to the washroom before I had the chance. I bumped into Sid in the hallway upstairs, and, of course, being Sid, he had to nudge just a bit too far past the limits of his business.
“So, how are things going with Al?” he asked.
“Things aren’t ‘going’ at all,” I said, shrugging. He patted me on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, man, things will work out,” he said, smiling.
“How do you know that?” I asked. He looked at me.
“It has to.” He said. I watched as he turned into his room and closed the door, and I followed suit on the opposite side of the hall. I was in the midst of getting changed into more comfortable sweats when I heard a voice coming from downstairs. It was a voice I knew all too well; a voice that I had lived with ever since I had moved here. I cracked open my door and poked my head out, listening. Yes, I was right. It was Max’s flirting voice.
I rushed out into the hallway, only half-dressed, and leaned out over the railing. I heard Max say some words in French, and she blushed. Then she began eyeing him, like he was doing her, and I gawked at them from upstairs. What the hell was he doing?
I had to put a stop to this. I ran down the stairs loudly; I didn’t know what exactly I was trying to stop, but I had a feeling my being there would do it. I walked through the room with purpose, trying my best to flex my gut and arms as much as I could. I heard Max yell something at me, but I didn’t turn around. I stepped into the basement and stopped. I realized then that I should probably give them reason to think I had a purpose for coming down here in such a hurry. I looked around, and picked up the first book I saw lying on the ground. I then ran back upstairs and back into my room, shutting the door and collapsing on my bed. I took a peak at the book I had grabbed, and saw with dismay that it was a dictionary. Geno must have been practicing his English words with Gonch again…crap. She probably thought I was insane now. Great. All I could do was hope she hadn’t noticed. I opened my drawer and pulled out my favorite Gucci shirt and changed into some jeans. I took a death breath before heading back downstairs to rejoin the party and hopefully get a little bit more luck on my side.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Chapter 8

(AL)


Marc had to leave soon after because he had a date with his girlfriend, Vero, who, according to Marc, was “just dying to meet me”. Then Sid had to leave because of some commercial thing with Reebok or Gatorade, leaving me alone with Jordan and Max, who for the next two hours couldn’t seem to stop arguing about which was the better province, Quebec or Ontario. I personally didn’t have a preference, or maybe I just didn’t give a crap. Constant fighting gets me cranky.

“Well, the Habs have won more Stanley Cups than any other team in the NHL,” Max pointed out, for about the fifth time.
“Yeah, that’s only because they used to get first dibs on all the French players,” Jordan countered, again.
“So you admit that the French are better!” Max stated, grinning smugly.
“Whatever, they haven’t won a cup in like 15 years,” Jordan said.
“Oh, yeah? And when was the last time the Sens or the Leafs won the cup?” Max asked defiantly.
“Ontario has the Prime Minister,” Jordan said, changing the subject.
“Quebec has the Wax Museum!” Max said.
“You’re comparing the Prime Minister to the Wax Museum?” Jordan scoffed.
“I think it’s a pretty valid accusation,” Max said. “For all Harper’s done for our country, he might as well be made out of wax.” And it continued like that. For two hours. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when Geno walked through the door. His presence always made me smile, even when he was on the ice.

“Hey, Geno,” Max said, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Your epicranius is showing.” Geno’s brown eyes grew wide and he looked down to his crotch. He turned around in a three sixty and then looked back at us, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Oh my God, he was so cute. Obviously, Jordan and Max didn’t view him in the same way I did, and exploded into yet another fit of laughter at their prank. Geno just looked at them blankly.
“What is… ecipanious?” he asked, puzzled at what seemed to be so funny. The two comedians were still crippled with laughter, but when they caught the look I was giving them, they promptly shut up. Geno merely shrugged off the event and disappeared behind the refrigerator. A few seconds later he came back, empty-handed.
“We need food,” he stated simply, sitting down on the couch next to me.
“Ooh, let’s do Chinese!” Max exclaimed, getting up and pulling out an enormous copy of the yellow pages. He flipped to a dog-eared page, and within moments had our orders down and the phone in hand. From what I could tell by his side of the conversation, he was pretty friendly with whomever he was talking to on the other line. When he finally put down the phone, he turned to us with a sly smile.
“You got the food for free again, didn’t you?” Jordan sighed.
“Maybe…” Max responded, slinking back into the room.
“She’s never gonna stop if you don’t quit milking it, Max.” Jordan said.
“Yeah,” Geno added, only to become a part of their conversation.
“What’s going on?” I asked them, confused.
“There’s this girl at the Chinese place that’s absolutely obsessed with Max,” Jordan told me. “It’s freaky as hell. I’m not even kidding; she followed us home from the restaurant one time. And the funny part is that she doesn’t even know he’s famous. She just thinks he’s--”
“She thinks I’m hot. And she has every right to. I mean, just look at me,” Max interrupted, flexing his biceps. Geno pushed him, making him lose his balance and fall over the coffee table. Jordan chuckled.
“Anyway, she’ll give him whatever he wants. And he’s been taking advantage of it for months now,” Jordan said, glaring at Max.
“Hey, you shouldn’t be complaining. You’ve never once had to pay for a meal from that place,” Max said defensively, getting up and brushing himself off.
“But you’re leading her on! She thinks you like her!” Jordan exclaimed, frustrated. Wow, he sure was sensitive about this.
“Dude, relax, she’ll be fine. Stop being such a chick,” Max told him calmly. Jordan glared at him for moment, before getting up and muttering something about the washroom. As soon as he was out of the room, Geno spoke up.
“What his problem?”
“Who knows,” Max shrugged.

It was then that Sid burst through the door, his hair decorated with tiny white specks. He had the biggest grin on his face.
“It’s snowing,” he smiled, shaking his wet hair like a dog. Max and I both smiled too, but Geno grimaced.
“I miss Russia,” he said solemnly. It seemed Sid had been enjoying the snow a bit too much, and he went upstairs to change out of his wet clothes. Max sat down next to me on the couch.
“So, Al,” he began, looking at me. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Uh…there’s not too much to tell,” I told him, kind of dreading the conversation that was soon to follow.
“Where are you from?” he asked, smiling.
“Ottawa,” I told him. His grin widened enormously at this.
“So you’re Canadian, eh?” he said. “Do you happen to speak French, by any chance?” he asked hopefully.
“Yeah, pretty fluently,” I said, smiling at how happy this made him.
“So you play hockey, you’re Canadian, and you speak French?” he asked.
“Yup,” I said, laughing a bit.
“C’est attirant, ça,” Max said in French, looking at me up and down. If it were anybody other than him, I would’ve been insulted by the way he was looking at me like a piece of meat. But there was something about him—maybe it was his eyes, which never stopped twinkling—that told you he was the laid-back, not intense, always joking around, never really completely serious. He was the spitting image of my older brother.

I was beginning to notice how extremely good-looking Max was; the brown hair, the tan skin, the brown eyes, the rugged features…the accent. Oh, the accent.
It was then that Jordan crashed loudly down the stairs, disturbing my daydream. Oh, Sweet Lord of All That’s Good and Pure. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. I had to keep my lips pressed tightly together to keep from letting out a gasp.
“Dude, cover up your chest, there’s a lady in the house!” Max exclaimed, much more dramatically than necessary. Jordan ignored him and walked past us into the basement. A few seconds later he re-immerged, holding a book in his right hand. He then climbed back up the stairs, not making eye-contact with anyone the entire time.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. This man was going to kill me.

“Let’s play spit,” Sid said, breaking the pleasant silence that frequently followed an over-sized dinner. Everyone turned to look at him. He frowned.
“None of you know how to play?” he asked incredulously. I raised my hand hesitantly.
“I do,” I said, and he smiled widely, showing off his incredibly white teeth.
He sat down across from me at the other side of the coffee table and pulled out some cards from the drawer. He distributed them equally between us and had his piles set up in record time. I took a little bit longer; I hadn’t played spit since I was a kid.
“Ready?” he asked, grinning widely. The others—Jordan, Geno and Max—had all gathered around the table, anticipating the game that was about to follow.
“You better go easy on me, I’m a little rusty,” I told him. Max snorted.
“No chance of that, honey,” he said. “Sid’s the most competitive guy you’ll ever meet.” I exhaled loudly, and Sid and I flipped our cards.

I quickly skimmed my eyes over the numbers I saw in front of me and the numbers I had in my piles, and began rapidly getting rid of my cards. I was done in about 10 seconds, and slammed my hand down on the smallest pile.
“Spit,” I said. Everyone looked at me, eyes wide in surprise. Sid glanced at his huge pile of cards and frowned.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you,” I said, breaking into a huge grin. “I’m awesome.”
“Ooh,” Geno sounded, moving away from Sid’s part of the table to sit next to me. He was picking sides, and he chose mine. I was really beginning to like him. Sid scowled at him and grabbed his much larger pile and began setting up his cards once again. I smiled at him sweetly; he was in for a rough ride.

It only took about three more rounds for me to become the winner. I guess I probably should have mentioned my skill for card games before I had offered to play, just to be fair. But, then again, he had challenged me, and I never said no to a challenge.

“I want a re-match,” Sid said stubbornly, glowering at us all from across the table. Max and Jordan had both decided to join Geno on my side once they had realized the probability of where the game was going. It was kind cool to have them there standing behind me; it felt like I had a posse.
“Alright, if you feel like getting humiliated again,” I told him. Sid did not like this one bit, and heatedly grabbed the deck from the table to shuffle.

He was better this time; he even won a couple of rounds. It was much more fun to play this way, when my competition was actually good. The room was tense while we played; no one spoke. But once a round was over, all you could hear were the whoops and hollers of the winner and their posse. The “posse” kept switching back and forth between me and Sid; I like to think that Jordan hovered around my side throughout most of the competition, but then again, it could’ve been simply my imagination.

We got so wrapped up in the game that we ended up playing for over an hour before I realized how late it had gotten.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, jumping up. “It’s almost 1:00! I have to go,” I told them.
“No, don’t leave,” Sid protested, standing too. “Stay for one more game.”
“Maybe another time,” I smiled at him, which he pouted at.
“But you’re the only one who knows how to play!” he whined.
“Actually, I think we all know how to play by now, considering we just watched about 50 or so games between the two of you,” Max said.
“Okay, let me rephrase that then,” Sid said. “You’re the only one who’s actually good.” Max jumped on him, tackling him to the floor. Geno and Jordan moved in to try to break them up, and I took that as a good opportunity to make my departure. I walked out the door, leaving the hustle and bustle of the wrestling hockey players behind, before realizing that Jordan had driven me here and that I didn’t have a car. I would have to walk. I considered turning around and asking Jordan to drive me home, but I didn’t want to be pushy or demanding. I hear men don’t like that in a woman.

I zipped up my jacket and hugged my arms around my torso to shield myself from the cold. As I was beginning my long walk home, I heard someone run up behind me.
“Al!” Jordan yelled, slightly out of breath. I turned around, surprised.
“Hey,” I said. “What are you—”
“You think you’re just going to walk all the way to your house in the middle of the night?” he interrupted me, catching up to where I was standing.
“Um…well, yeah,” I said, frowning.
“You weren’t going to ask me for a ride?” he asked, his breathing slowly becoming even.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” I told him. He laughed.
“Trust me. You would be doing me a favor,” he said. And it was then that he did it. He grabbed my hand and tugged on it lightly, only for a second, pulling me forward. He then immediately let go and walked beside me back to the house.

My hand was tingling. I wasn’t sure if it was something he meant to do, or if he had even noticed he had done it. But I had. I could feel exactly where his callused palm had pressed lightly against my own, and where his long fingers had enveloped the back of my hand. I had felt the spark when our skin had met. I wondered if he had felt it too.

He opened the door of his car for me, and I stepped inside, nodding thanks. On the drive home, my fatigue that had momentarily faded while I was with the guys finally caught up to me, and I felt my eyes drooping. I yawned, and I heard Jordan chuckled lightly. I looked at him, and he said,
“You’re cute when you yawn.” I felt my face get hot and turned away so he wouldn’t see me blush. No matter how much I tried to stop it, I couldn’t keep a smile from forming on my lips.
We arrived at my house a matter of minutes later, and Jordan burst into laughter when he saw Brooks’ car still parked in the driveway.
“Some crazy shit is bound to happen tonight,” I sighed, shaking my head. I was used to this by now, of course, with Kayleigh being, well…Kayleigh, but somehow now it felt different. It was more awkward, in a way. I guess it was because Brooks was part of team of guys that I suddenly felt strangely close to, even having only met them a couple days ago. I think, with Kayleigh’s other “boyfriends”, I wasn’t afraid to make a bad impression because I knew that he would not have an influence at all on my life. Now things were different because Brooks did have an influence on my life, or, rather, Jordan did. And you wouldn’t believe how welded the bonds of a team can be. Your team is your family. I learned that the hard way, back when I was still playing.

Jordan walked me to the front door, still silently laughing to himself about his overly-ambitious teammate. I turned to him.
“It’s really not that funny,” I said.
“Oh, but it is,” he responded, grinning. I shook my head and turned to put the key in the door. I then stood in the open doorway, facing him.
“So, thanks a lot for, you know, taking me in and all,” I said sheepishly.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You certainly made the night more interesting.”
“Sid’s quite…enthusiastic,” I said, smiling. He grinned back.
“Yeah, he gets kind of weird like that when he really likes something,” he replied.
“You mean spit?” I asked.
“Yeah, spit…and you,” he said, and his eyes sparkled.
“He likes me?” I asked, slightly astounded.
“Yeah, of course,” Jordan said, making it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We all like you.” My heart jumped.
“Well, I like you guys too,” I told him.
“Good,” he said. We said our goodnights and I closed the door, watching as he walked away. I couldn’t help but admire the way his figure looked, standing there in the perfect moonlight. I let out a breath as he drove away. He had said ‘we’. We all like you. Not just they. We.

Chapter 7

(AL)


That night was the first in a while I had trouble falling asleep. When I was younger, this personal trainer had once told me that I had trouble relaxing throughout the day, so then I was so tired by the time I went to bed that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. It had always been that way, except for when I was really nervous about something or deep in thought.

After Jordan had dropped me off at Kayleigh’s house, and making me promise profusely to text him the next day, I had gone straight up to bed, knowing I would have to wake up for school early the next morning. But, as I lay there looking forlornly at the ceiling, I realized it wasn’t exactly as easy as I had originally intended. I can’t tell you how long I tossed and turned that night, Jordan’s exquisite features etched in my brain. I could still feel his big hand enveloping mine, and I would press it to my cheek every so often to feel as if he were there with me. What was wrong with me?! I had never been like this before; so obsessed with this guy after only meeting him yesterday. This wasn’t fair. What had I done to deserve this pain and humiliation? I wasn’t cut out for this!

After resulting to a rather large sleeping pill, I finally dozed off. I managed to get around 4 hours in before I was rudely awakened by my cell phone, blaring in my ear. After letting out a list of profanities, I rolled over and picked it up. I had a text message from Jordan. Big surprise.

Hey kid! What’s shaking?

Not sleep, thanks to you. Is there a special reason for waking me up half an hour before my alarm?

No, not really. But it’s a bright and beautiful day outside! :D

It’s raining.

So?

Are you always this happy in the morning?

Yeah, it’s a necessity for this sport. You should see Sid. He gets up early even when we don’t have practice. That’s just not normal.

Yeah, Sid doesn’t really strike me as a fairly normal type of guy.

He’s a freak. What with the FRIENDS and all… ;)

Shut up. Friends is hilarious, and you know it.

Sure, sure. I have to go, but I’ll make sure to text you in the middle of one of your classes later. :P

Oh, thanks Jordan. You’re so considerate.

I know ;)

I sighed and rolled over onto my side, in an attempt to get ten more minutes of sleep before I had to get ready for school.





The day that followed was about the slowest of my life. I could hardly keep my eyes open throughout my numerous classes, and the minutes seemed to drag on forever. Finally, though, I made it through the day and dragged myself into the nearest Starbucks for my fourth coffee of the day. I was just sitting down when my cell phone vibrated in my jean pocket.

Did I make it?

I laughed out loud at this, making heads turn and look at me. I shrugged at them; it surprised me that Jordan had actually tried to text me in the middle of school.

No, fifteen minutes too late. Nice try though! ;)

Shit, I really thought I was gonna get you. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.

Don’t you have anyone else to annoy?

Nope. So what are you up to?

Sitting at a table drinking coffee.

Fun. Where?

At the Starbucks across from the U.

No way! Mind if I join you?

I might be gone by the time you get here…

Somehow I doubt that.

Just then, the front door opened, and Jordan walked in, a huge grin on his face. I had just enough time to see him close his cell phone and put it in his pocket, before he spotted me sitting in the back. If possible, his smirk grew even wider as he walked towards the table I was sitting at. He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, his sea-blue eyes sparkling.

“Fancy meeting you here, kid,” He said.
“How did you…I mean, it’s been only-” I stuttered, shocked. He laughed.
“I was actually just driving by when I got your text,” he told me.
“Oh,” I said, noticing he was still smiling. “It’s dangerous to text while you’re driving.” I added, almost completely under my breath. He chuckled and leaned forward.
“It was at a red light,” he muttered, his eyes locked on mine. I just sat there, looking back, mesmerized by his beauty. After a few seconds I found myself slowly leaning forward across the table towards him. I couldn’t control it. His eyes were hypnotizing; I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me. He was still smiling.

I shook my head and pulled back quickly, making my chair squeal against the floor. For the second time since I’ve been here, all the heads turned to look at me. This time they lingered a second longer at who was sitting across from me, probably wondering what a girl like me would be doing with someone so…well, like him. I gave them all a small smile before slowly (and silently) pushing my chair back into its original place. Jordan was resting his chin on his hand, his elbow propped up on the table. He was studying me.

“You look tired,” he stated. I saw a hint of concern in his eyes.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” I replied. Because I was thinking about you…
“Really? I slept like a baby,” he said proudly.
“Wow, that’s impressive, especially after all those cookies you ate,” I said, frowning. His eyes brightened and his grin grew. I was beginning to wonder if there was truly a limit to his smile range.
“Mmmm, cookies…I’ll be right back,” he said, getting up and walking over to the counter. He returned less than a minute later with a large chocolate cookie in hand.
“Can you believe it? The nice lady over there gave me this for free!” he told me excitedly like a little kid. I looked over to where he was pointing and saw a rather slutty-looking waitress glaring back at me.
“Yeah, I think I can,” I said under my breath.
“What?” Jordan asked, his mouth full.
“I said you should really learn to swallow before you speak,” I told him loudly.
“Shut up,” he said, swallowing exaggeratedly. “You’re just jealous because no one ever gives you free food.”
“Uh-huh, oh yeah, I’m totally jealous of you, Jordan,” I said sarcastically.
“I knew it!” he exclaimed, taking another bite. He saw me looking at it longingly and grinned before breaking off a piece and handing it to me.
“Thank you,” I smiled, taking it from him and putting it in my mouth.
“Now we’re even,” he said. I laughed.
“Uh, no way, bud. For us to be even you would have to buy me about forty-seven thousand cookies,” I told him. He smiled.
“I could get that, you know,” he said.
“Yeah, and it probably wouldn’t cost you a thing either,” I replied, shooting a nasty glare at the waitress behind the counter, who was still staring at us. He just laughed, turning around to look at her, who sent him a wink. I felt like I was going to throw up.
“I think she might be flirting me,” Jordan stated wonderingly, his blond eyebrows furrowed. I loved it when he did that.
“You think?” I scoffed.
“Do you have a problem with that?” he asked, his blank look replaced by a smirk.
“Um…no, it’s just so nauseating to watch. I mean, has she no self-respect?” I explained, scowling.
“Don’t worry, this type of foolish behavior does not faze me,” Jordan said in a fancy British accent, making me giggle. What? Giggle? I don’t giggle. Ever.
“I wasn’t worrying,” I snapped.
“Your eyes contradict your words, kid.” He told me, shaking his head.
“My eyes?” I asked, confused.
“Mmhm,” He responded, taking another bite of his cookie. “They change color with your mood.”
“Oh, yeah, people have told me that,” I grumbled, annoyed. It was true. My eyes had never stayed the same shade of green. I had never seen it myself, but my family and friends had always made fun of me about it. They could always tell when I was in a good or a bad mood, or when I was lying about something. I can’t even tell you how frustrating it is to not be able to ever hide any emotions from anyone.

“Are you always this grumpy?” Jordan laughed. I sighed.
“I’m sorry, I’m just really tired,” I apologized. I didn’t want him to think I was a grudge. Luckily, he still seemed to be smiling. His mouth must be hurting by now.
“Don’t worry about it. Did you drive this morning?”
“No, I walked.”
“Okay, come on, I’m driving you home.” He said, standing up.
“No, you really don’t have to-” I began, but he interrupted me.
“It’s no trouble, Al.”
“Jordan-” I protested.
“I insist, really. You’re not gonna win this,” He interrupted again with a smile.
“Fine,” I sighed, getting up, finishing my coffee. He held the door open for me as we left the café. We were stopped by a little kid on the way to his car asking for an autograph, and he politely obliged. The kid’s face lit up when he saw the signature on his baseball cap and he skipped away happily to his mother who was waiting for him at the bus stop.

“I think you just made his week,” I smiled at Jordan as we stepped inside the car.
“Yeah, it’s so much fun how just signing your name can make someone so happy,” He replied. We rode the rest of the way to my house in silence; I was surprised he actually remembered where it was. When we pulled into the driveway, there were two cars already there. One belonged to Kayleigh, the other I had never seen before.

“That’s…Orry’s car,” Jordan mused, looking at me for an explanation. I laughed when I saw the blinds closed in Kayleigh’s bedroom window.
“I think we should probably leave them alone,” I said, and Jordan laughed too.
“I think you’re right,” he responded as he pulled back out of the driveway. We joked about our friends all the way to his house, and my stomach hurt from laughing so much. We found Sid, Max, and a guy I recognized as Marc-Andre Fleury all playing Guitar Hero in the living room.

“Who’s this?” Marc asked in a thick French accent, eyeing me. Sid scoffed.
“Dude, where’ve you been? This is Al,” he said, as if Marc were absolutely crazy as to not know who I was already. Marc’s face lit up with realization.
“This…? This is Al?” he asked no one in particular, a huge shit-eating grin on his face. He looked at Jordan, who nodded curtly, staring daggers at him. Marc muttered something in French to Max, who laughed and exclaimed, “That’s exactly what I said!”
“What? What did you say? Talk slower, I’m not completely fluent,” Sid said, stepping closer to the two Francophones to see what all the fuss was about. They just looked at one another and laughed. Sid let out a frustrated groan and collapsed down on the couch. Jordan sighed and walked into the kitchen.

“Long time no see,” Sid said to me, patting the seat next to him. I sat down, and a few milliseconds later, Max came down next to me.
“Yeah, were you the one who made those cookies that I found in the sink last night?” he asked, making a face. Sid laughed.
“Are you kidding? Those are Staalsy’s signature vomit-cookies,” he said.
“Oh, I remember those!” Marc exclaimed. “Aren’t they the ones that taste like garlic or something?”
“I think it was onion,” Max stated, gagging a little at the memory.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you actually ate them,” I grimaced, just as Jordan walked into the room.
“Ate what?” he asked, laying down on the loveseat. He had a sandwich in his hand, filled with some questionable items that I preferred not to ask about.
“The cookies that you made last night. If you could even call them that,” I said. He got a hurt look on his face.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, sitting upright and glaring at me. “I worked really hard on those! And they didn’t taste half-bad, in my opinion,” he added proudly.
“How would you know? You even didn’t try any,” I said, glaring back. His scowl was instantly replaced by a cool grin.
“Of course I didn’t, they smelled like garlic,” he said as he lay back down and took a bite of his sandwich. Marc scoffed and grabbed the remote, turning off the Guitar Hero.
“Hey! I was winning,” Max yelled at him, throwing a punch at his arm. Marc instantly retaliated and they began wrestling on the floor. Sid tried the jump in and break them up, but he stood no chance. He eventually just let them go at it and fell back onto the couch next to me. He shot me an apologetic smile.
“I’m used to it, I grew up with two brothers,” I told him reassuringly. Hadn’t I told the same thing to Jordan just last night?
“Really? Older or younger?” He asked, suddenly intrigued.
“One’s older, and the other’s a twin,” I smiled.
“You’re a twin? Wow, that’s so cool!” He grinned. “But having two brothers, that must’ve been tough,” he said, his eyes growing soft. I just laughed.
“No, I loved it! They were awesome, they taught me to stand up for myself.”
“You must’ve been a killer hockey player then. Did you play on a guys team?”
“Yeah, all the way up to Midget,” I said proudly.
“Impressive. You still play?”
“Uh…no, I stopped a few years ago,” I told him quietly, getting uncomfortable.
“Why’d you stop?” Sid asked, oblivious to my malcontent. I cleared my throat nervously, thinking for something to say. I caught Jordan’s gaze, and it was obvious he could tell something was wrong. I pleaded with my eyes, and he gave me a small smile before speaking.

“Uh, Sid, I was on the Internet today and I found this video of you in the dressing room…playing with yourself,” he said, completely straight faced. Sid’s eyes grew wide and his face turned purple.
“WHAT?! WHO THE HELL TOOK THAT?” he screamed, jumping up.
“I dunno man, you might wanna check it out,” Jordan said, sending me a wink. I smiled at him gratefully. Sid ran out of the room, yelling at no one in particular.
“Dude, I wanna see this video,” Max said excitedly, following Sid, with Marc hot on his trail. As soon as they were out of hearing distance, Jordan got up and walked over to the couch, sitting down next to me.
“Playing with himself? How’d you come up with that one?” I laughed.
“Oh, honey, it comes with practice,” he stated proudly.
“Well, thanks, I owe you,” I told him. He just looked at me. I could see he was curious as to what my hesitation was about, but he didn’t want to ask because he could tell it made me uncomfortable to talk about it...I’m kind of good at reading people. “I just…can’t talk about it yet. I’m sorry,” I told him apologetically.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I understand,” he said reassuringly, putting his hand on my thigh. I knew it was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but I couldn’t help but imagine what his hands would feel like somewhere else…

He spoke again, stealing me away from my fantasies. “Al, you know you can talk to me, right? I mean, you can trust me,” he said, his eyes growing softer with every word. Oh, god, he was beautiful. What I wouldn’t give right now just to touch those perfect lips, or that goddamn irresistible jaw…
“Yeah, I know. And I will…soon,” I said, smiling slightly. He grinned back, and then we just looked at each other. After a few moments, he took a deep breath and bent over, picking up my bag on the floor. He pulled out my portfolio with all of my school work in it, and began shifting through the many sheets of paper.
“Um…what are you doing?” I asked him.
“Just trying to get to know you better,” he answered nonchalantly.
“And looking at my school work is going to help that how?”
“You can tell a lot about a person by their profession,” he said, his eyes glued to the sheets spread out in front of him. “For example…from these things here…”
“The basic layout of all the muscles in the face…”
“Right…from these things here, I can tell that you’re obviously smart, extremely passionate and a bit of a perfectionist.”
“Okay, the first one is a given…”
“I should probably add arrogant to that list…”
“…but I don’t see how you can tell that I’m passionate and a perfectionist –which I am not- from a few printed sheets of paper.”
“Ah, well, kid, you’ve gotta read between the lines. You see, all this stuff looks excruciatingly boring. You must be really passionate about the thing that you’re fighting for if you’re going through all this just to get there.”
“You’re a really wonderful guy, you know that?” I said sarcastically.
“I’ve been told.”
“Okay, what about the perfectionist thing? It’s impossible that you can tell that.”
“Wrong again, dear. You’ve got every single thing here written in blue pen, not one thing is misspelled or crossed out, and you color-coated your paragraphs in highlighter from order of importance, greatest to least.” He said, smirking slightly. I sighed twice. Once on the inside, once on the outside. On the outside, it was the sort of sigh that said, ‘Ugh, fine, you win this time, but you’re still annoying and slightly pig-headed’. But on the inside, it was the sort of sigh that said, ‘Oh my God, I had no idea you were so observant. I think that makes even more attractive than you were already. I’m falling for you harder than I expected.’ Yeah, I know. I hated that inward sigh.

A moment later, Max and Marc walked into the room, smiles on their faces. As they walked past us, Max high-fived Jordan and said:
“Nice one, man,” making Jordan grin cockily.
“Yeah, but you better hold on to your hats, hurricane Sid is about to hit,” Marc added, chuckling. Max sat down next to me and said,
“I love this part,” I raised my eyebrows questioningly, but before I could speak, he said, “Just watch.” A few seconds later, I heard footsteps crashing down the stairs. Jordan inhaled sharply in anticipation, a huge, shit-eating grin on his face, and said, “Here we go,” just as Sid came bursting into the room, red-faced and breathing hard. He took one look at the faces staring back at him, trying hard to hide their laughter, before erupting into a fit of rage.
“There was no fucking video!” he yelled, directly at Jordan, who was working hard to keep his emotions in check. He took a deep breath and said, very calmly,
“Huh…that’s weird. Well, sorry Caps, that was my bad.” He kept himself completely straight-faced throughout the ordeal, but Marc let out a burst of giggles as he finished. I could feel Max’s silent laughter shaking the couch.
“You guys are such douchebags!” Sid exclaimed, throwing his hat on the ground in frustration. At this, all three of them finally cracked. They all burst into laughter, and Jordan fell on the floor, he was laughing so hard.
“I-I can’t believe you fell for it again!” he managed to croak out, grabbing his side in agony. Sid groaned and sat down on the couch. Jordan was still shaking on the carpet and Sid nudged him with his foot slightly, sighing.
“You guys get way too much pleasure out of my humiliation,” he said.
“You know we love you, man,” Max said, composing himself.
“I wish I was still living with Mario,” Sid stated, walking over to the TV and getting out a season of Friends from the cupboard. All the guys let out a chorus of groans. “He let me watch Friends whenever I wanted.” He finished, sighing.
“Dude, come on, we let you watch it at first, but then it just started getting annoying,” Max said.
“Yeah, I mean there’s a point where it’s just too much,” Jordan said. “And that point was about two days after you moved in.” he added, cracking a grin. Sid just scoffed.
“Well, why don’t you ask Al, I’m sure she’ll want to watch it,” he said. They all turned to look at me. My eyes grew wide as I looked from face to face. Sid’s was one of hope, a slightly excited look in his eyes. Jordan’s was confident, as if he knew that I couldn’t say no to him, which was true. His eyes sparkled. Marc and Max had the exact same expression on their faces. It was curiosity, as if they were testing me, wanting to know who I would choose. They were both smirking; I knew this was amusing them. For me, this felt like more than a choice between some television shows. I felt like I was choosing between Jordan and Sid. Shit.
“Uh…I actually have some work that I have to do, so…” I said, picking up the papers that Jordan has taken out of my portfolio and putting them back in, being careful not to mix up the order. Wow, Jordan was right, I was a perfectionist.
“She just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings by taking my side, Sid,” Jordan told him smugly.
“That’s not true!” I exclaimed. “I actually have a lot of stuff to do, look!” I said, waving the papers in front of his face. Marc reached out and grabbed one, looking at it with a confused look on his face.
“What’s a…Frontal Belly of Epicranius Muscle?” He asked, looking at me as if I were crazy. I sighed.
“It’s the muscle in your forehead that let’s you raise your eyebrows,” I told them. I heard Max giggle slightly. I turned to look at him, and he was raising his eyebrows up and down continuously.
“I’m moving my Frontal Belly of Epicranius Muscle,” he said, giggling again.
“You guys are so immature,” Sid said, scoffing. He tried to lean his arm against the wall, but missed and stumbled sideways, almost falling over. We all burst into laughter.

Chapter 6

(JORDAN)


The very first thing I felt when I woke up the next morning was a terrible pain in my stomach. I groaned, remembering just how many of those cookies I had eaten last night. My groan quickly turned into a smile, remembering her, and her laugh, and her smile, and how much fun we had had, and how she had curled up next to me during the movie…I knew only too well that the best way to get a girl to become affectionate was to scare her into it through film. I don’t like to brag, but over my years I’ve done none too badly on the women front. The whole scary movie bit is just a classic move. A tad amateurish, I had to admit, but hey, it worked like a charm.

I grabbed my phone off of my dresser and dialed up her number without even thinking about it. Just before I was about to click the call button, I glanced at the clock. I sighed; it was too early for a bright and happy phone call. And besides, that made me seem kind of needy and desperate. I had just dropped her off a little less than seven hours ago. I decided on a simple text message instead.

I was surprised when she texted me back so quickly, and I laughed out loud at her grumpy tone, even through writing. Sid peeked his head through my door.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“You’re a stalker. Go away,” I said. He ignored me.
“Who are you talking to?”
“No one,” I said, typing another message to Al.
“Are there naked chicks on that phone?” I heard him say. I looked up at him.
“No,” I scowled. “Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just never seen someone look so hard at a phone that didn’t have naked chicks on it,” he responded innocently. I stared at him.
“You got that from Friends, didn’t you?” I finally said.
“No!” he exclaimed, looking outraged. I raised an eyebrow. “…yeah.” He admitted, smiling a bit. I shook my head at him. “Are you talking to Al?” he asked.
“Go away, Sid,”
“Can I talk to her?”
“Go away, Sid,”
“There’s breakfast downstairs,”
Go away—really?” I asked, looking up. He nodded.
“I don’t know who made it, but there’s bacon, and eggs, and toast, and pancakes, and waffles, and syrup…” Sid continued to trail on, and I quickly sent a goodbye message to Al, telling her I would text her later, which I definitely planned on doing.
“Alright, let’s go,” I told Sid, getting out of bed and putting on some sweatpants.
“…and sausages, and orange juice, and fruit, and coffee—”
“Sid!” I exclaimed, snapping my fingers in front of his face.
“Hmm?” he asked, shaking his head wearily.
“Do you realize that you’re still talking?” I asked him. The biggest shit-eating grin appeared on his face then.
“Chandler!” he exclaimed. “Chandler said that!” I sighed, and pulled him by his arm out of my room and down the stairs.

The smell wafted into my nostrils the moment I stepped into the kitchen. It was a combination of all the most wonderful breakfast foods ever created, all sitting pristinely on our granite kitchen counter. I slapped myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I then closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the aroma that filled the room envelope me completely.

“How?” I asked wonderingly, but Sid only shrugged, taking a seat at the kitchen counter and proceeding to fill his place with food. I followed suit.
It tasted even better than it smelled. I heard someone’s feet crashing down the stairs loudly, and turned around to see Max standing there, his eyes wide.
“When—is my mom here?” he asked, confused, but taking three long strides into the kitchen and grabbing himself a plate.
“Who knows,” I said, mouth full of deliciousness. Max bit into a piece of sausage.
“Tastes like mom’s,” he let out as he chewed.
“Fuck, I wish my mom had cooked like this,” Sid sighed, pilling a second helping of eggs onto his plate. I agreed noisily.

We were so engrossed in our newly found pleasures that we didn’t hear the sound of the two inch high-heals stepping slowly down the wooden staircase.
“I see you like the food,” a high, sensual female voice said. All three of us stopped eating turned around abruptly. Standing there was the blondest, skankiest, bustiest, most fake-tanned, makeup-caked puck bunny I had ever seen in my entire life. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the railing. Her short skirt was barely visible and her tank top was hiked down so low that you could just about see her bra-less chest. She had her chest pushed out, and her open heals revealed a pair of perfectly manicured, brightly colored toe-nails. Her long fingernails were obviously fake, placed precariously on her hips. She had a smug grin on her face.

Max’s eyes grew wide in shock and Sid swallowed the food in his mouth with a defining gulp. The woman’s eyes trailed over every one of us slowly and seductively. She looked me up and down, making me feel like a piece of meat. I was suddenly extremely aware of the fact that I had neglected to put on a shirt this morning.

She took a few steps towards us. “I’m Joelle,” she said. “You must be Maxime.” She looked at Max. He nodded curtly. I wondered what he was thinking. “And you’re Sidney, and…” she turned to me, and smiled. “I don’t think I know your name, gorgeous,” she told me, trailing a finger down my chest lightly. I jumped up and recoiled against the table, making my chair squeal backwards. Joelle giggled.
“Oh, so you’re shy,” she said. “I like that.” She opened her glossy lips to say something else, but was distracted when Geno waltzed down the stairs in a daze, obviously still half-asleep. He didn’t acknowledge any of us, but walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of water from the sink. He took a big chug and then turned around to face us, his hair a mess and his eyes drooping.
“Where food come from?” he asked, his accent especially strong; the effect of not being fully awake and a strong hangover.
“You tell us,” Max said, as Joelle walked around the counter to Geno. His eyes landed on her, but he didn’t react fast enough before she pressed up against him and pushed her lips onto his. His eyes grew wide in panic and he pulled away from her.
“What’s the matter, stud? You were a lot more eager last night,” she said flirtingly. Geno blinked, recollection flashing in his eyes.
“I get…I mean, how you—” he began, trying to form words. We all stared at him. “You make food?” he finally managed to spit out. Joelle nodded.
“I thought I’d surprise you this morning,” she said. But then she turned around and looked at us, smirking. “But I guess I got a surprise of my own.” She sent me a wink. My mouth fell open, partially in disgust, and partially in plain fright.

We all stood there in silence, Geno with a look of helplessness on his face. Sid looked around nervously, not making eye contact with Joelle. Max just stared at me and then at Joelle, looking utterly and completely confused. I tried to hide my naked chest behind the table awkwardly. Joelle finally spoke up.
“I’m going to go use the little girl’s room,” she said, and proceeded to walk out of the kitchen, hips swaying as she went.
“More like the little slut’s room,” I mumbled once she was out of ear-shot.
“Yeah, Geno, do you have any idea how long our guest is going to be staying with us?” Max asked. Geno didn’t answer; he just grabbed a packet of pills out of the cupboard and popped three into his mouth, taking a chug of his water.
“I sorry,” he finally said. “I no remember I bring her here.”
“Well can you get her out?” Sid demanded, maybe a bit too harshly. Geno pondered for a moment, nodding slowly. It wasn’t very convincing.
“Well, Max, what about you?” I asked him. He looked at me.
“What on earth would you boys do without me?” he asked, shaking his head in pity. “Alright, alright, I’ll take care of her. But you owe me, Gene.” Geno nodded profusely.
“I buy you shots vodka,” he offered.
“Done,” Max said, smiling. Joelle walked back into the room, her face looking even more plastic than it did before. Max stepped up to her, very close.
“Joelle,” he said, a winning smile on his face. “You seem like a wonderful girl. And I can tell you’re very experienced. But, you see, I don’t feel that you’ve been very well taken care of by my foreign friend. Yeah, he’s alright, but he’s not what you were hoping for. He doesn’t have the strength, the skill, or the stamina to satisfy your needs. Am I correct?” Geno frowned, but Sid glared at him, making him keep quiet.
“You seem to know your stuff, Maxime,” Joelle said, reaching up to him.
“Oh, I do,” he replied. “I, like you, am experienced. And, for you, I could be everything he wasn’t. Are you up for it?”
“Oh, I’m up for it,” she said, reaching a hand downwards. Max caught her hand in his before she could touch him.
“Not here,” he whispered, leading her towards the door. “We have a practice to get to. But I will be calling you as soon as I get the chance.” He opened the door for her and gently pushed her away from him and outside.
“I’ll be waiting,” she said seductively, taking her hand and giving his ass a short squeeze. He nodded, but she held her hand out before he could close the door. She looked at me, and said, “I hope you’ll show up with him, gorgeous.” My mouth dropped again, letting out an incoherent sound, and she winked at me before Max closed the door.
Max looked at Geno, who let out a relieved sigh.
“I buy you shots vodka, and tequila,” he said, and Max nodded.
“You better.”

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Chapter 5

(AL)


“Jordan, would you just tell me where we’re going?” I asked him again, exasperated. We had left the arena in his car and had been driving for 15 minutes already and he still hadn’t told me our destination. He smirked, his eyes still on the road.
“I told you, it’s a surprise. Be patient,” he said. I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest in frustration, diverting my gaze out the window. I tried to see if I could recognize any of the street names we passed as we drove by, but none of them rung any bells. Finally, we pulled up in front of a very nice looking, average sized house. I looked at Jordan for an explanation, but he was already getting out of the car. I opened the door and stepped outside, following him up to the doorstep. He opened the door for me and said as I walked inside,

“My humble abode, mademoiselle. Well, actually it’s Sid’s and Geno’s as well, and Max is staying here too for the time-being.” He added sheepishly. “But I’m going to kick them all out one day, you’ll see!” he told me as he put his suit jacket down on a chair. I laughed and watched as he took off his shoes and left them at the door, so I did the same.
“The grand tour, if you will,” he said, bowing and motioning for me to walk up the stairs. I did as he said, and he followed behind me until we got to the hallway at the top of the staircase.

“This here,” he told me, pointing to a door at the end of the hall, “Is Geno’s room, and across from it is a guest room, where Max is staying until he can find his own goddamn apartment.” He said this last part with annoyance, so I guessed Max had probably outstayed his welcome. Jordan motioned for me to continue down the hall, where he opened one of two doors to reveal an extremely clean, simple and well-kept room.
“This is where the OCD hockey phenom sleeps, feel free to takes some pictures as a souvenir,” Jordan said, with a hint of disgust.
“Do you have a problem with Sid?” I asked.
“No, no, not at all. It’s just all the reporters coming in and out all the time to do interviews with him and take pictures of him…well, it gets kind of tiring after a while,” he told me, shaking his head. I smirked at him.
“Sounds like someone’s a little jealous,” I said. He blushed.
“No I’m not,” he said, trying to put on a convincing voice.
“You just keep believing that, bud,” I said, patting his shoulder. He scoffed, closing the door of Sid’s room and opening the one across from it. This one looked like a normal guy’s room; various articles of clothing scattered across the floor, bed unmade, etc. Jordan looked kind of uncomfortable.
“Uh, yeah, this is my room,” he said, searching my face for a reaction. “I would’ve cleaned it, but I didn’t really have any time and I didn’t expect-” I cut him off.
“Its fine, trust me, I’m used to it. I have brothers,” I told him, smiling reassuringly. He sighed, relieved, and was just about to close the door when I noticed something.
“Your room is connected to Sid’s by a washroom?” I asked him, pointing to the open door on the far wall of his room.
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“I used to have the same kind of thing growing up with my brother. But that must get kind of awkward, eh?” I said knowingly.
“You have no idea. It is a huge flaw in our living situation, and the doors don’t even lock,” he told me, grimacing, probably remembering some uncomfortable situations. “But I’d rather share with Sid than Max or Geno; he’s a lot more polite, and it’s like I’ve got my own personal maid for the washroom.” he laughed, before turning around and walking back downstairs. As we passed through the main room, he pointed out the kitchen and the ‘room with the TV’, as he put it. All in all, the house was a lot smaller than I would have imagined a house with four famous hockey players living in it would be. But it was cute.

I sat down on one of the bar stools around the kitchen counter and Jordan leaned on the counter across from me.
“So what are we doing?” I asked him, resting my elbow on the counter-top.
“We,” he began, pulling out a packet of flour from the cupboard and putting it on the table, “are baking,” he finished, grinning widely.






“You baked a hockey puck!” I exclaimed, banging the unbreakable cookie against the table. Jordan just shrugged.
“It’s in my nature, I guess,” he smiled, taking another cookie from my batch. I grabbed the tray away from him, frowning. “These are really good,” he said, mouth full, pointing to the half-eaten chocolate chip cookie in his hand.
“I wish I could say the same about your three attempts,” I sighed, looking at the kitchen sink, which was now full of burnt, rock-hard and just plain disgusting cookies that Jordan had made. He tried to take another one of mine from the tray in my hand, but I pulled it away from him.
“How many have you had?” I asked him in a stern voice. He looked down at his hand and counted his chocolate covered fingers one by one. He then looked back up at me with a guilty expression on his face.
“Five…?” he said, forming a question at the end, to see if that was a reasonable amount. From the look on my face, he could tell it wasn’t. “C’mon, I’m a growing boy, I need my sugar!” he said in a childish voice, and he began sucking the chocolate off of his fingers. The breath caught in my throat and I had to turn my back to him to keep from losing my train of thought. I had never been so happy that I wasn’t a guy, or else I’m sure my blood would have been rushing southward at this moment. I felt Jordan come up behind me and try to take another cookie, and I slapped his hand away, turning around. I was caught off-guard at how close he was to me.
“Y-you’re going to get fat,” I stammered.
“Meh, it might do me good to put on a few pounds,” he said, patting his belly. “Are you serious? You’re huge!” I exclaimed. He gasped, hurt.
“Am not!”
“Um, yeah, ever wonder why they call you ‘The Gronk’?”
“Well, yeah, that’s true…but I’m not that big,” he said protectively, looking down at his over-bearing form looming over me.
“I’d say you’re the biggest guy on the team, no question,” I said, patting his chest.
“But I’m just skin and bones,” he replied, attempting to grab the fat of his belly, without much success.
“What about muscle?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You like my muscles?” He smirked, rolling up the sleeve of his t-shirt and flexing his biceps.
You wish,” I scoffed, though I could feel my face getting red.
“Remember when I called you yesterday?” He asked suddenly.
“Uh-huh,” I responded, grinning slightly at the memory.
“Yeah, well Geno pretty much straight out tackled me to get the phone,” he told me, blushing a bit. I laughed.
“Fine, here,” I said, handing him the last of my cookies. He grinned like a little kid and took it eagerly.
“Thank you!” he said loudly, surprising me by wrapping his free arm around me in a hug with such force that I was lifted off of my feet. I breathed in his scent for a moment before he pulled away and walked over to the couch, collapsing facedown, exhaling exaggeratedly. I sat down on the cushioned chair next to the couch, staring at him. He must have noticed my eyes on him because he looked up at me and rested his chin on his arms. He looked as if he was searching my face for something, some sort of sign or indication. I just stared back, not giving anything away, taking this opportunity to admire his beauty. His features were truly breathtaking, and every inch of his face was chiseled down to flawless detail. His eyes were the most incredible; an amazing blue, like that of the sea or the bright cloudless sky. When he smiled they sparkled like diamonds, making the butterflies in my stomach go crazy with desire.

“Movie?” he asked suddenly, breaking me out of my trance.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, leaning back against the chair. He grabbed the remote from the table, turned on Rogers on Demand and began scrolling through the HD movies.
“Oh, let’s watch the Uninvited!” he exclaimed excitedly.
“A horror movie?” I asked, and he nodded vigorously, smiling widely. “I don’t know…” I said, unsure. I had never been great with scary movies.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Jordan said reassuringly, “And if you get too scared I’ll be right here to hold your hand.” Hmmm, that did sound appealing.
“Fine,” I sighed, and he smiled happily, turning on the movie. Just as it was about to start, he looked over at me.
“What are you doing over there? Come sit with me, I get scared too!” He said, patting the couch. I shook my head at him, smiling, and got up and sat down on the opposite side of the couch, leaving a noticeably large space between us. I didn’t want to seem like too much of a wimp. He clapped his hands twice and the lights turned off.
“Spooky,” I whispered, and I heard him chuckle.

As the movie began, I was instantly cringing and shielding my eyes. Most horror movies start off fine and then the scary parts come later, but that wasn’t the case with this one. It began right away with a terrifying incident, followed by another one and another one. It was just one scary thing after the other. I have to admit, the storyline was pretty good, but even so, I found myself inching closer and closer to Jordan with every passing moment. I stole occasional glances in his direction, but his expression didn’t falter.
“Aren’t you scared?” I asked him in a whisper.
“Terrified,” he responded, “I’m just trying to look tough.” I smiled at him timidly when he glanced in my direction, and he grinned back, a soft look in his eyes. We continued watching the movie in silence, and I brought my knees up to my chest, curled up in a ball. I jumped ten feet in the air when the dead mother fell out of the closet, and Jordan grabbed my hand in his, giving it a squeeze. I looked at him gratefully, and I saw that he was indeed scared; his adorable blond eyebrows were furrowed, and his face was tense. By the time the movie had ended our bodies were pressed together, he was still holding my hand and my face was buried in his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly, brushing my hair out of my face. “It’s over, you can look now.” I looked up to see his face dangerously close to mine, and he gave me a small smile. “See, that wasn’t so bad,” he said, rubbing my hand with his thumb. I nodded, unable to generate a more dignified response with his face only a few inches from my own. I leaned away, pulling my hand out of his, and stood up from the couch. My leg was asleep, and I instantly lost my balance, but Jordan steadied me, placing one hand on my shoulder and one on my waist.
“You okay?” he asked, laughing a bit.
“Shut up, my leg was asleep,” I retorted, pushing him away and walking into the kitchen. I opened up his cupboards, pulling out various utensils.
“What are you doing?” he asked me, sitting down at the kitchen counter.
“Making KD, you want some?” I asked, taking a carton of milk from the fridge.
“No thanks,” Jordan replied, shaking his head. “My tummy hurts.”
“Maybe it was those four thousand cookies you ate,” I said as I began boiling the water.
“Maybe it was,” Jordan answered, mocking me. Just then we heard the door open, and Sid’s voice yell,
“I hear cooking noises! Jordy, you’re not cooking, are you? You know what we told you about you cooking by yourself!”
“No, I’m not,” Jordan hollered back, and then looked at me.
“Jordy?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow. He grimaced.
“Long story,” he said, waving away the subject. Sid walked into the room, and when he saw me, let out a sigh and said,
“Thank God,” sitting down in the seat next to Jordan.
“Where are Max and Geno?” I asked him, pouring the noodles into the water.
“They go home with a different girl almost every game night,” Sid stated nonchalantly, as if it were a completely normal thing to do.
“And you don’t?” I asked the both of them.
“Staalsy does,” Sid said, grinning widely at his friend.
Sometimes, douchebag, ” Jordan retorted, punching Sid in the arm. “Sid never does,” he added, smirking. I looked at Sid.
“That’s surprising; I would’ve thought there’d be girls crawling all over you,”
“And why would you think that?” Sid asked in a flirty kind of way.
“Because…well, because you’re you,” I said, blushing, not sure how to explain it. I shook off his flirtatious tone quickly, I didn’t need anything else to worry about.
“What’s so great about him?” Jordan asked me, frowning, and I could tell that he was definitely jealous of Sid, in more ways than one.
“Ouch, dude, that was mean,” Sid said, pretending to be hurt. He then turned to me, “Actually, there are girls crawling all over me, but I’m just not really into one night stands. Besides, I could never do that, not with my soul-mate waiting for me to come home.” He winked at me, but I just shook my head, grinning. “I’ll have some of that, by the way,” he said, pointing to the boiling pot on the stove.
“You guys are like empty holes,” I told them, draining the KD and putting it in two separate bowls. I handed one to Sid and one to Jordan, who looked up at me, surprised.
“How did you know I was hungry again?” he asked incredulously.
“Wild guess,” I responded, smiling and filling up a bowl for myself before putting a large spoonful in my mouth.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Chapter 4

(JORDAN)


I was pumped. I was pumped and excited and the adrenaline was screaming through my veins. I was completely 100% focused. This was my game, this was my moment. It was time to show how good I really was. Not to the team, to the fans, or even to the NHL. I wanted to show her. I needed to show her. Her opinion meant so much more to me than I could’ve ever imagined.

As we went out for the pre-game skate, I glanced up to where I knew she was in the stands. I smiled when I saw her looking right back at me. I sent her a wink, and then proceeded to do my usual four laps around our half of the ice. It wasn’t just a random number that I picked; four half-laps is the same as two full laps, which is one plus one. And two ones together is eleven, which is my number. I always did four. Always.

We went back into the dressing room and the first thing I did was send her a text. I know I probably shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t resist. I was happy she responded quickly, because if Coach had walked in to see me with a cell phone, I would’ve no doubt been benched for the first period.

I’ll keep an eye out. Don’t mess up :P

Don’t mess up. Nice. That was so like her. I put my phone away and looked around the room at my teammates. They were all so different, and yet so alike at the same time. We had the perfect combination of veterans and younglings, of foreigners and natives, of fighters and producers. We had the perfect chemistry of a winning team. I hoped I got to stay here my entire career; there is nowhere else I’d rather be.

Sid had his eyes closed. It was time to go. You knew when it was time to go when Sid had his eyes closed. That, and when Geno started humming to himself. I think he hums the Russian National Anthem. It must feel weird to listen to an anthem that isn’t yours every game you play. Then again, I did it too. It always felt great to play a Canadian team, to look down at all the Canadian players on our team and see them singing along to the song that represents our country.

Coach walked in then. He said some things, some things about what we had to do to win, some things to motivate us. I didn’t listen; I didn’t need to. I knew what I had to do. It had been all I was thinking about since I got off the phone with her last night. Sure, I needed to skate, I needed to pass, I needed to shoot. But, above all, I needed to impress her. That was my main goal tonight. That was all the motivation I needed.

“…this is our arena. This is our home. This is where we play. Now let’s go out there and make them wish they’d never come here.” Coach finished, making the guys let out a series of whoops and hollers. We all crowded out of the dressing room at the same time, squeezing ourselves into the small hallway that led us out onto the ice. This was the best part of the pre-game, I found, waiting for them to give us the signal to go. I would always watch Flower and Max, what they did was the perfect mix of adrenaline, excitement and humor. It had all started one game last season or the one before when Flower was just coming back from an injury, and Max probably thought he wasn’t completely focused or something. He marched right over to him and smacked him on the mask, and Flower, obviously, retaliated, and it’s become their infamous ritual ever since. They would just punch and knock each other around a bit and then Max would walk away and we’d go out onto the ice. They do it before every game, and I watch them, silently laughing to myself. They were the picture of friendship, those two. Sure, they had their fights, but after about a day or two they would make up and become inseparable again. It was awesome to see two guys on our team so close like that. Although, it was kind of annoying how they would just talk to each other in French all the time. I know it’s their mother dialect and all, but you can never know what they’re saying about you. And, knowing Max, if they were talking about you, chances were they were probably making fun of you.

“And, here they are, your very own…PITTSBURGH PENGUINS!”
the guy on loudspeaker announced, and we piled out onto the ice. It was always the same: the splash of cold air of your face, the wave of incredible noise as the fans welcomed you in, the rush of adrenaline you get from seeing every seat filled. Oh, how I loved being at home.

I wasn’t a starter. It often irritated me how I hardly ever got to start the game. I mean, I was a damn good center, and my line had really been racking up the points lately. But when you’re competing against the likes of Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin for the starting position, it’s not always going to work out in your favor.

The ref blew the whistle. Sid won the face-off and passed it back to Gonch. Gonch skated a couple strides with the puck and then dumped it into the offensive zone, where Billy picked it up. He controlled it in the corner for a few seconds, pulling the defenseman over to him, and then passed it behind the net to an awaiting Sid. Sid quickly sent the puck in front, where Cookie just missed the opportunity to tap it in.

We like to call that the 99 play, named after Wayne Gretzky. Gretzky was amazing behind the net, always creating opportunities for his teammates. Well, he could create opportunities for his teammates just about anywhere on the ice, but we weren’t about to go and duplicate that. Becoming the greatest hockey player in the world takes time. At least, it does for most people. Sid seemed to have it down flat before he even came into the NHL.

A Montreal forward picked it up and brought it down into our zone and managed to get a wrist-shot on the net. Flower snatched it out of the air with ease and the whistle blew, stopping the play. The next lines jumped onto the ice, and I slid down the bench. Geno lost the face-off this time, and the puck was pushed back to the blue-line where a Montreal defense ripped a one-timer. The tipped off Kris before it got to the net and almost bounced over Flower’s out-stretched pad. Luckily, he just managed to get a piece of it, and pounced on the rebound. A Montreal guy tried to get the puck out from under his glove after the whistle, drawing himself a penalty.

“Teddy, Rupp, Gronk,” Coach said, patting me on the shoulder. I jumped over the bench and skated over for the face-off. I took in where all the red guys were positioned, and hit Kris’s shin-pad with my stick, letting him know the puck would be coming to him. I bent over, eyes locked on the round piece of rubber in the ref’s hand. Everything went silent, and the ref dropped the puck. I moved my stick forward under the bounce and pulled it back, just catching it on its side. I pushed it between my legs and busted to the net, not bothering to look back to see where the play was. I stood in front of the goalie, screening him, and looked up just in time to see Kris pass it cross-ice along the blue-line to Brooks who riffled a shot at the net. I tried to get in position to get my stick on it, but the goalie pushed me from behind and I stumbled forward. I turned around to retaliate but a wall of Canadiens blocked my path.

“Lay off, easy,” one of them said, shoving me in the chest. Another guy said something in French, too fast for me to understand. I was about to turn around and skate away, knowing that we had a power-play and that there was no need for a fight, when Max jumped in front of me, yelling in French. He pushed my attacker forward and got him in a headlock, trapping him against the boards, still yelling at him in words that I couldn’t understand. A bunch of guys from both of our teams came over, trying to break them up, but they just ended up fighting amongst each other, breaking off into about three separate fights. Max had two guys on him now, and I joined in, coming to the defense of my friend who, I’m guessing, had come to my defense a few seconds ago.

Eventually, the refs managed to break everything up and sent Max and a Montreal guy to the box. After his penalty was up and I was sitting next to him on the bench, I asked him what the French guy had said to me before.
“Oh man, I can’t tell you that. Your ears are much too young for that kind of language,” He answered, laughing, his face glowing. He was always jubilant after a good throw-down.





We ended the first scoreless, much to my dismay. Obviously, Coach wasn’t too thrilled about it either, considering the yelling we got in the dressing room. It didn’t make things any better that we got scored against right at the beginning of the second. But I was determined to up my game. I got a couple shots on net, attempting to tie it up, but Geno beat me to it. And then so did TK. Come third period, I was desperate for a point. The opportunity finally presented itself when Kris skated the puck into the opposing zone. Feds was at the net so I took the empty spot, holding the line. I saw a wall of three shot-blockers in Gonch’s shooting path, so I yelled at him. He threw it my way, and I lifted my stick and took a swing before the wall could react and move to my side. I didn’t see it go in, but I took the hint when Kris jumped on me, screaming at the top of his lungs. What a guy.

I knew I would be one of the heroes in the dressing room. Getting the cushion goal was always a prized place to be. I was immediately bombarded by reporters, and though I hated answering all those stupid questions over and over again with the same three lines we were only allowed to use, I couldn’t help but feel a little special. I sneaked a glance at Sid across the room, who had about twice as many reporters scattered around him as I did. He didn’t even get a point, for God’s sake! I sighed. I catch a fish, he wrestles a shark.

After a few questions, I noticed Al standing awkwardly in the back of the room. My heart thumped loudly and I motioned for her to come over, sending the obnoxious reporters away. She looked around her, and then quickly made her way through the mass of people crowding the room. No one seemed to notice her being there, all except for Max of course, who had had his eyes on this new piece of meat ever since she had come in. The moment he caught my eye I glared at him, catching him by surprise. He put two and two together before realizing that this was not someone he could take advantage of. Despite looking somewhat put-down, he gave me a devilish grin from across the room. He knew this girl was reserved.

My incredibly loud heart skipped a beat when she sat down next to me in the small space of my stall. We said hello before I noticed for the first time someone standing beside her. Al introduced her as Kayleigh, but I didn’t have time to be polite before Brooks showed up out of mid-air and whisked her away. I have to say; that guy could have impeccable timing.

“Thanks for that encouraging text before the game by the way,” I told Al. It had actually given me quite a laugh and had put me a good mood before I had to go onto the ice, so, despite being completely 100% un-inspiring, it had in fact done a bit of good.
“What? I thought it was motivating,” she replied, continuing the joke. Hearing her laugh made my heartbeat increase even more. Jesus Christ, this woman was incredible.

It was then that I decided to have a little fun of my own. I took off my sweaty jersey and shoulder pads, leaving me in just my under-armor. I made sure to flex my muscles as I leaned over her, maybe a bit too close, as I hung up my jersey on the hook. The look on her face let me know that I had done to her exactly what I had intended to, and made my insides squirm with satisfaction. I thought about showing her a little bit more of me, but quickly erased that from my mind. I always abide by waiting until after at least the first date before getting naked in front of a girl. Well, unless we’re talking about girls from clubs. One-night-stands are always exceptions. And I mean to every rule.

While she was turned away I snuck a sniff at my armpits, and recoiled away in disgust. I needed a shower, and a good one at that, especially if I was going to be spending the rest of the evening with her like I planned to. I grabbed my shampoo and soap from the shelf and made my way into the showers. Max stopped me at the doors, TK by his side.
“Is that Al?” TK asked me, nodding towards her. “She’s hot.”
“Dude, you told him?” I asked Max, hitting him upside the head. He shied away from me and threw his arms up around his face, protecting himself from further pain.
“Sorry, man, I had to. He talked me into a corner.”
“I like to think of myself as somewhat of a conversational wizard,” TK said proudly. I ignored him.
“Who else have you told?” I asked Max.
“No one, I swear!” he exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender. I saw right through him. Max had never been great at lying.
“Flower?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He admitted.
“And Kris?” I asked.
“Kris too.” He told me, nodding, not seeming the slightest bit guilty.
“Goddamn Frenchmen,” I muttered. “I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“You’re a pig.”
“But a lovable one.” He said, smiling. I shook my head at him and turned to walk away, before remembering something.
“Hey.” I said.
“Hmm?” he responded.
“Don’t go all…Max on her.” I said.
“However do you mean?” he asked me, smirking. He knew that I knew that he knew exactly what I meant. He just enjoyed playing with our minds.
“You know. Don’t like…provoke her.” I said. He laughed.
“You got it, my man. Wouldn’t even think of it.” I shook my head again as I walked away. He was definitely going to provoke her, no question.
I tried to take my time in the shower, but I found myself wanting to not keep her waiting so I sped things up a bit. Kris noticed this and felt the need to voice his thoughts out loud.
“What’s the rush?” he asked.
“Stop watching me shower,” I snapped at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but then just shrugged and moved to a head further away from mine. Sometimes I really wished the showers were private in here. I saw so much more of these guys than I wanted to.

I quickly finished up and dried myself off. I turned to the rack for my clothes, only to find it empty.
Ah, shit.