tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39813067781824567992024-02-08T11:30:55.464-08:00You Belong With Meqfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-10017046149984514862010-05-27T15:44:00.000-07:002010-05-27T15:45:38.300-07:00New Story!!As promised, I won't make you wait to start reading my new story and for those of you who wanted to pound Sid in the head in this story, I think you'll be much more pleased with our boy in this new story, so follow me over to this new story:<br /><br />http://boysofsummerhockey.blogspot.com/qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-35100447198328597992010-05-26T13:26:00.000-07:002010-05-26T13:43:03.539-07:00Chapter 44<span style="font-weight:bold;">First and foremost, for those of you who've made it all the way through, thank you. Thank you for reading, thank you for caring about the characters and the story and thank you especially to those of you who took the time to let me know that you were reading and caring and taking sides. It is a great privilege to know that you are out there. <br /><br />I think this is as far as the road goes for this story but I hope to have the first chapter of my next story up soon, so I hope to see you there. <br /><br />Merci, thank you!<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span><br /><br />“Are you sure about this?” Max asks as we gaze up the steps of the beautiful old gothic cathedral. <br /><br />“No,” I reply honestly, “but I feel like it’s something I have to do,” I add, taking a deep breath. If it wasn’t for the warm, firm grip Max has on my hand, I know I couldn’t go through with it. But I also know that if I don’t, I won’t have that closure that I’m sure I need. I glance over at Max in his dark, pin striped suit with his stylin’ fedora and feel a genuinely happy smile grow on my face. <br /><br />The ceremony is over, not that I’d had the stomach to watch that. We’d waited, outside, until the guests started streaming out, including Jordy and Kennedy, though they’d both told us they wouldn’t go. For Jordy’s sake we’d told them they should. After all, Jordy wasn’t the one who’d asked for a one way ticket out of the city.<br /> <br />Max’s hand tightens around mine as the ‘happy couple’ comes out of the cathedral to the sound of loud cheers, both from the hundreds of guests standing on the steps but also from the thousands of fans who have been waiting outside all morning behind security lines. We are somewhere in between. Too well dressed to be thought of as mere well wishers, and besides, he is Max Talbot and so we’d slipped by security and waited in the antechamber, slipping out just before the rest of the guests. <br /><br />“She stood there and dabbed at her eyes the whole time. It made me want to hurl,” Kennedy hisses as she finds us at the bottom of the stairs, looking up to where the hired professional photographer is only getting slightly better position than the rest of the media for shots of the young phenom with his new lady love. <br /><br />“If you just signed away your right to all his money in a prenup in the limo right before the wedding you’d cry too,” Jordy offers, creating a vision to which it’s impossible not to grin. Sidney had never talked about such legal necessities with me. It made me wonder if he had been going to spring them on me this morning too or if he’d really never thought of me as a threat to his millions. Daddy dear would have, I’m sure, at some point. I stare up at Sidney and I can’t help but see that boyish smile of his, all dimples and teeth and I can feel a flutter inside of my chest. <br /><br />“Do you think she’ll make him happy?” I ask, more to myself, not that anyone knows her well enough to know any better than I do, standing here, thinking I should feel scorned or whatever they call it. I don’t. It feels sort of like I’m watching a show, a movie or something else that I’m not invested in. Like what I’m watching doesn’t affect me at all. <br /><br />Except that it does. <br /><br />But then again, does it?<br /><br />The photographer wants a shot of just the bride and her bridesmaids and shoos Sidney away to the side and I feel Max give my hand a hard squeeze. <br /><br />“You don’t have to do this,” he reiterates, but I do. We both know that I do. So I smile at him, hoping he can see that I appreciate his standing by me this way, and then I let go of his hand as I take a deep, deep breath and then it’s just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other until I find myself standing in front of Sidney, looking handsome but just a little bit like a boy getting dressed up in a man’s suit. <br /><br />It takes a minute for him to notice me. Not that I can blame him, considering the zoo around us, but if nothing else, it makes it clear to me that if we had ever had any kind of special bond, it was truly broken now. In fact it took a sharp elbow from Flower in Sid’s ribs to snap his attention away from watching his new wife ,who, I had to admit, albeit a little grudgingly, very beautiful in her huge princess dress with its full skirt and all of the crystal beading on it. It wasn’t my taste, but I was willing to bet it had filled the aisle of the church better than mine would have. <br /><br />“You look…great,” Sidney says at long last, his gaze finally settling on me after cautiously gazing around to see who else might be watching I suppose. “Did you wear that on purpose?” he adds, glancing down at my dress, and I allow myself to smirk, for a moment before shaking my head. <br /><br />“Yes, but not for you. Max likes it,” I explain, smoothing my hand down the light purple dress that I’d worn that fateful night, the night of the two kisses…. “And we’re on our way to Bali and I wanted to wear something…light,” I add by way of a better explanation that I hope doesn’t make it sound like Max ordered me to wear the thing. He didn’t. He asked and the look in his eyes had made it impossible for me to turn him down. “Look I just wanted to say…I mean…that there’s no hard feelings. I don’t blame you any more than I blame myself,” I begin, the speech I’d prepared in my head failing me utterly as his gold flecked gaze holds mine and a sort of sorrow and pity stare back at me through his eyes. <br /><br />“We could have worked on it,” Sidney says quietly, reaching for my hands, holding them in his own, the pads of his thumbs stroking along my knuckles in a way that used to be relaxing, comforting, but now just makes me want to pull my hands away. <br /><br />“We would have ended up like our parents,” I reply honestly, withdrawing my hands slowly and dropping my gaze from his while I take another, long, deep breath to steady my nerves. “I don’t think that’s what either of us wants,” I add, finally managing a smile as I look back up at him. <br /><br />“So you and Max…?” Sid’s voice trails off as he looks over my shoulder to where Max is keeping his distance and then down at my hand where the far less inconspicuous ring sits on my finger.<br /><br />“Will be waiting a while before we rush into anything,” I reply, not quite able to keep the judgmental tone out of my voice or the sarcastic smile off of my face. “I’m sorry,” I apologize immediately, “maybe it’s a good thing for you to be a little impulsive for once. I’ve always told you not to over think things. I usually meant hockey but…,” I shrug and Sid nods. <br /><br />“I know it seems a little spur of the moment but I’ve decided to try and be in the moment a little more often,” he explains, his cheeks turning bright pink for a moment. “I’m sorry if this seems like…I mean it wasn’t about you or anything,” he stammers and I just shrug. I may have taken it as a slight, at first, but not now. <br /><br />“I only came to say that I really hope you’ll be happy. Honestly,” I reply, meaning it as I stand there awkwardly, not knowing what the right thing to do is. I don’t feel like I can or should hug him but it feels strange just standing there, staring at him. <br /><br />“And you…will you be happy, do you think?” he asks, glancing past me again. <br /><br />“I think so,” I reply quietly, glancing back over my shoulder and giving Max an encouraging grin. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure but…we’ll see. I want to…make sure this time, you know?” I add, realizing that that too sounds accusatory but I can’t help it if it happens to be true. Sidney nods and then reaches out to run the knuckle of his index finger down my cheek. Part of me wants to turn my face away but I don’t because the other part of me is sort of enjoying the guilt that’s now plain as day on his face. “Who knows, maybe we’ll turn out to be like Flower and Vero, the happily unmarried couple,” I add, trying to sound more jovial than I feel, and I’m afraid it must show in my face, as Sidney doesn’t so much as give me the briefest shadow of a smile.<br /><br />“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispers, and I shrug, which makes his hand fall away. <br /><br />“I think you’re needed,” I smile, glancing over to where his bride is now looking our way with an obviously concerned look on her face. Can I blame her? No, but I think there’s been enough third wheel stuff already in our relationships. I didn’t come here to get in the way or cause a scene. I’ve said my piece, time to go. <br /><br />“Mel,” he grabs my wrist and I look down at where his fingers are digging into the thin skin, forcing the small bones in my arm to rub together, almost painfully, and then I look up at him. “I am sorry,” he insists, and I find myself smiling, despite the pain. It’s the first time in months that he says it and I think he actually gets what he’s supposed to be sorry for.<br /><br />“I know,” I nod, and then look meaningfully down at my hand. I watch his fingers peel away and then I look up at him and give him a smile that I hope says something like ‘someday we’ll be friends’. I don’t know when that time will be, I just hope that someday that time will come. I turn to go, but as soon as I turn, there’s a camera in my face. “I’m just a friend of the family, you don’t need to take a picture,” I growl, putting my hand up to his lens, careful not to actually touch it, and then, without looking back, I slowly make my way back to Max and I’m glad when he doesn’t try to say anything, just offers me his hand and leads me down the steps and back down the street to the car. <br /><br />_________________________________________________________-<br /><br />“What was all that about?” Charline hisses into my ear as I rejoin her for more pictures. Oh, so <span style="font-style:italic;">now </span>she’s going to be insecure?<br /><br />“She was just saying goodbye,” I reply quietly, taking a deep breath and then putting on my best advertising smile. I didn’t expect it to hurt, today of all days, but Mel was so fucking calm, so unemotional and I can’t help it if it hurts my pride, just a little, can I?<br /><br />“That was all it was?” Charline asks, her grip on my hand tightening.<br /> <br />“Fuck woman, I just put a damn ring on your finger and this fucking picture will be on the front page of every paper in Pittsburgh and Canada and you’ll have a five page spread in Hello magazine, what more do you want from me? She’s leaving, right now, for Bali with Max. We’re married. Enough already,” I snarl. Great, I haven’t even been married five minutes and I’m already regretting it. <br /><br />“I just…it looked…it looked kind of…intimate,” Charline says quietly, sounding hurt and I guess I did snap. <br /><br />“Mel and me…we go back, but she’s definitely with Max,” I sigh, turning to cradle Char’s face in my hand and I can hear the sound of hundreds of cameras going off as I do. “You have my ring. I don’t want to hear another word about it, okay?” She nods and I kiss her lips and just for a moment, I feel the same ache in the bottom of my stomach that I had when I woke up this morning and there’s that little question again. Am I doing the right thing? <br /><br />Of course it’s too late now. If I’ve fucked up royally, well, it’s done. <br /><br />Not that either Troy or Mario would have let me walk out on her this morning, even when I was holding fast to a bottle of JD and swearing that I couldn’t do it. <br /><br />I had made my bed, they’d told me, it was time to be a man and lie in it. <br /><br />I’d thought it was all better when I saw Charline walking down the aisle in the beautiful dress behind all her teammates in their red and white satin gowns. It hadn’t seemed like such a crazy idea then. Everything had been fine, until Mel was there and now….<br /><br />“You’re a good looking couple,” Troy says putting his hands on both of our shoulders and Char turns around to beam up at him. He likes her. He approves. Well, of course he does. She’s a hockey player and a goalie to boot. The fact that she’s still a student and actually has less of her future planned out than Mel did, well, that hasn’t occurred to my father yet. <br /><br />“And I hope we’ll be hearing the pitter-patter of little feet very soon?” my mother chimes in and Char’s smile gets even wider. <br /><br />“We will, sooner than you think,” she says, winking at me and my skin crawls for the second time today. The first was when she whispered it to me on the way back up the aisle. She’d said that she’d taken a test this morning and it was positive. I’m gonna be a daddy. I want a big family. It was one of the things that Mel and I argued over, so why did every hair on my head stand up when she told me? <br /><br />“That’s great, let’s get one of the family,” the photographer calls and I my dad puts his big ape like arm around me and I can’t help but gaze down the street to see Max holding open the door for Mel. She stops, and they kiss, a long, slow kiss and then she slides into the car and my chest gets tight. <br /><br />But I’ve made my bed and I <span style="font-style:italic;">will </span>lie in it and I’ll do my best to make it work because I hate to fail, at anything, even though I might be watching my biggest failure drive away.<br /><br />__________________________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />“Un sou pour vos pensées?” Max asks, his warm body curled around mine in the cot on the private deck beside the private pool in our private villa near the beach. Staring out at the millions of stars that are glittering down over us from the darkest of night skies, I can’t actually put my finger on what I’m thinking, everything and nothing at all. <br /><br />“Nothing specific,” I mumble, closing my eyes and laying my head down on his arm, reaching for his other hand, the one that’s resting on my hip and lacing my fingers in his. “Which makes a very nice change,” I add with a sigh and a contented smile. I feel totally relaxed, maybe for the first time in months, and am able to revel in the languid feeling of afterglow for maybe the first time…ever. <br /><br />The air is heavy with heat and humidity and my body is sticky with sweat and other body fluids and the small private pool is looking inviting but I can’t quite be bothered to move. I like the feel of Max’s body pressed against mine, the occasional brush of his lips on the back of my neck, my shoulders and knowing we don’t have to worry about being found out, that the worst we have to face is a few heartbroken puck bunnies if and when we go back to the ‘Burgh.<br /><br />“That was a brave thing you did today,” Max says at long last, breaking my dreamy silence as he his warm breath bathes my neck. <br /><br />“I don’t know about brave,” I sigh, bringing his hand up to my lips to press a soft kiss to each bruised and scarred knuckle. “I think that I had to see it, that he was really going through with it…,” I let my voice trail off as I think about Sidney in his tux with his bride in her enormous, over the top ball gown. “They looked like something off of the top of a cake,” I muse, rolling onto my back so that I can look up into Max’s face, which, for the moment, is impassive. He unlaces his fingers from mine and traces my bottom lip with his thumb and them replaces his finger with his lips and kisses me, gently and thoroughly, until my body begins, once again, to turn into a wet noodle.<br /><br />“You don’t have to be brave about it,” he whispers, his eyes, the colour of twilight, search mine as his fingertips run gently down my jaw and onto my shoulder. “You don’ t have to pretend to feel nothing at all for him,” he adds seriously, his fingertips grazing over my collarbone and then lower, making me shiver, even in this tropical heat. <br /><br />“I’m not,” I smile up at him, sucking in a ragged breath when his fingertip traces a slow, deliberate circle around my nipple. “I thought I’d feel…mad… disappointed…even humiliated but all I felt was…well, I guess I felt sorry for him really,” I sigh as he reaches across to trace the same circle on my other breast. “<span style="font-style:italic;">Maaaxxx</span>!” I hiss as I arch my back, my body no longer relaxed in his arms. <br /><br />“Sorry, it’s just so much fun to play with you,” he whispers, capturing my lips with his, his mouth moving over mine, our tongues dueling for a moment before he pulls back to look down at me, curiosity brimming in his ocean blue eyes. “He did look a little…overwhelmed.” <br /><br />“Mostly, honestly, I just feel bad that I don’t see he and I being friends,” I mutter as Max’s lips and teeth make their way down to my neck, making it easy to forget that it should hurt to think about that. <br /><br />“So you weren’t even juste un petit peu jaloux about the dress and the bridesmaids?” Max asks, pushing himself up on his elbow so he can look down at me, obviously expecting some hesitation or some different answer than the one I give him.<br /><br />“No, and don’t push Maxime,” I reply gently but firmly and Max replies with a cheeky grin. <br /><br />“If you never marry me, as long as you’re with me, mon amour, je serais le plus heureux des hommes,” he purrs, cradling my face in his hand before he captures my lips with his and seals his promise with a soft kiss that slowly heats until our bodies meld into one, locking together, a tangle of sweat slicked limbs. “Mon amour, je t’aime,” he whispers and I feel my heart swell. “Thank you….”<br /><br />“Je t’aime Max,” I whisper back, nipping at his ear. “Thank you for being there for me, for waiting,” I add, feeling tears filling my eyes. <br /><br />“Oui, parce que je savais, tout ce temps, je savais que tu était à moi,” he whispers back, his eyes full of the kind of love I’ve always wanted and I know that my heart has its home, for now, forever.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-74448081587930228542010-05-23T18:35:00.000-07:002010-05-23T18:44:47.792-07:00Chapter 43“I’m sorry about the series,” Charline begins and I find myself letting out a long whooshing breath of relief. <br /><br />“Oh that…yeah, well, that wasn’t my best hockey ever,” I admit, reaching for her bag, which she doesn’t allow me to take. It’s just a small pull behind, but she seems determined to pull it herself. “Halak is in a groove, a lot of our guys were pretty banged up and tired. I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” I continue, turning to head back towards where I’d parked the car. <br /><br />“Still, after the Olympics, it had to be a big let down,” Charline continues, reaching for my hand with hers as we walked and found that her hand fit in mine perfectly. It feels good there. <br /><br />“Yeah, I guess,” I shrug. “I thought you were going to say something about Mel breaking up with me,” I admit as we reach the Land Rover and I open the tailgate to stow her bag but when I reach for it, her hand stays mine. <br /><br />“Mel…broke up with <span style="font-style:italic;">you</span>?” she asks, sounding incredulous but she can’t hide the smile that suddenly lights up her entire face. I shrug, as I’ve been doing in reply to that question every time I tell someone about it. As if it’s not possible for someone to want to break up with me. Considering what a total dick I’ve been, I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did. “So…is the wedding…off?” Charline asks quietly, hesitantly, her dark eyes searching my face for answer. I find it hard to answer this part, especially to my close friends that know the truth, and, I find to her.<br /><br />“I haven’t…quite managed to do that…yet,” I admit, expecting the same sarcastic laughter that has been greeting me from my teammates and even my father, not that I’d expected less. But Charline reaches out and puts her hands on my shoulders and makes a little cooing sound, like a dove, and when I look into her eyes, I see actual sympathy. <br /><br />“I’m sorry Sidney. I know you two have been very good friends for a long time,” she smiles sadly and then plants a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. “I know you’re not the kind of man who sets out to hurt anyone,” she adds quietly as she wraps her arms around me. Standing there in the middle of the parking lot with her arms around me, I feel better than I have for a long time. I hadn’t expected to. In fact I’d almost called her back and told her not to come. It had seemed wrong, somehow. Like rubbing salt into a wound, even though I didn’t seem to be as upset about Max and Mel being together as I thought I should be. <br /><br />“Thanks,” I tell her as we unravel ourselves from one another. “I think I needed to hear someone tell me I’m not a complete monster,” I admit, brushing her hair back from her face s she grins up at me.<br /><br />“Actually, I think I’m kinda the bad one here,” she admits, her dark eyes glittering with mischief. “I didn’t just come to give you some TLC, although I hope I’ll get the chance to do that,” she admits, reaching for my hand again and lacing her fingers with mine, all the while giving me one of those long, suggestive looks that causes my body temperature to rise. “I was hoping…I mean it sounds bad when I say it out loud, but I just thought…after what you’ve told me…well, I thought you might not actually go through with it and…it’s not like I was going to come into the church and be the one to stand up when they ask if anyone has any reason why you shouldn’t do it but…I was going to sort of wait outside…in case you bolted,” she admits finally, with a shy sort of a smile, her cheeks taking on a light pink hue. I can’t help but smile at the idea of her skulking around outside the cathedral, waiting for me to chicken out and run for my life. “I’m not saying you’re the kind of guy that leaves a girl at the altar but…I guess I am saying that I don’t really think you’re the kind of guy who’d marry a girl you don’t love either,” she adds, very quietly, almost under her breath, her expression turning deadly serious as she gazes up at me. <br /><br />“I did…in some ways,” I tell her honestly, my hand still resting on her cheek, “and to tell you the truth, I don’t know what I would have actually done but…thank you for being here,” I add, just as honestly and then I capture her lips with mine and feel her body melt into mine and I can’t ignore the feeling that her body fits mine as if it were meant to. <br /><br />_____________________________________________________________<br /><br />The answer had come far more easily than I had thought it would. Even though my brain had begged for time to think about it and somewhere in my head I knew that it was too soon and the gesture too extravagant and yet my lips had opened and the word had tumbled out of my mouth before I could take it back. Then, the relief and happiness on Max’s face…it had been infectious and soon I had found myself in a huge happy group hug in and amongst people I know really, deeply care for me. But now, alone with Max, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed.<br /><br />Especially now as I push my key into the lock and the deadbolt slides free, knowing that I’ll be alone with him again and that Kennedy and Jordan have gone off to find a hotel room, so that there is no risk of our being interrupted, maybe even for days. Suddenly I feel shy, nervous, those little butterflies in my stomach beginning to stretch their wings again. <br /><br />Even when I feel his hand on my shoulder and his lips pressing softly to the nape of my neck, I think it should make me feel comforted, protected, and safe, but it doesn’t. I feel edgy, more anxious than I did the first night I’d gone to him looking to lose my virginity. I never imagined Max falling in love, least of all with me, and it seems like a huge responsibility has been placed on my shoulders - <span style="font-style:italic;">the woman who tamed Mad Max. <br /></span><br />“Ma bichette, votre coeur est battement comme d’un petit lapin,” he whispers, his breath warm on my skin, sending goose bumps racing across my shoulders and down my arms. <br /><br />“I’m scared,” I admit, pushing the door open and walking into the dark apartment. He follows close behind and when he closes and locks the door behind him, I nearly jump out of my skin. <br /><br />“Of me, ma petite?” he asks, managing to look hurt and give me his come hither bedroom eyes at the same time. “Qu’aurais-je pu faire pour vous faire si mal?” he asks, moving to stand with me, taking my hand in his and raising it to his lips, his eyes, even in the dark, looking like the calm sapphire blue green seas off of a tropical island. I shiver as his lips make their way, slowly and deliberately up my arm, his gaze holding mine all the while. “What would you have me do, mon coeur? What can I do to make you…relax?” He says the last with his lips upturned in that mischievous smile of his that makes me grin back at him. “Pour vous, je ferai tout ce que vous me demandez,” he adds, raising his eyebrows in a way that says ‘dare me’. <br /><br />“Aren’t you afraid?” I ask him, searching his face for any signs of the same misgivings that are currently plaguing me. <br /><br />“Of what ma petite?” he asks, letting go of my hand in favor of brushing my cheek tenderly with the back of his hand. <br /><br />“That I’ll go back to him? That…that I’ll hurt you?” I ask, leaning into the warmth of his hand and shutting my eyes against the naked emotions swimming in the sea blue of his eyes. Even though it’s only his hand pressed against my skin, I can feel his entire body go still, can hear his breathing pause, but only for a moment and then I feel his other hand slide across my cheek in and into my hair and then I feel his lips brush over mine. <br /><br />“Je t’aime, mon amour,” he whispers, his lips brushing over my eyelids. “I’d rather try this than sit on the bench and watch him break you down, bit by bit.” It hurts to have someone else blame Sidney for what’s happened, but at the same time, it’s like Max is peeling my fingers away from the ledge I’ve been holding onto and whispering at me to let myself fall. “Je suis ici. Je serai toujours ici pour tu. Tu as mon coeur, est-il possible que je pouvais faire autre chose?” <br /><br />“And if you aren’t?” I ask, opening my eyes to search his face. “If you go back to being the man whore….” He smiles but shakes his head as his hand slides down so that the pad of his thumb presses to my lips, effectively silencing me. <br /><br />“I was never…well, no, that’s not true. Maybe at first…but it was more of an act after the first year. Those empty, meaningless women…they were never for me. But you…ma petite chaton, there’s always been more to you. Je tu promets, since we met, there has never been…il n’y aura jamais n’importe qui autrement pour moi, only you.” How could my heart not melt to have Mad Max say that? I can barely breathe as he strokes his thumb along my cheekbone and gazes down at me with such tenderness, love and utter devotion in his eyes. I feel tears filling my eyes again and his smile is full of the same sort of relief as he bends to cover my lips with his, his gaze still holding mine until his lips lift from mine, just enough for him to speak. “Can you love me, ma petite? I’m not asking you to declare your love for me now, just…do you think you can? Pensez vous que vous pouvez apprendre à m’aimer? “Taking his hand in mine, I bring it down so that he can feel that my heart is beating impossibly fast and then I offer him my lips for a long, soft kiss that leaves us both breathless.<br /><br />“I <span style="font-style:italic;">have </span>loved you Max,” I whisper, pressing my hand over his rapidly beating heart. “I’m only beginning to understand that what I feel for you is real and what I felt for Sidney was…a cheap imitation. I thought what I felt for him was real…until I was with you. There’s always been a little part of me, deep inside,” I whisper, pressing his hand to the centre of my chest “that was waiting, empty, to be filled. I knew he didn’t fill it but I kept waiting for him to. The first night I…that we…,” I feel a soft heat infusing my skin as I think about that first night in his bed. “The first time we were together…I knew. I fought it but I haven’t been able to evict you,” I add with a shy smile as I turn my lips up to his. <br /><br />“I will never ask for more,” he whispers, a single tear escapes his sea blue eyes and then his lips crash over mine like a tsunami hitting a beach and I know there will be no more words tonight. Not unless they are in the forms of sighs or moans.<br /> <br />I feel his hands fisting in my hair, dragging my head back, his lips and teeth working at my neck, making me shudder. Backing me into the kitchen table, he lifts me up onto it and places himself between my legs. Our tongues twine, and dance before he lifts the black t-shirt I’d worn to match the one Gareth had worn out onto the runway at the end of the show when he’d joined me and Max and GaGa and all of the girls had come out clapping. <br /><br />Inch by inch he lifts it, his hands running up my rib cage, his lips following until he captures a nipple between his teeth. Letting out a sigh, I dig my fingers into his hair and hold him there, enjoying his ministrations, biting down on my bottom lip and still not able to keep a moan from escaping as his other hand brushes over my nipple, his thumb flicking and running over it. <br /><br />Pushing his tux jacket off of his shoulders, I hear myself making impatient noises which eventually get his attention and he looks up at me, that mischievous smile of his mocking me as he raises his eyebrows as if to say ‘what? What do you want?’ before he switches the attentions of his lips and teeth from one breast to the other.<br /><br />“Maaaxx,” I moan, arching my back, wanting more but impatient to touch him at the same time. <br /><br />“Patience ma cherie, now that I have you to myself…I intend to take my sweet time,” he chuckles, dragging what’s left of my t-shirt off and throwing it aside before carefully slipping out of his jacket and loosening his tie, before going back to work on my aching nipples, his tongue swirling in slow circles, his teeth tugging, his fingers pinching until I can barely breathe and only then do his hands drop to the snap on my jeans.<br /><br />I reach down to help him but Max pushes my hands aside and make short work of tugging my jeans off and tossing them aside, along with my panties, and then he just stands there, smiling this sort of cat that’s about to get the cream sort of grin while he very slowly and deliberately tugs loose his tie, pulls it over his head and tosses it to me. <br /><br />“Wear it,” he grins as his fingers go to work on the buttons of his crisp white shirt, undoing one button and then two, before meticulously rolling up his sleeves, as if ready to go to work. I drop the black satin tie around my neck, feeling the cool fabric drop and slide between my breasts as his gaze holds mine. I watch him lick his full lips as he rolls one sleeve all the way up to his elbows and the heat and desire in his gaze makes my nipples tighten, my stomach clench and my mouth go dry. <br /><br />Having discarded my heels in order to pull off my jeans, Max now slips them back on my feet, but not before placing a soft kiss on each instep. Then, while he slips the black patent stiletto ankle boots back on, he kisses the inside of my knee, and then inside of my thigh and then, tossing my knees over his shoulders, he spreads my thighs wide and just…blows. His warm breath, blown across my most sensitive of sensitive spots makes me cry out, makes me whimper and beg and I know this is what he wants, maybe even what he needs, for me to be entirely and utterly at his mercy and knowing that he and only he can soothe the savage beast he has created and that is when I grab hold of him, tangling my fingers in the short choppy pieces of his sandy brown hair, and beg him for release. <br /><br />Of course he has no intention of providing that release any time soon. He teases and taunts with soft vibrating kisses and short, barely there licks and nibbles that do nothing more than torment me, making me writhe in his hands, making me whimper and plead out loud. Happy in his work or at least content to be torturing me, he hums and sings bawdy French songs as he spells out his full, complete French Catholic baptismal name across my clit with his tongue, over and over again until I can barely breathe. But every time I start to hear that buzzing in my ears and feel that clenching at the base of my spine and that tightening in my stomach…he pulls back and blows, warm, soft breaths over my pussy until I’m nearly relaxed, and then he begins the game all over again. <br /><br />____________________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />“What are you thinking about?” I blink and turn to see Charline, lying on her stomach, watching me. I’d thought she was asleep. “You’ve been staring at the ceiling for…it’s her isn’t it?” she asks, and I’m surprised to see that she doesn’t look angry or upset at all. Instead, she reaches out to touch my face and smiles. “It’s okay, if you want to talk about her. I don’t mind,” she offers, the shadow of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. <br /><br />“I’ve just been kind of a jackass,” I sigh, turning to stare back up at the ceiling.<br />“I knew…or I should have known that she’s been in love with me for…years,” I sigh and then shut my eyes. “I just keep wondering…I wonder if she’ll ever even talk to me again. If either of them will,” I add, wondering about what happened when Max went to her. I’ve decided that Mel must have felt like she had to turn to someone for physical consolation because I wasn’t there for her but I can’t see her being with Max. He seemed serious about it but I can’t see him staying that way….<br /><br />“You can’t be responsible for how other people feel. If she kind of threw herself at you…,” I shake my head before Charline can finish her thought. <br /><br />“It felt like we <span style="font-style:italic;">should </span>be together,” I insist, heaving another sigh before turning to look at the woman lying shamelessly naked in my bed, her cool fingers now running along my ribs, teasing me, reminding me of the oblivion her body provides me. “I tried…she tried…I <span style="font-style:italic;">hate </span>failing,” I grumble, and hear her laughing or trying not to laugh, but she can’t quite stifle it behind her hand. <br /><br />“I’m sorry,” she apologizes when I shoot her a dirty look. “I get it. I do. Hey, I play too, I’m competitive too but you can’t be competitive in a relationship. You’re not on opposing sides. You have to be a team Sidney,” she snorts and although I know that she’s making fun of me she’s also making a point that I know some of the guys have tried to make with me more than once but….<br /><br />“I feel like I’ve lost my two best friends,” I sigh, trying to explain what the worst outcome is and her expression becomes more serious and she cuddles closer to me, sliding her hand across my stomach and pulling herself into me. <br /><br />“If your friendship is strong enough, you’ll be able to fix it,” she says quietly, looking up at me with her dark eyes, all sympathetic, which I don’t feel like I deserve right now. <br /><br />“I don’t know how,” I shrug, reaching down to run my fingers through her long dark hair. <br /><br />“Let yourself…let them have a little time, and then, when the time is right….”<br /><br />“That’s the thing…if he’s traded, I might not have a chance to see them again,” I insist but Charline, even more insistent, straddles me, but not in a sexual way. More like in a wrestling sort of way, pinning me down and forcing me to listen to her. <br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />“And </span>when the time is right and enough water has gone under the bridge, if your friendship was strong enough, then yeah, you’ll be friends again. Especially you boys, you don’t hold grudges the way we girls do,” she grins, leaning down so that her arms are wresting on my chest and her pointed chin rests on the back of her hands, her lips not too far away but inaccessible, for the moment. <br /><br />“I hope you’re right,” I sigh, gazing up into her beautiful face, running my hands through her long, chocolate coloured hair. I don’t want to think about Max or Mel anymore. It makes my head hurt, and she’s here and real, warm and available, her soft breasts pressed against my chest, a tantalizing reminder of how good she feels beneath me. “And I guess I don’t have to cancel all of those plans,” I add, fisting my hand in her hair and bringing her lips down to mine. She tastes of cinnamon gum and cool, clear water and I kiss her until it has to be all too clear to her just how done I am with this particular topic of conversation. <br /><br />“You should though,” she whispers against my lips, her hips moving to make it easier for me to slide up inside of her and then she gasps, her eyes fluttering closed, her lips falling open in a sexy little smile. <br /><br />“We could just change one of the names on the invitations and announcements, they weren’t going out until last minute,” I explain, reaching up to bite at her bottom lip. “You and I both know this isn’t just sex, not anymore. Marry me Charline. Fuck all the rest of it. Marry me.”<br /><br />_______________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />Taking my hand, Max leads me to my bedroom and when he pushes the door open, I’m suddenly very glad and more than a little relieved that this room has never been…‘christened’. Sidney’s never been here and in all the times Max was here, he never so much as came into my room. Until now, and as I cross the threshold, Max pulls me into his arms almost like a dancer and kisses me, a long, slow, sweet kiss that makes my heartbeat multiply. <br /><br />It doesn’t matter that I can taste my own juices on him, or that he’s still fully dressed or even that my entire body is still tingling from being brought to the edge of the precipice too many times to count without being allowed to actually have release. All that matters is that his hand on the small of my back and curled around the back of my head makes me feel so safe, so wanted that tears spring to my eyes and I end up clinging to him, my head buried in his shoulder.<br /> <br />“Ma petite, mon amour, je t’ai fait mal? Ce qui est faux?” he asks, tipping my chin up and searching my face with the most concerned expression that I can’t help but smile it’s so endearing. <br /><br />“Nothing…no…I just realized that I…that I really do love you,” I whisper, nipping at his bottom lip and being rewarded with another long, soft, toe curling kiss. <br /><br />“Je t’aime, je t’adore,” he whispers as he kisses my neck and backs me toward the bed until my knees buckle against its edge and I fall back on it. He stands there, over me, looking down at me with a tenderness that makes my throat swell with emotion but even when I hold my arms out for him, he just stands there, his gaze holding mine and then, slowly, agonizingly slowly, he undoes the rest of the buttons of his now very wrinkled white dress shirt. Pulling the tails of his shirt out of his pants, he shrugs it off and then, balling it up, he tosses it aside.<br /><br />Biting down on my bottom lip until it hurts I let my eyes roam over his round shoulders, that patch of wiry hair in the middle of his chest and those tats…. My hands reach out almost of their own volition, until I’m sitting up, running my fingers down his rib cage, tracing the dark ink with, first, my fingertips and then my lips and tongue until I feel his entire body shudder and I reach for his belt. <br /><br />“No, mon chéri, if you even touch me I don’t think I will be able to control myself,” he insists, his hands reaching to pry mine off of his belt. I grin up at him, raising my eyebrow, assuming it’s a challenge but he smiles and shakes his head. “I mean it, mon amour,” he whispers, pushing me gently back onto the bed until he’s kneeling over me, his belt undone, his pants low enough on his waist that I can clearly see his goody trail and his hip bones and I can’t take my eyes off of the obvious bulge in his pants. <br /><br />“Max…,” I begin to reach for his pants again but he pushes my hand away and leans in to capture my nipple in his lips, sucking it into his mouth until I lose that particular train of thought and am once again lost amidst the sensations his mouth and hands are causing as he slides his fingers inside of me and presses up against that spot that makes me cry out and push down against his hand. “No Max, I want you…now…please,” I whimper, feeling that tell tale clenching at the base of my spine, that cold tingling in my thighs. <br /><br />I hear him grunt and struggle one handed with his pants, but he never stops his tormenting ministrations until I feel his thick fingers pull out and all at once they’re replaced by the long, thickness of him and in one, long hard thrust he forces the air from my lungs. Wrapping my legs around him, I pull him into me, pushing my hips up to meet his as his mouth finds mine and his hands dig into my hair and I feel him moan into my mouth and I know that he’s close and I know that he’s trying to distract me with his tongue and his teeth but I won’t be distracted.<br /> <br />“It never felt like this,” I whisper, pulling his mouth and teeth down to my neck where his teeth dig in, sending sharp bolts of pain mixed with pleasure that leave me panting beneath him. “It never felt like this with him Max. You ruined me for anyone else,” I hiss as he grinds against me, trying to force himself even deeper inside of me and I lift my hips, wanting him deeper. <br /><br />“I never want you to be with anyone else, <span style="font-style:italic;">jamais</span>, m’entendez vous?” he growls, his teeth digging into my shoulder as he makes, short, hard, deep thrusts that should almost hurt, but they don’t. I’m so wet, so close to the edge and every single thrust pushes me closer and closer to finding that happy oblivion. But I won’t go, not yet, not without him. <br /><br />“I’ll never want anyone else,” I promise and believe it as I say it, my nails digging into his ass, pushing him deeper, hearing his breathing grow ragged as I do.<br /> <br />“Tell me you don’t love him, le dire pour moi. J’ai besoin de savoir,” he pants, losing all rhythm to his thrusts, just fucking me now, driving into me with lost abandon. <br /><br />“I love you,” I cry, feeling that first wave reach the beach of my consciousness, knowing I’ll go under with the next. <br /><br />“Mais, avez-vous l’aimez encore?” he grunts and I know he’s holding back, that he won’t allow himself to go unless I say it. <br /><br />“I don’t,” I whimper as he holds my face between his two hands and stares down at me, fire and desire mixed with pain and longing in his eyes.<br /> <br />“Say it, pour moi, s’il vous plait, dites-moi,” he growls, holding himself still, which has to take enormous will power at this point. I find myself staring up at his handsome face, watching the sweat beading on his brown, the strain in his neck and around his dark, now almost royal blue eyes, and I don’t need to lie. <br /><br />“I don’t love him anymore, if I ever did. I love you Maxime. You, I want you,” I insist, pulling his lips down over mine with one hand curled around the back of his neck while the other digs into his back and with one, last, hard thrust, I feel him let go. He groans into my mouth and his entire body goes rigid and still but I can feel his heart hammering against his chest and I can feel him let go inside of me, filling me as my own body clutches at him, holding him in a vice grip as my back bows off of the bed and I howl my release, holding onto Max for dear life.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-3785568178598239052010-05-19T14:59:00.000-07:002010-05-19T15:09:03.577-07:00Chapter 42<span style="font-style:italic;">as always, thank you tons and tons for all your support. I can smell the end of this story from here, but have no fear, I've already started the next one and I have a feeling Sidney will be a much more heroic figure in the next one, but in the meantime...</span><br /><br />“Fuuuuuuuuuck!” I stab myself for what seems like the hundred thousandth time as I pin yet another model into her outfit. Considering we’d just had them in to try the garments on the day before I am about ready to stuff some cookies into some of these girl’s mouths. How they could lose an inch in one single day, and why they would when they knew damn well that they had a job….<br /><br />“You need to start getting into your own dress,” Gareth reminds me, taking the pin cushion out of my hand and reaching carefully to draw the ones I have held between my teeth out. “Hair and make up, off you go.” I give him one, long, pleading look but he just shakes his head and points towards the area where chairs and mirrors have been set up, where flat irons and hair dryers are being wielded like weapons of mass destruction. A shudder runs through my entire body and my stomach begins to clench uncomfortably, reminding me that I haven’t eaten in maybe a day, maybe two, but all the same it thinks it can find something to bring up. <br /><br />“Ah the wedding dress girl,” the beautician gushes as he reaches to run his fingers through my freshly dyed hair. Kennedy insisted on doing it this morning, even while I was half asleep. <br /><br />“I don’t care if you cover my head with a potato sack,” I mumble, as he reaches for a very large can of hairspray. <br /><br />“This face? Oh darling, if you were a few inches taller you’d be on that runway twice a day and on the cover of Vogue,” he replies encouragingly, to which I can only roll my eyes. How many times have I been told that I’m pretty just not pretty enough? I know that part of the make-up artist at these things is to build the girls’ confidence before they step out onto the runway, like cheerleaders with blush brushes instead of pompoms. It’s hard to believe, in all of their tall, skinny loveliness that they could be as insecure as I am, but I know it’s true. <br /><br />“You have a visitor,” Kennedy whispers in my ear, her hand firm on my shoulder in a non verbal gesture that says ‘be strong’ or ‘don’t run’, one or the other. I immediately feel the fluttering of birds’ wings in my stomach and put both hands down over it, as if I might really feel the brush of their wings against my skin. <br /><br /> “I don’t know that the best man is supposed to see the bride, isn’t that bad luck or something?” Kennedy asks, glancing up at where Max has suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking a little worse for wear, unshaven, and in the way that says he hasn’t slept for days. <br /><br />“I’m pretty sure it’s just the groom,” I mumble, taking the veil out of Kennedy’s hands and shoving the combs into my hair hard enough that the plastic teeth graze my scalp and make both me and the beautician wince. “Could you just give us a moment?” I ask, glancing up at Kens and then at the hairdresser, telling myself to be calm, that whatever is coming I can deal with it. <br /><br />We both watch Kensie drag the hairdresser out of the room, keeping our thoughts to ourselves until she’s well out of earshot. I don’t even try to do anything while I wait for him to speak, I just fold and refold my hands in my lap, feeling the cool slick ivory satin beneath my hands move against my thighs as I wait. <br /><br />“Is it…is it over with him?” Max asks finally, sounding defeated even as he says it, and when I look up at his reflection in the mirror before me, his expression says that the knows what I’m going to say. ‘So why say it? ‘ I wonder to myself, turning my gaze back down to my hands, staring at the Claddagh ring; Sidney’s promise to me and mine to him. “Tabernak woman, you aren’t even in love with him.”<br /><br />The sting of having my own words thrown back at me makes me wince but I just keep staring at the ring and reminding myself that there has never been any other for me, only Sidney and no matter what else has happened, there can never be another to take his place. There’s never even been the remotest possibility of that. <br /><br />“I have to get ready,” I mumble, forcing my hand up and forward to grab a tube of mascara, feeling it shake as I try to twist off the cap. <br /><br />“Merde! You stubborn woman. I’m in love with you. Doesn’t that mean anything?” The mascara wand drops from my hand, my fingers having gone numb along with everything else, as I stare back at him, watching his green blue eyes grow misty. “Oh don’t look at me like you didn’t know. It’s been months, months! You had to know how I felt.” I shake my head, denying it because I’m used to denying my feelings around Max but they were my feelings and half of me is relieved he’s not asking me to be honest with my feelings. But this…this I didn’t expect. I didn’t know. “Sainte Criss! Did you not think when you came to my bed that it was more than some cheap thrill? Could you not tell how much I wanted you?” I open my mouth to say that it was all nothing but I can’t make the words come out. <br /><br />“You’re my friend. You’re <span style="font-style:italic;">his </span>friend.” It’s my defense, my argument, my only fall back and Max deftly dekes it as he strides across the room and falls to his knees at my feet. <br /><br />“I’ve tried to be but this? You can’t go back to him. You can’t go crawling back to him…because you don’t love him and he’s my friend and because I love you and you’re mine.” My heart beat doubles and I feel a fine sheen of sweat breaking out across my brow.<br /><br />“What do you want from me?” I ask, forcing the words through my teeth; part of me wanting desperately to fall into his arms and the other part of me still clinging to my dream.<br /><br />“What I want? What I want is to tear your clothes off with my teeth and fuck you up against that door,” he growls, pointing at it, his breathing becoming heavy and labored, “until you scream my name so damn loud that everyone out there can hear you. What I want is for you to look at me,” he continues, grabbing my chin in his thick fingers and forcing me to look at him again, “and tell me the truth. Tell me who you love. Vraiment, qui aimes-tu?” I press my hands over my stomach again, feeling those wings beating a mile a minute. <br /><br />“I can’t do this. Not right now. I…I have things to do,” I mumble, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. <br /><br />“Melody,” his voice is calmer now, quieter, but there’s still an edge to it that says he means business, that he wants an answer, an answer I’m not prepared to give. This is something I’ve been trying so hard not to think about that I if answer now it will be an emotional knee jerk reaction and I’ve screwed up so many times already basing things on gut reactions instead of taking the time to think things through….“Ma chère, mon amour,” his hand rests on my cheek, gently but insistently forcing me to look up at him, to meet his passion filled gaze. “Si tu peux m’aimer même un peu….” His voice catches in his throat as his hopeful gaze searches mine and my heart begins to beat so hard that it feels like there’s no way my chest can hold it in. <br /><br />“Max…,” I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his skin transferring to mine calling up so many memories that make my body tingle, that threaten to steal my breath away. “Max I can’t…you can’t ask me things like that right now.” I open my eyes and let him see my fear, my confusion, and I add a plea to the maelstrom of emotions that are making it hard for me to even speak. “Un peu de temps. Un peu d’espace. Mon ami, si tu sentes quelque chose pour moi du tout….”<br /><br />“Je sens quelque chose, je sens l’amour,” he insists, that angry edge leaking into his voice, anger, mixed with passion that reminds me of the stairs in his house and I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from whimpering at the sense memory that makes my insides clench and my nipples ache. <br /><br />“We have to finish,” the hairdresser says, almost apologetically, holding up a round brush and that can of hairspray and both Max and I stare daggers at him but I know that he’s right and this time it doesn’t take more than a silent pleading look to send Max away, shaking his head, his hands balling into fists at his sides.<br /><br />____________________________________________________________<br /><br />“So what are your plans?” <br /><br />I look up from toying with the scrambled eggs on my plate to find both Nathalie and Mario standing side by side, staring down at me with looks of equal amounts concern and bewilderment on their faces. <br /><br />“What? Am I being traded or something?” I mumble, not really serious, although I recognize that something is going to have to be done to make the team more competitive next year. I’m sort of hoping that it’s going to be Geno and Max or even Flower, just not me. <br /><br />“Nooo,” Mario begins, but narrows his eyes at me in a way that says ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">we’ll talk hockey later</span>’. “We’re wanting to know what your plans are for dealing with wedding. Will you be calling around making the cancellations or is Melody doing that from New York?” I nod, understanding now where they’re coming from while I stab at my eggs. I haven’t had much of an appetite since before the game last night. <br /><br />“I doubt Mel’s had time to do anything about it. She’s got that…show or whatever,” I mumble, pushing my plate away at last. “I haven’t thought about it,” I reply honestly, shrugging. <br /><br />“Well, it’s coming up, pretty quickly,” Nathalie adds quietly, taking my plate away and heading for the sink. “Do you think that you and Mel will be…making any kind of conciliation?” she asks, hesitantly, over her shoulder. Now I’m wishing I still had the plate of eggs in front of me to play with. <br /><br />“I uh…no, I don’t think so,” I manage, my tongue feeling thick, my throat closing around a ball of emotion as I say it. It’s not that I’ve suddenly come all over emotional over it. It’s just that I feel guilty and I’ve been sitting here wondering if we’ll ever even be friends again. <br /><br />“Well then, don’t you think it’s about time you started calling it off?” Mario asks, and I nod. <br /><br />“Yeah, I guess I should,” I sigh, “considering it’s really all my fault.” Look at that, I think to myself as I slide off the stool at the breakfast bar. I even manage not to blame her for sleeping with Max, even though I still can’t picture my little Mel being that girl that just…jumps someone. <br /><br />I pull my cell out of my pocket, knowing the caterer and the wedding planner’s number are on it, and there’s a text waiting for me, from Charline.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I thought you might need some TLC, I’m flying in. Pick me up at the airport<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span><br /><br />Huh. I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my lips for the first time in days. Maybe all that cancelling stuff can wait…for a few hours anyway. <br />_________________________________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />A dozen very fit, very well sculpted topless men in white satin tights, wearing fantastical horse heads over their own, pull a white baby grand out onto the stage. Lady GaGa is singing something…is it <span style="font-style:italic;">Boys Boys Boys</span> or <span style="font-style:italic;">Eh Eh?</span> I don’t know…I can’t really hear it past the rushing of blood in my head. <br /><br />“Go, go!” Gareth gives me a push out onto the stage and I almost stumble even though I’m only wearing kitty heels. <br /><br />Blank, I tell myself. Keep your face blank, concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, small steps, no stomping. That had been what one of the other models had suggested when she saw the dress. Small steps would show the dress better.<br /><br />Ignore the flashes. Stop at the head of the runway, take the bouquet of blood red roses and sparkling crystal encrusted fake flowers and hold it in one hand, pick up the skirt with the other to show the Grecian inspired sandals wrapped around your leg. Don’t look down at the people seated beside the runway. Now, look down the runway as you start to walk and….<br /><br />Standing there at the end of the runway in a black tuxedo, crisp white shirt and slightly shiny black tie is a clean shaven Max, or at least wearing only a few hours’ worth of stubble, which truth be told, is the way I prefer him. For the second time I nearly stumble, my legs feeling even more like spaghetti than they had a moment ago and now I’m certain all I can hear is my heart pounding wildly in my chest. I drop the hem of the dress and my hand flies up to my chest, as if my heart might really beat its’ way out of my chest and I might actually be forced to hold it in. <br /><br />I glance around, not sure what to do, not sure if I should keep walking or not. I catch sight of Gareth, Kennedy and Jordan, all sort of holding onto one another with these big, goofy grins on their faces and Kensie is even wiping at her eyes as if she’s crying which means this is real, this is really happening. <br /><br />Taking a deep breath, I take another step and then another and then…and then Max goes down on one knee and I freeze again, all the air leaving my lungs in one whoosh of a breath. <br /><br />I can hear a sort of buzz around me and I’m not sure if it’s in my head, in which case I’m about to faint, or if it’s the sort of hum of excited hushed voices but I try not to think about it as I watch Max reach into his jacket pocket. ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">Oh god</span>’ I think, forcing myself forward, my eyes trained on the expectant and nervous smile he’s wearing as he watches me. ‘O<span style="font-style:italic;">h my god</span>’ I repeat to myself as his hands open like a clamshell revealing a large, sparkling diamond that catches the lights over the runway and seems to turn into a rainbow before my eyes. <br /> <br />I shake my head, trying to clear the buzzing, half sure that I’m seeing things. A few minutes ago Max had looked disheveled. Now he looked…well not exactly like the handsome prince from Sleeping Beauty but he did look…well sort of like a sexy James Bond. Like Gerard Butler in Tomb Raider Cradle of Life when Laura Croft finds him in that Chinese jail….<br /><br />“Do you remember?” Max is asking as I draw near, his voice low, pitched for only my ears. “That first night, at Sidney’s party in Cole Harbour, when I said to you qui pourrait oublier une si belle creature?” I nod, my eyes filling with tears, my head swimming with memories half forgotten. “I think I’ve loved since that very first moment. I know you’re not expecting this ma chere, mais, je t’aime. Tue s devenu ma vie entire. I will never lie to you. I will never put hockey in front of you and I will never, ever make you a promise that I won’t keep. Mon petit chaton, ferez vous moi l’homme le plus heureux au monde entire, serez vous mon épouse?”qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-60804739339120429462010-05-18T13:52:00.000-07:002010-05-18T14:07:35.449-07:00Chapter 41<span style="font-style:italic;">wow...I'm flattered & just a little scared by how vehement some of the opinions are about how this story should turn out...oh well, I'm just going to have to go with my gut and hope you're okay with it. <br /><br />Not that this is the last chapter...just saying</span><br /><br /><br />“Her boobs aren’t big enough,” I grumble, holding the fabric up with one hand and reaching over to the table with the other, blindly feeling for the double sided tape. <br /><br />“I’m right here,” the very pretty but very skinny model snipes at me and I afford her one, quick, disgusted glance. <br /><br />“You’re a clothes hanger and clothes hangers don’t have opinions,” I snap, tearing off a piece of tape and pressing it down against her skin a little harder than is strictly necessary. She opens her mouth to make another smart remark no doubt but one more narrow look from me and she shuts her cherry stained lips and stares straight ahead like a good mannequin should. I press the fabric to the tape but the dress doesn’t look right. It just sits there on her flat chest, gaping in one spot and falling flat in another. “This looks like hell.” <br /><br />“Mmmm, you’re right, her tits are way too small,” Kensie agrees, looking absolutely drop dead goth girl sexy in a streamlined black gauzy gown that shows off her subtle curves and makes her look about ten inches taller than she already is. <br /><br />“Maybe we can trade, she might look okay in your dress,” I mutter, standing back to compare the two shapes but when I look up at Kensie’s face she’s wrinkling up her nose and as she stares at the younger, willowy model. <br /><br />“She’d look like crap in this too,” Kennedy sighs, fingering the barely there fabric stretched over her hips. “She’d make it look like an empty garbage bag.” <br /><br />“I’m <span style="font-style:italic;">right </span>here,” the girl insists again but both of us shut her up with one of those ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">if looks could kill</span>’ glances.<br /> <br />“You know that was made for you,” Kensie reminds me. “It fits you. Unless we can find a model with a sweet rack like yours….”<br /><br />“You’ve been hanging out with Jordan too long,” I snort, shooting her a look that I know says ‘I appreciate the sentiment but really?’, before I start looking around at the other models all of whom are even taller, thinner and almost all of whom are lacking almost anything in the boob department. Curvier models are saved for commercial shoots, for FHM, Maxim and Stuff.<br /><br />“You’ll have to wear it,” Gareth says, appearing from nowhere and tipping his head to one side, “unless you have another piece to put at the end of the show.” I wish I could say that I do but I don’t. I’ve been spending so much time in Pittsburgh that I have a lot of stuff on paper, but not a lot of pieces actually complete enough to put on a model. <br /><br />“Me? Out there?” I can hear the sounds of the stage and runway being set up, the chairs being put out for tomorrow’s show and all I can think of is if I have to go out there I’m seriously going to need some time with Miss Jay. <br /><br />“We could do something…we could have like a swing or something rigged to come down right at the front of the stage,” Gareth thinks out loud while he fusses with the bodice of the gown, trying, just as I’ve been doing, to make it fit the model’s boyish figure. “Maybe two swings…Ga Ga on the other….” That makes my stomach hurt. As if the idea of being out there in front of celebs and photographers isn’t bad enough, I’d almost forgotten about Gareth’s favorite new patron being involved. <br /><br />“Or we could find another model,” I say, hopefully, looking from Kennedy to Gareth and hoping for some sign that they will agree. <br /><br />“Kennedy’s right,” Gareth grins as he cups my cheek and gives it a gentle squeeze. “You made it for you, you’re going to have to wear it. We don’t have time to do any alterations on it. You’ve got enough to do tonight.” That was true. Almost every garment needed some finishing touches, an inch taken in there, a hem taken up there. Then there was the accessorizing…it was going to be a long night. “Besides, my muse, you outshine most of these girls, especially this one,” Gareth adds, grabbing both of my cheeks and planting a kiss on my forehead. “Now get this off of this girl and get her into something that fits and I’ll see you in the morning.” I stare after him, half filled with butterflies at being called his muse and half filled with dread at the thought of all that I still have left to do. <br /><br />“C’mon, let’s get a move on,” Kensie sighs, turning so that I can yank her zipper down. “I’ll help as much as I can.” <br /><br />“Thanks Kens, I don’t know what I’d do without you right now,” I sigh, signaling for the stick thin model to turn so I can undo the laces on the back of the gown. <br /><br />“Yeah well, I hope you remember that when I want to go to the Bahamas next week with Jordy,” she reminds me and again, those butterflies wake in my stomach. Sidney had hinted at a honeymoon on the white sands of an exclusive resort somewhere sunny. I couldn’t help wondering if he’d still go, maybe with one of the guys, maybe with some other woman….<br /><br />Shaking my head, I tell myself not to think about that now, or him for that matter. <br /><br />Every time I start to my stomach started to hurt and my throat started to get tight. There was going to be plenty of time to feel sorry for myself later, <span style="font-style:italic;">after </span>the show.<br /><br />____________________________________________________________________<br /><br />The room was quiet. Like, you could hear a pin drop quiet. It was almost worse than losing game seven to the Wings two years ago. That had been the quiet of everything being left out on the ice and not having the energy to say anything. This was the quiet of shock, of disbelief. We’d owned Montreal all year. Well three out of four games anyway. We didn’t think we could lose and yet, here we are.<br /><br />The urge to point fingers is pretty high, except the first and foremost finger has to point at me. I’ve been telling myself that I’m trying hard but…but with only a few seconds off the clock I was already in the box and I couldn’t get my head on straight after that. <br /><br />I could blame Mel. This whole thing with her giving me the ring back and then finding out that Max wants her…well it’s thrown me for a loop. <br /><br />But I can’t. I can’t blame either one of them. I’ve been in a foul frame of mind and it’s my own fault. I knew I was trying to force a round peg into a square hole and I just kept trying to stuff it in there because there was something about having her here, supporting me, that I was looking forward to having for a long time.<br /><br />“So, a whole summer for a change,” Jordy says quietly, half a smile on his face as if he’s expecting me to jump down his throat and pull his balls up through his throat. Under normal conditions after this kind of a loss, the guys know to leave me alone for a while. At least until I’ve talked myself down off the ledge. It’s pretty brave thing Jordy’s doing. <br /><br />“Yeah, I guess,” I manage to which he nods and goes back to unlacing his skates. We have played a lot of hockey in the last couple of years. Not that we minded the last two summers being a little short. Not if it meant we were one of the best teams in the league. Actually the last two summers were a lot of fun.<br /><br />I look across the room to find Max almost entirely out of his equipment already. <br /><br />“You going straight up to New York?” I ask, causing Max to pause, half way out of his shoulder pads. He glances over at me, wary, like he’s expecting me to go tell him I’ve changed my mind about giving him permission to date Mel. Not that there would be any point, apart from warning her away from him and that thought has crossed my mind, more than once. <br /><br />“I am,” he says quietly, dropping his shoulder pads into his bag, like he’s not expecting to come back here. <br /><br />“You gonna ask for a trade?” I ask, staring at his bag. No one else has their bag out. Everyone else will be back in a day or two to clean out their lockers her in the Mellon in a day or two. It doesn’t look like Max is planning on joining us for that particular ritual. <br /><br />“Thinking about it,” he mumbles, glancing over at Kris and Flower who both stop what they’re doing and stare at him. “Ne me regardes pas comme un traître. What would you do?” <br /><br />“Tu ne sais pas même ce qu’elle dira,” Tanger points out and Flower gives him that look that says ‘yeah, what about that?’ and Max shrugs. <br /><br />“Tu pense que je pourrais rester ici et jeu avec lui?” he asks, an accusatory tone leaking into his voice as he points at me. <br /><br />“I just gave you permission to ask her out,” I point out but the look Max gives me tells me this isn’t just about that. <br /><br />“Tu la penses qu’elle voudrait tu voir? Chaque jour?” I think about not seeing her, maybe never seeing her again and my there’s a pain, deep in my chest. Not that I’d blame her for not wanting to see me. Not that I could blame him for wanting to steal her away and keep her all to himself. And yet….<br /><br />“Why don’t you let her decide that?” I ask, hoping Mel might remember that above everything else, that we’ve been friends for a really long time. “If she wants you that is,” I add, unable to stop myself from planting that seed of doubt. I just can’t picture her with him. <br /><br />“I’d never presume to make decisions for her,” Max snarls, shaking his head. “J’ai le respect pour elle,” he continues, “àla différence de vous.” <br /><br />“I’ve been her friend forever,” I remind him to which he continues to shake his head. <br /><br />“Some friend,” Max laughs sarcastically and I find myself on my feet, my hands curled into fists. <br /><br />“Ralentissement mes amis,” Flower jumps in between us and suddenly that silence is back and the only thing I can hear is the sound of my own blood pulsating through my veins as I stare at Max, willing him to take the first shot so that I can take out all of my frustrations on him, so that even if he does go to her, he’ll be black and blue and I don’t care if that makes him sympathetic. Right now I don’t care about that. I only care about putting my fist through his self satisfied face. <br /><br />“Tu as raison Flower. He’s not worth it. I have a woman to woo,” he grins at me, showing every one of his teeth, like a threat. “Have fun explaining to the press why you’ll be spending the summer tous par tu-même, mon capitaine,” he adds, reaching out to give my cheek a tap, but I push his hand away. “You don’t want to toss me those tickets to the Maldives do you mon capitaine? After all, you won’t be needing them,” he adds, grinning wide, like a fucking retarded jack o lantern. <br /><br />“Max, please” Jordy pleads, pushing my sometimes wing-mate towards the showers. “You might still be teammates next year. Don’t make this worse. C’mon, let’s just get ready and get out of here.” <br /><br />“You’re going with him?” I feel like adding et tu Bruté and reeling backward as if I’ve been stabbed but I decide there seems to be enough theatrics right now. <br /><br />“Kennedy’s in Mel’s show, they’re expecting us,” Jordy explains apologetically, shrugging his big shoulders as if that is all that needs saying. <br /><br />“They’re expecting you? Mel’s expecting <span style="font-style:italic;">him</span>?” I point at the furry Frenchman and then look up at the big blonde forward whose blue eyes are a little too wide. <br /><br />“Well…I mean, no not exactly. I mean…I’m sure she won’t be surprised…I mean…I mean…,” the big farm boy looks around for help and that hush falls over the room again and all of a sudden I get that prickly feeling at the back of my neck telling me that I’m missing something, something that should be obvious, after all, everyone else in the room seems to know.<br /><br />“What do you mean Gronk? Tell me…I’m curious. Why would Mel be expecting Max?”<br /><br />“They’re friends,” Tanger reminds me, and, having taken a deep breath, I decide I can accept that argument and decide to drop it in the name of team unity. <br /><br />“And she knows I’ve been waiting for you to screw up and now that you have…I intend…,” Max’s voice trails away and then he shrugs and just shakes his head. <br /><br />“What? What do you intend to do Max? Go on, tell me? I’m dying of curiosity now,” I call to him as he turns to head into the showers. “And what do you mean she’s been waiting? What the fuck does that even mean? Mel’s so in love with me….”<br /><br />“Yeah, <span style="font-style:italic;">so </span>in love with you she’s spent two night in my bed,” Max snarls, whirling on me and crossing the room in two strides to push me off of my feet and onto my ass.<br /><br />There it is, that silence again. This time I know that everyone’s holding their breath, waiting for me to get up to my feet and shove my fist down his throat. The funny thing is, even though I’m angry, blood boiling angry, I don’t feel like hitting him. I actually feel kind of relieved. I actually feel like I’ve been holding my breath and all of a sudden I’ve come up to the surface of a deep pool and I can actually pull oxygen into my lungs again. <br /><br />“You…you slept with Mel?” I almost laugh as I climb to my feet and brush myself off and it actually requires a certain amount of willpower not to. Max stands there, staring back at me with an expression on his face that speaks volumes about how much he would like to take back what he’s just said but I can also see that he’s too proud to. “You stood there and lectured me about Charline, and you were sleeping with my fiancée the whole time?” <br /><br />“You keep calling her that mais tu ne l’aimes pas meme! You starved her of affection. Her eyes dance when you come in a room mais tu l’incites à se sentir comme elle n’est pas mériter de ton temps! Don’t you dare stand there and try to make this something ugly, quelque chose sordid. Je l’aime avec chaque fibre simple de mon être, something you could never understand.” I’ve rarely seen Max quite this passionate about anything or anyone. The usually laid backed, jovial, goofy man I’ve known for years is staring daggers at me. Even when he fought Carcillo, I never saw murder in his eyes. <br /><br />“Jesus Christ Max…have you felt like this the whole time?” I watch as a bright pink stain creeps up from beneath his collar and finally makes its way to the tips of his ears. “Fuck…you have haven’t you? Fuck man, why didn’t you just say something?” <br /><br />“Because…because she’s in love with you! Because I was <span style="font-style:italic;">trying </span>to be your friend. Because I wanted her to be happy, quelque chose que tu pourriez avoir pensé pour essayer.” It’s like being stabbed with a knife and not in my back and not exactly in my heart either. More like in my conscience. Suddenly it’s impossible to look at him, to meet his gaze or anyone else’s. “Oui, tu as été un piqûre égoiste. Time to grow up and stop trading on the fucking pure as hell image you think everyone fucking buys into,” Max snarls, brushing past me, heading into the showers. <br /><br />It’s only then that the normal sort of buzz of activity begins again and leaves me standing there in the middle of the room, staring at my feet, wondering just what kind of asshole I’ve actually turned into. <br />_________________________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />“Still up?” Kensie asks, yawning and stretching as she appears around the corner wearing a faded grey t-shirt that I’m guessing probably belonged to Jordan once upon a time. It’s long and miles too big for her, nearly reaching her knees. <br /><br />“Yeah, but I’ve only got a couple more little pieces to fix,” I smile gratefully up at her as she leans on the edge of the sewing table. “Thanks for staying here,” I add, glancing briefly at the cot in the corner of Gareth’s studio where she’s been curled since about two in the morning. “I couldn’t stand the thought of being here all night by myself.” <br /><br />“Hey, what are friends for. Speaking of which, how long are you gonna keep wearing that?” she asks, picking up a pair of shears and using it to point at the Claddagh ring on my hand. I stare down at it, holding my hand out like it’s not really a part of me, which at almost five in the morning isn’t that much of a stretch. I’ve been sewing, half asleep, for hours. I have so many pin pricks and needle jabs I could pass for a junkie. <br /><br />“I dunno,” I answer honestly. “I haven’t really thought about it,” which is a lie. I have. I just keep hoping that somehow…some way we can salvage something from this mess, and not even necessarily anything like the girlhood dream I’ve now come to terms with doing without. Just…friends. “I’d settle for friends now,” I shrug, looking up at Kensie, expecting her to give me one of those sort of big sister disappointed looks. Maybe it’s because she’s tired or I am, but she smiles and reaches forward to muss my hair. <br /><br />“He’s crazy if he doesn’t at least value you that much,” she adds, moving to pry my fingers off of the piece I’m finishing, putting it and the needle in my hand down on the table. “I’m not as good at this as you but I think I can manage a hem. You need to get some sleep or you’ll have to have as much make up on as GaGa when you go out on that runway this afternoon.” I start to reach for the piece but when I look down at my hands and see them shaking, I give in and let her lead me to the cot. “Oh and by the way, just so you don’t flip out if you happen to see him skulking around tomorrow, Jordan’s coming,” she adds as I try and stifle a yawn.<br /> <br />“Jordy? But aren’t they…?”<br /><br />“They lost tonight. Man you really haven’t paid any attention have you?” she smiles as she pulls the blanket up over me. <br /><br />“I’ve been making a concerted effort not to,” I sigh, closing my eyes. “I can’t believe they lost to the Habs…Sidney must be…,” I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying it. I have to stop thinking about him all the time. What would Sidney do? Like some kind of mantra that he’s not really deserving of. “I wonder if Jordy will bring Tanger or any of the guys?” I wonder aloud, as sleep pulls me down into through the haze and into the deep darkness of sleep.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-70296937581129578732010-05-14T15:28:00.000-07:002010-05-14T15:38:11.366-07:00Chapter 40A special shout out to K whose comments I always smile when I see them and I love that you get the familial and genetic reasons behind the behaviors. Thank you <br /><br />As for the rest of you thank you for enjoying and craving more. <br /><br />“Mother fucking son of a cunt licking whore!!” I’d heard Army put together that particular string of profanity once and I’d liked it, but I keep it for special occasions. Having to go to a game seven against a team that we’ve owned all year seems like an appropriate time to use it.<br /><br />“Sacre bleu,” Tanger laughs, and I round on him, ready to snap and let him have it with both barrels until I see the sardonic look on his face and then I just nod. <br /><br />“It’s another game,” Gonchar shrugs, putting his hand on my shoulder and leading me away from the defenseman who I can see is already blaming himself. “We can do better next game.” <br /><br />“Maybe you can,” I grumble, “I can’t hit the fucking broadside of a barn with a fucking map and a mother fucking compass.” <br /><br />“Maybe if your head was in the right space,” Billy G begins and I feel my upper lip curling at the indictment in my winger’s voice. “Don’t look at me like that kiddo. We’re all friends here. I have to be honest with you and I think you already know it. You’re head isn’t in it. I don’t know where the fuck it is but you haven’t been yourself lately, and I don’t just mean since the other night,” he adds quickly, obviously seeing that I’m ready to argue the point. “I’m not asking you to tell me what’s going on with you but you’d better get your head on straight or it isn’t just going to be that little girl that you’ll be losing.”<br /><br />“She’s got nothing to do with this,” I snarl but both he and Gonch shake their heads.<br /><br />“I’m not saying whatever happened between you two the other night is what’s messing with you out on the ice, but I am saying that whatever head space you’re in is and probably had something to do with what’s happening between you and that girl of yours. So do yourself a favor, on the ride home tonight, instead of playing games or whatever, maybe think about what the fuck you’re doing right now and get fucking honest with yourself kid. You’re better than this, on both counts,” Billy adds and then with one, long disappointed father look on his face, he turns and heads to his stall. <br /><br />I stare at his back, all kinds of retorts springing to the tip of my tongue, but all I end up doing is standing there looking like a fish out of water, my mouth opening and closing uselessly with nothing coming out of it because I know he’s not wrong, I just don’t fucking know what’s right. I’ve been off for most of the second half of the season and I can’t figure out why. I’m not injured, not anymore than anyone else, and there have been games where I’ve felt like myself but ever since the Olympics….<br /><br />“Aaaarrrgh! Fuck it!” I toss my gloves down and run my fingers through my hair because my head hurts and because I want so much to fucking punch a wall and I know if I do I’ll hurt myself and I’m already letting everyone down….<br /><br />“Quoi de neuf?” Flower asks quietly, looking sheepishly up at me like he’s half afraid I’m going to knock his block off and why wouldn’t he? I can feel the murderous rage pumping through me and I know it shows, it always shows. <br /><br />“Je suis très confondu en ce moment,” I explain, leaning my head against the wall and closing my eyes. <br /><br />“C’est au sujet de la fille de l’equipe Canadienne?” he asks, almost under his breath and I grunt in reply and it almost hurts to do it, like it’s painful to admit to it and I keep thinking so it should be. I let Mel down. She trusted me and I’ve been fucking horrible to her because of this and she didn’t deserve it. I’ve known it. It’s been there, in the back of my mind, like a fucking cancer for weeks. “L’aimes tu?” <br /><br />“Don’t ask me that Fleur,” I beg, banging my head against the wall. “I don’t fucking think I know what that is.”<br /><br />“Tu aimes Mel?” he asks, and this time I don’t even shrug or grunt or anything. I know the answer to that. I’ve known it all along but I’ve been trying to do the right thing, or what I thought was the right thing, but now…?<br /><br />“No,” I sigh, turning to slide down to the bench before dropping my head into my hands. “I mean…I’ve tried to…I’ve wanted to but…no, no, I don’t think I do.” I raise my head, prepared for whatever disapproving or sympathetic look Fleur might give but instead my gaze locks with Max’s intense and angry glare across the room. He’s supposed to be one of my best friends but lately we’ve hardly been talking and I don’t have to ask whose side he’s on. It’s clear on his face. <br /><br />“Are you done?” he asks, his voice gruff and low, his gaze level and simmering. “Es tu fini jouer des jeux avec elle?” I open my mouth to argue that I haven’t been playing games, but I guess from the outside looking in, it might look exactly like that. <br /><br />“I never intended to hurt her,” I begin but Max shakes his head and his gaze grows even darker until it reminds me of the look he had out there on the ice tonight when it was clear the rink had tilted in their direction and we were digging our own grave, fast. <br /><br />“Je me blâme,” Max shrugs, his gaze still holding mine intently. “I should never have talked you into speaking with you at your partie de celebration pendent l’été,” he continues, a sneer that Billy Idol would be proud of on his face. “Mais cela n’importe pas maintenant. All I want to know now is…is she free? Es-tu fini mettre son bas et la prendre encore?”<br /><br />“Max…,” Flower’s voice holds a warning but it’s clear from the grim but determined look on Max’s face that whatever is on his mind, he’s going to let it out. <br /><br />“is. She. Free?” he snarls, his meaty hands curled into fists on his knees. <br /><br />“You mean…you and…and Mel?” So many things are clicking into place now, how angry he’s been, how disapproving he’s been…. “Have you had a thing for her this entire time?” I ask, still trying to picture the two of them actually together, and not just the show they put on for my benefit a few months ago…at least Mel told me it was a show. <br /><br />“Is. She. Free?” he repeats, forcing the words through his teeth and I feel a strange mixture of jealousy and relief as I think about giving him my blessing to date my fiancée, if that is what he’s about to ask. <br /><br />“And if I say yes?” I ask, watching his expression carefully. His eyes narrow and his lips purse and I can see that he’s trying to decide if he’s going to answer the question or not and then he stand, shrugging out of his shoulder pads and half turning away.<br /><br />“If you do or you don’t, I can’t watch you do what you’re doing anymore. She…she doesn’t deserve you.” <br /><br />“Oh I see, and she <span style="font-style:italic;">does </span>deserve <span style="font-style:italic;">you</span>?” I ask, thinking about all of the times that Max has had three, sometimes up to five girls on the run at the same time. <br /><br />“Oui,” Max says quietly, that joker’s grin that’s more threat than smile slowly spreading across his face. “You see, I love her. Je mourrais pour elle, c’est la difference, non?” I find myself staring at him, my breath literally stolen from my lungs as he stares me down, daring me to disbelieve him and I can’t. Not when it’s clear on his face that what he wants to do right now is to rip me to shreds, except that he won’t because he’s loyal like that, because we’re teammates and the team matters more than the individual. “Je peux voir que tu comprends. I’ve tried, god knows, I’ve tried not to feel…how I feel for her because I love you like a brother but…I won’t…not anymore. I can’t stand by and let you treat her like…comme une putain commune, comprends?” <br /><br />“Oui, je comprends,” I say quietly, feeling like there’s a knife in my back but that I probably deserve it. “Just do me one favor,” I ask quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tell her I’m sorry.” Max stares at me for one long, silent, uncomfortable moment and then he nods and holds his hand out towards me. I stare down at it, a little shocked that he’d offer it to be honest. But then I take it and we shake and I know that it will be okay, whatever happens. <br /><br />____________________________________________________<br /><br />“You’re not even going to watch it?” Kennedy asks as she drops her leather jacket onto the chair and tosses her keys in the bowl before heading for the kitchen to grab a beer. Every time she does that, I wonder how many girls she beat out for a modeling job today are busy picking away at some plain lettuce and a boiled chicken breast while she’s drinking beer. Life just isn’t fair. <br /><br />“Nah,” I answer, glancing at the TV set that I haven’t even turned on. “I have some designs I’m working on,” I explain, grabbing another coloured pencil and shading the edge of the jacket I’ve been designing. <br /><br />“Mmm,” Kensie looks over my shoulder, digging her pointy elbow into it as she does. “It’s good. I’d wear that.” <br /><br />“But is it haute couture?” I sigh, lifting the pencil away and looking down at it disparagingly. <br /><br />“Gareth just said he wanted good ideas from you, he takes care of that outlandish crazy shit that people don’t really wear. You’re prêt-a-porter, remember?” she reminds me, tipping the neck of the beer bottle towards me before walking over towards the TV and dropping onto the couch, one foot slung over the back. “So you’re really not gonna even watch? I mean, that’s really it? You’re really done with the love of your life?” she asks sarcastically, grabbing the remote in her free hand and aiming it towards the TV. I wince as I watch the picture flicker to life. It hasn’t been nearly long enough for me to feel convinced of my own will power quite yet, hence the game not being on.<br /><br />“Don’t call him that,” I mutter, doing my best to focus on the page in front of me and not on the little black and gold figures racing around the ice. <br /><br />“Well you’re the one that’s been going around all cow eyed,” she smirks, downing half of the beer to try and hide the smile on her face. I know she’s just teasing. Well, teasing and testing me. She was great when I got home, let me cry and didn’t ask any questions, so I guess I can put up with a little good natured ribbing. <br /><br />“I’ve decided that he isn’t the person I grew up with.” I can’t keep my eyes off of the screen, no matter how hard I try. I find myself watching the screen, searching for his number almost absentmindedly, like my brain is do attuned to doing it that I can’t stop myself. <br /><br />“He probably isn’t,” Kennedy agrees, pushing herself up to an actual sitting position and regarding me with sympathetic eyes. <br /><br />“I think that we didn’t give ourselves time to get to know who we are now,” I continue thoughtfully, watching him sitting on the bench, gnawing anxiously on the corner of his bottom lip. “Or maybe I just didn’t want to see who he is now,” I add with a little sigh as he jumps out onto ice and glides easily towards centre ice. <br />Neither of us says anything for a while. We just watch the Pens running in circles trying to keep up with the obviously more energized, more hungry Habs who, unlike the Pens, are making short, crisp tape to tape passes and successfully blocking shots. <br /><br />“What about Max?” Kensie asks as the cute furry faced Frenchman slams into the SS Gill behind the net and manages to make it look like he wasn’t trying to cause the big defenseman some serious physical damage. <br /><br />“Ahhh,” I sigh, feeling that now familiar tightness in my chest.<br /> <br />“What’s <span style="font-style:italic;">that </span>mean?” Kensie asks, leaning over the back of the couch to look at me. <br /><br />“There can’t be a Max,” I reply, somewhat wistfully. <br /><br />“Why not?” she asks, dropping her chin onto the backs of her hands and peering at me with pursed lips as if I’ve said something stupid. Tipping my head to one side I raise an eyebrow. “Okay, besides the obvious friendship and teammate things.” <br /><br />“Does there need to be more?” I ask. “And besides…I’m broken hearted here. I can’t start…I wouldn’t want to start…and it would be too complicated and…and it was just sex anyway.” They’re all the reasons I’ve told myself, words I’ve practiced in my head. They sound right, honest, sane but when I watch him being lead to the sin bin, I can’t help smiling back at the mischievous grin he wears on his face.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-60725150118475497402010-05-13T12:45:00.000-07:002010-05-13T12:52:02.410-07:00Chapter 39<span style="font-style:italic;">I think we're probably all reeling from last night. I know I am. I don't think this is going to help like some of you seem to hope it will, but here goes nothing...</span><br /><br /><br />“Was there ever any doubt?” TK shouts as he raises his hands above his head, celebrating our victory. I can still hear the crowd leaving the arena, it sounds like the buzz of a beehive. <br /><br />“Fucking A!” Jordy howls, dragging his jersey off and tossing it in the pile in the middle of the room before making a muscle man pose and growling like a rabid dog. <br /><br />“It’s one game guys, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Papa G counsels quietly from across the room where he’s quietly taking off his pads. Christ it was good to have him out there again, even if I still came up empty handed as far as the score sheet is concerned.<br /><br />“I say we drink to our win,” Brooksy announces, one hand on his chest, the other out like he’s holding a shot, and knowing Brooks, it’s going to be named something like sex on the beach and have whipcream on it. <br /><br />“Drink? We haven’t won anything yet,” Flower points out, looking over to me for support and normally I’d be right behind Billy G with his warnings to cool it but even though I haven’t been able to crawl my way onto the score sheet and even though we’re not handling Montreal as easily as I think we should….<br /><br />“I’m up for it. So Diesel or Privé?” I ask, watching Fleur’s mouth fall open as I do. “What? It’s not like whatever I’m doing is working and I had sex before a game and we won so…why not?” I feel a cool hand on my forehead and spin to see Jordan looking down at me with a furrowed brow.<br /><br />“Who are you and what have you done with the Creature?” <br /><br />“I’d take him up on his offer if I were you.” We both turn to Max who has quietly sat down beside me on the bench and is untying his skates. “Just wait until he has ankle biters, he won’t be so accommodating then.” <br /><br />“So Privé it is,” TK announces, standing up on the bench. “First round’s on the Captain,” he adds with a grin and wink in my direction. <br /><br />“You coming Max?” I ask, to which he shrugs as he gets up to put his skates on the shelf above his name. <br /><br />“May as well,” he sighs, tugging his jersey off and adding it to the growing pile in the middle of the room before eyeing the door to the room with a wariness that isn’t like Max at all. “Is she coming?” <br /><br />“She who?” Jordy asks, sounding interested, as if he hasn’t been exclusively hot and heavy with my fiancée’s roommate for months now. <br /><br />“Je ne sais pas,” Max replies, raising an eyebrow as he drops his hockey pants and grabs a towel, throwing it over his shoulder. “Will it be Mel tonight or Charline?” <br /><br />“Mel, definitely Mel. I’m committed to that now. I’ve decided,” I reply happily, thinking about how acquiescent and sweet she was last night after we got that little matter of ‘our song’ out of the way. It’s nice to be wanted, I’ve decided. Nice to know that she still needs me and that this whole job in New York thing hasn’t entirely distracted her from our relationship. <br /><br />“Oh so you’ve decided now have you? Well I guess that must be so comforting to Mel to know that you’ve ‘decided’ to commit to her now,” he snorts sarcastically before shaking his head and heading for the showers. “Lucky her, to have you so committed,” he adds, making rabbit ears in the air as he walks away from us. “Quelle fille chanceuse.” I open my mouth to argue but Jordan puts his hand on my shoulder and just shakes his head. <br /><br />“He’s just…,” Jordan stares after him and shrugs. “He’s having a hard time out there and you two are hardly hanging out now…it’s hard for him,” the big blonde defenseman explains, as if that excuses Max being such a petty bitch. <br /><br />“Oui, laisseaz-le seul pour maintenant,” Flower agrees, his gaze also following our furry French friend towards the showers. “He’s dealing the best he can.”<br /><br />“What about me? I haven’t scored…well unless you count last night,” I add with a grin, earning me a hard punch in the arm from Jordan. <br /><br />“Shut up! When’s the last time Mel brought Kensie with her? Give me your fucking phone. I’m calling your ho and telling her to get that bitch on a plane,” Jordan makes a grab for my jacket and I swat his hand away. <br /><br />“Hey, use your own phone and my fiancée is not a ho, thanks very much. She’s a very sweet girl from a small town and I’d like you to treat her accordingly,” I laugh, grabbing my own towel and starting to twist it to use as a weapon. <br /><br />“Okay, okay, I’m going, fuck!” Jordan howls, sucking his gut in and running for the showers. “Hurry up Cap, I wanna get drunk tonight!”<br /><br />“You boys don’t stay out too late,” Pappa G admonishes us, putting his hand on my shoulder. “We do still have one more game. At least I hope it’s one more game,” he adds with a grin, and then, with only his towel thrown over his shoulder, he too aims for the showers, leaving me and Flower and Cookie alone in the room with reporters breaking down the doors.<br /><br />___________________________________________________<br /><br />“This place is…,” I let out a long low whistle as I turned around and around in the middle of the club, the VIP section which didn’t make a lot of sense, being smack dab in the middle of everything where everyone could gawk at us, but who was I to say? <br /><br />“I think <span style="font-style:italic;">swank </span>is the word you’re looking for,” Jordy tries to finish my sentence as he grabs another glow in the dark martini from the platter being carried by a tall, voluptuous brunette. Not that Jordan even looks twice at her, a fact I remind myself to pass on to Kennedy when I email her later.<br /><br />“I was thinking more along the lines of classy,” I muse, taking in the luxurious couches, the diffused lighting, and all of the well dressed clientele. “This is way better than that other place you boys like to go and get sweaty at,” I add, taking the drink from Jordan and joining him on the couch next to where Tanger is deep in conversation with a curvy dark haired girl with glasses who is giggling and blushing at whatever, probably profane, things he’s saying. <br /><br />“You mean Blush?” GoGo asks, returning from the bar armed with a tray of shooters. <br />“I think she means Diesel,” Sid sighs, rolling his eyes at his teammate, shaking his head at the tray when it’s offered. <br /><br />“I thought you said you were going to have some fun,” TK sighs, taking two shooters himself and downing both of them without seeming to even swallow. I shake my head, eyeing a whip cream and cherry topped shooter and wondering if Sidney would dive into my cleavage for it but before I actually get my hands on the tiny glass, Sidney’s pulling me onto his lap and sliding his hands up under the hem of the black leather halter dress, one of the pieces from the collection that Gareth has given me that I had had no idea where or when I was going to wear it but clubbing it with the Penguins seemed like an appropriate use of it. <br /><br />“Have I told you yet how good you look tonight?” Sidney asks, his fingertips tracing the patterns in the lace at the top of my stockings. <br /><br />“Have I told you how funny you are when you’re drunk?” I ask, glancing furtively around to see who, besides his teammates, might be watching the captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins getting overly friendly with his fiancée in public. <br /><br />“I’m not drunk babe. If I was drunk…,” his voice trails off and he gets that look in his caramel coloured eyes that tells me exactly how much farther his hands would be up my dress if he was well and truly under the influence. <br /><br />“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk,” Jordan chimes in, watching the two of us with a mixture of jealousy and genuine curiosity. <br /><br />“Can’t think of the last time I was,” Sidney replies thoughtfully, his eyes still glazed over, that half smile of his telling me that he isn’t really thinking about that at all. <br /><br />“I remember,” the voice behind me makes the small hairs on my neck stand up on end. “Diesel, last year, after we won, you were hitting on everything in skirt,” Max adds dryly, reaching past me to grab a shot from the platter, downing it and then reaching for another. <br /><br />“I seem to remember you stumbling around too,” Jordan reminds him quietly but pointedly, his gaze clearly adding a warning that, with a quick glance up at the bearded Frenchman, I can clearly tell he’s going to ignore. <br /><br />“I have Mel to keep me on the straight and narrow,” Sid replies with a wink to me, as if I’m in on some kind of secret, his hand sliding even further up my thigh until I emit an involuntary shudder as his fingertips chase along the edging of my panties. <br /><br />“Stop it,” I hiss, grasping his arm, my hand too small to even wrap around his muscular forearm but my nails long enough to dig in and leave nasty red welts behind. “I am not one of your puck fucks to be toyed with in public,” I growl, struggling to free myself from his grasp but his hold on me is firm and unyielding. “You <span style="font-style:italic;">are </span>drunk,” I snap, digging my nails in deeper to his pale, white skin.<br /><br />“I am <span style="font-style:italic;">not </span>and you need to relax,” he smile boyishly, as if butter wouldn’t melt, his fingertips now gently brushing the outside of my panties, just at the spot that even the smallest brush steals my breath and makes my body go rigid. “Kennedy, give my girl here another shot. She’s not having fun yet.”<br /><br />“I <span style="font-style:italic;">was </span>having fun,” I insist through clenched teeth, blinking back tears of humiliation as Sidney continues to softly stroke the center of what seems to be the nerve centre of my entire body. My head, now entirely at war with my body, is sending signals to swat him, to rake my nails across his face. My body, being traitorous, is pressing against his hand, wanting more. “Don’t…just…mmmm,” I bite down on my bottom lip, sucking it into my mouth as his fingers find their way beneath the edge of my panties. Heat flames in my cheeks and I press my forehead into his shoulder. “Please Sidney, don’t,” I beg, but he only chuckles in response. <br /><br />“You say don’t, but you’re so wet,” he whispers into my ear as his other arm, the one that’s been cinched around my waist, slides up until his hand is cupping my breast, his thumb flicking my nipple, which, also being traitorous, is almost painfully hard. “We could find a quiet, dark corner and have a private celebration,” he suggests, his voice like liquid honey in my ear. <br /><br />“Stop. It. <span style="font-style:italic;">Now</span>!” I snarl and with one hard shove, dislodge myself from his lap, smoothing my dress down and looking around for an exit. I notice that none of his teammates will even look at me, and the few other WAGs that have joined their men for this celebration are giving me that look, as if I’m some kind of cheap whore who’s crashed their party. <br /><br />Feeling ashamed and embarrassed and with my eyes brimming over with tears, I stumble towards the velvet ropes, the invisible barrier holding back the ‘riff-raff’ from joining in the Pens’ players celebrations. No one tries to stop me. No one reaches out or turns to ask what’s wrong and Sidney doesn’t follow me. All I can hear is a buzzing in my head, the thrum of my blood surging through my veins, panic and the urge to breathe fresh air sending my body into flight mode, until I hear a voice that, just one moment I think it’s only in my head, that I’m imagining it. <br /><br />“We have a request here from the superstar of last year’s game seven against the Wings, the Pens very own number twenty-five, Max Talbot, sending a shout out to a lady very near and dear to his heart that he wants to send a special message to tonight. You know who you are. And I have a message for you too, give the guy a break, the poor dude’s wrapped around your finger.”<br /><br />I stop, my hand on the door as I hear the first bars of the song, a song I’ve been listening to over and over again on my iPod since I first heard it. The song is so incongruous for the place that we’re in that everyone seems to be standing still, confused. It’s probably my imagination but it feels like everyone’s watching me, as if they’ve all turned at once to stare. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">What I’d give to take you dancing<br />What I’d give to make you mine<br />If you’ve got questions, I’ve got answers<br />And my answer is yes to you every time<br />What I’d give for just one minute</span><br /><br />My heart is already pounding, my pulse already rapid, my chest already nearly too tight to breathe, but now my knees begin to give way, except that a pair of hands reaches out to steady me, or I’d have fallen, right there on the floor in the middle of the lounge. Instead, I find myself staring into the grey blue of a storm building off the coast that are Max’s eyes and the plea that is crystal clear there, shakes loose the last of my defenses. <br /><br />His full lips open to speak and I already know what he’s going to say and I know that I can’t hear those words, don’t want to hear them, and I shake my head, tears rolling down my cheeks and I don’t know what or who I’m crying for. All I know is I have to get out of this place. I have to breathe the night air into my lungs. I have to clear my head. I have to think. <br /><br />“Don’t…please don’t,” I whisper, reaching out to press my fingertips to those lips that I know would raise a fire in me if I let them and Max closes his eyes against the plea in my own expression and lets me go, his hands slipping away from arms as he turns and disappears into the crowd, vanishing before my eyes. <br /><br />I stare at the place where he’d just been standing, part of me aching to go after him, to have him hold me and tell me again, as he’s always done how it’s going to be alright, but my feet stay rooted to the spot and the next pair of hands I feel on my shoulders turn me to face the crème caramel coloured eyes of the man I want to love as he searches my face curiously.<br /><br />“What is with you tonight? You’re as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof,” Sidney asks, reaching up to cradle my face tenderly in his hand.<br /><br />“I don’t think…I don’t think this is what I want,” I whisper, my hands shaking as I raise them, as I stare down at the antique ring on my finger. I glance up into Sidney’s curious gaze and see a flicker of panic pass behind his darkly fringed eyes. But then he controls it, wipes it away, just as he would on the ice. Never let them see you sweat. <br /><br />“Think about this…before you do something…brash,” he says quietly, like a threat.<br /> <br />“I have,” I whisper as I turn the wring on my finger, pulling it slowly up and over my knuckle. “I seem to do nothing else,” I add as I reach out to cup his hand in mine, pushing the ring down into his palm with my other hand. I stare down at the ring, at how small and insignificant it looks in his hand, and then I force myself to look up into his fierce gaze, trying my best to school my expression. I want to see hurt there. Hurt and disappointment, but all I see in those caramel coloured eyes that I have loved to look into since I was a little girl in pig tails, is anger. Anger and loathing. <br /><br />“You’ll regret this,” he hisses and I nod. <br /><br />“I do,” I whisper, blinking through the tears that make it hard for me to see. “You have no idea how much I do,” I repeat and then, going up on tip toe, I press my lips to his cheek and then turn and force myself to walk slowly away, keeping my back straight and my head high.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-92202616683823107802010-05-10T09:19:00.001-07:002010-05-10T09:28:39.684-07:00Chapter 38<span style="font-style:italic;">This is kind of a shorty but there was a couple of things I wanted to do before the next chapter so bear with me.</span><br /><br />“And what’s complete bullshit about that is, in the last game, if I’d done that…no penalty. But this guy…this guy won’t put his fucking whistle away and even if he didn’t call a penalty he’s warning us that next time he will. All I want to know is, why can’t they call it the same every game. Or better yet, have the same refs for each game?” <br /><br />I smiled and nodded, agreeing, because in theory, I agreed but the problem was, I was bored and it was all I could do to stifle a yawn behind my hand. <br /><br />I used to listen to this for hours, I thought as I watched his full, pink lips move as he continued to go on and on about Devorski, who the players endearingly call Doughnuts. Not only did I use to listen to this for hours but I would argue, vehemently, right along side of him and I would understand everything he was saying. Of course, then I would have watched every moment, every second of the game and could have given the box score right off of the top of my head. <br /><br />Now, as I watched him gesticulate passionately, I felt…nothing. <br /><br />No, not nothing…I felt apprehensive. <br /><br />Could I do this? I asked myself as I sipped at the chilled white wine and leaned back into the jet that was massaging my back, letting my feet float up into the water. Could I listen to him like this after every game, analyzing and over analyzing every play, ever scintilla of action over and over again until even he grew tired of the sound of his own voice. Could I, if we had one child? Two?<br /><br />Worse than that, I was beginning to realize we had nothing else to talk about, or so it seemed. He shows absolutely no interest in what I do, doesn’t want to hear about the petty squabbles the gay cloth cutter has with the Puerto Rican seamstress that I work with. Every time I even try to talk about designs I’ve created or the upcoming fashion shoot, his eyes literally go blank and I know that he’s gone somewhere in his head; somewhere where he can think about hockey. <br /><br />We don’t talk about anything else. <span style="font-style:italic;">Nothing </span>else.<br /> <br />It’s nothing like when Max and Tanger were in New York and Max could have stayed in the Waldorf with Tanger but he didn’t and we stayed up all night eating popcorn and watching Sex in the City and talking…for hours. <br />____________________________________________________<br /><br />(<span style="font-style:italic;">flashback</span>)<br /><br />“A seahorse? A seahorse can’t be your favorite animal,” I snorted, tossing a white, fluffy, butter covered kernel towards Max whose nose wrinkled up and he actually managed to look tortured by my accusation. <br /><br />“Why not? It’s like a horse,” he began and even he couldn’t keep a straight face.<br /> <br />“It’s a fish. No, it’s not even good enough to really be a fish. It’s a basically a giant sea monkey,” I snorted, popping a kernel into my mouth that had a particularly envious dusting of salt on it. <br /><br />“Hey, seahorse males have the babies, I think that you should give them extra points for that,” he pointed out, making that a-ha face and practically daring me to contradict him. <br /><br />“Well if we’re going with that kind of argument, then fine. A female praying mantis beheads her mate and eats his brains after coitus,” I grinned over at him and watched his eyes go wide. <br /><br />“I’m almost scared for Sid,” he laughed, and I felt my cheeks go bright red. “Favorite flavor of ice cream,” he asked immediately as if he actually wanted to avoid my being embarrassed. <br /><br />“Chocolate,” we both said at once and then started laughing again. <br /><br />“What’s your favorite colour? No, wait, I think I know this one,” Max shut his eyes tight and a slow, sly grin spread across his face. “Purple, right?” I nodded, and felt my forehead wrinkle as I wondered how he knew. “You had that purple Duster you used to drive. I think I remember Sid telling us how you used to work on it out in the driveway.” There was something about the way he said it and then licked his lips, like the thought of a little grease and a wrench in my hand was a dirty thought. “Plus you wear these all the time.” He reached out and his fingertips brushed the edge of my ear where a second set of earrings are embedded behind a pair of silver hoops, the amethyst studs that my father gave me for my sixteenth birthday. “You never take them out,” he added, his fingertips then brushed back my hair gently, sending a shiver down my neck. His hand fell away, almost reluctantly and then the brash, mischievous Max was back. “Favorite band, no wait, I know this one too,” he said, getting up to grab my iPod where it had been sitting beside my purse, like he needed to get away from me, like he needed to put some space between us. “It’s one of those Finnish bands that Ruuts was always listening to,” he continued, scrolling through the music on my iPod and I had a moment where I thought that this was almost an invasion of privacy and yet it never seems like that with Max. <br /><br />“They’re called HiM and I thought Metallica was Ruuts’ favorite band,” I countered, which caused Max to stop and think, which was comical in and of itself. <br /><br />“I didn’t say they were his favorite, I just said he listened to them,” he replied, continuing to scroll through my iPod. <br /><br />“Looking for something?” I asked, watching him standing there with my purple metallic iPod appearing so small in his big hands. <br /><br />“Favorite song,” he mumbled, and that made me laugh. Not the question, just the idea of a favorite song. I didn’t have one, or it depended on the day. “Do you and Sid have one? A song?” he asked and then looked up at me, a wary, almost awkward look on his face. I stared back at him and blinked like an owl. <br /><br />“No,” I replied honestly. “No, we don’t.” <br />________________________________________________________<br /><br />(<span style="font-style:italic;">present day</span>)<br /><br />“And then there’s the fucking SS Gill, hanging off of me like some kind of rabid dog humping my leg.” Sid is still going on about the game and I stare at him, feeling resentment and anger coming off of me in waves and feeling, at the same time, wonder that he can’t feel it. <br /><br />“He can hardly skate. Hal Gill can barely skate backwards and skates like a duck on stilts forwards. You can get around him. You’re one of the best three skaters in the entire league and you’re bitching about that big behemoth?” I shake my head, climbing out of the hot tub and grabbing my towel all in one motion, wrapping it around me as if to make a shield of it. “You need to stop bitching and moaning and feeling sorry for yourself. Get out of your own head. You’re no good to the team like this, crabbing about what everyone else is doing instead of asking what you can do better,” I point out, sticking my feet into my sandals and turning to head into the house. <br /><br />I hear his wet feet on the concrete behind me and then his arms are around me, pulling me back towards him, his body warm and solid behind mine. <br /><br />“I’m sorry. I know, I do this all the time. Talk about hockey. You probably want to talk about what you’re doing. Come back in the water, tell me all about the uh…the fashion show thing,” he stutters because he doesn’t know what to ask, because he hasn’t paid the least bit of attention to what I’m doing and doesn’t care. <br /><br />“What’s my favorite colour?” I ask, staring straight ahead, wanting him to answer quickly, and correctly. <br /><br />“Ummm, green right?” he says, because that’s his favorite colour and of course I should have the same. <br /><br />“No, it’s not,” I reply quietly, peeling his hands from my waist and pulling away from him. “We don’t even have a song. Did you know that? You don’t know what I do, you don’t know my favorite colour and we don’t have a song,” I sniff, blinking back tears before I run into the house, slamming the heavy wooden door behind me and sliding down onto the floor with my back against it. <br /><br />It only took a few minutes before I could hear the tell tale sound of wet bare feet on hard wood floors and I hunker down, determined not to let him talk me around. I hear him stop on the other side of the door and I imagine him standing there on the other side with his hand raised to knock on the door, trying to decide if I’m worth it I guess, or maybe what he could possibly say but he then the footsteps fade and for just a moment everything in me want to scramble to my feet turn the knob and chase after him but I tell myself not to. ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">You’ve chased him your entire life. Let him chase you for once</span>.’ <br /><br />But the tears flow all the same even though I can’t decide what I’m crying for. For myself, for the little girl that still loves him and wants him more than anything or for all the wasted time….<br /><br />That’s when the iPod slides under the door. I stare down at the big, plastic classic white iPod and it takes a minute to realize that it’s dialed to a song. Picking it up, I stare down at the selection and then the tears start all over again, even as a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. <br /><br />Picking up the ear buds, I stick them in the hit the button to make it play. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">I’m gonna check my scars at home<br />Gonna cash my chips and roam <br />Gonna walk before I fade to black<br />I’m gonna write a new resume <br />I’m gonna write you off the page</span><br /><br />Slowly I push myself up to my feet and wipe at my tears, try to make my face impassive. After all, I’m supposed to still be mad but….<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">And in a little while<br />I’ll see the distant smile returning <br />Just like back in the days <br />When we were so naïve</span><br /><br />It’s a song I’d listened to a lot the first summer he’d gone away. It was from an older Tom Cochrane album, I think it had been my dad’s but the song had stuck with me. I’d given Sid a copy of the album when he’d finally left for good. We’d listened to it in my car the night before he’d flown to Pittsburgh and left me behind, for good I’d thought at the time.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">That distant smile returning<br />Just like a ghost in a dream<br />That we had way back when<br />Then she’ll turn and smile and say<br />Come again</span><br /><br />Slowly I open the door to find Sidney standing there, arms crossed, waiting, watching my door. Taking the ear buds out of my ear, I go to wipe at my tears again but his hand is there first and then his arms are around me and I’m sixteen again, failing utterly to convince him that I’m happy for him and that I really do wish him well and he’s eighteen again, comforting me when it’s him that needs comforting.<br /><br />Oh god I am, I really am my mother.<br /><br />“I’m sorry,” I whisper against his shoulder and feel his chest rumble beneath my cheek as he laughs. <br /><br />“For what? For reminding me not to whine like a little bitch?” he asks, tilting my chin up so that I have to meet his gaze, which I’m surprised to see seems to be amused and not angry. “For reminding me that you matter to me?” <br /><br />“You have so much to worry about, I don’t want to be one of those clingy little bitches,” I mutter, which makes him laugh as he holds my face in his hands and presses a kiss to first one eyelid and then the other. <br /><br />“You could never be one of those,” he grins, his voice and expression softening as he leans in to press his mouth softly over mine. “Come to bed?” he asks softly, and I nod, letting him lead me down the hallway.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-72620552324958854332010-05-07T15:10:00.000-07:002010-05-07T15:19:37.572-07:00Chapter 37<span style="font-style:italic;">This chapter kicked my ass, so thanks for your patience. Must have something to do with the Nucks and the Pens both losing...</span><br /><br /><br />“How long has that been going on?” I turn from watching Charline and a couple of her other teammates heading down the corridor under Mellon to find Max and Jordan standing behind me, watching me with obvious disapproval. <br /><br />“Oh don’t go all Mother Goose on me. Half the guys on the team are married and every one of them has some girl in one city or another…,” I begin but Jordan just shakes his head at me and turns away, so I look to Max for corroboration and he just keeps staring at me like I’ve stolen his damn teddy bear. “What? Oh c’mon Max. You’ll fuck anything that moves. Are you going to seriously stand there and tell you wouldn’t hit that?” I ask, pointing at the girls’ retreating forms. <br /><br />“We’re not…je ne parle pas de moi,” Max breathes, grabbing me by my collar and pushing me out of the way of the trainers as they load our equipment into the shipping containers that will follow us to Montreal. “Look, if you were looking for some…I don’t know…wiggle room,” he sighs, pushing a rolled up newspaper into my hand, “you should have thought of that before you did this.” I unroll the paper, already knowing what I’m going to find and stare down at the nearly half page announcement; so much for a tasteful and trivial mention. “You didn’t even do it properly,” he grimaces, snatching the paper back from me. “Cette image ne ressemble pas la même fille.” <br /><br />“Okay now you’re just letting your best man duties get the better of you. You’re supposed to be supporting me,” I remind him, feeling like I should be getting a high five, not some kind of lecture on ethics and dating from Professor crabs. <br /><br />“This is you…and you’re supposed to be above that kind of shit.” He insists, grabbing my shoulders and staring into my eyes like he’s trying to do some kind of Vulcan mind meld.<br /><br />“Says who?” I laugh, pushing his hands away from my shoulders.<br /> <br />“Says me,” Max snarls indignantly. “You’re supposed to be better than that. You’re supposed to be the good guy, the guy we all try and fucking emulate,” he continues, rambling on like some kind of deranged lunatic, gesturing wildly and then finally running his hands through his short, cropped hair. <br /><br />“I didn’t sign up for that. I never asked anyone to appoint me a god damned saint,” I tell him, shrugging. “Is this because you’ve gotten close to Mel?” I ask him and he shifts uncomfortably, shuffling his feet as he looks away from me. “Look I get it. It’s kind of…. No, it is bad, I get that but if she wasn’t so damn vanilla in bed,” I begin trying to explain my side of things only to have Max turn back to me, staring at me, wild eyed. <br /><br />“<span style="font-style:italic;">Vanilla</span>? You must be fucking joking,” Max hisses at me, and for just one minute, I think he’s going to say more and then he looks away. “What I mean is…I mean the way she talks I just thought….”<br /><br />“I didn’t say she was <span style="font-style:italic;">bad</span>, exactly, she’ just not…I don’t know, it’s not great is what I’m saying. So I have one last fling and get it out of my system, it’s not like it’s something you wouldn’t do,” I point out to him, fully expecting him to give me one of those barely there shrugs that would signal that he didn’t have a comeback. Instead, he shakes his head and glares at me.<br /><br />“She’s your god damned fiancée,” he reminds me, managing to look both threatening and disappointed at the same time. “You’re about to promise to have and to hold and all that….”<br /><br />“Yeah about to,” I remind him, taking a step back from my usually easy going friend who keeps looking at me like I’ve just kicked his damn puppy. “Damn Max. I never thought I’d be getting this lecture from you. Papa G yeah but…,” I begin but when Max gives that heavy sigh and drags his fingers through his hair I let my words die away until he looks back up at me.<br /><br />“I just thought…fuck man! You’re like my hero, d’accord? And I know, I haven’t always treated women...avec autant respect que je pourrais avoir, mais…mais je sais que tu n’as pas voulu un rapport avec une femme célibataire, mais…I just always thought when you did, quand le bon moment est venu, that you would be the guy who’d do la bonne chose, be the Prince Charming, que ton serait la fin hereuse de conte de fées and we’d all look up to you and we’d know…we’d have something to…pour aspirer à,” he explains, falling into Frenglish as he grabs me by the shoulders and literally shakes me. <br /><br />“So now you’re disappointed in me? I’ve got news for you mon ami, I’m a fucking human being. I don’t want to be your role model. I didn’t ask to be anyone’s role model or Prince Charming or what the fuck ever. I just want to live my fucking life,” I snap back, pushing him away and for just one moment, I think Max is going to lose it and I’m going to get one in the chops, but he takes a deep breath instead and hangs his head. <br /><br />“What about her? What about being her Prince?” he asks, his gaze meeting mine slowly, the anger that seemed to dissipate while he lectured me begins leaking back.<br /> <br />“I <span style="font-style:italic;">am </span>her Prince,” I shrug. “Whether I deserve to be…I don’t know Max. I’m just a guy. I’m not better than you or Tanger or Dupes. I am what I am. Mel…she knows that. Maybe you don’t think she does but she’s a pretty smart cookie. I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill,” I tell him but I can see he’s far from being convinced.<br /><br />“So you’ll tell her then? Dires-lui au sujet de ton affaire?” <br /><br />“Affair? Max…seriously, you’re blowing shit way out of proportion,” I laugh, patting his shoulder and turning away. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her and it’s a one off, I tell myself, and Max won’t tell her either. <br /><br />Nah…he won’t, bros before ho’s and all that. Max may be a lot of things, including, obviously a way too emotional Frenchman, but he’s no snitch. There’s a code on a team and I’ve always kept my mouth shut when it came to things even I wouldn’t take part in. It does make me rethink the whole best man thing though. <br /><br />He <span style="font-style:italic;">does </span>have a point, sort of, I think as I walk away, putting some space between his disapproving glare and the burgeoning feeling of guilt sitting in the pit of my stomach. I am about to say those vows, it might actually be time to start thinking about living with that reality. After all, he is right about one thing. If I was going to have cold feet about it, announcing it in the Pittsburgh Tribune was probably not the right thing to do. <br /><br />Not that I’ve thought about calling it off. I mean, it’s seemed pretty inevitable since we met up again that this was the direction it was going to go, and it’s not like I don’t want to get married it’s just…funny how I can’t close my eyes and imagine myself, standing there in a tux and her in a white dress. For some reason I can’t wrap my head around that idea. <br /><br />Maybe it’s like winning The Cup. You can imagine it but you can’t, not really, not until you’re holding it. <br /><br />That must be what it is, I decide as I head out towards the bus. That and we’re not really doing our own planning so it’s all going to be kind of a surprise anyway. If I knew what it was all going to look like maybe that would help.<br /><br />Or not. <br /><br />Either way, all I can and should be thinking about now is Montreal and stuffing some pucks past Halak and I know from the Olympics that that is going to be no easy task. I’ll just have to leave that kind of thinking for some other time. <br /><br />______________________________________________________________<br /><br />“I’m going to do it,” I announce as I bounce through the door to the apartment. “I’m going to ask Sid to call off the wedding…for now,” I add as I round the corner to find Kensie at the kitchen table staring intently at her lap top. <br /><br />“Well that should make things interesting,” she replies dryly.<br /><br />“I think he’ll understand. I mean we shouldn’t rush into anything right? I mean I know I’ve known him forever but we’re just getting to know each other properly and there’s no need to rush into anything,” I continue, feeling confident in the decision I’ve come to. That is until I actually look at the way Kennedy is looking up at me over her lap top with that ‘are you quite done’ look on her face complete with raised eyebrow and impatient gaze. <br /><br />“While god only knows that I agree about the whole putting the brakes on this circus, but when I said that should be interesting, I meant because of this,” she sighs, turning her lap top to face me. The confident, self assured smile I’d been wearing since my dad had put me on the plane with the promise to be strong is wiped completely an entirely off of my face. <br /><br />“How…when did <span style="font-style:italic;">this </span>happen?” I ask, my knees giving way beneath me, the air literally being sucked out of my sails as I drop into the chair beside her. I stare at the screen, half of me wishing that I haven’t just seen what I know I’ve seen, but then wishing doesn’t make it so. “I didn’t…he didn’t tell me he was going to announce anything,” I add in a half whisper. <br /><br />“Yeah, I wondered about that,” Kensie turns the lap top back around, and, with a few strokes of her fingers pulls up yet another engagement announcement, this time in the New York Times, with a picture. <br /><br />“Oh god…” I cover my mouth with my hand as I stare at the picture of us I knew his mother had taken of us at Christmas.<br /><br />“I know, very deer in the headlights,” Kennedy muses sardonically as she gets up to look at the pic over my shoulder. “You’d think he could have waited to have something more formal done. It’s not like the Pens don’t have a professional photog on staff,” she adds, giving my shoulder a supportive squeeze before heading deeper into the kitchen to grab two mugs and a box of tea bags. <br /><br />“I just can’t understand,” I mumble, half to myself. “Why would he go and do something like this without talking to me first?” <br /><br />“At least give a girl a heads up that she’s gonna be in the New York Times. He had to have done that knowing you work here and like, everyone in Manhattan reads the society pages,” she adds, which does nothing to improve my current state of mind. “So, like I said,” she begins, having turned the electric kettle on and turning to lean her back against the counter, arms crossed, “that kind of complicates your plan.”<br /><br />“Just a little,” I manage to breathe, wrapping my arms around my stomach. Suddenly the sandwich I’d had on the plane isn’t sitting too well in my stomach.<br /><br />“So what are you going to do now?” Kensie asks, tipping her head to one side so that her hair falls over her shoulder. “Because this doesn’t mean that you can’t call it off you know,” she adds, and I nod, hearing her but somehow I can’t quite imagine actually doing it now, even though I had it all planned out in my head how that was going to go. “On the other hand, and I can’t believe I’m actually saying this,” she adds with a half smile, “this might mean that he’s actually taking this seriously. I mean this might be his big romantic gesture ‘cuz god knows he hasn’t really held up his end on that score yet.” I look up at her and I can tell by the way she immediately rolls her eyes that the sudden and overwhelming feeling of relief flooding my body shows on my face. “I said might be” she adds with a smirk as the kettle begins to whistle and she turns to pour the steaming water into the two cups, adding a fragrant tea bag to each before turning around and coming back to join me at the table. “Have you even talked to him?” she asks, pushing one mug towards me.<br /> <br />“Yeah…I mean…well as much as you can talk to him during the playoffs. It’s mostly that refs an asshole and that player is a dick and Geno should get his head out of ass and…so yeah we’ve spoken but talked…?” I shrug, closing my eyes and inhaling the steam coming from the mug, peppermint and green tea, an excellent remedy for the pounding headache behind my eyes. <br /><br />“You should go see him,” Kennedy says, not like it’s a suggestion, but like it’s an order. <br /><br />“I don’t want to distract him,” I begin, but hearing the whine in my own voice, I square my shoulders and take a deep, cleansing breath. “I should, shouldn’t I?”<br /><br />“You should,” Kennedy grins, reaching over to grasp my hand and give me an encouraging smile. <br /><br />“Yeah…I should.”<br /><br />____________________________________________________________<br /><br />“GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING SHIT!!!” <br /><br />“My sentiments exactement,” I grumble, tossing my stick aside as we head down the hallway at La Colisée after literally dropping an egg on the fucking ice. Tanger kicks his helmet across the room and we all watch it hit the wall with a satisfying smack.<br /><br />“Je suis si désolé Fleur,” he says, again, and again, Flower just shrugs. It’s not like he tried to kick the damn puck in the fucking net and we all know it, but most of us also know how it feels like you should have been able to do something, anything, to get the puck to go another direction. <br /><br />“We’ll just have to kick their asses at home,” I offer, but there’s no uproarious ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">hell yeah</span>’ of agreement. Not that I’m expecting one. It’s worse to lose when the crowd is that fucking loud and you had it in your god damned back pocket. At least the rest of the guys weren’t getting boo’d every time they touched the puck. <br /><br />“Crosby, you’ve got a visitor.” I turn around, my jersey half off, to see Mel leaning in the doorway of the room, and I’m surprised to feel relieved and happy to see her. Dropping my jersey on the pile in the middle of the floor, I cross the room and grab her around the waist, lifting her off of her feet as I bury my head in her neck. She smells like strawberries and vanilla frosting. <br /><br />“What are <span style="font-style:italic;">you </span>doing <span style="font-style:italic;">here</span>?” I ask, putting her down, searching her flushed face for signs of impending doom. “Is something wrong with your mom? Your dad?” <br /><br />“No, I just…you’re not mad I’m here?” she says, like she expected that I would be, and searching in myself I know that I normally might have been a little pissed about her showing up unexpectedly, especially after losing like this, but I’m not. <br /><br />“No, of course not,” I grin, brushing her cheek with my hand before leaning down to capture her lips with mine. She tastes like cinnamon. <br /><br />“It was…it’s the engagement announcement,” she explains quietly, her lips brush my cheek. “It was kind of…unexpected,” she adds, reaching up to run her finger along my upper lip when I pull back from her. <br /><br />“I know, I know, pathetic, you don’t have to tell me,” I sigh. I keep hoping, every year, that my playoff beard will get better. It doesn’t seem to. <br /><br />“It’s cute,” she grins. “I’ve never seen it up close before,” she adds, her fingertip now running along my jawline where the denser, thicker stuff is growing. The itchy shit. <br /><br />“I know it’s not like Max’s Sasquatch growth,” I point out as Max emerges from the showers already, a towel clutched around his mid section. He stops and stares and when I turn back, Mel’s cheeks are flushed again. “Hey, do you guys mind not getting naked in front of my fiancée?” I yell, grabbing her hand and pulling her out into the hallway. “Wait here. You’ll fly back with us right?”<br /><br />“Yeah,” she smiles softly, her fingers lacing with mine. “If they’ll let me,” she adds, sending a sheepish glance towards Coach B who’s striding into the room with a dark look on his face, and I can’t say that I blame him. I’m probably in for it and I know I deserve it. <br /><br />“They will, just…wait here,” I insist, putting my hands on her shoulders and searching her face. “This was a good surprise Mel. I don’t know what you did back home but…it’s good to see you.” With that I kiss her again, clasping her cheeks in my hands and rolling my tongue around hers’ before leaving her, surprisingly reluctantly to go in and take my beating as required.<br />____________________________________________________________________<br /><br />With his head on my shoulder, Sid snores quietly, a blanket pulled up to his chin. Unlike most of the other guys, he doesn’t seem to need a sleep mask. In fact, the whole plane is almost silent except for the snores and other sounds of restless sleep. The only other people awake on the plane seem to be Disco Dan, who has been analyzing the game on his laptop, his stereo headphones on, and Max. <br /><br />Ever since I saw him in the dressing room, his muscles gleaming with steaming water from the showers, it’s seemed like he’s been wanting to talk to me, to say something. Not that I think that’s a good idea. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s an entirely bad idea. Especially since all of the thoughts in my head, all of the prepared speeches I had for Sidney about respecting me and asking my opinion before he does things, went entirely out the window the moment my eyes fell on his round shoulders and made their way down to his goody trail on the flat plane of his stomach. <br /><br />Even now, knowing that he’s right across the aisle, I can barely breathe. Watching the quick movement of his thumbs on his blackberry, texting or playing a game, I can’t tell, I’m too aware of what those fingers can do and how they can make me feel. And no matter how hard I try to concentrate on the words on the pages in front of me, I keep feeling his gaze, like a soft, warm touch, on my skin. <br /><br />“Stop it,” I hiss, my gaze still riveted to the magazine in my hands although I’ve probably read the same ten sentences over and over and I still couldn’t tell you what it says. <br /><br />“Arrêtes ce qui?” I turn to glare at him but now he seems engrossed in whatever is on his blackberry, looking calm and composed, as if he hadn’t just been staring at me.<br /><br />“You <span style="font-style:italic;">know </span>what,” I snarl back, turning the page of my magazine with a snap, giving myself a paper cut in the process. <br /><br />“Cessez de vouloir vous avoir?” he asks, making it sound innocent when just saying it out loud makes my belly clench and my mouth go dry. <br /><br />“Stop it Max…<span style="font-style:italic;">please</span>,” I whimper, shutting my eyes against the vision of his naked torso moving over me that suddenly appears in my head. <br /><br />“Ou tu veux dire que je devrais cesser de fantasmer au sujet de ton beau corps dans mon lit?” he asks, his voice low and rasping, just as it is when it’s full of need. “Because if that’s what you’re asking, ma petite, that will never happen, c’est <span style="font-style:italic;">impossible</span>.” <br /><br />“You have to,” I growl back. “I’m marrying him. Did you see the announcement?” I ask, staring at a picture of Liz Hurley in some eenie weenie bikini and I can’t decide if it’s her hip bones or the vision of Max’s that has me more furious. <br /><br />“Oui, j’ai fait, mais, il ne tu aimes pas. He doesn’t move you like I do,” he growls, sounding like a jungle cat as he finally puts his blackberry aside and turns those deep emerald orbs of his towards me. <br /><br />“He does…love me and…what do you mean he doesn’t move me?”I hiss, unable to drag my gaze away from his, knowing I should, that the longer I look the more my skin begins to warm and the harder it becomes to breathe. <br /><br />“He told me, mon petit chat. He called you…maintenant, ce que était le mot qu’il employé? Ah oui, vanilla, he called you vanilla ma petite and if it’s one thing you have never been to me…,” his voice falls away as does his gaze, and I shudder at the relief of being released from his gaze. I’d almost begun to feel like I was about to go up in flames. <br /><br />“You must…you have to have misunderstood.” My voice catches in my throat and comes out almost as a whisper. My heart had swelled to twice its size to have Sid happy to see me, to have called me vanilla….<br /><br />“There was no misunderstanding ma petite, I assure you,” Max whispers, his voice thick and velvety as he reaches across the aisle to reach for my hand, but as his fingers brush mine, I feel Sid’s heavy body stirring and he sits up, rubbing at his eyes like a child.<br /><br />“Fuck…I needed that. Are we almost home?” he asks, lifting the cover from the window to peer out at the night sky. <br /><br />“Almost,” Max replies, his blackberry once again in his hand, his voice normal, as if nothing at all had happened. “Wheels down in twenty and then home to bed eh mon ami?” he grins, looking lecherously over at us, his thick eyebrows arched. <br /><br />“Hot tub, then bed,” Sid answers, yawning , before once again snuggling up to me, wrapping his arms covetously around my waist. “Did I tell you what a good surprise this is?” he asks again, that boyish grin of his lighting up his crème caramel coloured eyes. <br /><br />“You did,” I smile at him, my cheeks aching from smiling when I don’t feel like smiling at all.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-86993301880035832582010-05-03T14:09:00.000-07:002010-05-03T14:20:11.973-07:00Chapter 36<span style="font-style:italic;">I just want to remind everyone reading this that it is just a story that I've made up in my vividly twisted imagination and that I adore Sidney (as anyone reading any of my other stories can clearly tell). Also that life is not black and white but various shades of gray and you should never be quick to judge anyone...</span><br /><br /><br />“Melody?” The moths fluttering around the porch light are my only company as I step up to the door where my mother, in her velveteen track suit, her hair in curlers, stands, mouth agape as she surveys her daughter standing on her doorstep. <br /><br />“Mom.” It catches in my throat when I say it. I would so much rather that it would have been my dad to answer the door. He wouldn’t have looked expectantly behind me for an entourage or a limo or something. I suppose that is how she would expect the fiancée of Sidney Crosby to travel and not the single yellow cab, the driver at least waiting until I get inside. “Can I come in?” I ask, waiting for her to open the door more than a crack. <br /><br />“Yes…of course darling.” She finally holds the door open for me and I slide sideways past her, dragging my bag behind me. <br /><br />The house smells stale and faintly of that too flowery perfume she likes to wear. I can hear the TV on in the living room, hockey of course. Just like almost every house in Canada, glued on a Saturday to Hockey Night in Canada. I hear my dad laugh and glance down at my watch. Between periods…must be time for Coach's Corner. <br /><br />“Is something wrong?” my mother asks, hovering like a hummingbird. I can almost picture her wings going a mile a minute behind her while she stares anxiously at me. I catch her looking down at my hand to see if the ring is still there. They are. They both are. <br /><br />“I just needed a break. Is that okay with you?” I ask, feeling suddenly like the petulant child I am, ready and raring for the argument. <br /><br />“Of course it is baby,” she says, smiling and grabbing my head in her hands like it’s a basketball, planting a kiss on the top of my head and for a moment I think she’s actually glad to see me. “Tea?” she asks, and I nod, following her out to the kitchen. <br /><br />It looks the same as it always has. The four chairs pushed in to the small wooden table against the far wall, under the window looking out to the backyard. Washer and dryer across from the harvest gold stove surrounded for some reason by brick and the matching gold fridge standing alone at the end of the galley kitchen across from the thick, white Irish sink. <br /><br />The sink brings memories flooding back as I stand there listening to her run water and then plug in the electric kettle, her flip flops making a heavy sound on the linoleum floor. There is a window over the sink where I stood every night, washing the dishes because my mother wanted every scrap of food off of them before they went in the dishwasher, those few pieces we owned that she would allow to go in the dishwasher. I’d look out that window and right into the kitchen of the Crosby’s. <br />Sidney would be there, at the table, doing homework, Troy watching over him like a bear over his cub. Trina would wash the dishes, until Taylor could reach. Sometimes Sidney would get up to get a glass of milk and he’d look over and wave. I remember how that wave made me feel. Like my heart swelled so much and my chest got so tight I couldn’t breathe. I’d smile and wave back, my hands covered in soap suds and he’d laugh. <br /><br />“You should have heard that Don Cherry…,” my dad begins and then stops, mid sentence, his entire expression softening when he sees me. “Melody,” he says simply and then it all falls apart. The tears start and then my daddy is holding me and for just one single minute, I’m that little girl again, in love with the boy across the back fence and my daddy is the only one who knows. <br />_____________________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />“Gone home?” Max’s head suddenly appears over the back of the seat in front of me and I nod. “Home New York or…?”<br /><br />“She’s <span style="font-style:italic;">been </span>in New York. No, she’s disappeared back to Coal Harbor. Something about being home sick,” I shrug. I’d had a surprise dinner planned, but that will have to wait. “I can’t imagine Mel ever being home sick enough to go see her mom, but….” Again, I can only shrug. Who can understand women?<br /><br />“How long for, did she say?” Max asks as I pull out my game boy, ready to give Dupes and Tanger another shit kicking. <br /><br />“A week, maybe, if she could put up with her mom that long, which should be a trick,” I add, thinking about the way her mother and she could get into it and how we’d all sit at our kitchen table wondering if tonight was going to be the night they’d kill one another. <br /><br />“She must be close to her dad,” Max adds, and I pause, staring at the loading screen on my game boy. Close to Al? That hardly seems possible? I’m pretty sure Al was afraid of both of them but….<br /><br />“Maybe, I don’t know. Why are you so worried any way? Oh I get it, you want to do my bachelor party while she’s away and can’t stop you from hiring every hooker and stripper in Pennsylvania?” I ask, almost hopefully, but Max shakes his head and slides back down, disappearing from view. <br /><br />“Go easy on Max,” Dupes says quietly, digging his elbow into my ribs. “He’s doing his best, really, you have no idea.”<br /><br />“I know he’s not hitting out there like he should be,” I mutter, almost under my breath but I know Dupes has heard me by the shrewd sideways glance I get before he puts his ear buds back in and returns to staring out the window. “Alright Tanger, prepared to be taken down,” I holler back and hear Tanger snigger and say something rude in French as his game character rolls out from behind a bush and opens fire on me. “I said prepare I didn’t say…grrr, grenade!”<br />____________________________________________________<br /><br />“This is partly my fault, I suppose,” my father says quietly, rubbing my back in slow, even circles as I hiccup and sob intermittently, my head on my pillow, an old, well loved teddy bear clutched to my chest. “You’re so much like me…but I hoped that maybe you would be stronger,” he sighs, digging his fingers into my shoulders, which hurts and feels good at the same time. “Did I ever tell you how I met your mother?” he asks, and sniffing, I turn to look up at him but his gaze is far away, back some time in the weed infused past of tight jeans and mullets I suppose. <br /><br />“Highschool right?” I ask, wiping at my nose with the back of my hand which is only slightly better than wiping it on my bedspread. <br /><br />“She was something, your mother. But then she still is,” he sighs and that has me dragging myself up vertically so I can stare at him in disbelief. “Oh I know she can be a terror but then…she always was. You don’t think she got to be Miss Lobster fest just because she was the prettiest girl in town did you?” I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out why my father is waxing poetic about my bitch of a mother. “You were supposed to have some kind of civic involvement, candy striping or singing in the church choir, that kind of thing. Your mother…she spent all of her time down at the rink hanging out, trying to catch Troy Crosby’s eye,” he continues and now my mouth is hanging wide open and my eyes too. <br /><br />“Troy? Mom was after Troy?” <br /><br />“Sure, most of the girls were. He was good, a good goalie…not a good guy,” my father corrects himself, and then looks down at me with this look of fatherly concern as he cups my chin. “Sidney…he’s never laid a hand on you…in anger has he?” I shake my head but the entire time I’m shaking it I’m thinking about those ham sized fists of Troy’s and I begin to shake. “Oh, I’m not saying he’s ever laid a hand on your mother…can you even imagine?” he laughs. “He’d still be digging his way out of that grave. No…he just had a rep, mostly among us guys. He was tough, still is I imagine,” my father says quietly, running his hand through his thinning hair. “Your mom was glorious, the prettiest thing I’d ever seen but she was Troy’s, no doubt about it. They went everywhere together, her hanging off his arm and off of his every word too.” I tried to shut my mouth but I could see it, my mother, Troy, they were a lot alike. “I wasn’t very coordinated. I didn’t skate well. I could curl,” he added, with an amused grin for a moment that nearly reached his eyes. “But then girls didn’t go out with guys on the curling team. I could fix things, most things, but I wasn’t big like Troy, and I didn’t have a mouth on me…never have,” he added with a sigh, reaching out touch my cheek gently. “My mom, your gran,” my father continued without stopping, “said something very wise to me then. I was so in love with your mother, you see. I could hardly eat or sleep. Your gran said to me one day that boy is going to let her down, she said. Just you be there to pick up the pieces, she told me. I didn’t see it, but I did like she said, I watched and I waited and then one day I saw my chance. You see, Trina followed her brothers around like a silent, kicked little puppy. She wasn’t pretty like your mother, didn’t have nice clothes, not even much of a personality. She was a sweet girl, I’m not saying she wasn’t, but even boys on the chess club didn’t look twice at Trina, but she loved Troy the way I loved your mother and she had one thing she could do that your mom wouldn’t.” My father looked at me then, with a very serious and a very sad expression on his face. “When Troy found out Trina was in trouble…I think you call it up the spout?” he asked with a wry grin. <br /><br />“No dad, we call it pregnant,” I said quietly, still slightly in awe of the entire idea of this love triangle…or was it a square?<br /><br />“Well, anyways, she caught Troy in her net with that and your mother…she was…devastated, humiliated…and I was there, just as your Gran had told me to be. I gave your mother a shoulder to cry on when almost everyone else in this town was looking at her like maybe she deserved it. Your mother is a proud, proud woman,” my father added, affectionately I thought as his gaze searched mine to see if I understood what he was trying to say, and I thought that I was beginning to. “Now I’m not saying that I regret it, exactly. Well I have you, don’t I? And I imagine Trina feels the same about Sidney and Taylor. I’m not sure I’d give you up for anything but…I loved the idea of your mother. I didn’t know a damn thing about her until…well until it was a little too late and you were on your way and it was my turn to do the right thing,” he added capturing my face in his hands. “I’d hate for the same thing to happen to you my love. It would rip my heart right out if you kept chasing a ghost.” <br /><br />It’s like my balloon just popped, the rug’s been pulled out from under my feet and my all day sucker fell on the floor all at once. I start to hiccup and sob and my dad pulls me closer and pats my back and I hear him telling me it’s going to be okay but to me it feels like a yawning chasm has just opened up in front of me and everyone’s yelling ‘jump’.<br /><br />“But I <span style="font-style:italic;">want </span>him,” I manage to sputter, feeling like a spoiled child throwing her binky on the floor. <br /><br />“I know you do, I know but sometimes what you want isn’t actually what you need,” my father tells me quietly and I groan, wanting to throw myself on the floor and have a good old fashioned temper tantrum with some kicking and screaming. As if that would do any good. <br /><br />“Why does everyone tell me that!” I snap, pushing away from my dad and getting up to pace the room instead. Feeling like if I don’t pace, I’ll put my fist through the wall. <br /><br />“That might because we’re on the outside looking in. Sometimes it’s easier to see when you’re not…involved,” he says carefully and part of me, the part of me that is still open to listening to reason, knows that what he’s trying to tell me makes sense, but then there’s the part of me that’s tossing her binky around….<br /><br />“If you don’t even love mom then how do you even know what I’m supposed to feel?” I ask, wanting him to be wrong, wanting to point the finger somewhere else.<br /><br />“Your mother and I…we settled. Is that what you want, for either of you?”<br />__________________________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />“We should get ahead of this,” Pat says patiently as I look over the proposed announcement in front of me. It’s simple, straightforward, and there really isn’t anything for me to object to and yet I can’t make myself pick up the pen to endorse it. “If you leave it, there’s just going to be speculation and you’ll end up answering a lot more questions than I’m sure you’d like to,” he adds, tapping his pen on the folder in front of him. <br /><br />“I just don’t get how this got out, we’ve been so careful,” Nathalie reaches over to cover my hand and looks at me apologetically. <br /><br />“When you start making grandiose plans like we’ve been putting together, something like this is bound to come out,” Jennifer Bullano, head of communications for the Penguins shrugs her shoulders, like it’s nothing, because I guess it’s nothing to her. Which I guess is fair because I mean, it’s not her personal life splashed across the sports section of the Post Gazette. <br /><br />“It was bound to happen,” I mutter, not wanting to point fingers, although the more I think about it, the more I’m beginning to think that I know who to blame for the leak. “I just wish we had time to prepare her. I mean…Mel’s gonna come back to a lot of attention and maybe I shouldn’t have waited this long to introduce her to you guys so you could prepare her but….”<br /><br />“Can I just say,” Pat grins as he opens the folder in front of him, “you couldn’t have made it any easier. I mean, practically no past, wholesome girl next door…,” he begins, pulling a copy of her yearbook picture out of his file and I find myself staring at it, thinking how much Mel is going to hate that picture getting out. <br /><br />“We could use a little more to go on, but we’ll work on that when she gets back,” Jennifer adds, reaching across me to pull out one of the photos taken at her run way show in New York. The two pictures couldn’t be much more different. In one, braces, no make-up, hair pulled back in a simple, serviceable pony tail. In the other, a glamour goddess that looks nothing like Mel, to me, anyway. “For now we’ll just do a simple engagement announcement, back home, here…maybe in some small Canadian press…then maybe we can do something in Whirl…,” Jennifer continues, adding the picture my mom took of the two of us at Christmas. The closest thing I could come up with for a posed shot. I stare at the picture and think that neither of us looks completely happy but then with Troy looming in the background….<br /><br />“You’ll still get asked some questions,” Pat continues, and it’s his turn to look apologetic.<br /><br />“Unless you want to put out a statement and then you can just refer to that,” Mario offers, but I shake my head. <br /><br />“I’d just rather not deal with it until after the play offs,” I reiterate but the looks on all of their faces tells me that argument just isn’t going to hold water. <br /><br />“Cat’s kinda out of the bag here,” Jennifer begins and I nod, holding up my hands in defeat. <br /><br />“I know. Just…put out the announcement, whatever and then I’ll just say I don’t want to get into discussing my personal life until after the playoffs and apologize to my teammates for the distraction and hope that it sticks,” I sigh, pushing my chair back from the table. “So if that’s all, I want to get my nap in before the game.” <br /><br />I hear them still chattering even once I’m down the hallway and I know that I should probably be calling Mel to give her a heads up but I want to keep my head in the game. <br /><br />Besides, I have something I have to do first. <br /><br />“Haven’t you learned <span style="font-style:italic;">anything</span>?” I ask impatiently, kicking open the door to Lauren’s room. <br /><br />“Have you heard of knocking?” she snarls back. <br /><br />“Have you heard of privacy?” I snap back. “The stuff on face book last year, was stupid but this? Are you that starved for attention Lauren?” I ask, wishing I could wring her neck, but instead I just stand there, hoping that I look disapproving.<br /> <br />“What’s the big deal anyway?” Lauren shrugs, rolling over onto her back dismissively. “It’s not like it wasn’t going to come out in a couple months,” she adds, reaching to put her ear buds back in.<br /><br />“I thought you liked Mel. Don’t you think it would have been nice for her to have some warning before it went public?” I ask, to which Lauren barely gives a shrug. <br /><br />“I thought <span style="font-style:italic;">you </span>liked Mel. Don’t you think it would have been nice for her to think you cared enough to let it be public?” she asks, glancing at me and then shoving the ear buds in and making a show of turning up the volume on her iPod. Feeling like I’ve been firmly put in my place, I turn and head down the hall and up the stairs to my rooms, my head throbbing. <br /><br />“All done your meeting?” a sleepy voice asks as I push the door open to my room. <br /><br />“For now,” I sigh, pulling my t-shirt off over my head as I walk around into the room. <br /><br />“Coming back to bed?” <br /><br />“Yeah,” I smile, the throbbing disappearing, or rather, migrating south as my gaze falls appreciatively on the sight before me as she raises the sheets off her smooth, athletic body. “Definitely.” <br /><br />“Come here, let mama make it all better,” Charline grins, patting the empty spot on the mattress beside her and I ease my way beneath the sheets and into her arms with a sigh, and try not to think about how I really should be getting my nap, knowing damn well there will be no napping now. <br /><br />“I thought you had to be back at McGill today,” I moan as she runs her fingertips down my chest. <br /><br />“Tonight. We fly out tonight, why? Do you want to get rid of me already?” she purrs, wrapping one of her long legs over mine. <br /><br />“Nooo,” I groan out loud as she curls her cool fingers around my dick. “Quit school, move here,” I sigh into her fragrant neck. <br /><br />“I don’t think your little fiancée would like that too much, do you?” she asks, her hand sliding around to cup my balls. <br /><br />“Maybe you could teach her a thing or two,” I growl as I bite down on her shoulder. <br />“Do you think she’s up for a threesome?” Charline asks, giggling as I roll her over onto her back, her long, dark hair fanning out over my pillow. <br /><br />“Probably not,” I reply honestly, “but a guy can dream can’t he?” She laughs and pulls me down on to her and I let her pull me back inside of her, and I bury myself there in her warm, moist center and telling myself what Mel doesn’t know won’t hurt her and if this is one last fling before I settle down then it will be out of my system and as one of Canada’s goalies wraps her legs around me, I promise to myself that I’ll redouble my efforts in getting closer to Mel, when she gets back, and then I banish all thoughts of her from my mind.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-44891774766029638502010-05-01T15:51:00.000-07:002010-05-01T15:58:54.635-07:00Chapter 35<span style="font-style:italic;">All I can say is ouch! Suddenly Mel is the bad guy? I don't think life is so black and white...</span><br /><br /><br />Who the hell are you?<br /><br />That’s what I ask my reflection as I brush my teeth, the same question I’ve been asking myself every morning for a week. Who the hell are you and what have you done with that nice girl from next door from Cole Harbour? What kind of person are you that you would sneak out in the dead of night and crawl into some other man’s bed?<br /> <br />Who in the hell are you?<br /><br />The strange part of it is, every morning I have an answer for that question. <br />I’m sad. Sad that this isn’t everything I wanted it to be, this new life. It’s almost there, almost perfect, but not quite. <br /><br />Does that make it fair? To cheat on the man that I’ve loved since I could tie my shoes? Hell no, of course it’s not. Even if he does treat me like…like an accessory, a bobble to put on and taken off at will. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. That’s what was so perfect about it. I wasn’t going to be one of those girls who complained when he didn’t have the time or inclination to pay attention to me and now that I have this fabulous job that should matter even less and yet….<br /><br />I’m angry. Why does it feel like I’m the only one bending over backwards to make this work? I may not be as pretty as some of the other Wags, as Lauren has been so quick to point out, but I try. I’m stylish. I wear the right things, I get along with his friends, Nathalie and Mario like me so why isn’t it enough? Why doesn’t he look at me like…like Jordan looks at Kennedy? Like…<br /><br />No, no I shake my head and refuse to think about the way Max looks at me. That’s the heat of passion, that doesn’t count.<br /><br />Or does it? Does Sidney look at me like that when we make love? I spit out a mouthful of toothpaste and stare at my reflection. <span style="font-style:italic;">You know damn well you don’t know the answer to that question</span>, I tell the woman looking back at me in the mirror. <span style="font-style:italic;">Most of the time your eyes are screwed shut while you think of someone else!</span><br /><br />It was a stupid, impulsive thing to do. I was angry. I felt humiliated. I felt neglected. I ran for comfort. I didn’t mean for it to end up with us in bed….<br />Or did I? <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Fuck</span>! Be honest with yourself for once. You can’t stop fucking thinking about him. Every time you see him you start to squirm and your mouth gets dry and all you can think about is him…naked…inside of you….<br /><br />And now Lauren knows, or at least I think she does. The last thing she said to me was that she was keeping an eye on me. She gave me that whole military silent my eyes are on your eyes thing. I’m watching you…. <br /><br />As if she’s not sleeping her way through the team. <br /><br />As if that’s somehow better than what I’ve done. <br /><br />Shit. <br /><br />Shit. <br /><br />Double shit. <br /><br />It’s just sex. It isn’t love. What I have with Sidney, that’s love. I want him for the rest of my life. Max…I just want him. But I can’t…not anymore. It was a mistake. It was just a crazy, stupid, impetuous thing to do. Sid can be better. We can be better. We just need more practice. Max has had all those girls and it’s obvious Sid isn’t the man whore type. I need to just give us more time. <br /><br />It <span style="font-style:italic;">will </span>be better. <br /><br />It <span style="font-style:italic;">has </span>to be. <br /><br />“You’ll wear the enamel off of your teeth if you keep that up.” I look up from staring into the sink to see Kennedy leaning in the doorway, watching me with a concerned expression on her face. “Penny for them,” she adds, raising a single eyebrow before pushing off from the door jam and joining me at the sink, hip checking me out of the way as she reaches for her toothbrush. <br /><br />“I’m just…do you ever wonder…I mean, are you and Jordo serious?” I ask, rinsing out my toothbrush and dropping it in the cup at the back of the sink before heading for the edge of the tub with a handful of mousse. <br /><br />“Me and Jordan?” she smiles to herself, her toothbrush making slow circles on her front teeth while she stares dreamily ahead. “I don’t know,” she answers after a long while, spitting into the sink before attacking her molars with zest. <br /><br />“That’s it? You don’t know?” I ask, dragging my fingers through my hair, looking for texture, not spikes. <br /><br />“Well…if you’re asking if I see a future like with babies and picket fences then…,” she gazes into the mirror with a strange half smile on her face and then she shrugs and spits again. “I guess so, sometimes, yeah. But then sometimes I wake up, like this morning and think…why tie myself down to just him? I mean…there are so many hot guys in New York and I haven’t even travelled yet. Who knows who’s out there? I mean…even his brother Marc is crazy hot in his brooding, quiet sort of way,” she adds with a smirk as she leans in to splash water on her face. “What’s this about? You having second thoughts about Saint Sidney all of a sudden?” she asks, turning to me, hands on hips. <br /><br />“I don’t know…maybe,” I admit, rising to head over to the sink to wash the sticky remnants of the mousse off of my hands. “I just don’t have that…butterflies thing,” I admit, reaching for a towel after running my hands under the tap. <br /><br />“Call it off,” she says simply, putting both of her hands on my shoulders and staring intently into my eyes. “Seriously Mel…you know what I think about him but I know that you love him or think that you do but if you have even one doubt in your head….”<br /><br />“But it could be just that you know? Cold feet? Ever bride gets them right?” I ask, wanting affirmation that I know she isn’t about to give me. <br /><br />“Yeah, I think it’s natural to second guess big decisions like this but…you were really set on this Mel. How long have you been set on this? Maybe now that it’s here, is it possible that it isn’t what you really want? Not really?” she asks, giving me a little shake that I know I need but it doesn’t shake my resolve. I want Sid. I’ve wanted him forever. I have to make it work. I’m just not giving him or us enough time and energy. <br /><br />“I’m not a quitter,” I say out loud, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin. “We Kelly’s are not quitters,” I add, quoting my mother. <br /><br />“Oh Mel,” Kensie sighs as I reach out to pull her into a hug. “You shouldn’t have to keep talking yourself into this. If it was right it should feel right,” she adds with a sigh. <br /><br />“Feeling right and feeling perfect aren’t the same. Don’t you see?” I grin at her as I push her back to hold her at arms’ length so she can see that I’ve come to an epiphany. “I keep expecting perfect and that’s crazy. No one’s perfect. Not even Sidney. I just have to lower my standards and expectations to something close to reality and everything will be just fine,” I grin at her and then pull her in for one last bear hug before I go to put on my clothes for work.<br /><br />_________________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />“Still gripping the wood a bit tight dontcha think?” I sit down next to Max as he stares into the middle of the room, not at all his normal self. Even Flower is looking at him sideways, waiting for him to do or say something funny or throw shit, one of the two. <br /><br />“Don’t you think I know that?” Max growls back at me, without even turning to look at me, his gaze still straight ahead, unfocussed, like he’s seeing something there. His mouth is set in a grim, determined line, which I like, but I don’t see that translating into bodies laying all over the ice, which is what we need right about now. Especially from that Ruutu Neil line. Right now, I’d love to see Ruuts bleed. Now normally that would be something I could expect Max to go out there and do but….<br /><br />“Well if you know it then we need you to go out there and make some room for us, especially Geno he’s….” I don’t get to finish the thought. Max turns, his dark blue eyes blazing like the edge of flame. <br /><br />“Geno’s big enough to make his own fucking room out there. Tabernak man! I have my own fucking issues d’accord?” he growls at me before getting up and stomping across the room, heading for the hall, which is where Cookie normally likes to get his head on straight and considering the Cookie Monster’s been getting all the good press with his play lately, I don’t like the idea of the two of them out there, butting heads like a couple of mountain goats. <br /><br />“I’ve got it,” Jordy sighs, pushing himself up to his feet without having to be asked, and I stare after the two of them, feeling like there’s something I’m missing. <br /><br />“N’inquiétes pas. Il obtiendra au dessus d’elle,” Flower lays a hand on my shoulder pad and I turn to stare at my quiet goalie who’s been doing his own fair share of gripping his stick a little too hard. <br /><br />“D’elle? Max is fucked up over <span style="font-style:italic;">a girl</span>?” I ask, trying to imagine Max actually having feelings for a girl long enough to get fucked over by her. Usually his eyes are wandering before he’s even made it to second base, never mind having one stick around long enough to mess with his head like this. <br /><br />“Did I say her?” Flower shakes his head and laughs. “I meant to say <span style="font-style:italic;">it</span>…it…yeah. Whatever has him so…distracted, il obtiendra au dessus de lui,” Flower smiles but I still feel like there’s something he’s not telling me. Which is fine, I mean, I’m the one who put the rule into place about not bringing your shit from home to work, I just can’t imagine Max having that kind of shit. <br /><br />“Well maybe I can cheer him up,” I sigh, pushing myself to my feet, rolling my shoulders to get rid of the feeling of Ruuts riding me like a cheap whore as I head towards the doors, half expecting to hear some kind of yelling and cursing, but only silence meets me as I push open the doors to find Jordy leaning on his stick between Cookie, who’s squatting down the hall and Max who’s leaning with his head on the concrete wall. “C’mon guys, we’ve got these guys. We just have to put them away. I know you’re tired, but fuck, we can fucking do this,” I smack Max on the back and immediately I know it’s the wrong thing to do when he turns, shaking his gloves like he’s ready to go. I stare at his hands and then look up at him, confused. “Whatever it is man, let it go. We have a team to put away out there. I can’t have you getting your panties in a fucking knot over some T & A. Besides, I have some more important business with you,” I add, pushing him further down the hall. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. “I’ve thought about this and I think, with how close you and Mel are and how you’ve helped us see the light right from the get go, I think you should be my best man, whaddaya say?” <br />___________________________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />“<span style="font-style:italic;">Max</span>?” I ask, grabbing the corner of my pillow and shoving it into my mouth to stop from screaming. <br /><br />“Yeah, who did you think I was going to ask?”Sid asks, sounding a little impatient with me on the other end of the line. <br /><br />“I thought…well to be honest I thought maybe your dad, or Mario or Flower.” All choices I’d made for him in my own head but had never suggested to him. Now I wish I had. <br /><br />“I thought you’d be thrilled, with you and Max being so close and everything,” he adds, sounding proud of himself and why shouldn’t he? From where he’s sitting, that’s exactly the right choice and he’s right, I should be thrilled but….<br /><br />“And what did <span style="font-style:italic;">he </span>say?” I ask, biting down on the pillow again, shutting my eyes tight as I imagine Max standing there in front of Sid, trying to look happy about being asked to be his best man. <br /><br />“Well, that’s just it. Kinda like you, he asked why I hadn’t asked Flower, or Jordy or Dupes….”<br /><br />“Yeah, well Dupes is your roomie and you guys are tight,” I add, maybe a little too hopefully. I can hear my voice going up like a squeak and I shove the pillow back in. <br /><br />“Yeah but…do you not want Max to be my best man?” <br /><br />It’s a trap.<br /><br />No it’s <span style="font-style:italic;">not </span>a trap. If he knew something, if Max had said something, he’d be here, knocking my door down, and he certainly wouldn’t be calling me asking if I approve of his choice for best man. <br /><br />“I think it’s great. It’s just a big thing and I think Max will do great. I mean, I’m a little worried about what kind of pranks he’ll come up with for your bachelor party but other than that…I’m fine. No I’m better than fine. I’m happy. That’s great…I mean, if he said yes, in the end, I mean,” I add, frowning as I think that he might have, well probably should have, said no. <br /><br />“Well I did kind of have to talk him into it. I thought he’d be totally stoked about it, what with the speech and organizing the bachelor party and everything but he was kinda cool about the whole thing,” Sid adds, sounding a bit let down by both of our less than stellar reactions. <br /><br />“Well, you guys did have like the longest overtime you’ve ever had. I’m sure he was just tired. After all, Ruutu did sit on him and he did spend half of his shifts pressed face first against the glass,” I point out, trying to be helpful. <br /><br />“Yeah I know. He’s pretty beat up, but we all are,” Sid sighs, and I can hear him digging his way down into the sheets. “We should have put them away tonight.”<br /><br />“You will, they won’t have another night like that left in them,” I tell him, enjoying the opportunity to be the supportive girlfriend for once. <br /><br />“I miss you,” Sid says suddenly, and I feel a giant weight in my gut. <br /><br />“I miss you too,” I say and mean it. “I mean I hated the idea at first of us not seeing one another through the play offs but…I kinda like talking to you like this,” I add, lying back on my bed and staring at the ceiling. “That’s not to say I’m not looking forward to seeing you,” I add with a sigh, running my hand down the slinky, soft fabric of the teddy I bought today. I’d just been trying it on when he called. I’d been intending to send him a picture on his cell phone to make him feel better.<br /> <br />“I know things haven’t been…perfect,” he begins, and I hear him yawn, “but I appreciate you standing by me Mel. I really do,” he adds, and I curl my knees up to my chest, feeling like I’ve just been kicked in the gut. <br /><br />“We can both do better,” I tell him, meaning it. “I love you,” I add, thinking that I don’t deserve the chance to make it better and hoping like hell I’ll still get that chance. <br /><br />“It will be, you’ll see. I love you Mel…good night,” he adds, and I can hear him stifling another yawn. <br /><br />“Yeah, night Sidney. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I add, though I’m almost sure he’s already hung up. I hold my phone up, thinking of taking the picture of me lying here in my bed and sending it to him, but decide against it and my thumb slides down to turn off my phone so I too, can head to dream land, but then it slides over and hits the ‘1’ and holds it until it dials my voice mail. <br /><br />I hit ‘2’ to listen to old voice mail. <br /><br />It’s Max, his voice thick with sleep but I can hear the grin in his voice as he speaks. <br /><br />“<span style="font-style:italic;">You’re certainly making a habit of leaving like some kind of bandit, in, out, no sign you were here. Except the smell of strawberries on my pillow and your perfume on my sheets. Fuck…what are we doing Mel? What are you doing to me?”</span><br /><br />That’s it. That’s the message. <br /><br />My thumb hovers over the ‘7’, intending to erase it. But I don’t, again. I just hit end and then turn off my phone and roll over onto my stomach and press my face into my pillow, and scream.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-68235137403670827342010-04-30T16:05:00.000-07:002010-04-30T16:12:29.956-07:00Chapter 34<span style="font-style:italic;">the things you people make me do...<br /><br /></span><br />“The piece de resistance?” Sidney repeats, linking his arm with mine as we walk down the darkened corridor. It’s hard to believe there will only be another few times of walking down this cement corridor with him. <br /><br />“Yes, the last piece that goes down the runway. Usually it’s a wedding gown, but it doesn’t have to be,” I explain, still feeling that fluttering in my stomach as I think about it. “He says I have this natural sense of drama,” I add, thinking of the way Gareth had held his hands out and made this sort of explosive gesture followed by a sort of rain of petals with his fingers. I’d been entranced by his hands and the way it made me feel and I wasn’t over the excitement yet. <br /><br />“So what <span style="font-style:italic;">are </span>you going to do?” Sidney asks, actually sounding interested, which makes me feel even better. I can’t get the smile off of my face. <br /><br />“Well the whole Fall storyline is leather and latex, black on black, very structured, so I’m thinking if do something that feels like those designs but in a completely different colour palette,” I explain as we walk through the doors into the dressing room, my brain wrapping itself around the idea of doing something very flowing and feminine and yet still futuristic like the rest of Gareth’s designs. <br /><br />“You <span style="font-style:italic;">are </span>trying to get yourself traded,” Tanger’s hurling a balled up sock at Max who knocks it away with an outstretched hand. His quick reflexes only remind me of the way his muscles stretch and flex underneath the tight under armor that he’s wearing and I find myself biting my lip as he bares his teeth at Kris. “Tu sais à qui elle appartient, faites tu pas?”<br /><br />“Of course I do,” Max is growling back, looking like he does right before he puts someone into the boards. “Je ne suis pas stupide.” <br /><br />“Then start acting like you’re not stupid. Move on. Get over this stupid obsession of yours,” Jordan hisses, turning to stare at us as we stopped inside the room, which then falls eerily silent. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Oh god</span>, I think, <span style="font-style:italic;">here it comes. This is when they tell him. This is when Sidney finds out what I’ve done</span>. <br /><br />“I thought you told me you were going to stay away from Lauren?” Sidney is staring at Max in that ‘don’t make me injure you’ sort of way and I feel myself go very still beside him as I hold my breath and wait for one of the guys to pipe up and tell the truth, but they all just stare back at us, waiting for Sid to make a move.<br /><br />“I should have known. When she left the other night. I should have known it was you,” he continues, and I wait for someone to flinch, to bat an eye, do something that will give it away, but they all just keep staring at us, silent. <br /><br />“It wasn’t Max that left with her. I took Max home.” It’s Flower’s voice, from somewhere behind us and it should have made the entire room exhale, so why re we all still standing there, holding our collective breath? <br /><br />“You don’t have to cover for…,” Max is staring at me as he says it, the look on his face telling me that he can’t lie anymore and I feel my knees start to go weak. He’s going to tell Sidney and then Sidney isn’t going to love me anymore and then what am I going to do?<br /><br />“Alexei…It was Ponikarovsky,” Jordan pipes up, turning to watch the young Russian coming into the room with his wool overcoat, as if it isn’t early Spring and already warm outside. Maybe not warm to a Russian I think as he pauses, mid step, realizing that every head had turned and every pair of eyes was on him. <br /><br />“What?” his gaze took in the whole room and his face blanched, which only made the colour of the love bite on his neck more livid. <br /><br />“Mario’s daughter,” Sidney lets go of my arm and marches over to grab the young Russian’s lapels. I let out the breath I’ve holding and feel my knees buckle beneath me. I would have gone down to the floor if not for a pair of strong hands pulling me back up to my feet. <br /><br />I stared into the deep twilight blue of Max’s eyes and blinked.<br /><br />“I wasn’t with Lauren,” he says quietly, almost under his breath as he helps me sit down in Sid’s stall. He doesn’t let go of my arm though, as he stands over me, giving me that look that says ‘you have to believe me’. It shouldn’t matter, I knew that. If he was my friend, then it shouldn’t matter if he was getting a little sumthin’ if it was on offer, and I knew with Lauren that it probably was. It shouldn’t have mattered and yet it did. More than being afraid of Sidney finding out, the idea of Max with her….<br /><br />“I believe you,” I reply, though there’s a voice in the back of my head that says ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">no you don’t</span>’. “Not that it matters,” I add quickly, because it seems important to say it, to put it out there. “I mean, you’re both adults, no matter what Sidney might think, right?” I add, as if I’m trying to make small talk as I stare at the way the long line snug fitting shorts hug his thick thighs. <br /><br />“I haven’t been with her, or anyone, since…,” I shake my head, dragging my gaze away from him and staring instead at a spot on the floor. I don’t want to hear it, and yet, I do. “I promise you,” he adds, quietly, his voice husky as he tips my face up so that I have to look at the deep, dark endless oceans in his eyes. <br /><br />“Well you know what they say about playoffs,” I reply brightly as Sid returns to my side, shucking off his jacket and stepping out of his shoes. <br /><br />“No,” Max says quietly, taking a step back and holding his hand out to give me a hand up. “What did he say?”<br /><br />“Sid was just telling me how you all have a rule,” I tell him, putting my hand in his and feeling his thick, warm fingers close around mine. “No sex during playoffs.”<br /> <br />“Esti de tapette de calisse,” Tanger growls at Sid who flicks him the bird. “More like <span style="font-style:italic;">more </span>sex. Rien comme un bon démodé n’établissent avant un jeu.”<br /><br />“And maybe that’s why I can step it up and you can’t Tanger,” Sid shoots back, starting an all our riot of discussion pro and con sex before games. I stare down at Max’s hand curled around mine and then up into his intense gaze that tells me without having to ask, just what his take on the discussion would be, and feel a shudder run through my entire body.<br /><br />“Good luck,” I give his hand a squeeze before turning to buss Sidney’s cheek and, putting one foot very deliberately in front of the other, I manage to walk out of the room before my knees give way again and I have to press my back against the cool, concrete wall and let go a number of colourful profanities.<br /><br />“What’s up buttercup?” Kensie asks, appearing out of the crowd with a large slice of pepperoni in one hand a giant coke in the other. <br /><br />“I’m just reminding myself to keep my eyes on the prize,” I tell her breathlessly and she just grins back at me. <br /><br />“Yeah being in that room can be a little distracting,” she agrees, allowing me to wrap my arm around hers ‘as she leads us to the elevator. “Particularly when Kris is playing with his hair, I just want to reach out grab it and run my fingers through it and make him call me mistress,” she adds with a lecherous grin that helps to erase the feel of Max’s hand on mine. <br /><br />“Does that mean you want Jordy to grow out his mane?” I ask as the metallic doors slide open. <br /><br />“No, he’d look stupid with long hair,” she sighs. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t toss that furry little Frenchman out of bed for eating poutine,” she adds, with a snort as the doors slide closed behind us. “You know what I mean?” <br /><br />“I think I do,” I agree, staring at the closed doors and imagining an altogether different furry Frenchman feeding me half melted cheese curds and gravy off of my own stomach, and feel something low inside of me clench at the thought. “Yeah, I think I do.” <br />_____________________________________________________________________<br /><br />“You were serious?” Mel stares at me, incredulous, as I turn to open my bedroom door and leave her behind. <br /><br />“Of course I'm serious. I have to concentrate. I need all of the strength and stamina I can get. I can’t have you waking me up at two in the morning and wearing me out,” I tell her, turning to cup her face in my hands and planting a long, soft kiss on her lips. “It’s only a couple months,” I add, kissing her once more and feeling my body telling me just how stupid an idea this is. Damn, it was always easy to give this up for a couple of months before when it just meant not going to pick up girls at a bar, but this…, I let my hand roam down over the curve of her ass and pull her hips towards me so she can feel how much I don’t want to go through with my own idea. <br /><br />“But we’re getting married in a couple of months,” she reminds me, her hand slipping between us to cup my quickly hardening dick. “I thought we were getting in some practice time,” she adds, her hand sliding up and down the length of me, making it even harder and making it almost impossible to turn her away. <br /><br />“It’s not that I don’t want you,” I whisper to her, pressing against her hand and wondering if it’s too much to ask her to get me off so I can sleep. “I just have to keep my strength up. As it is,” I sigh, peeling her hand off of me and pressing my lips to the centre of her palm, “I’m going to have to have a cold shower now. Don’t make this harder for me Mel,” I add, kissing the tip of her nose. “Just use the spare room and it will be like it was before, for a while. Not forever,” I add, already worrying about the Caps in the second round. I just can’t see us having trouble with the Sens. <br /><br />“I can just sleep,” she offers, looking up at me with her doe eyes, which, with her new pixie cut, seem to be even bigger. “I’ll just sleep. I’ll keep my hands to myself,” she promises. I want to believe her but it’s not really her that I’m worried about. <br /><br />“Yeah, in the guest room, now go,” I chuckle, pressing my lips one last time to her brow and then turning her around and giving her a pat on the ass. She looks back at me with narrowed eyes and for a minute I think she’s going to argue some more, but then she heads down the hallway, her hands clenched at her sides.<br /> <br />I turn and head into my rooms, heading directly for the shower. I do need that cold shower. <br />_______________________________________________________<br /><br />“Mel,” he doesn’t argue, doesn’t ask why I’m here, even though the question is in his eyes. He just looks down the driveway at the cab and then back at me. “Do you need money for the cab?” he asks and I nod, once, feeling a little sheepish at having to ask. He grabs his wallet from the dish beside the door and jogs down to the end of the driveway. I watch him go, rubbing my hands along my arms where the chill of the early morning hours has my skin crawling with gooseflesh. He doesn’t seem to notice, or isn’t affected by it, I notice, when he returns in nothing but those boxer briefs he wears and takes my hand, pulling me inside with another furtive look around. <br /><br />As if I’ve been followed. As if anyone would guess I’d come here. <br /><br />“He meant it,” I tell him quietly, as his hands take over rubbing at my cold skin. “The no sex during the whole play offs. He meant it. He wanted me to sleep in the spare room,” I add, which had felt like adding insult to injury. I’m not enough to make him want to break his superstitious silliness. I had even lain awake, waiting for him to come down the hallway, tell me he’d been wrong, but he didn’t. He never came. <br /><br />“Il est un imbécile,” Max replies quietly, reaching over to lock the door. I watch his hand turn the deadbolt and a shudder runs through my entire body. “You can stay here, if you want. I’ll make up a bed…,” he begins, but his voice trails away when I reach out and begin to trace the cross fleur de lis on his ribs with my fingertips. “Mel…Melody,” he says my name more forcefully, his hand snapping around my wrist. I look up at him, and I know that I probably look just as lost and confused as the last time I came here and I wouldn’t blame him if he turned me away, but he doesn’t. Something goes soft in his expression and I feel his arms wind around me as he pulls me into the circle of his arms, against the warmth of his skin and I close my eyes, reveling in the warm clean scent of him. “C’est une mauvaise idée,” he sighs, and I can’t tell if he’s telling himself or me but when I look up at him, feel his hand touch my cheek, I don’t care. I know it’s a bad idea. It’s a crazy idea, but when his lips, trembling, take mine, I forget how stupid this is and relax against his body and reach for his tongue with mine. <br /><br />He moans into my mouth, moving to press me against the wall, and I feel him, hard and ready, pressing into my stomach. Running my hand down his back, I feel his muscles twitch beneath my fingertips and as my hand slides down over his ass, I feel him pull back. But I haven’t come here for him to pull away from me too. So I grab onto his ass and pull him to me, climbing his thigh with my other leg, wrapping myself around him. <br /><br />“Ma petite, tu sais ce que tu me demandes?” he asks, breathlessly, his beard burning my skin as he kisses his way down my neck. <br /><br />“Oui, je veux que tu me fasses le sentir quelque chose,” I sigh, arching my neck, wanting more. “Make me scream Max, make me beg,” I whimper as his hand locks around my thigh, pulling my legs up and around his as he tries to take me to the stairs but doesn’t even make it half way up them before he puts me down and reaches for the zipper on my jeans. <br /><br />I push his hands out to the way, my fingers clambering with the zipper before I push them down over my hips and he drags them off the rest of the way, tossing them to the bottom of the stairs. Then his mouth is on mine again and the feel of his beard, of the wiry hairs on his upper lip rasping against my tender skin does nothing to dampen my need as I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deep inside of me. I ignore the way the stairs digs into my back, reaching for the railing and using it to lift my body off of the ground while my other hand presses against the wall, nails digging into the plaster, feeling paint lifting off as I scramble to stay with him, to meet him thrust for thrust as his body presses into mine, deeper and deeper, harder and harder until I can’t breathe, until there isn’t anything but his name on my lips and I cry I to the heavens as he pulls me close and our bodies meet one last time, my back arching like a bow string, his hands clenched around my waist, his back straight as an arrow and I hear my name as he growls it between his teeth and I feel…I feel everything. <br /><br />I feel my blood coursing through my veins. I feel my heart hammering inside of my chest. I feel my lungs expanding as I gasp for breath. I feel my muscles contracting around his dick deep inside of me. I feel his cock pulsing deep within me, filling me with the hot, wet rush of his seed. I feel his breath warm on my neck as he pulls me close. I feel my arms wrap around his muscular neck as he carries me upstairs to his bed. <br /><br />Mostly I feel wanted, really wanted and I know that when I do finally fall asleep tonight, it won’t be alone. <br /><br />________________________________________________<br /><br />“Toast?” I turn the corner to find Lauren, Mel and Nathalie busy at making an enormous breakfast. Bacon, eggs, French toast, pancakes, chopped orange sections, grapefruit….<br /><br />“You guys must have been up for hours,” I mutter, grabbing a section of orange and crossing the kitchen to where Mel is standing over the stove, flipping silver dollar size pancakes. <br /><br />“Well Mel was anyway. I woke up to the smell of real coffee for once,” Nathalie grins, inhaling happily over a cup of something dark and steaming. <br /><br />“That’s my girl,” I grin, wrapping my arm around her waist and pressing my nose into her hair. It’s still a bit wet but it smells of strawberries and her skin, where I press my lips at the curve of her shoulder, tastes of vanilla. <br /><br />“I know you’re not a big breakfast eater,” she apologizes, flipping another pancake before reaching for a plate and shoveling half a dozen onto it before handing it to me. “But I just couldn’t sleep and I thought the girls might like to have a cooked breakfast for once.”<br /><br />“Mmm, what smells so good?” Mario rounds the corner, already in a suit and tie, hair slicked back. “I have a good mind to call of my breakfast meeting and stay,” he adds with a grin, walking over to press a familial kiss to the top of Lauren’s head before he slides onto a chair next to his wife. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” <br /><br />“Sid kicked Mel out last night, something to do with the playoffs,” Lauren muses, leaning against the counter with a dry piece of toast in her hand. <br /><br />“I didn’t <span style="font-style:italic;">kick </span>her out, I just asked her to stay in the guest room as if it’s any of your business,” I snarl at her which only gets me a raised eyebrow and a shrug of her thin shoulders. <br /><br />“You’re not actually subscribing to that old wives tale are you?” Mario laughs, reaching for the syrup and quickly covering his stack of pancakes. <br /><br />“What do you know? You used to smoke before games,” I tell him, staying where I am, pressed against Mel, and putting down my pancakes next to the grill, eating them dry. <br /><br />“You have me there,” Mario laughs, putting three pancakes in his mouth at once.<br /> <br />“Still, poor girl. I hope you slept okay in the guest room. I know the bed is a lot smaller than the one in Sid’s room,” he apologizes, shooting me a dark look. <br /><br />“I think she must have slept out by the pool,” Lauren interjects, walking by and stealing a pancake from my plate. “I don’t think her bed looked slept in.” <br /><br />“I make my bed in the mornings,” Mel shoots back, reaching to turn off the burner and turning around to wrap her arms, welcomingly around me. “You should try it,” she adds, though her attention is now on me. “And how did you sleep?” she asks, looking relaxed with the healthy glow about her that speaks of a long, hot shower. <br /><br />“I should have taken you up on your offer,” I tell her quietly, kissing her lightly.<br />“I hardly slept at all. I tossed and turned all night,” I sigh, reaching to nip at her ear. “I missed you,” I add, tugging at the collar of her bathrobe, and then stop in my tracks. <br /><br />“Bug bite,” she explains, tugging her robe back and then reaching for my hand to steer me to the table. “God, I’m so hungry I could eat the entire first line of the Sens,” she grins, pushing me firmly into a chair and then crawling onto my lap and demanding to be fed. <br /><br />“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of them in no time,” I tell her, feeling her round little bottom pressing down on me, making me second guess my plan of abstinence.<br /> <br />“Good,” she smiles warmly down at me. “I like the sound of that.” I can’t help grinning and when I look around at Nat and Mario they’re grinning back at us in that way that says ‘aren’t they a cute couple’ and I can’t help but think that maybe we are.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-1683893043516766202010-04-28T16:49:00.000-07:002010-04-28T16:56:58.536-07:00Chapter 33<span style="font-style:italic;">Team Max seems to be catching up but is Team Sidney making a come back???<br /></span><br /><br />“You look so elegant,” Nathalie sighs as she stands back, pin cushion in hand. I have to admit that she’s right but I’m beginning to think it’s too much. What had started out as a breezy, light summer dress has turned into the ballgown from My Fair Lady, complete with the crystal beading which I’d sworn not to do but between Lauren, Nathalie and everyone at Pugh’s, the design that had started out as simple and flowing has taken on a life of its own. Not that it doesn’t make me a little misty eyed to see my reflection looking back at me looking more like a Princess of Fairy than a girl from Cole Harbour. <br /><br />“I am <span style="font-style:italic;">sooo </span>getting you to design my dress when I get married,” Lauren sighs, from where she’s been sitting, watching the whole show with that kind of look on her face that says she can’t wait to trade places with me and be the bride rather than the bridesmaid. <br /><br />“I’ll be happy to,” I reply, turning sideways with the hopes that it won’t look quite so bling from that angle. “I’m just thinking I should have had someone else design this for me.” <br /><br />“You did. Sort of,” Kensie chortles from where she’s still pinning, kneeling at my feet, where I’m standing on a step stool. “We did sort of took over you design,” she adds, grinning up at me, knowing I won’t kick her and send all her carefully placed pins flying. <br /><br />“It was supposed to be a simple summer dress,” I sigh, catching a glimpse of the gathering at the back and the train that snakes at least three feet behind me. <br />“Well if you were having a simple garden wedding, then that might have been perfect, but you’re not, are you?” Kensie reminds me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk that makes me want to crawl into a corner, get into a fetal position and call for the men in the white coats. This whole wedding thing has gotten completely out of hand. All I’d wanted was a simple, small, intimate wedding in the back yard of Sid’s place on the lake back home. What we are ending up with is the society wedding of the year, with, at last count, over three hundred guests, in Pittsburgh’s Cathedral of Hope, which, while gorgeous, isn’t exactly what I’d had in mind. It is now all out of my hands and firmly in the hands of Sidney’s publicist, which is turning into both a blessing and a curse.<br /><br />“Don’t remind me,” I mutter, shuddering at the thought of the wedding planner that has been hired on our behalf. The woman drives a Barbie pink Cadillac escalade and wears cell phones like accessories. <br /><br />“<span style="font-style:italic;">Holeeee sheet</span>! Look who’s dripping in bling!” I turn to tell Jordan that he’s supposed to be downstairs keeping Sidney occupied while we pin up the dress, but seeing Max standing behind him with that kicked puppy look on his face and all the words I intend to say just sort of disappear on me. <br /><br />“Tu es si beau. Tu ressembles à une princesse féerique.”<br /><br />I want to say thank you, but more than that, I want the glow I feel when he says it to be nothing more than the simple happiness of being given and accepting a compliment, but having had Max avoid me at all costs for almost an entire month, I find that I can’t do either. In fact, it’s all I can do to blink back the tears as I stand there watching him staring back at me. <br /><br />“If you ask me she’s too covered up,” Tanger muses aloud, breaking the tension as he shoves both Jordy and Max down the stairs in front of him, a six pack hanging from his finger. I watch them disappear down the stairs, my skin still prickling just the way I remember it doing when Max had laid me out on his bed and knelt there, on the edge of the bed, his gaze roaming over me, half hungrily and half reluctantly. <br /><br />“Let’s get you out of this so you can get it back to your worker bees back in your sweatshop,” Kennedy say quietly, appearing behind me, carefully picking up my train and cradling it in her arms as I step down off of the stool to follow her back to the guest room where the garment bag is hanging. “Have you got something to tell me?” she hisses the moment we get around the corner. <br /><br />“Huh?” I almost fall forward when she hustles me into the room and nearly jump out of my skin when she slams the door behind us. <br /><br />“Don’t you dare ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">huh</span>’ me. I’m your roommate and I’d like to think one of your best friends in the world and I cannot believe you didn’t tell me,” she snarls as she unzips the dress and helps me step out of it. <br /><br />“If I knew what you were talking about..,” I begin only to have her let out a bark of laughter as she unhooks the garment bag from the back of the door and lays it across the queen size bed. <br /><br />“You, sleeping with Max,” she huffs, laying the dress carefully beside the garment bag before turning her blazing eyes on me. “Jordan told me. I didn’t really believe him until I saw that little display. Have you lost your cotton pickin’ mind?” she asks, hands on hips, peering at me as if I’ve gone completely off my rocker. <br /><br />“It’s hard to explain,” I begin, but I can tell that isn’t going to suffice, so, with a sigh, I launch into the whole gory, sordid story. “I had to lose my virginity, okay? And don’t look at me like that. I know, I was the oldest virgin on the fucking planet, but I’d been saving it for Sidney and then it turned out he had like zero interest in being the cherry popper and I just needed to do something about it and Max is like…well he’s my friend and….”<br /><br />“Oh girl, you are <span style="font-style:italic;">soooo </span>blind. That boy is not your friend. He was looking at you like a fat kid on a diet looks at a piece of triple-decker chocolate ganache cake.”<br /><br />“I know,” I mumble, feeling my cheeks grow warm as I think about that same look on his face as he’s brought me over the edge of pleasure, his fingertips brushing gently up from my hips, over my breasts before he’d rolled me over and pinned me to the bed beneath him. Closing my eyes now, I can feel the same shiver that look had sent through me, a fine sort of ripple that began at my lips and worked its way down to my toes as he’d kissed me, softly, but thoroughly, and then whispered my name against the line of my jaw as he slid into me once more. “I know,” I repeat, partly for her sake but mostly for myself. “I mean, I guess I realize that <span style="font-style:italic;">now</span>.” <br /><br />“Oh my god, the poor fucking bastard. He’s obviously in love with you and you do that to him? And now, just to top it off, you’re going to marry his best friend?” Kennedy shakes her head. “Nice, Mel, very nice.” <br /><br />“I thought he could handle it!” I cry in self defense. “He’s supposed to be some kind of epic man whore. It was just sex,” I add, throwing my hands up.<br /><br />“Even man whores have feelings Mel,” Kensie sighs, shaking her head. <br /><br />“I didn’t know!” I insist. “I don’t think he did…not before…and if he did he could have said no. I could have gone to someone like Tanger or….”<br /><br />“Would you? If it had been you and Sidney, would you have turned Sidney down a year ago if he’d come to you?” she asks, and though I want to argue my innocence, I know damn well I don’t have a leg to stand one. Kennedy shakes her head and rubs at her eyes before turning her impatiently gaze back to mine. “And if Sid finds out?” <br /><br />“He won’t,” I insist, remembering how Max had promised me that the guys would never tell. <br /><br />“Jordy told me. What makes you think that I won’t tell him?” she asks, and I know she’s just being facetious, that she would never do that to me, and I only have Max’s word that the guys won’t tell but….<br /><br />“Because that’s not what’s supposed to happen,” I say quietly, knowing she’s going to roll her eyes at me Cinderella construct, my fantasy, my belief that Sid is supposed to be mine and nothing is going to get in the way of that. <br /><br />“You’re nuts,” she says quietly, grabbing my head and pressing her lips to my forehead. “That ass doesn’t deserve you,” she adds, staring me dead in the eyes. “But what you did…you? I can’t believe you did that,” she shakes her head and laughs. “Was he as good as he thinks he is?” <br /><br />“Oh my god! I don’t want to talk about it,” I cry, wrenching free of her grasp but not before I feel my cheeks turn a bright crimson. <br /><br />“He was…oh my god, he <span style="font-style:italic;">was</span>, wasn’t he? Better than Sidney?” she asks, but I’m already pulling on my jeans and grabbing my t-shirt, intent on getting out of this room before she pins me to the wall and subjects me to torturous questioning that I don’t even want to think about let alone answer to. My hand is already on the door with my t-shirt only half pulled over my head when the door opens and I find myself stepping directly into a man’s broad chest. Like a blind person, I feel the broad chest, the slight indentation between each rib bone, and the massive plate in the middle of his chest and I know who it is. <br /><br />“Kensie, your man’s looking for you,” I call, tugging my t-shirt down and sneaking around under Jordan’s arm before making a quick exit towards the kitchen, hoping for some comfort food in the way of a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.<br /><br />___________________________________________________________________<br /><br />“As-tu un souhait de mort?” <br /><br />I look up from my cards and turn to see Tanger pushing Max into the wall in a way that looks like he’s cruising for a fight but Max only brushes his arm away. I notice he doesn’t move though, almost like he thinks he deserves whatever’s coming to him, but Tanger only shakes his head and gives Max’s whisker covered cheek a gentle slap. <br /><br />“Tu es un vieux romantique, et un imbecile,” Tanger adds, shaking his head again before turning away from Max to dump the beers he’s brought with him onto the table. “Deal me in,” he laughs, as if nothing’s happened. I glance back at Max to see him staring up the stairway, and I think about cashing in my chips for this hand to give him a talking to about Lauren when Kennedy and Jordy appear crashing down the stairway like a herd of elephants, Kensie on Jordy’s back yelling mush and hitting his ass hard enough that we all wince just a little. <br /><br />“Is uh…is Mel coming down?” Max asks, peering around them at the empty stairwell.<br /> <br />“She’s not down here already?” Kennedy asks, jumping off of Jordan’s back and onto the couch, grabbing the remote out of Flower’s hand. “Who’s got popcorn?” <br /><br />“Where is my fiancée?” I ask, glancing at the empty stairwell and then back at Kennedy who is busy shoving TK off the end of the couch to make room for Jordy presumably. <br /><br />“Pouting, I think,” Kensie answers, now being joined by her boyfriend and the two of them are now turning TK into a human tug toy. “Or going over place settings, some shit like that. Seriously, if I ever get married and pay what you guys are paying for a wedding planner and the bitch still wants me to make decisions, I’m running for Vegas.” <br /><br />“Vegas eh?” Jordy raises an eyebrow, letting TK go who lands in a heap at his feet and grabbing his girlfriend instead. “Quick and dirty? Drive through wedding maybe?”<br /> <br />“Oh yeah, on the back of a Harley,” Kensie grins back at him, like it’s a dare. “Who needs all this rhinestone encrusted, lily of the valley and white roses shit when you can get married on a Harley and go gambling instead?” <br /><br />“I love this girl,” Jordy declares, grabbing her and pulling her onto his lap before reaching for her tonsils with his tongue. <br /><br />“Ewwww, get a room,” Lauren cries, appearing, alone at the bottom of the stairs.<br /><br />“Can’t you two keep your hands off each other for like…ten minutes?” <br /><br />“Jealous much?” TK asks, looking up hopefully at her. <br /><br />“If I wanted to play tonsil hockey with a Staal, and I do mean <span style="font-style:italic;">if</span>,” she points out emphatically. “It wouldn’t be <span style="font-style:italic;">that </span>Staal. And if I just wanted to play tonsil hockey with someone here,” she adds, glancing towards the table where Tanger, Brooksy, Godsy, Gogo and I are sitting. “You’d be the last one in line,” she laughs, stepping on TK’s stomach on her way to squirming in between Flower and Dupes are sitting at the other end of the couch. <br /><br />“I thought this was a guy’s poker night?” Dupes asks as he glances back at me and mouthing something like ‘get rid of her’ to me. Shaking my head, I open my mouth to tell Max to do the honors in dragging her back upstairs, but I can’t see him. He must have hit the head. <br /><br />“Whose deal is this?” Tanger asks, glaring unhappily at his cards. “Is this Crosby house rules where the lucky fucker wins again?” he growls, making all the guys laugh and making me forget, for now, to wonder where Max has wandered off to.<br />_______________________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />“I thought I might find you out here.” I hear the sound of the French door closing and then the scuff of his jeans hitting the concrete step beside me. I don’t even look over. I just hand the tub of ice cream to him, or what’s left of it.<br /><br />“So you’re talking to me now?” I ask, still staring at the way the lights play on the water of the pool. <br /><br />“I wasn’t <span style="font-style:italic;">not </span>talking to you,” he begins and that’s when I turn and raise my eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe I was avoiding opportunities to talk to you but can you blame me?” he asks, trying to hand the tub of S’mores back to me, but I wave it off. <br /><br />“You’re supposed to be my friend,” I mutter, hearing the undercurrent of anger growing in my own voice that sugar and chocolate have done nothing to curb.<br /> <br />“I am…I <span style="font-style:italic;">am</span>,” he insists when I turn to him with that same raised eyebrow. “I just…I hate watching you do nothing while he makes into a perfectly behaved Wag,” he explains which makes me twitch, thinking of all the times I’d used that word as a epithet for girls with no brains, long legs, high heels and bad dye jobs. That wasn’t going to be. I’d sworn that to myself, even as I longed and wished for Sidney to notice me, to want me and hated him for it too. <br /><br />“It’s all a stupid tug of war,” I sigh, dropping my head in my hands and rubbing at that ever present throb in my temples. “I want him but I don’t want this life…I can’t believe I can’t have both. Someone must have both,” I insist. I feel his hand on my arm, at first and realize that I want to feel that comfort and so when his arm goes around me and pulls me against him and I feel the heat of his body and the hear him whispering comforting words to me in French, I close my eyes and let the tears fall. Tears that I’ve wanted to cry every time he’s avoided me when I’ve gone to the games and been down in the halls of the arena, waiting for Sidney while Max leaves in a group of guys and doesn’t so much as wave, leaving me feeling abandoned. Tears that I’ve felt when I’ve laid in my fiancé’s arms at night and not felt the sort of contentment I felt that first night…. “You don’t…I mean, Kensie says you do but…you don’t have like…a crush on me do you?” I ask, pulling away from him enough to look up into his eyes. Tonight they’re the colour of water in a deep inlet, a dark, dark bluish green. A long moment passes as he reaches up to brush the hair back out of the wet trails my tears have left behind and then he smiles, that easy, mischievous smile of his and shakes his head. <br /><br />“C’mon, I’m Maximus. I’ve got them cueing up outside the arena for a piece of this,” he grins, holding up his arm and flexing his bicep, showing off that shield with the T for Talbot inside of it. “I think you’re beautiful,” he adds more quietly, brushing my cheek with his fingertips. “But you have your man and I’m a big man whore as you like to call me. We’re just friends, d’accord? And if you’re still worried about that thing…?” I shake my head vehemently and duck my face away, feeling my cheeks turn bright pink just thinking of it in front of him. “Good, because the guys won’t tell and I’m not going to tell anyone; I haven’t got a death wish,” he laughs, pulling me into his arms again. “You’re just having nerves about all this crazy out of control wedding bullshit that you don’t even want, and who can blame you? What’s this I hear about some giant ice statue of Mario at the reception?” <br /><br />“It’s not of Mario it’s just a hockey player,” I correct him, digging my elbow into his ribs and though I know it’s not hard enough to make him actually do it, he grabs his ribs and makes the proper ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">woof</span>’ sound of losing his air as we both scramble to our feet. “And I totally vetoed that.”<br /><br />“Well I’m glad because that cucaracha cumberbund your man is going to wear is bad enough,” he adds, leaning over to pick up the abandoned pint of ice cream, giving me a target I just can’t ignore. <br /><br />“You get down there and tell him that it’s silver and not fucking la cucaracha,” I order, giving his but a swift kick as I send him shuffling towards the door in his socks. <br /><br />“As my mistress wishes,” he laughs back at me. <br /><br />“Who’s a dirty mistress? What did I miss?” Jordy and Kensie appear around the corner, looking like they’ve been looking for a little alone time, his long arm around her neck, his fingertips just brushing the top of her breast, her arms wrapped around his middle, looking up at him like she can’t stop looking at his face. The sight of them stops me in my tracks. Sidney never looks at me that way.<br /><br />“If you…if you see Sid tell him I had a headache and went to bed,” I mutter, pushing past Max and heading into the house. It wouldn’t be a lie. That pounding never seems to go away and right now, it just got worse.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-68228076343222645442010-04-24T11:33:00.000-07:002010-04-24T11:44:15.952-07:00Chapter 32<span style="font-style:italic;">If you're all team Max, why is Sid still winnning I wonder?</span><br /><br /><br />“It’s a nice place.” <br /><br />“It’s fucking huge is what it is,” I mutter, walking backwards with the measuring tape in my hands as Max holds it against the wall while gazing around like a tourist. <br /><br />“It’s roomy,” he muses, that little grin of his tugging at the corner of his mouth telling me that he’s saying shit now just to fuck with me. <br /><br />“I think they call it palatial, or monstrous,” I reply, glaring at him while he continues to act oblivious, staring up at the huge, gaudy chandelier hanging over the spot where the dining room table will go. <br /><br />“It’s nicely appointed, tastefully decorated…,” he continues, and now I’m sure he’s just fucking with me.<br /><br />“Yeah, nothing a little red velvet wallpaper won’t fix,” I reply, letting the tape go and sending it speeding back towards his hand. <br /><br />“Red velvet wallpaper? Tabernak woman, I thought you had some taste,” he says wrinkling his nose at me. Raising my eyebrow, I shake my head before writing down the measurement we’ve just taken.<br /><br />“This from all black leather and chrome boy?” I reply, cocking my head to once side while he nods in agreement. <br /><br />“You may have a point,” he agrees with a smile before following me into the kitchen.<br /> <br />“I don’t understand this American fascination with taking refrigerators when people move,” I mutter as I stare at the stove trying to decide if I want to keep it and match it or get rid of it. “I’ve always wanted an Aga but you can’t really have those on the second floor. I don’t suppose Sidney would consider knocking the entire second floor off of the house a renovation?” I ask, looking hopefully towards Max who is now leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen. <br /><br />“You could gut the place and put the kitchen, dining room and living room downstairs and just have the bedrooms upstairs,” he nods, backing up to look around the corner towards the master bedroom. <br /><br />“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” I sigh, pressing at what seems to have become a constant throbbing at my temple. <br /><br />“What?” he asks, furrowing his brow as he watches me, curiously.<br /><br />“Bedrooms…rooms…as in multiple, many. As in, if Sidney says ‘patter of little feet’ one more time, my fucking head is going to explode,” I explain, glancing towards the hall where I know there are four bedrooms, two bathrooms and an en-suite; bedrooms to be filled with little Sidney’s or Melody’s. <br /><br />“Don’t you want kids?” Max asks, as if there can be no other answer to that, or maybe that’s just me. Maybe that’s just all I hear now; women should be barefoot and pregnant. <br /><br />“Of course I do…or at least…I like a cute kid as much as the next girl, but…I’m twenty years old Max. It’s not like my biological clock is making any noise at all. You know?” I look over at him, hoping he’ll understand when no one else seems to. <br />Well, no one but Kensie. But then she hates Sidney so that hardly counts. “Why? Why does he want to have a family so desperately?” I ask, knowing that he hated being an only child for so long, that he’d wanted to have brothers, and all of that I can understand but what that has to do with having his own little brood….<br /><br />“Progeneration?” Max shrugs. “I mean…we could die out there. We’re all one fucking icing race away from going head first into the boards and then…whap…dead. So…kids,” he answers and I have to give it to him. It sounds ridiculously plausible. “Et il obtient de dormer avec tu.” The last is said in a low whisper that I’m not sure I’m meant to hear, but it’s a big empty house on a quiet cul-de-sac with no traffic, no screaming kids (yet) and so I can’t help but hear it. <br /><br />And so there it is, the giant ten foot pink rabbit in the room that we’ve been doing such a good job tip toeing around. <br /><br />“Max…,” I begin, but his eyes, today the colour of still waters off the coast of white beach, meet mine and any words I intend to say about how that shouldn’t matter die on my lips. The look in his gaze is pure and raw and full of hunger and for a moment I feel like a gazelle in the tall grasses staring down a cheetah.<br /> <br />“I’m trying to be friends with both of you,” he says quietly, like the warning purr of a big cat just before it strikes. “Ce n’est pas facile, tu comprends? You’re always questioning your relationship with him and the way he treats you…fait mon ébullition de sang.” He stalks towards me just like a big cat, his gaze holding mine, slowly, carefully. Careful not to make me run, as if I could, frozen as I am to the spot as I watch those wide, round shoulders moving under the snug white t-shirt he’s wearing with the Ed Hardy design down the same side his tat is, and I keep thinking about those two designs moving over one another and my hands slipping along his ribs…. “You deserve better mon chère,” he says, his voice losing the threatening tone, the prey drive leaking from his gaze as he reaches up to cup my cheek, and yet I can’t stop staring at his full mouth, knowing how it feels to have those full lips moving insistently over mine. <br /><br />“Max…stop,” I breathe, trying to make myself back up but there’s a counter behind me and all I’d have to do is get up onto the counter and he would be between my legs and….<br /><br />“Je suis désolé.” Hanging his head he takes two steps back and I shut my eyes, willing the visions away. I’m in the house my fiancé has bought for us to bring our family up in and it’s the worst kind of violation of the idea of that to be having these thoughts here. “I can’t help it. How can I help thinking about the best night I’ve ever had in my life?” My heart stops beating as I open my eyes to look into his, storm tossed grey green now, sad and resigned as he shrugs those wide shoulders and holds his hands out in entreaty. “I won’t lie to you, ma petite. There it is. I can’t help thinking about it.” <br /><br />“You have to,” I tell him as much as I’ve been telling myself. “You have to put it out of your mind. Like it didn’t happen,” I add, wanting to bridge the gap between us and grab his hands in mine so he can feel how hard my heart is beating in my chest. We can’t talk about this. It never happened. “Besides…it…it couldn’t have been the best night of your life. I didn’t know what I was doing and….” And there he is, quick, like a jungle cat, he has my face in his hands and his breathe tastes like mint and as I look into the deep blue ocean of his eyes I know he’s going to kiss me, if I let him, and I know that I can’t. <br /><br />“Tu saves ce que tu faites à moi,” he breathes, his lips so close to mine. I put the flat of my hands against his chest, knowing I should be pushing him away but when I feel the truth of his words in the hammering of his big heart under the palm of my hand, I don’t. “Dites-moi que tu l’aimes. Dites-moi et je ne tu embraisserai pas.” <br /><br />“I…I…love him,” I manage to stutter, feeling his chest heaving as he gulps for breath and fights for control and part of my brain is screaming at me to let him loose control, because I like when he loses control and something low in my belly clenches at the thought of him slamming me up against a wall and pressing his body against mine. “I love him Max. You know I do,” I whisper, staring back at him as my own chest rises and falls with quick shallow breaths I have to take to keep the musky smell of his skin and the spicy scent of his cologne from overcoming my defenses. “You’re my friend,” I add, which is the cold slap in the face that makes him growl and turn away, grabbing his leather jacket from the counter and rounding the corner, out of sight. <br /><br />I hear his quick, hard footfalls on the stairs and then the entire house seems to shudder as he slams the front door. I remain motionless while I listen to him gun the engine of his sleek, dark car and only when I hear the squeal of rubber meeting pavement do I allow myself to actually breathe, turning to grab hold of the edge of the marble counter top, shutting my eyes tight as I scream. <br />_________________________________________________________<br /><br />Pale white, I trace Sidney’s shoulders in the moonlight with my eyes as he lies, comatose, on his stomach. He is hard, thick muscle everywhere, not an inch of softness anywhere. Not even that great big derriere of his, I know, having dug my fingers into it as I urged him deeper. I can see the livid welts now, marks my fingernails left behind, appearing dark blue in the moonlight.<br /> <br />Once and he’s out like a light; one, unsatisfying time. <br /><br />I tried to tell him what I wanted, tried to direct him but it was like talking to a wall. He was so focused, as if some kind of haze filled his eyes, as if he wasn’t looking at or hearing me at all. Reaching down, I slide my hand between my thighs and probe at the tenderness he’s left behind in his wake. It doesn’t hurt, not exactly. It’s more of an ache; a deep, muscular ache. <br /><br />He does look like a Pre-Raphaelite angel when he’s sleeping though, his full, pink lips slack, his long, thick eyelashes lying on his round cheeks. I brush his cheek with my fingertips and he smiles, as a child would do. A contended, sleepy sort of smile that makes me smile back at him, tender, maternal feelings making my chest tight as I run my fingers through his dark hair. <br /><br />I feel his arm tighten around my waist and I look down at his thickly muscled arm where it’s thrown protectively across my stomach and watch with a certain amount of fascination as my body is pulled across the Egyptian cotton sheets towards him. He lets out a little murmur as my body slides against his and then he nuzzles my neck like a puppy and lets out a contented sigh before falling back into a deeper sleep once again, his breathing deep and regular. <br /><br />I close my eyes but I know sleep isn’t going to come. My head is still swimming with too many emotions for sleep to be able to carry me away on her gossamer wings. <br /><br />Guilt, for one. As much as Sidney’s single minded passion sweeps me along, having his six pack, his p chiseled chest moving over me sent my brain into overdrive and I kept seeing Max, but every time I tried to shut my eyes against the phantom in front of me, Sidney would grip my face hard in his hand and kiss me urgently, tell me to look at him and I would but I wouldn’t feel anything. <br /><br />I don’t feel anything. When he’s inside me, I don’t feel anything but him slamming inside of me. I don’t feel heat or the rising wave of desire. I don’t feel any kind of warm honey glow filling me. I just want it to be over. <br /><br />I tell myself it’s because of his…size. That my body just isn’t used to him but something in my head tells me that he should fit. That it should be like a key to a lock. <br /><br />I keep waiting for the moment when I see stars, when my body burns with desire and that wave crashes over me and leaves me shuddering and crying in his arms. Max had laughed then. Not a cruel or even a funny laugh. More of the kind of laugh you have when you see something cute. He’d held me in his arms then and kissed my cheeks and told me it was normal, when it felt that…good. <br /><br />Guilt. Squeezing my eyes tight I feel the hot sting of tears running down my cheeks and then I feel the pulse of a sob rushing up my throat and even grabbing the edge of a pillow and stuffing it in my mouth doesn’t stifle the sound of it altogether.<br /> <br />I feel Sidney stir beside me and I feel both of his arms snake around me and I feel his chest press against my back as he pulls me into him, his heavy leg sliding over mine and pulling me even closer. I feel his lips on my shoulder and I will myself to be still. I try to breathe through the tears. The last thing I want is to explain this to him. I wouldn’t hurt him for the world.<br /> <br />“Did you have a nightmare baby?” he asks, his voice thick and slurred with sleep. <br /><br />“Mmmhmmm,” I mutter as his lips move to the back of my neck and I can’t help but sigh when he finds that spot, right at the nape of my neck and his teeth graze over it, making me shudder. His body responds, his dick hardening, thickening against the small of my back and I press back against him, encouraging him. <br /><br />“You want me baby?” he chuckles, the reverberations of his voice making me shiver as his hands slide down my arms, his big, thick fingers lacing with mine. <br /><br />“Yes, please Sidney,” I whisper. Better this time, I add silently as he rolls me onto my stomach, kneeling between my thighs. I feel him pushing inside of me and gasp. Christ if it was too tight before, from this angle, it’s impossible. I start to squirm but one firm hand on my waist and the other on the back of my neck, forcing my face down into the mattress and I can barely breathe, let alone struggle as he screws his way inside of me. <br /><br />Relax, I tell myself. You’re so uptight about making it work, worrying about how it should feel that you’re not letting yourself feel, I tell myself. <br /><br />Closing my eyes I chase all thought form my mind and concentrate on where he is joined with me, the long, thick, hard length of him buried deeply inside of me, stretching me. I feel him pull out until only the thickest part of him stays inside, and then he slides inside of me again and I can feel my muscles pulling and sucking alternatively, making way, tugging, holding him. <br /><br />Max had reached around, found my clit, worked it until I couldn’t breathe. He’d made short shallow strokes. I’d been blind with need and then….<br /><br />“Yeah baby, you like that don’t you?” Sidney’s fingers dig into my hip and I feel his body slamming against mine and I grab at him with my muscles, tightening and loosening and I feel that pressure beginning to build, that dull thud in my brain, that tingling at the base of my spine. <br /><br />“Yes, Sidney, harder,” I beg, pushing back against him, feeling him respond, long, hard strokes that press me deeper into the mattress. I reach back myself, taking my pleasure into my own hands, sliding my hand up between my thighs and I press down on that little button as he slides into me and I hear myself saying his name over and over as he slams into me, harder and harder until I can’t hear anything past the blood surging in my veins. <br /><br />“Oh god…yes! Fuuuuuckkkk!” <br /><br />I feel him slam into me and stay there, both of his hands now digging into the soft flesh of my hips and I can feel his body pulsating inside of my own and I shut my eyes tight and massage my clit harder, rubbing it in small, frantic circles until I feel my muscles clamp around him and my entire body shudders and I collapse onto the bed, muttering incoherently and grinning like an idiot. <br /><br />I did it. I came with him…or nearly. Near enough. It was good, pretty good, getting there at least. <br /><br />“Mmm, you liked that didn’t you?” Sidney asks, pulling me back against him again, his body curling protectively around mine. <br /><br />“It was good, yeah,” I smile, pulling his arm around me and resting my chin on his hand as it curls around mine. “Tired now though.”<br /><br />“I was tired before,” he chuckles, nuzzling my neck, “but I’m glad you woke me up. That was nice,” he adds, his body relaxing around mine. <br /><br />“Yeah, it was,” I agree, taking in and letting out a long, deep breath. “I love you Sidney,” I add in a whisper, snuggling back into him and shutting my eyes. <br /><br />“I love you Mel,” he whispers back, his voice already thick with sleep. I press my lips to his scarred knuckles and then, with a contended sigh, surrender to the beat of sleep’s gossamer wings.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-45519104859781109902010-04-23T15:42:00.000-07:002010-04-23T15:54:07.649-07:00Chapter 31<span style="font-style:italic;">Love all your comments, but I just want to reiterate that I am NOT trying to make Sid into a bad guy, just a little self centered, self absorbed and a little thoughtless in the way that men who are used to getting their way can be. Plus, the more I watch Max goof around, the more I like..</span>.<br /><br />“So he slept over,” Kensie prompts, dragging her fingers through my hair, which I think shows a great deal of self control to have waited this long to bring up the sleeping form on the couch. <br /><br />“Yep,” I reply noncommittally. <br /><br />“So…?” she stares at me in the mirror and then rolls her eyes when I merely shrug. <br /><br />“Oh…fine. Sid and I had…a little fight. <span style="font-style:italic;">Little</span>,” I reiterate, holding my hand up with my finger and thumb only an inch apart. <br /><br />“And Maxipad is here for moral support?” she asks, but makes it sound more like a comment, which is probably just as well considering a bleary eyed Max has just rounded the corner and is now leaning in the doorway to the bathroom sporting nothing more than a pair of black boxer briefs. He scratches at his cropped brown hair, the dark T and shield on his bicep bulging as he blinks at us and smiles. <br /><br />“Comment allez-vous deux belles dames çe matin?” he asks, leaning against the doorjam so that his arm is stretched above his head, lengthening his side and making his ribs and six-pack even more prominent. It’s a sight that makes my mouth go dry and memories of his body similarly stretched out over me while he held on to the headboard of his bed for better leverage, my legs wrapped around his hips fill my head. Now, just as then, the urge to rake my fingernails down his ribs, to feel him shudder beneath my fingertips, is overwhelming. <br /><br />“I don’t know Mel, how <span style="font-style:italic;">are </span>you this morning?” Kennedy asks, grabbing the towel on my head, pushing it down over my eyes and giving my hair a quick rub before removing it altogether, leaving us all staring at my reflection in the mirror. “Foxy lady,” she muses, tossing the towel towards the sink and running her fingers through my hair instead, tousling the now very short strands into place.<br /><br />“Well…don’t just stand there gawping,” I glance nervously towards Max who is alternately staring, gap mouthed, at my reflection in the mirror and then at me, as if he can’t decide if what he’s seeing is real. <br /><br />“Il est court…et…et rouge,” he sputters, making my stomach tighten. <br /><br />“You hate it,” I mumble wretchedly, reaching up to touch a very deep red edge of a chunk of hair. Number nine Raggedy Anne slut red Kennedy had called it as she’d mixed it together. <br /><br />“It…it doesn’t matter what I think,” Max says quietly, inching forward until he too is running his fingers through my hair, reminding me of how I’d fallen asleep to his gentle ministrations. “Sid…,” his voice trails off as his gaze meets mine in the mirror. <br /><br />“He’ll hate it, we know,” Kennedy grins back at my reflection before grabbing the back of my head between her two hands and planting a kiss on the crown of my head.<br /> <br />“But what do <span style="font-style:italic;">you </span>think?” I ask, turning to stare up into Max’s concerned expression. <br /><br />“I think…I think…Il est très énervé, very… <span style="font-style:italic;">very </span>sexy,” he replies, running his hand up the back of my neck where all my golden curls used to be and where now there is a very sharp point at my nape, almost like an arrow to that sensitive spot where his fingers stop and dig in. My eyes flutter shut and I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop from moaning out loud. In one night he’d discovered all the magical spots that send me rushing to the edge of bliss and in all these months Sidney’s barely discovered one. It seems so entirely unfair. “But he <span style="font-style:italic;">will </span>hate it,” Max agrees quietly, removing his hand and stepping back, giving me room and air, both of which I feel like I suddenly need. <br /><br />“I don’t want to lose myself anymore,” I tell my reflection in the mirror and I hear Kensie chuckle somewhere behind me where she’s cleaning up the mess we’ve made. Standing, I carefully take off the towels we’ve draped around me and lean forward toward the mirror, turning my face on way and then the other, studying my new reflection. “I thought red might help me be a bit more…feisty.” <br /><br />“Who doesn’t like a feisty woman?” Max chuckles from where he’s found a seat, at the edge of the bathtub, one of the only untouched towels we have left draped across his lap. <br /><br />“Sid, for one,” Kensie answers, broom in one hand and a bag of my hair in the other. “He really strikes me as one of those guys who think women should have long hair and be barefoot and pregnant. I mean this is the guy who calls your chosen career path ‘dress up’, “she adds derisively. <br /><br />“Well I think it’s sporty,” I muse, standing straight, my hands on my hips, my chin high as I smile at my own reflection. “I think I’ll fit in at Pugh’s better than I did looking like that small town girl next door.”<br /><br />“You’re going to take the job?” Max asks, aiming his broad, easy, jovial grin at me and I can’t help but grin back at him. <br /><br />“I want that job. I’m taking that job,” I reply, and find myself pulled into a three way bear hug. “You never know, maybe I’ll get a tat next,” I add as they finally let me go. <br /><br />“Now, now let’s not get carried away,” Max laughs, grabbing my face between his two big hands and planting a kiss on the tip of my nose. “You don’t need anything else to make you beautiful.” I blink into his sea storm coloured eyes and find that my own eyes have begun to fill with tears. <br /><br />“What I wouldn’t give for Sid to say that,” I sniff, blinking back the tears, which is a losing battle. <br /><br />“S’il ne le te dit pas, alors il est un retard,” Max replies in a hoarse whisper before kissing one of my tears away and then gathering me against his warm, solid body and wrapping me up in his strong arms. <br />______________________________________________________________<br /><br />“Woooweeee!” A chorus of wolf whistles and cat calls erupted in the room and I wasn’t even going to look up, assuming it was just Vero in another new low cut outfit, but when the noise didn’t immediately die down, I do look up to find Max on the arm of a curvy red head in a skinny black metallic leggings and a grey and silver striped baby doll dress that whose wide horizontal stripes only served to accent her curves. <br /><br />Trust Max to have told me he was going to look after Mel only to pick up some model in New York.<br /><br />“Boys, boys, make way for the new toast of Fifth Avenue, junior fashion designer for club style icon Gareth Pugh, Miss Mel Kelly.” <br /><br />My mouth literally falls open. That can’t be…it can’t be….<br /><br />I watch Max bend over her hand with a flourish, before leaving her in the centre of the room. <br /><br />“Close your mouth. Tu ressembles à un idiot,” Max hisses at me as Jordy and Fleur get up to congratulate her and I can see the looks on the other guy’s faces. They’re practically drooling while I’m standing there, trying to decide just how inappropriate it would be for me to yell at her in front of everyone. <br /><br />“Did you talk her into this?” I growl at Max, deciding it would be better to fight with him than her, for now anyways. <br /><br />“No, I had nothing to do with it, réellement,” Max grins like a wolf showing his teeth. “Mais, je pense qu’elle semble étonnante, non?” I disregard the question of how she looks for the moment, because she looks nothing like Mel and it’s plain that he knows what I think anyway. <br /><br />“And what about the job? She has an interview before the game tonight with RBK that I….”<br /><br />“Mais oui, we all know you set up the interview, Monsieur très importante. Not that she could not have earned the job without your help by the way, parce qu’elle est très douée. Not that you would give her any credit for that,” Max snarls back at me, as if he could have done that for her. As if I’ve never done anything for him. <br />“You do have a thing for her!” I laugh, poking him in the middle of the chest, setting him back on his heels. <br /><br />“Ne soyez pas un âne,” he growls back, pushing my hand away.<br /><br />“No, I mean it. Right from the beginning of the summer, you’re always sniffing around. You really don’t want her to marry me do you? Are you that jealous that I have someone now is that it?” Max shakes his head at me and then stands there, laughing. <br /><br />“Tu vraiment ne comprends pas un chose simple au sujet d’elle,” he laughs, shaking his head and rolling his eyes all at once. “Let me tell you something, mon ami. She doesn’t love you,” he hisses, stepping into me so that our noses are only a hair apart. “She thinks she does. She wants to, but she doesn’t love you and you don’t deserve her love. Elle est trop bonne lointain pour toi,” he adds, giving my cheek a gentle smack before he turns and heads out the door. <br /><br />My gaze follows him and then falls back on Melody who has obviously been watching our tête à tête with wide, worried eyes. She glances towards the door through which Max has just disappears and then looks back at me with narrowed eyes. <br /><br />“What did you say to him?” she asks, crossing the floor to stand near, but not too near me. Like she’s afraid of what I’ll do. <br /><br />“What did you do to your hair?” I demand and watch her steel herself for a reply I can already tell is rehearsed. <br /><br />“It’s just hair,” she says simply, shrugging a single shoulder.<br /> <br />“I liked your hair,” I point out to which she gives the barest of shrugs. <br /><br />“Hair grows back, but it’s my hair,” she points out. “You don’t love my hair. You love me,” she adds, and her eyes hold the question that she won’t voice, ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">don’t you</span>?’<br /><br />“I’m just saying, I just got used to you without pig tails and now this,” I tell her, reaching out to touch the too gelled, too stiff hair that really will take some getting used to. <br /><br />“So you really hate it,” she sighs, eyes downcast. “I really thought you might be more mature than that.” <br /><br />“Babe, it’s just hair,” I force myself to smile as I cast my eyes down the rest of her, over her curves in anticipation of what I have planned for the afternoon. “I’m not that shallow.” She looks up at me through her eyelashes and gives me a shy smile. “That’s better. I was just…in shock. I mean…red…it’s very red.” <br /><br />“Well if I’m going to keep you in line, I thought I’d better amp up my attitude a little.” Pulling her close, I let my hand wander down over her ass and give it a pat, a little harder than necessary but not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to make her squeak and jump a little. <br /><br />“I haven’t started in on the whole job thing yet,” I remind her. “We were supposed to meet with RBK this afternoon.” <br /><br />“I know, and I took that into account when I spoke with Gareth. He’s going to let me do licensed work for them, if you want me to work on your stuff and if they’ll accept some of my other ideas for hockey related off ice wear,” she adds, producing a sketch book from her purse with edgy logo design of a skull with a puck in its jaws and crossed hockey sticks. “And it really isn’t that far,” she adds in a pleading tone, giving me those doe eyes of hers’. <br /><br />“You’ve thought this through,” I sigh, feeling like I’ve had an end round done on me. <br /><br />“I’m a smart cookie. You used to tell me that,” she says quietly, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. <br /><br />“Yeah you are,” I sigh, giving her ass another firm pat before drawing her into a long, soft kiss that makes me think of dragging her into the showers with me, except that I’ve been warned about putting on shows for the guys by Dupers, so instead I turn her around and give her a pat on the ass and push her towards the door. “See you after practice,” I call to her as she sashays towards the door, working those horizontal stripes to great effect. <br /><br />“I’ll be waiting,” she promises, turning to blow me a kiss, which I hold my hand up to catch, but as soon as she’s through the door my annoyance returns and I wipe that kiss down the leg of my hockey pants. <br /><br />“Dude, your girlfriend is haaawwwtttt,” TK calls across the room. <br />“Too hot for you knucklehead,” I call back, picking up a roll of hockey tape and hurling it at him over my shoulder. <br /><br />“Vero will be jealous,” Flower says quietly, returning to his spot next to me on the bench. “She’ll see that haircut and want to do that,” he adds, letting out a long sigh. “I ‘ope she doesn’t do it.”<br /><br />“Yeah…how much are extension do you think?” I ask, and then we both shake our heads and laugh.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-54307292943699330162010-04-22T12:10:00.000-07:002010-04-22T12:25:59.460-07:00Chapter 30“Expectations have a way of doing that,” Kennedy notes as she leans over to add a second coat of slut red as she calls it, to her toes.<br /><br />“I’ve been dreaming, fantasizing about being with him for so long…and he has this amazing body and I just can’t believe it was that…<span style="font-style:italic;">bad</span>,” I exclaim, flopping down on my bed and staring up at the ceiling, silently cursing the gods for my ill luck. <br /><br />“Like I said, your expectations were too high,” Kensie muses, having very little sympathy for me, which, if she knew half the truth would be even less. “Plus, you know, he’s probably one of those guys who's never had to learn the tricks of the trade. Just because he’s fucked a hundred girls doesn’t mean that any of them had the vag to tell him to do something with it other than use it like a plunger,” she adds with a self satisfied grin as she wiggles her red tipped toes. <br /><br />“Do you think that’s what it is? That he’s just never had any direction?” I ask hopefully, turning over and grabbing my pillow to lean on. <br /><br />“Sure,” she shrugs, offering me the bottle which I shake my head at. Not my colour. “He’s probably like one of those guys with the really big dicks that thinks you should just be impressed by that and they never learn how to do anything with it,” she adds matter-of-factly in that sort of ‘this comes from personal experience’ sort of way. “And with your boyfriend having a certain degree of celeb status and the sort of nauseating way those little girls throw themselves at him, you can’t really blame him if all he ever does is throw them a fuck without caring if they actually get anything out of it,” she continues, making a world of sense.<br /><br />“So he can learn,” I say, hopefully, only to have Kennedy look up from wiggling her toes with a single arched eyebrow.<br /><br />“God, you really <span style="font-style:italic;">will </span>do anything for this guy, won’t you?” she asks, sounding incredulous. “I mean, I can see that you’ve put a lot of time and effort into him but…fuck Mel. He wants you to toss your whole life away and be a MILF…what the fuck is up with that? Can’t he appreciate how fucking talented you are?” I open my mouth to say ‘you don’t understand’ but even I’m sick of hearing myself give that excuse. “I know he’s cute and loaded and all that but seriously…Mel…he treats you like shit babe.” <br /><br />“You make it sound like he beats me or something,” I mutter, staring at her toes because I can’t meet the accusing look in her gaze. “It <span style="font-style:italic;">will </span>be different when he’s not playing…in the off season. It <span style="font-style:italic;">will</span>,” I reply fervently, which has become this sort of mantra I’ve developed for myself. <br /><br />“Well for your sake, babes, I certainly fucking hope so but you’re going to have to start telling him where he’s fucking up and I’m telling you right now, if there’s no progress pretty damn quick, then you need to cut your losses because poster boy or not, there are other fish in the sea,” she adds, patiently but with an edge of exasperation in her voice. <br /><br />“Everyone keeps telling me that,” I sigh, rolling back over on my back.<br /> <br />“Really? Like who?” she asks, suddenly sounding interested. <br /><br />“Well…I mean, in different ways, everyone keeps telling me that either <span style="font-style:italic;">I’m</span> not good enough or <span style="font-style:italic;">he </span>isn’t. Like Lauren says I’m not good enough for him,” I begin, to which Kennedy replies with a derisive sounding snort. “Then there’s Max….”<br /><br />“Yeah well…ulterior motive there,” she chuckles, grabbing up all her cotton balls and padding over to the garbage. <br /><br />“I hardly think so,” I sigh, thinking of the rubber he’d left behind in Dupes driveway. “He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”<br /><br />“Well it was pretty low rent to do it in front of everyone,” Kensie smirks, turning to head for my closet where she begins to sort through the clothes that I brought back from the fashion show, taking each item out and holding them up to her. She’d look great in any of them. Well, any of them but the one that’s tucked carefully away in a garment bag. <br /><br />“We didn’t…no, you’re right, I have no argument. I didn’t even want to….”<br /><br />“Then, just curious, why <span style="font-style:italic;">did </span>you? I mean…I feel like I’m fucking repeating myself, but if you don’t want to do this shit, why do you? I mean…do you ever wonder if it’s because you’re so god damn accommodating that maybe you’re just too fucking convenient to pass up? There you are. Practically no assembly required; one dutiful, sweet, faithful, worshipping wife?”<br /><br />The words hurt. Of course they did. They were designed to cut to the core of the matter and even though it sounded like Kennedy had just rattled them off of the top of her head, it was more than apparent to me that she’d given more than a little thought to this, and when I opened my mouth to argue, no words came out. <br /><br />Well of course not. That was exactly what I was trying to be wasn’t it? I had been working so hard to be the easy, simple, choice that I’d become Trina. <br /><br />Oh god, I’m turning into his mom and I have almost no respect at all for her, for the way she follows big bad Troy around, careful not to say anything out of turn or draw too much attention to herself. She was an oatmeal cookie, and not the good kind with raisons or better yet, chocolate chips. She was just plain oatmeal. I’d never wanted to be oatmeal. <br /><br />But then when I’d been prickly, irritable…in short when I’d been the me he’d grown up with he hadn’t seen me. He’d looked right through me. He hadn’t wanted me. <br /><br />“I’m sorry,” Kensie sighs dropping onto the bed beside me as I stare at water stain on the ceiling. “I don’t mean that Sid isn’t a perfectly nice guy…when he isn’t being a spoiled…sorry, there I go again,” she chuckles, nudging me in a way that I know is meant to say ‘laugh with me’ but I don’t much feel like laughing. <br /><br />“I love him,” I say simply because I don’t know how to explain any of the other things that are going through my head. <br /><br />“I know,” Kensie says quietly, reaching to grip my hand. “I know you do.” <br /><br />___________________________________________<br /><br />There’s a spring in my step as I hit the sidewalk outside the Gareth Pugh’s Fifth Avenue studio, hugging my portfolio to my chest and grinning from ear to ear. That is, until the sunlight catches the diamond on my hand and reminds me of my reality and stops me in my tracks, my smile quickly fading. <br /><br />He loved my work, especially the prêt-a-porter designs. He said I was edgy, talented. He’d wanted to hire me on the spot. He wanted me to start working on his Fall collection. <br /><br />I’d had to tell him that I had another offer, which isn’t a lie, it’s just that the other offer is RBK and I’m sure the only reason they’re even giving me an interview is because of Sidney. They did say they liked the men’s wear work I’d done, even if it was limited and fairly conventional, which for them, being commercial, is a good thing. <br /><br />I just can’t see myself designing t-shirts and track suits. I’ve been dreaming of my designs walking down cat walks in Milan and Paris. I’ve day dreamed of walking into exclusive boutiques on Rodeo Drive and having celebutantes trying on my dresses to wear on the red carpet at the Oscars. As much fun as it was, seeing Max and Tanger in recycled army surplus just doesn’t live up to those kinds of hopes and dreams. <br /><br />“Did it go well?” Blinking into the early spring day light, I find myself staring at Max, his hands jammed into the pockets of his dark grey hoody, his green eyes showing a spark of mirth behind his glasses. “Of course it did. Look at you. You look like a fashionista.”<br /><br />“Max...how did you…what are <span style="font-style:italic;">you </span>doing here?” I stammer, still staring at him open mouthed, except instead of wearing the frown I’d just been sporting I find that suddenly I’m smiling and feeling suddenly like laughing instead of crying. <br /><br />“We’re playing in Jersey tonight,” he shrugs, as if I didn’t know. <br /><br />“Yeah but…Sid said you guys had practice this morning and then some…zigtech shoot?” I ask, trying to remember the exact reason I’d been given for why he couldn’t see me when they’d got into town last night. <br /><br />“<span style="font-style:italic;">They </span>do. I’ve got a groin pull,” Max explains with another shrug. “I thought…I mean, Sid thought maybe you’d like to go to lunch…maybe a movie and then I’ll escort you to the game?” he offers, watching me expectantly from behind his glasses.<br /><br />“A movie?” I ask, trying to think of the last time I’d done anything that normal and low key.<br /><br />“Any movie you want…except that Miley Cyrus thing, <span style="font-style:italic;">please </span>don’t make me go to that,” he begs, offering to take my portfolio for me and then offering his other arm. <br /><br />“Alice in Wonderland?” I ask hopefully, feeling an almost childish happiness at just getting to choose and that earns me a bigger grin.<br /><br />“I’ll even let you share my popcorn,” he adds, turning to head us towards the theatre district. <br /><br />“I can’t believe Sid sent you,” I sigh happily, grinning to myself and telling myself that he can’t be as thoughtless as he sometimes seems lately. <br /><br />“Yeah well…he’s you’re knight in shining armor, or whatever” Max mumbles, not sounding as happy as he had a moment ago. <br /><br />“He’s something alright,” I reply, trying to keep the tone light but Max remains silent as we walk along, and eventually the silence wears on me. “Are you guys all still mad about the other night…at Pascal’s?” I ask, bracing myself for his response but all I hear from him is a sort of snort. <br /><br />“Do you <span style="font-style:italic;">have </span>to bring that up?” he asks and I feel my heart skip a beat in my chest as I prepare myself for the lecture on behavior and other people’s property, but instead, he laughs. “I’m still having nightmares about the way his âne blanc colossal looked all distorted by the pool,” he says, giving a shiver of emphasis. <br /><br />“I’d argue but…yeah his ass <span style="font-style:italic;">is </span>that big isn’t it?” I giggle, giving him a hip check that nearly sends him into a tall, leggy blonde who’s also carrying a portfolio in her arms. Just glancing at her, I’m betting hers is full of glamor shots. Max, on the other hand, doesn’t even seem to notice her, despite the fact that she literally stops to look at him. <br /><br />“I have to see that thing enough in the showers,” Max continues without so much as missing a beat. “I don’t need to see that on my own time too. I can’t wait to see how much junk your kids will have in their trunks,” he adds, turning a cheeky grin towards me. <br /><br />“Maximus, have you been checking out my butt?” I ask, feigning wide eyed astonishment, which makes him shake his head and laugh. <br /><br />“Je ne suis pas mort,” he replies nonchalantly, refusing to look over at me, but grinning widely, “ou aveugle,” he adds, unable to keep a straight face any longer, and then we both end up laughing out loud, which gets us some very strange looks as we make our way through the crowds. <br /><br />“You took my fiancée to a movie?” I stare up at Max and shake my head. “Well…okay I guess,” I sigh, going back to undoing my skates.<br /><br />“You’re in New York and what…were you even going to see her?” he asks in this accusing tone that I’m getting a little sick of from him. <br /><br />“I was busy, she knows that,” I remind him. “That’s part of her charm, she understands shit like that.” <br /><br />“Her <span style="font-style:italic;">charm</span>? Is that what you call it? Fuck,” he mutters, still standing over me as if we have more to talk about which, considering the way we just sucked out there, he’s lucky I’ve even had this much to say. I look up at Max, hoping he can read my impatience with this entire topic on my face but he isn’t even looking at me, but he is obviously fuming. <br /><br />“What is this? Have you got a crush on my fiancée Max?” I ask, laughing as I say it because Max doesn’t care about anyone but Max, if it has a pussy he’ll fuck it but he doesn’t care about it. <br /><br />“I just thought someone should remember that she had a big day today and obviously you didn’t. I mean, she’s out there. You are going to see her right?” I find myself tilting my head to the side as I stare at him, not sure what to make of the jittery, nervous looking Max in front of me. <br /><br />“Of course I’ll see her but we’re flying out to Tampa tonight and she knew that, which is why I didn’t make a big deal about seeing her during this trip, you know, so thanks for that Max,” I add, dragging off my socks and standing to take off my hockey pants. “She understands, she gets it, I don’t know why you’re making a big deal about this.” <br /><br />“I just think, you know, it’s nice for her to see you,” Max grumbles and turns to walk over to talk to Dupes and Flower, probably about me and what an ass I am. That seems to be the topic du jour, at least since Dupes party. A guy has sex with his fiancée in a pool and you never hear the end of it. <br /><br />“Hey,” I call as I walk out onto the cold concrete floor in my bare feet, still wearing my under armor. <br /><br />“Hey yourself,” she grins, turning around, a big welcoming smile on her face. That’s not all that looks welcoming. She’s wearing a curve hugging black knit dress that looks soft like a baby blanket and leaves nothing to the imagination. As if that wasn’t enough, she’s wearing a pair of knee high black boots with evil look points and high heels. Plus her hair is all sort of…piled up and she’s wearing bright red lipstick. She just doesn’t look like Mel…at all. She moves to hug me but I hold my hands up and step back. I probably smell worse than I look and I know I’m dripping with sweat. <br /><br />“I haven’t showered yet,” I mutter, still entranced by this vampy outfit of hers. “You went out on a date with Max…in that?” I ask, staring at the way the soft fabric tugs across her chest, unable to shake the way her tits felt pressed against my chest when we had sex. <br /><br />“Date? What? Oh this,” she looks down and then looks back up at me, her cheeks going bright pink. “I was at that interview,” she reminds me, which makes me shake my head. <br /><br />“But I thought we agreed…,” I begin only to have her roll purse her lips and look disappointed in me. <br /><br />“No, you <span style="font-style:italic;">told</span> me to cancel it but…,” I watch her take a deep breath and square her shoulders like she’s about to take a face off before she opens her lips again, “I want to do this. They’ve offered me a position and I want to take it.”<br /><br />“So you want us to have a long distance marriage?” I ask, feeling irritated and now not just because I couldn’t put the puck past Brodeur. <br /><br />“It’s working right now, isn’t it?” she asks in a way that isn’t so much a question as a statement, though I can see that she’s ready for me to blow giant holes in her argument. She tilts her chin up, her eyes focus and her lips become a thin line. I’ve seen her do it so many times, and not just with me but her mother and anyone else who dared argue with her. I just sort of thought she was over this kind of stuff with me. <br /><br />“We talked about starting a family,” I begin, trying to reign in my temper, trying to keep my voice low and even. This really isn’t the place for this discussion, out here in the crowded hallway between the dressing rooms. Already other players, staff and family members are starting to notice the beautiful girl not looking at all happy to be talking to the Pen’s captain. <br /><br />“<span style="font-style:italic;">You </span>did. I said I wanted to wait,” she says, not sounding as defiant as the expression on her face might suggest. I can see the indecision in her eyes. I can read her like a book. <br /><br />“Did you think when I asked you to marry me that I wanted to wait?” I ask, stepping closer, knowing that I can’t keep the irritation and impatience out of my voice. “Don’t you think that it will look…oh I don’t know, strange, that you feel like you have to work?” <br /><br />“Oh for god sakes Crosby!” she snaps, sounding as frustrated and irritated as I’m feeling, but her bottom lip has started to tremble and her eyes are filling with tears. “It’s not the dark ages anymore. Women work you know.” <br /><br />“I know babe,” I sigh, changing my tactics and going for the quiet, supportive approach, for now. I can’t deal with this, not right now. I don’t have the patience and I’ve seen my dad do this with my mother a hundred times so….. “I know you have this dream and that’s why I wanted you to talk to my guys at RBK, so we could set something up and you can work from home and….”<br /><br />“I don’t want to design t-shirts. I’m good. I design gowns! Haute fucking couture! Not that you’d know that if it crept up and bit you on the ass. Have you even looked at my portfolio?” she snaps back, her voice barely above a whisper, her nose almost touching mine, and then it’s gone as she whirls to pick up some leather bound case that’s resting on the jersey box behind her. “Look,” she says, unzipping the case and opening it to a page that looks a lot like a bunch of coloured lines vaguely making up the shape of a dress. It reminds me a bit of some of the designs I’d looked at when I was working with Sportchek and RBK for my line, except that there’s satin and sequins, not cotton. “Kleinfeld’s wants exclusive rights to this design. Do you have any idea how rare it is for someone right of design school to get a dress into Kleinfeld’s?” she asks when I look back up at her. <br /><br />“What’s a Kleinfeld?” She blinks at me, like I’m the one talking in tongues and then lets out a little sigh. <br /><br />“They’re the biggest, most famous bridal boutique in Manhatten,” she explains in a stilted, controlled voice as if she’s forcing the words through her teeth, like she’s annoyed. <br /><br />“Well that explains that then,” I mutter. “I told Max you’d never wear a dress like that to your own wedding.” <br /><br />“Well…no of course I wouldn’t but…are you listening to me Sidney? I’m telling you that this is something that’s important to me. This is something I want,” she tells me earnestly, her gaze searching mine. <br /><br />“But I thought you wanted to be with me,” I reply, reaching up to touch her cheek, wanting her to just calm down and think this through. <br /><br />“I do,” she replies, leaning her cheek into my hand and lowering her long fan like eyelashes over her eyes. “I just don’t want to turn into my dad, always standing in the shadows, never doing anything for himself. I don’t want that for myself,” she adds, looking up at me with her doe like eyes. “If you love me you won’t want that for me either.” She says it like she’s rehearsed it and it feels like a trap. One of the things I’ve always liked about Mel is that wasn’t the kind of girl to play games and I’m feeling a little more than annoyed that now that she has my grandmother’s ring on her finger she thinks she should start playing now. <br /><br />“Of course I don’t want you to be a little mushroom cap Mel. I mean, how could you? You’re my girl,” I smile at her, though I don’t feel much like smiling, but her face lights up in response and then I feel a knife twist in my gut. Christ she’s beautiful. “This is a lot to think about…I mean, we’re buying a house there and let’s face it, I’m in a long term contract in Pittsburgh so…let’s try and figure out how to make it work with you there, okay?” She nods, silently, and I’m pretty sure she’s trying hard not to cry. I’ve seen that tension in her jaw and as I press my lips over hers I can feel how reluctant she is to return my kiss. “Are you going to be okay?” I ask, searching her eyes, wishing she didn’t look so sad. “You know we’re flying right out?” She nods and gives a little shrug. <br /><br />“I’ll see you on the weekend,” she affirms quietly, reaching down to lace her fingers with mine. “You’re playing Carolina Saturday right?” <br /><br />“Yeah, Staal brothers battling it out,” I respond cheerfully and she manages to give me a smile that almost looks genuine. Huh. I guess we’ve had our first fight. “I promise we’ll sit down and talk about this then okay?” Again she nods, but says nothing and the way her lips are still drawn in a thin line tells me that the fight isn’t over yet.<br /><br />“I’ll make sure she gets home.” I look over Mel’s shoulder to see Max standing a little ways back, far enough to give us privacy but still….<br /><br />“You won’t make the flight,” I begin but he just shrugs and stares me down, like he’s daring me to contradict him. <br /><br />“I’ve cleared it with Disco Dan,” he responds coolly, turning to lean against the concrete wall, half turned away from us. <br /><br />“That okay with you?” I ask, looking back down at Mel, who nods, once. “Okay, well…I’m proud of you for the whole Kleinfeld thing. That’s great, really,” I tell her, lifting her chin and placing a kiss on her brow. “And I’m sure we’ll figure something out and Mel?” She raises her gaze to meet mine and the hope that I see there sweeps away any anger I’m holding on to. “I can’t wait for Saturday.” As I bend to kiss her again, I can see Max lurking right behind her, so the kiss I give her is more chaste than I’d planned to leave her with. “If this guy gives you any trouble, let me know,” I add with a grin that she doesn’t return before she turns and heads down the hall. Max gives me a long, disappointed look and then turns to follow her. <br /><br />____________________________________________________<br /><br />I sit flipping through my portfolio, staring at each design, following the lines with my fingers, remembering what it had felt like to see the final result come to life as I stare at the photo on the opposite page. Each one is like a child. I feel proud of each and every one of them, cherishing them all and feeling my heart swell as I look at them. <br /><br />Max sits beside me in silence, just as he had in the back of the big, black town car as it had sped through the wet, dark streets while I stared out at the rain drenched sidewalks and tried not to cry. I felt like I’d let myself down and I’d let him do to me just what Troy did to Trina every time she tried to change things. I was going to back down, just like she always does. I was going to do what he wanted me to do and say nothing, just like my father does and I could feel a little part of my heart dying as I admitted that to myself. Dying, and turning into hard, cold stone. <br /><br />“You’re talented,” Max says finally, breaking what seems like hours of silence. <br /><br />“Not that it matters,” I mutter in return, closing my book and staring at the black leather cover. “I’m not going to do anything with it.” <br /><br />“You should,” he says quietly from where he’s sitting at the end of the couch in my darkened apartment. “If it means anything…he’s already had everything he could possibly want. You should have what you want too.” I turn to look at him and try and smile, although I can feel only one corner of my mouth turn up. I just don’t have it in me even to be grateful. <br /><br />“It would be nice not to have to choose,” I sigh, shrugging my shoulders.<br /> <br />“You shouldn’t have to…<span style="font-style:italic;">he </span>shouldn’t make you…,” Max begins, but I just shake my head and lean in to press my fingers against his lips, silencing him. <br /><br />“Don’t…don’t beat up on him. I’m the one with no balls,” I add with a half a grin before I curl up, putting my head on his lap and closing my eyes. <br /><br />“And aren’t we all grateful for that,” he chuckles, running his hands slowly and gently through my hair, untangling my backcombed mess while I try and let my tension go, while I try not to think, while I try and just relax and let my mind go until…. Yawning, I turn to glance up at Max to find him watching me with sympathetic gaze. <br /><br />“You can go…I mean shouldn’t you go?” I ask, between yawns. <br /><br />“I’ll stay…until you go to sleep…if you want,” he adds, the rhythmic movement of his fingers through my hair making it all but impossible not to fall asleep on the spot. <br />“If you’re sure it’s okay,” I mumble, closing my eyes an going back to thinking about nothing, or trying to, until darkness closes in around me.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-32334506322958349492010-04-19T13:36:00.000-07:002010-04-19T13:48:06.977-07:00Chapter 29<span style="font-style:italic;">So, wow, some of you guys are starting to argue pretty vehemently for your sides, which is great and I feel humbled to say the least that you care so much so I'm going to do my best to make the characters worthy of your feelings, but I just want to say that I'm honestly not trying to make Sidney hateful in this...it's just the way he's coming out for me. <span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span><br /><br />“It’s too big,” she says under her breath as she turns in a slow circle beneath the vaulted ceiling in the foyer of one of the houses down the block from Nat and Mario’s. <br /><br />“I know they don’t have anything like this in the Harbour, but for a gated community, it’s not really that big,” I reply, stuffing my hands into my pockets as I watch her look around in wide eyed wonder. “It’s been on the market for a bit, so Mario thinks we could get a deal on it,” I add, leaning back against the wall while she runs her hand up the aged copper banister. <br /><br />“I can’t imagine keeping a place like this clean,” she sighs, staring up the wide, elliptical oak staircase. <br /><br />“Is that what you’re worried about?” I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek not to laugh at her naiveté, which is completely cute and understandable, even though her mother would never have assumed anything but …. “We’ll have a maid service,” I tell her, doing my best not to sound patronizing but her cheeks turn a bright pink anyways. “Besides, we’ll fill the place up soon. I mean, first it’ll be rookies living with us but then,” I grin, crossing the foyer to join her at the foot of the stairs, “we’ll be making our very own hockey team, right?” I ask, nuzzling the back of her neck. <br /><br />“H…hockey team?” she asks, reaching for my hand as I slip it around her waist to pull her back against me. <br /><br />“I want a big family Mel, you know that. Lots of rug rats. That’s why I told you you’d be too busy for any of that dress up shit. You’ll be having babies, lots of babies,” I tell her, nipping at earlobe.<br /><br />“But you wanna wait right? I mean, you just told me how you haven’t had time to even look for your own place. When do you think you’d have time to be a dad?” she asks, turning in the circle of my arm so that our faces are only inches apart and I can feel how fast her heart is beating where our bodies press together. Reaching up, I gently brush her hair from her cheek and I can’t help but smile at the image that appears in my head of her meeting me at the bottom of these stairs with a couple of toddlers clinging to her legs. <br /><br />“Are you saying I’m going to be a bad father?” I ask, laughing as her eyes get even wider. <br /><br />“Nnnnooo,” she replies quietly, but the strain is evident in her voice. “But you’re always doing something, interviews, marketing, signing, practicing…. I mean, we can wait until you’re not quite as…in demand.” <br /><br />“But I don’t want to wait. I want to be young and be able to chase them around and teach them how to skate and take them to practice. C’mon Mel, you know how much I love kids,” I reiterate and her head bobs up and down but I can see the worry in her eyes. “Don’t worry, you won’t be all alone,” I whisper, pressing my lips to hers’ softly, “there’s always nannies.” <br /><br />“Nannies?” she pushes me back and screws up her cute little nose at me. “You want me to raise my kids with…strangers?” <br /><br />“Everyone does it,” I assure her. “Ask Lauren if it was so bad.” <br /><br />“Nathalie and Mario had a nanny?” she looks at me, incredulous. As if I’d lie about something like this. <br /><br />“When they were little, yeah. Mel…we’re not in the Harbour anymore. I have, y’know, a lot of money. That’s what people do when they have lots of money,” I try and explain, but Mel just keeps staring at me like I’ve grown another head. <br /><br />“I don’t…I’m not one of those girls that’s impressed by mansions,” she says, sweeping her arms around her to take in our surroundings, “or your bank balance and I don’t want nannies raising our children or making our food. Who the hell do you think I am?” she asks, managing to look both sad and angry all at the same time. <br /><br />“My Mel,” I reply quietly, reaching to capture her cheeks in my hands. “Why do you think I asked you to marry me?” I ask only to have her stare back at me blankly. “Because you aren’t one of those girls who only wants to date me because of who I am and how much money I make, but I do have money and we don’t have to live like…like we did growing up. Life doesn’t have to be hard like that. Not for us. And that doesn’t make us bad people,” I add as I softly wrap her up in my arms. “Trust me.” <br /><br />“It’s not that,” she sighs as she leans her head against my shoulder. “This is just…it’s so much all at once. I guess I’m having a hard time taking it all in.” <br /><br />“You just need to relax about everything,” I tell her, tipping her face up so that she can see how in control I am with all of this. “Leave it to me. I think I know what I’m doing,” I add with a grin that makes her smile at last. “Now, the guys are having kind of a party for me and Brooksy tonight. Maybe that will help you relax.” <br /><br />“Maybe,” she replies, smiling up at me in that childlike way that makes me want to hold her close and protect her from the big, bad world. <br /><br />“That’s my girl. Now, one more house to see,” I grin down at her and laugh as she rolls her eyes at me. “And if you thought this place was big, just wait until you see this place. It makes Nat and Mario’s look like a carriage house.” <br />_________________________________________________________________<br /><br />Sidney had surprised be my turning into a social butterfly once he was amongst all of his teammates and their ‘significant others’. I’d done my best to be cheerful and put on my best ‘happy’ face while he introduced me to everyone, and I did my utmost to keep their names straight, but once left to my own devices, I did what any self respecting socially inept loner does; I went looking for a friendly face.<br /><br />“It says in the media guide, that your favorite singer is Celine Dion,” I grin leaning against the bar beside where Max has been nursing something dark with big blocks of ice in it. “Please tell me that Flower or Dupes wrote this for you.” <br /><br />“She’s Quebecoise, I have to give props to my girl. She makes a butt load of money. I’m just hoping she’ll take me on as a house boy,” he adds with a sly grin as he stirs the ice in his drink thoughtfully. <br /><br />“Oh yeah, poor hard done by millionaire,” I sigh dramatically as I stare down into the melting ice in my glass.<br /><br />“It goes quick,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “You wouldn’t believe how quick it can go. Not that you’ll ever have to worry about that.” I open my mouth to protest but he waves me off and shakes his head. “I don’t mean it like that. I’m just saying, it could all stop now and Sid and his whole family could live very, very nice lives and never have to worry. Me? Every time I got out on the ice now I worry, is this it? Is this going to be my last shift? Am I going to get injured and never be able to play again?” <br /><br />“No wonder you’re holding the stick so tight,” I mutter and he snorts and almost laughs. <br /><br />“Maybe that’s one reason,” he sighs, picking the lemon wedge off of the side of his glass and pushing it into his drink, stabbing it methodically with his straw. “That and I told Jordan and Duper.” It takes a minute for me to realize what he’s <br />admitting to and then my heart starts to hammer against my chest walls so hard I’m sure he must be able to hear it. “Don’t worry,” he says quietly, turning those emerald green eyes towards me. “They won’t say anything.” <br /><br />“You <span style="font-style:italic;">told </span>Jordan Staal? You should have just taken out an ad in the fucking Hockey News. Are you fucking <span style="font-style:italic;">insane</span>?” I hiss at him, wanting very much to pick up the solid looking ashtray off of the bar and break his head open with it.<br /><br />“They won’t say anything, they’re my friends,” he reiterates, casually, as if that solves everything. <br /><br />“Yeah, well, they’re <span style="font-style:italic;">his </span>friends too,” I point out emphatically but he only smiles wryly and shakes his head. <br /><br />“Creature isn’t close to them like I am. He doesn’t make friends like that.”<br />“What do you mean? You’re his friend,” I point out but again he only shrugs those large shoulders and sighs. '<br /><br />“Sure, I’m everyone’s friend. I’m the funny guy who tags along, having a good time. It wasn’t just Sid’s big bash I went to this summer you know. It was Geno’s as well. We took a private jet, to Russia, it was a pretty big deal,” he smirks, obviously remembering some ménage a trois with the mile high club or something else I don’t want to know about. <br /><br />“You <span style="font-style:italic;">are </span>his friend. I’ve seen you together,” I reiterate, becoming more irritated by the moment that he doesn’t seem to see this as life and death like I do. That’s when Max turns to me, looking very serious, and reaches out to take my hand. For one moment I feel calm, like it’s going to be okay, and then I realize that’s what he wants me to think, so I pull my hand free. Rolling his eyes, Max grabs my hand again and looks me dead in the eye.<br /><br />“Crosby doesn’t have friends, except maybe you. He had, before. Army, Bugsy…but every guy he gets close to gets traded or something. So now, we’re like, co-workers or something. No matter what you see, or what you think you see, we’re not that close. He won’t let anyone close to him. Not like that. But now he has you,” he adds, his gaze sliding away from mine as he lets my hand go and turns back to his drink. “He’s a lucky guy.”<br /><br />“Yeah, well, you know how great I’m <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span>,” I point out, turning back to my drink and swirling the half melted ice cubes in my glass.<br /><br />“Don’t say that,” Max replies stubbornly. “That’s far from true.” <br /><br />“Oh, c’mon. I’m naïve, I’m small town, I’m too young to know better, and apparently I’m not really pretty enough for him,” I sigh, thinking back to Lauren’s warning. <br /><br />“Well that’s a fucking lie,” Max sighs, hanging his head and chuckling sardonically.<br /><br /> “This isn’t you,” he says, raising his green eyes to look into mine. “This isn’t…when I met you at his place in the Summer…you were so…alive. Now…it’s like you’re half of who you were, and in New York you were different…. Don’t you see what he does to you? Why do you let him walk all over you like this?”<br /><br />“You don’t understand,” I reply quietly, turning away from him, feeling both embarrassed and defensive at the same time. <br /><br />“Tu as raison, je ne comprends pas,” he hisses, downing his drink, pushes the bar stool back with a loud scraping noise and storms off. I watch him go, tears filling my eyes and an ache beginning in my chest. It feels like disappointing my favorite teacher or worse, losing my best friend. <br /><br />But he doesn’t understand. This is all I’ve ever wanted. I’ll do anything…<span style="font-style:italic;">anything </span>to make this work. <br /><br />_______________________________________________________________<br /><br />“Dupes says we can stay over,” I whisper to her, lacing my fingers with hers on the cool wet tile beside the pool where we sit, dangling our feet into the heated liquid, watching the steam rise over the water lit from below. I hear her catch her breath and feel her entire body go very still. “If you want,” I add, glancing at her hopefully. Most of the crowd has already gone home to their own beds. There are still a few stragglers inside like Jordy and Tanger but they’re making plans to hit an after hours club and will be gone soon. I’m reminded of that night back at my place in the Harbour, our feet appearing nearly translucent in the brightly lit water, surrounded by nothing but quiet darkness. “I know it’s still not…private,” I add, “but don’t you want to be with me?” <br /><br />“Of course I do,” she whispers back, and I’m sure I can feel her hand tremble in mine. <br /><br />“We could go for a swim first,” I offer, “no one will come out.” <br /><br />“Sidney…I don’t know,” she says, turning those doe like eyes on me. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she adds, looking very serious, so serious it makes me smile. <br /><br />“Oh c’mon Mel. Don’t tell me you’ve never done it with other people around,” I whisper, leaning in to press my lips to the shell of her ear. “I bet you’ve even heard Jordy and Kennedy doing it,” I add, chuckling at the idea of her lying on her own in her own bed, in the dark, mortified by the noises they’d be making. <br /><br />“You don’t have to be so crude,” she sighs as she stares disapprovingly at me. I just smile back, because I see that look in her eyes, the one she gets when she knows she’s being challenged and she’s about to rise to meet that test. As I watch, she slides her hand free from mine and then drags the filmy white peasant top she’s been wearing over her head and tosses it aside. Just as I’d guesses most of the night, the bra she’s wearing beneath is white and lacey, innocent looking, just like she looks as that challenging look leaks from her gaze, replaced by a hesitation as she bites down on her bottom lip and waits for me to make the next move. <br /><br />I pull my t-shirt off and get up and reach for my belt and I’m sure, even in the semi-dark that I can see her cheeks painted a sweet pink colour. Dropping my shorts to the concrete, I dive into the pool and surface to see her wiggling out of the tiered broomstick skirt that’s been hiding her shapely legs all night, which leaves her standing on the edge of the pool in a pair of white cotton panties with the word angel written strategically across the front with a halo hanging around the bottom of the ‘l’ as if it’s slipped. <br /><br />“Are you coming in?” I call, treading water as I watch her stand, shivering at the edge of the pool. “The water’s warm.”<br /><br />“I’m…shy,” she calls back to me, her arms hugged around her, staring at me with wide, doe like eyes. <br /><br />“Mel, we’re engaged,” I laugh. “Isn’t it about time you trusted me? Now c’mon, get in here.” I can see her shaking as her she stands there staring back at me and I can see hesitancy clear on her face. Then, just as I’ve seen her do a hundred times before, she raises her chin and her eyes flash and I know she’s made up her mind to do something she’s half afraid to do. That’s my girl.<br /><br />Licking my lips, I watch her reach back to undo her bra, though she covers herself before she drops the white lace garment to the ground. Then she walks into the shallow end and slips her panties off beneath the water before tossing them onto the deck of the pool as well. All the while, I remain treading water just at the edge of the deep end where I can’t quite touch the bottom so she has to swim to me, using long, graceful strokes, with her hair floating in the water behind her. <br /><br />As she reaches me, I take a few strokes backward until I feel the sold concrete wall behind me, then with one hand on the wall I reach out to slide my other arm around her waist and pull her to me. The warm water mixed with the cool touch of her skin on mine feels amazing as does the soft wetness of her lips as I press mine down over hers’. I can taste the chlorine on her mouth and the raspberry Stoli she’s been drinking as my tongue twines with hers’. <br /><br />She’s still shivering as our bodies press together and now I know that it has nothing to do with the cool night air. She is so like the deer in the headlights that her wide eyes suggest as she draws back to search my face. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think this was her first time.<br /><br /><br />“I love you Sidney,” she whispers, like she has to say it to me, like I have to hear it as I nudge my erection between her thighs. <br /><br />“I know,” I smile back at her, letting go of the edge of the pool long enough to brush her wet hair from her pale cheek and place my lips there, just on her cheekbone and then down to the edge of her jaw. “How lucky am I?” I add, dropping my hand down to her hips, holding her there in the water, our buoyancy holding us apart. She wraps her legs around me then and I slide up into her, the heated water doing the work that an hour of fore-play couldn’t have done any better. <br /><br />I hear her draw a quick breath as I push up into her and her arms wrap tightly around my neck, holding on as the concrete wall digs into my back. Still, it feels so good, warm and tight inside of her and I just hold myself there enjoying the feeling of her fitting around me like a glove before I let her go, the water sort of pulling her away before I take her hand and draw her into the shallows where I can get a better purchase. <br /><br />Turning her into the wall, I press her back against it and draw her thighs up and around me as I bury myself deeply inside of her. She lets out a little cry as she wraps her arms around me.<br /><br />“Do you like that?” I ask, my hands reaching for the edge of the pool, using it and the bottom of the pool to hold myself in place while I draw out of her and shove myself back inside, making her cry out again. <br />_____________________________________________________________<br /><br />It isn’t the rose petal strewn bed or the candle lit setting I’d always imagined. It isn’t even romantic. What it is, is an opportunity and Sidney was clearly tired of waiting. I didn’t really want to do it like this and the idea of getting caught did nothing for me in the way of heightening the sense of anticipation but I know I can’t stand here all night in my underwear, staring at his broad, round shoulders bobbing above the clear blue water either. <br /><br />“Are you coming in?” he calls, grinning up at me and reminding me of all the times we’d dared one another to swim across the lake in the pitch dark in the middle of the night, except now the dare isn’t to be one of the boys, to swim farther and faster. “The water’s warm,” he adds, as further incentive, although it’s hardly the incentive I need. My incentive is clearly in front of me in the form of the man I’ve dreamed of being with ever since I stopped thinking boys were icky. <br /><br />I can see him working up to one of those speeches, the ones where he tells me to suck it up, man up or whatever. Where the dare moves from just a dare to a double dog dare and that just isn’t what I need right now. What I want and what I’m going to get are obviously two different things so instead….<br /><br />“I’m shy,” I tell him, which is true. I can’t believe after all this time I’m going to be naked in front of him and that’s when the guilt hits, when I actually feel like I may have made a mistake going to Max instead of waiting for this…well this less than ultimately romantic moment. <br /><br />“Mel, we’re engaged. Isn’t it about time you trusted me? Now c’mon, get in here.” It isn’t exactly a double dog dare but it has the tone of impatience behind it and I have a flashback of being overdressed for winter and running to keep up with him, idiot mittens dragging behind me in the snow. The twinge of pain that vision causes sweeps away the guilt and instead I think about torturing him, making him wait to see me. <br /><br />So I reach back to undo my bra, keeping my arm across my chest when I drop the white lace push up behind me, but I can’t keep my arm there and take my panties off so I take a few steps into the water, just enough to have the tub water warm liquid reach my waist before I begin pushing them down and wriggling until I can step out of them. They’re cute, but not the ones I would have chosen to wear if I’d known tonight was going to be the night, I think as I swim out to wear he’s treading water, moving his thickly muscled arms in slow lazy circles as he watches me with greedy eyes. <br /><br />He takes the teasing a step too far as far as I’m concerned when he keeps moving just out of my reach, but then, when I have him trapped against the edge of the pool, he pulls me against him and there’s no doubt about how much he’s enjoyed the show so far. <br /><br />And then he kisses me, a long, languid kiss with his soft lips moving over mine gently and forcefully in turn, and as much as I want to be the sexy siren, my nerves get the better of me and even against the warmth of his body and in the steaming water, I can’t help but shudder, a mixture of fear and anticipation making my entire body quake. <br /><br />God! This didn’t happen when I was with Max. Sure I’d been scared, but it’s almost all I can do not to cry as he presses the hard, thick length of his cock against my stomach. I have to say it to myself, over and over in my head, ‘don’t cry, you can do this, don’t cry’ like a kid being forced out onto the stage at the Thanksgiving pantomime. <br /><br />“I love you Sidney,” I whisper, more for myself, to remind myself of why I’m doing this, or why I’m letting him do this to me as I feel him push himself up between my thighs. This isn’t what I wanted but it’s him and I want him so I want this. I do. <br /><br />“I know,” he smiles at me, gently brushing my wet hair back from face where it’s stuck like seaweed, and just for a moment there’s tenderness in his voice instead of insistent greed and I find myself relaxing against him as he kisses his way down to my jaw line. “How lucky am I?” he adds, making me smile as he urges my thigh up and around his hips so that he can slide inside of me which presses the air out of my lungs and for a moment I grit my teeth, expecting the pain that doesn’t come even though it does feel like he’s stretching me wider than I’m meant to go. So when he pulls out and presses himself back in to me I can’t help but gasp. <br /><br />Then he withdraws and I look up from where I’d buried my head in his shoulder to find him dragging me into the shallows where he presses me up against the concrete wall and lifts me onto his thick cock, dragging another gasp from me as my body stretches to accommodate him. <br /><br />“Do you like that?” he asks, his voice husky as he whispers in my ear. “Is it better than anyone else?” He can’t help it I guess, the competitive juices flowing even now as he shoves himself deeply inside of me. Burying my head in his shoulder I bite down on my cheek and try not to laugh. Sidney’s always had a foul mouth but talking dirty…it’s so far from how I’d imagined this moment to be that I want to laugh except that I know if I do not only will it ruin the moment but he would probably take it wrong. <br /><br />Max wouldn’t, I think, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back as he jams away at me like he’s playing whack a mole instead of making love. I catch myself smiling at the thought of Max putting on his thickest Pepé la Pue accent and kissing his way up my arm all the while telling me ‘you ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">ave never looked more ravasheeeng, eeet eeez luuuvvv at first sight it is, non?</span>’.<br /><br />Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to shake off the thought of him, but when I open my eyes, he’s there before me…<br /><br />Shutting my eyes, I shake my head, telling myself that I’m missing the moment, that I’m making love with the man I’ve loved ever since I can remember but when I open my eyes….<br /><br />Max is staring back at me through the kitchen window and the anger and disgust on his face…<br /><br />“Sidney,” I try pushing at his shoulders but he’s too far gone, too wrapped up in what he’s doing to really hear me.<br /><br />“Yesss, Mel, you feel so good,” he moans, his hand fisted in my hair, his teeth digging into the curve of my neck. “You like it don’t you? You love it don’t you?” <br /><br />I hear myself say yes, but I shake my head as I stare back at Max wishing he didn’t have to see this and suddenly wishing this had never happened that I could take it back, that I could dial the clock back and make things come out differently. This should never have happened I tell myself, wanting to send that message my telepathy to Max as he turns from the window and heads back into the house. This was wrong; the wrong place, wrong time. You don’t do this at someone else’s house, even if you are the captain of the team. It’s wrong. It never felt right in the first place. <br /><br />“Sidney stop,” I whimper, pushing harder at his shoulders. <br /><br />“Yeah, is that the way you want to play it?” Sidney grins up at me suddenly, his eyes alight. “You want me to play it rough? Is that how you like it?” he asks, and I shake my head vehemently but he keeps going, digging his fingers into my hips and slamming me hard enough into the wall of the pool that I know I’ll have bruises to go along with my humiliation later. <br /><br />Close your eyes and think of England. Is that how the saying goes? I close my eyes and bury press my forehead against his powerful shoulder and wait for it to be over with, making all the appropriate sounds and hating myself every single moment for doing it. But I do it anyway, all the while wishing it was different and hating myself for knowing how it could have…how it should have been.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-19135888318440809672010-04-15T12:27:00.000-07:002010-04-15T12:32:50.823-07:00Chapter 28“Let me see that again,” Lauren grabs at my hand and pulls my fingers back towards her, bending them at an awkward and unnatural angle so that the small, elegant diamond catches the light. “Kinda cheaped out there Sid,” she snorts, letting my hand go, although I keep staring at it, just as I have most of the night. <br /><br />“It’s antique and <span style="font-style:italic;">very </span>pretty,” Nathalie chimes in, laying her hand gently and reassuringly on my shoulder. <br /><br />“And it has sentimental value, which makes it more special than anything new,” I add, beaming across the table at Sid whose eyes crinkle as he smiles back at me. <br /><br />“I can’t believe you said yes, after all the time he’s made you wait,” Mario adds with a smirk and a teasing tone that doesn’t do much to alleviate the sudden rush of blood to my face which I try to hide by ducking my head and letting my hair fall in front of my face. <br /><br />“Well they say all good things come in time,” Sidney muses, pushing his chair back with a loud scraping sound and coming around the table to push my hair back and press a kiss to my forehead. “Walk me out to my car?” I feel his hand curl around mine and I nod, mutely, grabbing a piece of toast from the table before I allow him to lead me out into the hallway. <br /><br />“About last night,” I begin as we walk down the corridor towards the garage, but Sidney quickly turns and presses his thumb over my lips. <br /><br />“Stop apologizing,” he smiles and then presses his soft lips to my forehead. “You were tired and pretty emotional,” he continues, which makes me flinch as I think of how I couldn’t get my tears of surprise and relief under control. “Mel…we have the rest of our lives to have sex,” he whispers against my cheek as he brushes my hair back from my face. “And I think you were right about prying eyes,” he adds in a hushed tone as he glances down the hallway. Following his gaze I see Lauren leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, dispassionately filing her nails.<br /><br />“It’s just weird here…with so many people around,” I sigh, still feeling slightly about getting cold feet when it came down to it, especially after he’d proposed, even if it had been more of a pragmatic proposal than the romantic rose petal strewn, candle lit dream I’ve always pictured but then that’s him all over. There was no need to make a fuss, it was just a formality he’d said and although I still feel a little disappointed, I do sort of agree. What if I’d cried like a baby in front of everyone? How embarrassing would that have been?<br /><br />“And I told you, starting this afternoon after practice; we’ll start looking for our own place. Right after you cancel your meeting in New York with…what was that gay guy’s name again?” <br /><br />“Gareth Pugh, and you can’t assume he’s gay because he designs clothes,” I correct him, “and I’m not sure I want to cancel. He’s cutting edge, exactly the kind of ready to wear designer I want to learn from,” I continue, only to have Sidney shake his head and laugh as if I’ve told a funny joke.<br /><br />“Once this summer is over, believe me, you’ll be too busy for any of that dress up dolly stuff,” he grins, before taking my face in both of his big hands and pressing his lips gently to the tip of my nose. “Besides, now you have a wedding to plan, right?” he adds, more quietly as his caramel coloured gaze searches mine. I nod, accepting that he’s probably right and swallowing my objections at the same. “That’s better,” he whispers, tipping my lips up to meet his and pressing his mouth over mine in a long, soft kiss that leaves me tingling all over. “I’ll see you after practice. Be good.” <br /><br />I smile and watch him go, keeping my thoughts and concerns to myself. I’ve begun to feel like the nodding dog stuck on the dash of his car; nodding and smiling and saying nothing. Yes I’ll marry you, yes I’ll give up my career, yes I’ll move to Pittsburgh…it feels like all I’ve been doing all night. Well, that and totally freezing the moment he tried to touch me. <br /><br />Yeah, having everything I’ve ever wanted is going <span style="font-style:italic;">just great</span> so far. <br /><br />“I <span style="font-style:italic;">am </span>surprised you said yes so fast.” Yanked out of my pity party, I turn to see Lauren still leaning in the hallway, filing her nails down to blood red points. “I mean, I know you’ve been like…waiting around for him to notice you or whatever but…I mean, you don’t think this is going to last do you?” <br /><br />“Whaddayamean?” I ask, narrowing my eyes as I turn and walk back towards her. <br /><br />“Well, I mean, for one of the other guys, for…I don’t know…Gogo or Johnny or even Max, maybe you’d be pretty enough but Sidney?” she turns her almond shaped eyes on me and tilts her head to one side so her long hair falls over her shoulder in a silken waterfall. “He should be with Taylor Swift or Dianna Agron…someone like that. Not…what were you again? Miss Lobster Tail?” It hurts, like taking a punch in the gut. Here I’d been thinking Lauren was my friend…. “Oh don’t look like that. I like you, sure I do. Everyone likes you. You’re sweet and cute and fun to be with but do you think you can seriously handle those girls that wait outside the arena? Or worse, the ones waiting for him in the hotel lobbies, with their designer clothes and push up bras? Really?” <br /><br />She doesn’t wait for me to answer. Instead she just gives me one of those half hearted hugs and air kisses like girls in a beauty pageant do when they don’t really mean to congratulate you. When what they really want to do is pull your hair and gauge your eyes out. I watch her go, feeling bereft and more than a little sorry for myself. <br /><br />Then I look down at the ring on my finger and tell myself ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">he loves me</span>'. So why do I still hear the other part of that particular girlhood mantra? ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">He loves me not</span>.’<br />____________________________________________________________________<br /><br />“Did you hear that reporter ask me if you’re ever going to score a goal again?” <br /><br />I hear Jordy’s voice loud and clear as I walk down the corridor towards the room, bracing myself for the teasing that I’m sure is to follow once the guys find out I actually went through with it. That is, assuming Flower’s told them, which he might not have, in which case I’ll have to and then….<br /><br />“Get off my case Jordan.” <br /><br />That’s Max’s voice and I can’t remember the last time Madness has actually called Gronk by his full name. It’s always Staalsy or Gronk or Stretch or something en Français that can’t be repeated in good company.<br /><br />“Okay, what the fuck is wrong with you? First you totally bail on the Gold Medal game and now you’re acting like someone’s pissed in your cornflakes,” Jordy snarls back and I pause in the doorway, not wanting to walk into the middle of what is sounding like it could turn into an actual scrap any minute now. <br /><br />“You don’t want to know,” Max mutters and then everyone’s voices go back to regular decibels and I can’t hear what they’re talking about. Deciding it might be safe, I take a couple of steps into the room, open my mouth to announce what I’ve gone and done but then I see Jordy and Dupes staring down at Max with wide eyes and take a step back instead. <br /><br />“Es-tu aliéné?” Dupes asks, looking completely shocked by whatever Max has told them. “As-tu perdu ton esprit?” <br /><br />“What was I going to do? She came to me. She practically begged me,” Max replies sullenly, without so much as raising his head. <br /><br />“Do you <span style="font-style:italic;">want </span>to play in Edmonton?” Jordy hisses, reaching for Max’s shoulders and giving him an actual shake. “I mean you do know what you’ve done?”<br /><br />“Naturellement je sais, j’étais là,” Max snaps back, turning his gaze up to meet Jordan’s shocked expression. “Don’t look at me like that. You’d hit that too,” he adds resentfully. <br /><br />“I would <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span>. I’m not suicidal,” Jordan huffs, taking a step back like he’s afraid of catching something and with Max’s history, that’s a distinct possibility. <br /><br />“I thought you told me you were going to stay away from Lauren,” I snap, stepping back into the room. Talk about guilty consciences. Everyone jumps at the sound of my voice, like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. <br /><br />“Lauren? He’s not…,” Dupes takes a stick in the shin from Jordan but it’s obviously too late and Dupes, being my roomie, knows that. <br /><br />“Ne tracesses pas,” Max sighs, pushing himself up from the bench and putting himself between me and the boys. “Mon ami, she came to me, what do you want me to say?”<br /> <br />“She’s a fucking <span style="font-style:italic;">kid </span>Max! Can’t you keep your fucking dick in your pants at all?” I hiss at him, expecting some kind of sarcastic, chauvinistic come back but Max just stands there, looking tired as he shrugs his shoulders.<br /><br />“Je prendrai quelque punition tus penses que je mérite,” he says diffidently, looking me straight in the eye. “But I’m not going to apologize to you for it.” <br /><br />“And if I tell Mario?” I snarl back at him, expecting him to flinch, but he just keeps staring back at me through those sleepy looking eyes of his. <br /><br />“Then you’d probably embarrass Lauren quite a lot,” he says quietly. I stare at him, waiting for the caustic comment, the snarky come back, but it never comes. He just stands there, staring at me like he’s waiting for me to hit him or something. <br /><br />“Well I guess it’s too fucking late to do anything about it now,” I mutter, brushing past him and heading for my stall. “At least tell me you used something,” I demand which earns me a hairy eyeball. “Fuck, Max, I just wish you would fucking grow up. I mean, you don’t even <span style="font-style:italic;">like </span>her, you even said so. I don’t get how you can just keep going around fucking everything that moves. What do you get out of it? Don’t you ever want it to mean something?” <br /><br />“Don’t preach to me Crosby. It’s not like you’ve ever had a real relationship,” Max scowls as he sits down on the bench next to me. <br /><br />“Yeah? Well I proposed to Mel last night. Can’t get much more real than that don’t you think?” The room gets real quiet, way past the point of hearing a pin drop. It’s like everyone’s holding their breath and when I turn to see what the effect of my news is on Max, he’s just staring at the floor between his feet. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I grin, giving him a hard shove that would normally have sent him toppling into Flower but he hardly moves at all. In fact he turns to me with the strangest expression on his face. <br /><br />“Did she say yes?” he asks quietly. <br /><br />“Of course she fucking said yes. She’s been in love with me since she was five,” I grin back at him. <br /><br />“Nice…well…I guess congratulations,” he mutters, holding his hand out towards me. “She’s…you’re a lucky man.” I slap his hand away, laughing.<br /> <br />“Fuck, don’t be so fucking serious! Look, if you’re gonna be my best man, you’ve got to stop fucking Lauren, just promise me that,” I ask, punching his shoulder hard enough that he winces and reaches up to rub the spot. <br /><br />“It’s not…that’s over. Won’t happen again,” he promises.<br /><br />“Good, because Whit tells me it’s boring as hell in Edmonton and the girls are ugly, you’d die there,” I add with a grin that earns me the shadow of a smile from him. “That’s fucking better. Now, are you gonna plan my bachelor party or what?” <br /><br />“Yeah…it’ll be epic,” he promises with a wistful smile that should make me nervous but today I feel impervious, which might be why it doesn’t bother me as much as I think it should about him and Lauren, although I do make a mental note to have Mel have a talk with her, after all, they’re going to be practically sisters and she’ll probably want her as a bridesmaid too.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-85982518514877889592010-04-13T09:26:00.000-07:002010-04-13T09:52:20.203-07:00Chapter 27<span style="font-style:italic;">Whew...well that last chapter was definitely controversial and I'd just like to say thank you to those that didn't blast me and I really enjoyed almost all of your comments. I hope I keep you guessing. <span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span><br /><br /><br />“Do you have yourself under control now?” Lauren asks, shooting me a dirty look through narrowed eyes as her little red Beamer comes to a stop at the end of a cul-de-sac in very nice new suburban neighborhood. <br /><br />“Yes, sorry,” I sniff, dabbing at my make up in the little mirror on the back of the sun visor. “It’s just so stressful…,” I begin but her dramatic sigh makes me pause.<br /> <br />“I know, he’s there you’re here, blah blah blah, very dramatic,” she sighs again, yanking hard on the e-brake. “There’s nothing you can do about it. It’s not worth crying over,” she adds, looking at me like I’m some kind of disappointment.<br /><br />“You don’t understand,” I begin but am quickly shut my mouth when she lets out yet another huffing sound. “Okay, maybe you do, but it is the biggest game of his life and I hate that I can’t even wish him good luck in person.”<br /> <br />“Yeah well, I still think the fact that he texted you and said he couldn’t wait to see you totally overcomes everything else,” she points out, dropping down her own sun visor to check her lipstick.<br /><br />“No, that’s horrible!” I snap, clenching and unclenching my fists in my lap. “This is the biggest game of his life, he shouldn’t be thinking about me <span style="font-style:italic;">at all</span>!” I cry to which Lauren only yawns and runs her fingers through her long hair. <br /><br />“Do you have <span style="font-style:italic;">any </span>clue how many women would give their left tit to have Sidney say something like that to them? Do you?” she asks, turning her serious face to me and raising one perfectly plucked eyebrow. I shrug, which makes her roll her eyes. “Well, are you at least done sniffing and blowing your nose so we can go inside?” <br /><br />I nod and she kills the engine, and we both go around to the back of the car to retrieve the snacks we’ve brought with us. It feels like we’re going to a tailgate party and by the looks of the rest of the vehicles parked around the end of the road, it looks like one too. <br /><br />“You just missed the show,” Jordy grins as he opens the door to me. I look down at my watch and then back up at him, puzzled.<br /><br />“The game hasn’t started yet. Or am I still on Pacific time?” I ask, pushing the bowl of homemade salsa Lauren and I made into his arms and brushing past him.<br /><br />“No, no, you’re good. Game’s on in like half an hour,” he replies, taking the bottle of wine from Lauren before shutting the door with his ass. <br /><br />“No, it was Max heading for the pool. He won’t say who she was but some hellcat scratched up his back last night,” Duper muses as I round the corner to the kitchen to find most of the guys standing around the chips and dip with beers in their hands. <br /><br />“Really?” I ask, reminding myself to breathe and hoping that the truth isn’t shining out of my eyes. “Have you guys ever seen any of these mysterious ladies?” I ask, sarcastically, which fortunately makes all the boys laugh. <br /><br />“Yeah, at three in the morning when they turn on the house lights and we say ‘oh my god Talbot run away’,” TK laughs and gets a high five from Jordy.<br /><br />“That sounds like someone’s jealous,” I reply, feeling suddenly defensive, though I remind myself that they’re only teasing as Max emerges from one of the back rooms, pulling a tight fitting black t-shirt down over the dark tats my fingers had traced last night as he lay beside me.<br /><br />“I guess they’re not all that bad. Just most of them,” Jordy laughs, giving Max a playful shove which I know would normally result in some kind of play fighting but this time only earns Jordan a dark look from Max as he reaches for a beer, screws off the lid and promptly guzzles half of it down. “Hey, bud, you should take it easy on those. The game hasn’t even started yet.” <br /><br />“Who died and appointed you den mother?” Max snarls at Jordan who’s obviously more used to Max’s moods than I am and just laughs it off. I, on the other hand, am not.<br /> <br />“At least someone else is as nervous about this game as I am,” I say brightly, hooking my arm in his. “I was crying in the car on the way over here, wasn’t I Lauren?” I add, which sends her into the story of how I literally started crying over how proud of Sidney I am which I’m sure is no news to anyone but she seems to find it amusing. As she launches into the story, I drag Max out to the living room which is thankfully still empty. “Apart from killing my buzz, I thought I could rely on you to keep last night to yourself?” I hiss at him, which earns me nothing more than a contemptuous sneer.<br /><br />“Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m pretty sure it would be worse for me if I did,” he begins, pulling his arm out of my hand. “Just do me a favor and just…just leave me alone.” He turns those green eyes on me and there isn’t a trace of the humor that’s usually there. In fact, the cold heat I see in the eyes that had held such warmth last night makes me take a step back.<br /><br />“Max…I…you’re my friend…we’re friends,” I stutter, feeling as if I’ve been slapped and I find myself blinking back tears as he shakes his head at me. “I don’t get it. It was just sex,” I hiss at him, only to find him narrowing his eyes at me as if he can’t quite figure out who I am.<br /><br />“Mon dieu, is that what you call it? Is that why you snuck out in the middle of the night like some kind of thief?” he snarls, grabbing me by arms hard enough that I’m sure there will be bruises in the exact shape of his hands on my upper arms. “I did what you asked, you got what you wanted from me,” he hisses, his face, his lips an inch from mine and his breath warm on my face. I press my hands against his strong chest, remembering how my fingers had explored his chest, the scars on his shoulder from the surgery, the soft whorls of hair in the middle of his chest and I still want to smile at his tenderness but this Max, and the rage coming off of him in waves, batters my warm feelings back. “Now I have to listen to you gush about him all day? I can’t do this,” he snaps, pushing me down onto the couch. “I haven’t had enough sleep for that,” he sighs and, looking tired and resigned, walks away from me. <br /><br />I watch him go, watch him grab his jacket and head out the door and I have to dig my fingers into the leather sofa to stop myself from going after him. This hadn’t been what I’d expected at all. I’d expected him to tease me, to be his usual lascivious self but this….<br /><br />“There he is!” Lauren points at the TV and squeals. “Any bets that Sid comes up big and scores the winner?” <br /><br />“God I hope so. Then we don’t have to listen to Max telling us how he scored in game seven anymore,” Dupes snorts, climbing over the back of the couch with a bowl of popcorn carefully balanced in his hands. “Speaking of Superstar…what did you do with him?” he asks me, and now I know my eyes are too wide but I’m hoping that the story that Lauren’s told in the kitchen will have them all attributing my mood to generalized anxiety. <br /><br />“He said he had a headache, said he was going home,” I mumble, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it into my mouth to stop myself from saying more. <br /><br />“More like a massive hangover,” Dupes snorts.<br /><br />“Prima donna just can’t stand watching this. He wanted to go so bad,” Jordy sighs as he plops down on the loveseat with a bowl of chips in one hand and a beer in the other. “Too bad about the shoulder, they might have invited him to camp otherwise.” <br /><br />“Oh yes, this coming from the guy who came within a c.h. of making the team, we know,” TK sighs, rolling his eyes as he slides down to the floor at Jordy’s feet.<br /> <br />“I come from a highly talented family, what can I say?” Jordy grins and that earns him a handful of popcorn in the face from Dupes. <br /><br />“Do us all a favor, say nothing, watch the game,” Dupes warns, laughing as Jordan picks popcorn off of his sweatshirt and shoots him a dark look. <br /><br />“Thank god his brothers are better looking. Can you imagine if he was hot too?” Lauren asks nonchalantly, putting a single kernel of popcorn into her mouth and munching on it in a very ladylike fashion. We all stare at her, unsure if she’s kidding but then she just grins and everyone laughs; everyone but me. I stare at the screen, watching Sid warm up, telling myself that I did what I did for a good reason, for him.<br /><br />So why do I feel like I want to throw up?<br /><br />“You’re looking a little green,” Lauren whispers. “You sure you can handle watching this? Or are you going to be like his mom and go pace out in the hall?” <br /><br />“I’ll be fine,” I lie, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “I swear. Just fine.” <br /><br />____________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />“Hey, honey, I’m so proud of you,” my mother, with tears streaming down her face, gathers me against her motherly bosom and squeezes the shit out of me. <br /><br />“Thanks mom,” I mumble, knowing that the next thing I’m going to have to put up with Is my dad patting me on the back hard enough to shake my kidneys loose. “Can I borrow your phone? I don’t want to wait until I get to the bottom of my bag,” I ask, and she nods, sniffing as she digs through her big mom bag, pulling out Kleenex and hand sanitizer and I’m surprised the next thing out of that duffle bag she calls a purse isn’t a ziplock bag of cheerios, but finally she finds her phone and hands it to me. “Thanks mom,” I smile, kissing her cheek and withdrawing just enough to get some privacy. I punch her digits into the phone and then plug my ear as I listen to the ringing until I hear the sound of celebrations on the other end of the line. <br /><br />“Hello?” I hear her yell excitedly into her phone, and even though it seems like all I’ve been doing since the end of the game is smiling, my smile gets wider just to hear her voice. <br /><br />“Mel! We fucking did it!” I yell back.<br /><br />“Sid! Sid is that you? Hey, everyone shut the fuck up, it’s Sid!” I hear the whole gang yelling their congratulations and it makes me laugh, but it isn’t them I’ve called for. <br /><br />“Mel! I’m coming straight home. We’re not staying, not even for the closing ceremonies. I’m coming straight home to you. And Mel?” <br /><br />“Yeah?” she asks, and I’m sure that there are tears as well as a smile on her face.<br /> <br />“I’m sorry, I should never have sent you back…I’m an asshole, I’m sorry. I listened to Troy again,” there’s nothing on the other end and I’m trying to figure out if she’s still angry or not with me. “Mel?” <br /><br />“Just come home Sidney. I love you,” she sniffs and then I know that she’s just crying and just as happy as I am right now. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it back to her, but I don’t. I want to see her face when I tell her. <br /><br />“Alright, on my way. See you soon,” I promise, hanging up and handing the phone back to my mom, catching the indulgent motherly look she has on her face as she takes it back. “What?” <br /><br />“You’re just…you’re growing up and the next thing I know, I’ll be a grandma cheering on my grandson in the Olympics,” she sniffs again, wiping at her eyes. She might be a mom with everything in her purse but she obviously hasn’t picked up on waterproof mascara from Natalie. <br /><br />“Don’t get carried away mom,” I mutter as Troy’s large hands descend on my shoulders. <br /><br />“Congratulations son. I don’t think I could be prouder. You really pulled it out of your ass. Fuck was I gonna be pissed at you, but then you fucking pulled it out of your ass.” That’s my dad, always looking on the bright side. <br /><br />“Thanks pops,” I mutter, knowing this is something I have to go through and that, although it seems kind of backhanded but that’s as good a compliment as I’ve ever gotten from my dad. <br /><br />“So we thought we’d hit the town, I made some reservations and….”<br /><br />“Thanks but uh, I have to get back home. I have practice in the morning and a game on Tuesday,” I remind him.<br /><br />“You mean you have to get back to Melody Kelly?” my father says in an accusing tone that would normally make me cringe or at the very least go along with whatever Troy wants. Not now. <br /><br />“That’s right, I do,” I smile at him, “and I’ll have grandma Crosby's ring with me. So I hope you’ll be happy about welcoming her into the family too,” I add, watching that twitch in his jaw, the one that says he’s trying to hold back a rant. <br /><br />“Sidney I think…,” he begins, but I shake my head and reach out to pat him on the shoulder. <br /><br />“Don’t think, not for me, not anymore. I have the Cup, I have this,” I add, holding up my medal, “so I’m done having you think for me. Mel has stood by me no matter what and when I think about it, I can’t really count on one hand the people that have done that for me. There’s mom and Taylor and my grans and then there’s Mel, and it’s about time I realized that. So whatever you have to say about it, keep it to yourself.” I can see the big vein standing out in his forehead as his entire face gets red. I worry about my dad stroking out over shit like this, but it had to be said. “Mom, thanks for being here. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I promise, kissing her cheek and then I head into the locker room. I’m booked on a flight with Flower, Richards, Brooksy and a couple of the other guys and I don’t intend to miss it.<br />___________________________________________<br /><br /> <br />“Max…Max, c’mon…I don’t understand…please just pick up,” I sigh and shake my head as I stare into the dark night, trying to get my head on straight. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done,” I reiterate, for what feels like the tenth time tonight. “I thought you would be…that we would be okay with this. I mean you’re superstar right? You’re the stud on the team, it’s just another notch on your bed post right? I don’t understand what I did or if I <span style="font-style:italic;">didn</span>’t do something….” I sigh again and shake my head and let my shoulders drop. “Okay, it’s like midnight and if you’re not out carousing or whatever , which I hope you are, then you should be going to sleep so I’m not going to call anymore tonight but…but Max…we’re friends and I want to still be friends…so just…just call me.” I hit end because I don’t know what else to say and because now I’m just sounding like what happened was important and it’s not supposed to be.<br /><br />Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself as I push my phone away from the lip of the hot tub. Today was incredible and difficult and amazing and somehow it didn’t feel quite complete without being able to turn and high five Max when Sidney scored. It felt like something was missing and that was the last result I wanted out of going to him for help with my little…problem. <br /><br />And now I can’t even raise him on the phone to tell me that I can do this with Sidney, that I have the tools now, that I don’t have anything to worry about. I’d call Kennedy but she’d tell me not to it, that he hasn’t worked hard enough to earn it. As if she’s one to talk. She and Jordan jumped into bed the night they met and….<br /> <br />“Well this isn’t exactly what I was expecting, but you certainly look relaxed.” I smile to myself as I feel his body slip into the steaming water behind mine and let out a little sigh as he presses his soft lips to the spot at the back of my neck that sends a shiver through my entire body. <br /><br />“I couldn’t sleep,” I mutter, allowing him to pull me from where my head is resting on my forearms on the edge of the hot tub, onto his lap. <br /><br />“I slept on the plane,” he tells me as he wraps his arms around me. “I brought something for you.” For some reason my body stiffens when he says it. I’ve imagined it, or I had done, before…well before, but now, now I’m having trouble seeing it, even when I feel him unravel the medal and feel its weight settle just below my breasts.<br /><br />“For <span style="font-style:italic;">you</span>, you mean,” I reply, trying to sound sultry when all of a sudden I feel nervous…no not nervous, terrified. This is the moment I’ve waited for and dreamed of over and over since…since forever and now that it’s here, even after being with Max, I don’t feel prepared. My hands are shaking as I lift the gold disk up to inspect it.<br /><br />“You’re right,” he chuckles, pressing his lips to my shoulder before setting me down on the bench next to him in the water. “There was something else that I brought you.” I expect to see a jersey, a puck, something from the game, or even some other Olympic merchandise, but instead, from beneath the towel he dropped at the edge of the hot tub, he palms something small enough to fit in his hand. I watch his hand skim over the top of the water and feel his other hand reach for mine below the surface. I look up into his hazel eyes, feeling my own narrow in speculation and he meets my gaze with a bright, easy smile that I haven’t seen in a long time. I open my mouth to ask what it is but he shakes his head and laughs, “no way Miss impatient.” Lifting my hand out of the water, his other hand covers it and if my hand had not already been shaking from the thought of finally being with him, my entire body shakes now as I feel his fingers slip a ring down my finger. “I’ve been a complete idiot not to see you right here all along but my head’s been in the clouds and there’s been so many other things going on and you’ve still stuck by me and I know it’s taken me a long time to realize it but I have and I don’t know a better way to let you know how much I appreciate that then to ask you to always be with me.”qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-64792728969421562842010-04-09T15:18:00.001-07:002010-04-09T15:28:20.651-07:00Chapter 26<span style="font-weight:bold;">Fair warning, you might not want to read this in class, or at work or any place that you may be asked why you're turning red & sweating...or at least that's what it did to me.<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span></span><br /><br /><br />“You going to sit out here by yourself all night?” Lauren asks, the sound of her flip flops on the flagstones beside the pool echoes loudly in the silence of the dark night. <br /><br />“Can’t sleep,” I answer honestly. I’d been, in turns, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling unable to count sheep or do anything else to relax myself enough for sleep. “I put new sheets on but the room smells like him and...I just can’t sleep there.” <br /><br />“So sleep in one of the guest rooms,” she suggests, a pack of cigarettes appearing in her hand and the sound of a match being struck drags me out of delirium. <br /><br />“I was going to but...when did you start smoking?” I ask, staring at the old Hollywood elegant way she holds the lit cigarette before taking a long drag on it, the ash at the end turning cherry red before she takes it out from between her lips and blows out several smoke rings which sort of answers my question. A while, I’m guessing. <br /><br />“I only do it when I’m stressed,” she replies coolly, turning to give me a warm smile before producing a dish into which she taps the ash and tosses the burnt match. <br /><br />“And what could you be stressed over?” I ask, thinking that she’s pretty and rich and wants for nothing and she doesn’t have the same worry that I’ve had keeping me up half the night. <br /><br />“Joey Haddad,” she sighs, a dreamy expression on her face.<br /> <br />“A guy form school?” I guess but she shakes her head. <br /><br />“Baby Pen. Six two, built and I mean...mmmdamn built,” she sighs again, her eyes taking on this far away gleam. <br /><br />“But he’s in Scranton,” I guess and she sighs by way of a reply. “Let me guess, you can’t think of any plausible reason to be staying overnight in Scranton?” She nods and rolls her eyes. <br /><br />“I know, pathetic right? I mean, I’m old enough to be date and stuff but I swear to god if dad knew I was going there to jump one of his players...,” she draws her thumb, nail in, across her throat and I nod. <br /><br />“Well I guess there’s always the old stand-by. Just say you’re staying at a friend’s place. Just make sure she’s in on it,” I offer but she shakes her head. <br /><br />“The whole PTA group is too... close. They check with each other. I’d so get caught,” she sighs and then butts out her cigarette. “I’ll just have to entice him down here,” she adds with a mischievous grin. I nod and then she stands and stretches and yawns. “I think I’ll go back to bed and dream that I’m not chained to this house,” she moans. I waggle my fingers at her by way of saying good-night and she turns to go, but that question that keeps coming to the forefront of my mind is suddenly there at the tip of my tongue.<br /><br />“Lauren...have you...you know since you and Kris LeTang...have you done it since?” I ask, staring intently at the lift reflecting on the cool blue of the pool. <br /><br />“Well of course. I didn’t lose it so I could just go back to being a nun,” she laughs. <br /><br />“So was it...I mean was it better after, y’know, the second time?” I ask, turning to look at her so I can read the truth in her features and she grins wide. <br /><br />“So much better the second time. It was so worth it, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she grins and then turns on her heel and heads back into the house. <br />Yeah, I think to myself. That’s what I thought.<br />_____________________________________________________________________________<br /> <br />“What are you doing here?” <br /><br />Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Max opens the door wider and peers at me through lidded eyes. <br /><br />“You kissed me and then you left. Don’t you think we have something to talk about?” I ask, stepping forward, expecting to walk by him and into his house, like I have done a dozen times before, but he moves his arm and blocks my way. <br /><br />“Not now…I mean just…tomorrow or something,” he mumbles and I realize he’s looking past me and not at me. <br /><br />“I’m not here to argue,” I say more quietly, hugging my arms close around me. <br /><br />“Then what <span style="font-style:italic;">are </span>you here for, mon chère?” he asks, his gaze focused on one of the flagstones near my feet. <br /><br />“I think you know,” I whisper, wishing the courage I’d gathered to walk up the driveway wasn’t failing me now. His brow furrows and then his gaze finally rises to meet mine.<br /><br />“Mel, ma petite…I’m half asleep. You’re going to have to do better than that,” he says in a hoarse whisper before he swallows audibly and his hand slides down the door jam. <br /><br />“I could have gone to Tanger’s,” I whisper, stepping near him, so that there’s barely a breath in between us. I reach out and run my finger down the center of his bare chest, just where the swirls of soft hair begin end down to the middle of his six-pack. I watch my finger pause there, just above his belly button and then I look up at him and the sleep has disappeared entirely from his eyes. <br /><br />He steps aside, closing the door and throwing the bolt. A security measure, I suppose, or maybe it’s not even something he’s aware of doing, and yet the sound makes me jump. I look around the tiled foyer at the plants that the maid service must water, Max couldn’t possibly take care of them himself, and the dark wood furniture that looks like it belongs in the house of older or at least more sophisticated people. <br /><br />My gaze roams to the stairs that lead up to the main floor, to the living room, the kitchen and…and the bedrooms and my heart skips a beat, an almost painful feeling that makes me suck a breath in through my teeth.<br /><br />“I can’t do it,” I whisper, because it’s dark in the house and it’s the middle of the night and for all I know, Max being Max, there might be some girl upstairs waiting for him to come back to bed and the last thing I want is for someone to hear me ask what I’ve come to ask. <br /><br />I turn to see him standing near the doorway, in nothing but a pair of black, or at the very least dark coloured boxer briefs and nothing else. My gaze roams over his tight abs, the dark cross and fleur-de-lis decorating his ribs, the shield and T sketched on his bicep as he raises his arm to scratch at his head, his short hair in disarray, a few days growth on his chin. <br /><br />“I can’t…no, I don’t <span style="font-style:italic;">want </span>to go to his bed…you know…not knowing,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks burn as I think about how close we’ve already come to sleeping together and how nervous I’ve been and how in control Sidney always is. I feel Max’s arms slide around me, his strong arms pulling me against the solid wall of his chest, his lips pressing against my temple as he chuckles, a warm low sound. <br /><br />“Ma petite, you worry too much,” he says quietly as he holds me close, one hand on the small of my back, the other cradling the back of my head as he holds it against his shoulder. “Have you been lying awake all night worrying that Sid will care about something like that?” I nod, knowing he’ll feel the rise and fall of my cheek against his skin, the ropey muscle of his shoulder relaxing as he rocks me in his arms. “He would be un imbécile inconsidéré if such a small thing as your purity bothered him and our Sidney is no fool,” Max promises, reaching between us to tilt my chin up so he can study my face and though his smile is warm, there’s something in his eyes that tells me that he’s not really thinking about Sidney’s feelings at all and that is exactly what I was bargaining on when I drove over here. <br /><br />Not that I’ve entirely worked up the courage to do what I came here to do, which makes me look away from his searching gaze, laying my head against his shoulder instead. I’m not going to beg. That’s one thing I’ve promised myself I won’t do. I didn’t, however, promise myself that I wouldn’t give him another hint if at first he didn’t understand, and so I slide my hand, very slowly up his ribs, tracing the large tattoo there and his skin ripples beneath my touch. <br /><br />“He doesn’t want me that way…not…<span style="font-style:italic;">untouched</span>. I asked. He expects…<span style="font-style:italic;">more<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span>,” I explain when I turn my face up to his and I can see the knowledge in his eyes, desire warring with what he knows is right and he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, at least until I turn and press my lips against his warm skin, just above the collarbone. I hear him let out the breath he’s holding in one long rush of air and his arms tighten around me. <br /><br />“La plus belle femme, que faites-tu à moi?” He growls, but tips my face up to his and his lips come crashing down over mine. His mouth and his tongue are both insistent and bruising as he kisses me fiercely and hungrily. I feel his hand fist in my hair, pulling my head back as he drinks at my mouth, as his tongue battles with mine. <br /><br />It’s like being with Sidney and nothing at all like it all at once. My body is alive, every sensation doubled, tripled as he kisses his way down my neck, but there is none of Sidney’s tenderness in the way his teeth dig into my shoulder, or the way his hands slide down to capture my ass in an almost painful grip. <br /><br />And Sidney’s never pulled me up off of my feet, but Max does, turning to press me against the wall, stepping between my thighs to hold me up with the force of his body against mine as his pelvis grinds against mine. I hear myself whimper as his arousal becomes physically apparent and I know that this is when I should chicken out, when I should beg him to stop and let him talk me out of this. But I don’t. Instead I whisper in his ear the words I know he wants to hear and is probably dreading at the same time. <br /><br />“Take me Max, please. Fuck me.” He growls against my throat, the vibration sending a shiver down my spine but I only tighten the grip my legs and arms have on him and nip at his ear, digging my teeth into the soft, sensitive flesh there and repeat my demand until he carries me into the entertainment room, kicking the door in and depositing me on the pinball machine. <br /><br />“You don’t know what you’re asking, ma petite. Ce que tu me demandes de faire est fou. You don’t want this,” he mutters in a voice made hoarse by lack of sleep and desire, more like he’s trying to talk himself out of it than me. I have not, however, rescinded my hold on him and with one hand on the back of his head I press my lips to his while guiding his other hand to my breast. <br /><br />He doesn’t move, not for what seems like minutes but then I hear and feel him moan into my mouth and his hand closes around my breast, squeezing it gently and then his fingers tug at my nipple until I moan into his mouth. <br /><br />I feel the rasp of his beard against my skin, and it feels nothing like Sidney’s soft smooth cheeks and even though I’m sure Max has been with just as many, if not more, women than Sidney has, his kisses feel…different. Not just less refined, but more urgent, less practiced and far, far less patient. His lips are not as soft, and, when his hand slides up underneath my top, I find his hands are not as soft either. <br /><br />When Max’s lips close around my nipple, when his teeth tug on it and by doing so tug a moan from my lips, I think this is as far as Sidney and I have gone and he…he was less rough, more gentle, more tender. He’d taken his time, working his way there while, even as his teeth tug at my nipple, Max’s hands are busy working their way down and my eyes flutter closed and I release his name as a sigh from my lips as his fingers slide up inside of me. <br /><br />“If we do this, si je te fais l’amour, it can never be taken back,” he whispers, his serious gaze searching mine. “I’ll always be your first, ma biche. Once done, I cannot undo this.” <br /><br />“I…I want this,” I reply, my heart beat sounding like thunder in my ears as my gaze roams over his broad round shoulders, down his chiseled torso to the waistband of his boxer briefs. “I don’t want him to know that…I don’t want him to go back to thinking I’m that…little girl.” <br /><br />“Mon chaton…if it is that way between you then why…?” I silence him with a look and my fingers pressed to his mouth before I reach with my other hand to drag my dress up my thighs and then help him pull my panties down. “No…no ma petite, this is….”<br /><br />“This is what <span style="font-style:italic;">I<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> want,” I remind him, kicking my panties aside and allowing my legs to drape over the edge of the pinball machine, keeping my calf away from the plunger. Then I slowly lift my up and off, tossing it too to the floor andt that seems to decide it and while I bite down on my bottom lip, Max slides his boxer briefs down and positions the head of his cock at my entrance. We both look down at it, and then his gaze meets mine and the expression I see is both apologetic and full of desire, one warring with the other. “Please, mon ami, pour moi,” I whisper, my hand reaching to stroke his where it rests on my thigh.<br /> <br />“Oui, pour mon ami,” he repeats, his free hand reaching to pull me close, holding me against him. “Hold on to me,” he whispers, cradling the back of my head as he slides his long, thick cock inside of me, I forget everything else but the pain and shut my eyes and hold on to the edge of the machine while we both wait for the pain to subside. <br /><br />It’s only when I let out a little gasp and begin to breathe normally again that Max begins to move again and then I realize that while it still hurts, just a little, that it feels good too. I open my eyes to smile at him, feeling grateful and…and something more, something deeper but any words I plan to say I swallow when I see the look on his face. <br /><br />He’s ashamed of himself, of me, but he’s soldiering on, for me. He’s doing this because I asked him to but somehow I know that he’s not enjoying this like he would if I were one of the girls he’d take home from the bar. That’s good, I tell myself. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid with Sidney. I didn’t want to see that disappointed look, I didn’t want him to have to do this like it’s a duty, to get it over with. <br /><br />“Tell me what to do Max,” I beg, and he blinks, like he can’t believe I can speak, and then he stops altogether but before I can ask why he merely lifts me up off of the pinball machine like I weigh nothing and lifts me down to my feet. Reaching up to cup my cheek, he kisses me then, a soft, sweet sort of kiss, before taking my hand and leading me upstairs. <br /><br />I assume, of course, that he’s taking me to his bed but instead he leads me to the bathroom where he lifts me up onto the counter beside the sink and proceeds to wash the blood of my now lost maidenhood from my thighs, taking special care to hold the cool wet washcloth against the slight throb left behind by his taking it. It’s such a sweet and tender thing that it almost makes me wish that I had saved this moment for Sidney after all, but then his thumb starts to stroke my clit and he leans in to dig his teeth into the thin flesh just over my collarbone and I forget the pain and the sweet moment altogether as I urge his mouth towards my breast. <br /><br />He slides me off of the counter, his hands strong and sure beneath my ass, and slides me down over his cock. It hurts, just for a moment though, and then a new sensation begins to swell within me and all my breath leaves my lungs at once as he turns to press me back against the inside of the bathroom door. <br /><br />Wrapping my legs around him, I beg him to go deeper, harder and place kisses all over his face as he obliges me by sliding his cock deeper until my eyes flutter shut and it’s all I can do to drag a ragged breath in through my teeth as the pain grips me. He waits then, I can feel him holding himself still, waiting for me to take the next move. <br /><br />As the pain subsides and all I can feel is my muscles stretching around him, accommodating his size and girth while at the same time, clutching at him, pulling at him. Locking my ankles beneath his muscular ass, I try to pull him into me and as I do, I feel his fingers splay across my ass, tilting me so that he can slide up into me at a different angle and that too takes my breath away. This time though, he doesn’t wait again, but makes slow, achingly slow strokes that only leaving me wanting more. <br /><br />I hear myself making sounds, whimpers and little cries as he pushes up into me that I had always thought were fake when I’d heard them made in movies but now I know how hard it is to actually speak, to form words when your body is joined with another’s. Max, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have that same issue. I hear him whisper words, almost all of them en Français and they sound dirty and sexy all at the same time. <br /><br />With a growl, Max drops me to my feet, pulls the door open and then pulls me to him again, his mouth crashing down over mine as he half pushes and half pulls me to his bedroom. There he guides me to his bed and walks me backwards to it until my knees buckle at the mattress and I fall backwards onto the quilt. He stands there, half kneeling on the bed and stares down at me, his eyes roaming greedily over me as if I’m some kind of expensive steak. He even licks his full, sensuous lips before he reaches to pull my body nearer the edge of the bed.<br /><br />I assume he’s going to slide back into me again but instead he reaches over to turn on the bed side light and it takes every ounce of self control that I have left to m not to grab his quilt and cover my nudity from his sight. I can’t look though, as I feel the bed dip beneath his weight, as he lays down beside me and begins to run his fingers gently down over the slope of my breast, down to my belly and over my hip. It feels too intimate, too tender. <br /><br />“Do you know how to put a condom on?” he asks out of the blue, and I turn and stare at him, almost laughing in relief. Reaching over into the drawer of his bedside table, Max takes out a roll of purple foil covered Trojans and tears off a square and hands it to me. <br /><br />Hands shaking, I rip open the package and shake the rubber ring loose. My eyes must be going wide or some other signal makes it obvious that I’m a novice at this too and Max’s hands cover my own as he guides them down, helping me unroll the latex tube over his still very hard cock until my hand curls around the base of him, feeling the coarse wiry hair there, a stark contrast to the heated silken smooth skin in my hand. <br /><br />I look back up into his face and he smiles indulgently down at me before motioning for me to get on top. I stare at him in disbelief and shake my head. I just wanted a hard missionary position fuck but he insistently shakes his head. <br /><br />“My petite, you said you wanted him to think you know what you’re doing,” he insists, taking my hand and pulling me over him until I’m straddling him, feeling my slick wet folds engulfing him. “This will please him and believe me, you’ll enjoy it too,” he advises as he help me to guide his cock inside of me. “Lean forward,” he instructs as all of the air is once again pushed out of my lungs by his entrance. “Do you feel that mon Coeur?” he asks, his fingers digging into my hips to slow my movement. “Do you feel your clit pressing against my pelvic bone?” I nod, my eyes screwed tightly shut as a shiver runs through my entire body. “And when I do this, ma belle?” he asks, pressing his body up and into mine. I nod again, moaning as I press back against him. “Oui, ma cherie, juste comme ça. Laisses-moi tu remplir. Mouvement maintenant, “ he urges, pushing up into me again and then I don’t need his guidance, I just do what feels right, riding him slowly and then quickly, feeling his hands sliding up to my breasts where he cups them, tweaking my nipples and rolling them between his fingers before sliding his hands back down to my hips and pulling me down hard over him until he is completely sheathed inside of me.<br /><br />When the moment comes, when I feel like my entire body is going to burst open, when my breathing quickens to match my pulse and my entire body is locked in one long shuddering cry, he rolls me onto my back and holds me there, pinned beneath him. Looking up into his green eyes , his gaze locks with mine and for a moment his green eyes seem to swim before me and then his breath catches in his throat and his eyes flutter shut and he lets out a cry of triumph as he pushes himself deeply into me and I can feel his cock throbbing inside of me as we wrap our arms around one another and hold each other, forehead to forehead as our breathing begins to slow.<br /><br />___________________________________________________________<br /> <br /> <br />I shouldn’t have sent her away. As I jog around the athlete’s village in the chill of the early morning air just before dawn, I realize that she’s waited for this moment just as much as I have, that she’s cheered me and encouraged me towards this moment as much as my mother or sister have and both of them will be in the stands this afternoon when we play for the gold.<br /> <br />She’ll probably watch with the other guys, maybe at Mellon, maybe at Max or Jordy’s. I’m sure they’ll have a good time but it won’t be like I know it will be here. <br /><br />Even though the sun hasn’t come up yet, I can feel the hum in the air, the anticipation. I feel it in the tension of my muscles, like I can’t relax. Like I won’t relax until it’s decided, will I have the gold around my neck or won’t I? Will I be Canada’s favored son or the loser who didn’t win the gold? <br /><br />And if I don’t, I wonder as my breath hangs in the air before me as I push my body to the edge. If we lose to the US today, I know Taylor and my mom will still hug me and they’ll take some of the sting out of the look of disappointment that will be on my father’s face but she won’t be there. Just like she wasn’t when I won the Cup because I pushed her away, my friend. <br /><br />I’ve been so selfish. I’ve taken her for granted. I knew she’d be back in the Harbour over the Summer and whether I realized it or not, I looked forward to her back handed compliments, her sarcasm that would be dulled by the real affection, the very real love in her eyes, the love that’s been there the whole time, the love I’ve just always thought would be there. <br /><br />And now I’ve sent her home to wait for me because I can’t handle having her here worrying about me and chewing her nails to the bone for me. Because I can’t stop thinking about her soft body next to mine. Every other guy here has their girl, their wife, their family around them. They can all handle it, and now it’s too late for me to even tell her to come back. <br /><br />“Earth to mon ami,” Flower laughs, catching up to me, his hair hidden under a bright red team Canada toque, his eyes flashing with mirth. Sure it’s easy for him. He’ll be watching from the press box and win or lose he’s just happy to have been here. The next games will be his. This time, if we win, he’ll get a medal and won’t have had to do more than be the best cheerleader we’ve got.<br /><br />“Just thinking I shouldn’t have sent Mel back with the boys,” I tell him honestly and he nods. <br /><br />“Oui, tu es très stupide,” he laughs, ducking a punch I send his way. “You’ll just have to make it up to her when we get home, est-ce que j’ai raison?” <br /><br />“I plan to,” I sigh, giving him a shove before digging my feet in and taking off. I hear him laugh and then the sound of his feet on the pavement not far behind me. Damn, that always works with Max but then Flower is a better runner than Max will be.<br /><br />_________________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />Wearing one of his t-shirts that I picked up off of what I think, by the smell, is the clean pile of clothes, and by rolling down the waist of one of his pair of track pants I manage to clothe myself while I call for a taxi. I reach for the door handle and stop at the sound of him turning over in the wreck of sheets but he doesn’t wake. <br /><br />For myself, as much as I’d been dragged down a time or two in between, I couldn’t really sleep. I had wanted to keep touching him, to feel him touching me. I understand now how you can become addicted to this, how you can want it all the time. From the first time the orgasm ripped through me with him firmly inside of me, I wanted more and more. <br /><br />A wry smile plays across my lips as I turn to watch him lying there with his full lips just slightly parted, a smile of utter contentment on his face. He’s certainly fulfilled his end of the bargain. There can be no possible way now that Sidney will ever know what it was like to be with the Melody who knew nothing of men’s b bodies or how to make love. For that I hope that we will both be thankful. <br /><br />Turning back, I slip out into the hall and tip toe down the stairs to clean up the evidence in the rec-room, tossing my dress and panties into a shopping back and even folding his briefs up at the bottom of the stairs just in time to hear the taxi honking outside. <br /><br />Walk of shame, I’ve heard my friends call what I’m doing I think as I walk down his driveway and slip into the back of the cab, handing him a twenty as I give him my address. Funny, I don’t feel shame, or guilt, I think as I lean back in the seat and just for a minute close my eyes. I feel relieved yes, and…and something else I can’t quite place. Different I guess, I think as I shift a little uncomfortably trying to find a spot that doesn’t ache from either being newly opened, spanked or bitten. Yes, I think as I smile contentedly to myself, different, a woman, that must be it.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-50826395203929546752010-04-08T15:37:00.000-07:002010-04-08T15:51:47.543-07:00Chatper 25<span style="font-style:italic;">Bear with me, one of those in between chapters that's a necessary evil but gives an explanation that I think is important.</span><br /><br /><br />“Jackie,” I hiss into my phone, backing out of the way of one of the equipment guys with his load of freshly odorous laundry. <br /><br />“Melzybub,” comes the reply on the other end of the line. “Were you just watching the game? I thought they were going to lose that one for sure and....”<br /><br />“I’m <span style="font-style:italic;">at </span>the game and I don’t have time for play by play. Jack, babe, you know I love you right?” I ask, my...no <span style="font-style:italic;">our </span>long time friend and younger brother of Sid’s two earliest teammates, Jack Chiasson. I can hear him pause. Better yet, I can picture the stunned and confused look on his young handsome face as he tries to figure out what I could possibly want, because there arevery few people in this world he know what's going on right now in my life and he is one of them and as far as Jack is concerned, I am <span style="font-style:italic;">the </span>luckiest girl in the world. <br /><br />“And I love you princess...what have you done?” he asks, drawing his words out in that lilting inflection that he doesn't often use at home where still no one knows. No one but me. <br /><br />“It’s more like what have you done,” I begin, checking covertly around me for little ears that might be listening in. Finding none, I still put my hand over my mouth and hunch my shoulders before I begin again. “When I told you that I would cover for you, you know that never extended to actually...<span style="font-style:italic;">doing it</span> right?” I ask, feeling guilty as I say it. All the way down here, amidst all the celebrations, no matter how many times I went over it in my head, it just didn’t add up. <br /><br />“Mel, babes, can you be a little more clear here because I am so not picking up your moves right now.” I can see him, staring in consternation at some spot in space, his lips pursed, his brow furrowed as he tries to figure out what I'm trying to say without saying it. There's no use, clearly I'm just going to have to come right out with it. <br /><br />“Did you ever...and I can understand if it came to that at some point, but did you ever tell Sidney that we...that is, that you and I...that we did...<span style="font-style:italic;">it</span>?” I ask, feeling an immediate and very heated rush of blood to my face and up into my ears the moment the question escapes my lips. It doesn't help that there's an immediate whoop of laughter on the other end of the line, either. <br /><br />“<span style="font-style:italic;">It</span>? Did it with you? <span style="font-style:italic;">O.M.G. </span>Melody Kelly you have lost your mind girl,” he barks, and I can see him doing his best Tyra impersonation, hair flipping, finger snapping, eyes flashing. “As if anyone in this town would have the balls to touch S.P.C.’s property, <span style="font-style:italic;">puhleeze </span>woman,” he continues, as if it's even a question, and if it isn’t....<br /><br />“But he said Jack...he said Jack said I was...,” my voice trails away as the fog of memory begins to lift and things begin to come clear.<br /> <br />“Well girlfriend I am shocked and amazed that you thought it was me when honey you know damn well it was that blonde hunka hunka burnin’ love he brought back with him that summer before the lockout,” Jack corrects me, although I can already see him now, in my mind’s eye, with his tan and his cocky attitude and that sneer of his....<br />_______________________________________________________________<br /><br />(<span style="font-style:italic;">flashback</span>)<br /><br />“What do you mean <span style="font-style:italic;">no</span>?” he snarled as I backed across the seat of my Duster, putting as much distance between me and the friend Sidney had brought back from hockey camp. There was a look in his eyes that scared the shit out of me and suddenly it didn’t seem like such a bright idea to have lured him here, in the hopes that he would bring Sidney too. “Good old Sid never said you were such a cock tease,” he snarled in that mid American accent that didn’t do anything to make him sound any smarter than I already assumed he was not. Still, all my sarcastic retorts and smart aleck remarks failed me as I watched his big meaty hand reach for me. “I think you’re going to suck my dick and I think you’re going to like it, <span style="font-style:italic;">bitch</span>,” he added, for good measure, grabbing at my hair just as I reached back to open the door causing me to tumble out onto the grass. <br /><br />It’s hardly dignified, but the moment my ass meets the ground, I started to crab walk like crazy backwards and away from the car. It’s a stupid move, I realized, even as my butt skimmed the ground. My keys were in the car, for one thing, and if this friend of Sid’s was half as fit as Sid was, I wasn’t going to be able to outrun him. But I did know the woods around the lake and he didn’t, I decided, so if I had to run, I was way less likely to break a limb doing it. <br /><br />“Get yer asssss back here!” he called, slurring his words as he crumbled a beer can in his oversized paw of a hand. I stared at that hand, imagined it pressing down over my mouth while his other one reached again to get into my jeans and got up, still backing away. Most of my brain was screaming at me to run, but there was a part of me that was fascinated with the utter contradictory nature of his blonde buffoon to my dark haired boy. I wanted to ask what it could possibly be that Sidney saw in him that had made him bring him here to our little town. <br /><br />Except that I knew. It was obvious. Jack Johnson had the confident swagger that Sidney, never having been anywhere near as big as this inbred hick, had never been able to muster. Even if he had, it would have been beaten out of him, I knew as I tried to decide which was the safer bet, the lake or the woods? I could swim, like a fish. I wondered if he could. <br /><br />“I don’t even want to know what kind of girls you met in California,” I called to him, my own confidence leaking back as I realized that as drunk as he seemed, the big defenseman would probably be unlikely to follow up on his threats. Not that I wasn’t convinced he’d try and I’d end up getting hurt in the process, but I had to means of escape and though I hated like hell to leave my pride and joy behind, this was Cole Harbour and she’d still be there in the morning if I had to come back for her. “But I’m not like those easy bitches,” I added, taking another step or two towards the lake. “We have something called dignity here in the Harbour.”<br /><br />“You mean you’re a fucking virgin and you’re terrified of the size of my dick,” he called after me, snapping open another beer and leaning against the hood of my car, watching me through drooping eyes. <br /><br />“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I grinned back at him, threatening with my teeth like a dog would do. “And maybe you’re impressed by its’ size but I’m guessing it’s probably really...<span style="font-style:italic;">really </span>small,” I add, holding my thumb and forefinger up about half an inch apart. It’s never a really smart idea to make fun of a guy’s manhood, especially when he’s bigger and drunk but it’s amazing what a little humiliation and embarrassment will drive a girl to. <br /><br />“Why don’t you come see, little girl?” He called back, staggering forward and reaching for the zipper on his jeans at the same time. Chewing gum and walking it wasn’t but his coordination was obviously not what it was out on the ice and I watched with some degree of satisfaction as he fell forward like an old growth cedar being felled. <br /><br />He lay there, motionless for some time while I waited to see if it was safe to move. Then the snoring started and with a shake of my head and a grin, I walked back up the hill toward the car. Stepping over his prone body, I waited for the hand to spring out and grab my ankle, like something out of Elmstreet but he didn’t move. He just kept snoring and so I slid behind the wheel, put her in neutral and rolled the Duster backwards before popping the clutch, spinning the car around and burning rubber, tears blurring my vision. <br /><br />________________________________________________________________<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">(present)</span><br /><br />“I can’t believe he just booked it like that,” I laugh as I join Tanger, Flower and Mel and a couple of the other guys as we head out to the bus that will take us back to the athlete’s village. <br /><br />“C’mon this is Max we’re talking about,” Getzy laughs and gives my shoulder a friendly punch. “If I remember correctly, a nice piece of tail goes by and you can lose that guy for days.” <br /><br />“I think you guys are kind of hard on him,” Mel says quietly, giving my hand the kind of squeeze that says ‘stop it’ but it’s hard when adrenaline is still flowing thick and heavy through my veins and besides, it is Max we’re talking about and Getzy is probably right. <br /><br />“Mel, you don’t know Max like we do,” I admonish her gently, leaning over to press my lips briefly against her temple. “Believe me, Max would not voluntarily miss a party unless there was a girl involved,” I tell her, laughing as I think about him blindly following some sweet piece of ass through the crowds out in the street. <br /><br />“J’espère qu’il n’oublie pas sa maison de manière,” Tanger adds with a knowing grin and we all laugh. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d need help finding his way home though and we all know it. Well, all of us but Mel but she’ll figure these guys out the more we hang out with them. <br /><br />“So there’s going to be a party?” she asks, looking up at me with this earnest, almost hopeful look that I still can’t quite get used to. <br /><br />“Not really,” I admit. “Probably just some beers back at the village. But not for you,” I continue as we near the bus. “You and Tanger are heading back to the Burgh.” She opens her sweet mouth and I have a vision of her lips wrapped around my cock that makes me take a deep breath before I continue. “Tanger has to be back with the team for practice and even I can’t get tickets to the gold medal game,” I add, stopping behind some of the other guys, using them as a shield to hide us as I turn her to face me. <br /><br />“I can watch here...at a bar or something,” she says hopefully but I shake my head before cupping her cheek and lowering my lips over hers’. <br /><br />“I like the idea of you waiting for me there,” I whisper against her closed eyelids. I can’t help imagining it, her, spread out on my bed, her pale skin against my white sheets, waiting for me. <br /><br />“But I...I want to see you win,” she sighs, moving into my arms and I cradle her there. I used to think I liked her feistiness but I’m beginning to like this needy Mel, this soft, feminine Mel; this Mel who needs and wants me. <br /><br />“You said you’d wear my gold medal,” I remind her, picturing the big etched disk lying between her bare breasts. “I want to bring it home and have you waiting to do that.” I tip her face up and for a moment I’m sure that she’s going to argue, I can see a flash in her eyes but then she blinks and it’s gone and instead she nods and leans her head against my chest again. <br /><br />“If it’s what you want,” she sighs, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve won something already. She understands, she knows I don’t need any distractions right now and she’s ready to step aside and let me do my thing. “But there’s something you should know,” she says suddenly, turning her gaze up, concern written all over her face. <br /><br />“Whatever it is can wait, right? I have to go,” I turn her to face the bus that most of my teammates are already on. “Take good care of her Tanger,” I add, turning her over to his care despite the fact that it feels like she’s about to dig in her heels. She refuses to move and turns back to grab a hold of my jacket but I just take her hands, laughing as I lift them to my lips. “Later Mel...I have to go. Be good. I’ll bring the medal home and you’d better be waiting,” I add grinning widely at the thought of her, waiting for me in my bed. <br /><br />“No, wait, Sid I need to tell you something,” she insists, reaching for my hand but Flower is calling me from the stairs of the bus and I have to go. I blow her a kiss, even though it feels sort of childish but she makes a show of catching it and pressing it to her cheek anyway as I board the bus. <br /><br />“Chicks,” I sigh, plopping down into the seat next to Iggy, who nods sagely.<br /> <br />“They get in the way man, I’m telling you. Don’t do it if you don’t have to,” he adds, popping his ear buds in. I lean back and stare out the window to see Tanger turning her into the crowd. I watch them until the bus begins to move and then I put her out of my mind altogether. <br /><br />I know it’s not really fair to send her away like this, as if she’s misbehaved or something but after that amazing fucking blowjob in my room...there was no way she wasn’t going to be a distraction. My dad didn’t need to tell me that I haven’t stepped up to the plate for me to know that I needed to get her away from me for now. This is just too important for me to have her here, adding to the already overwhelming number of disruptions here. I need to focus. <br /><br />There will be time after the gold medal for the kind of pleasant diversion that she poses now; time enough to develop a taste for the kind of amusing pastime and time enough to get to know one another properly later. <br />______________________________________________________________<br /><br />(<span style="font-style:italic;">flashback</span>)<br /><br />“What rock did you crawl out from under?” I laughed as I watched Jack struggle to squeeze through my bedroom window at the crack of dawn. The knees of his jeans were grass stained and there were twigs in his hair. This was definitely not the same kind of sneaking back into our rooms that we’d done during camp in California. <br /><br />“What can I say? She couldn’t get enough of good old Jack,” he said while he stretched and looked proud of himself. I shook my head. There was no way. <br /><br />“There’s no way you got lucky with Melody Kelly. She’s...she’s just a kid,” I muttered, turning over and punching my pillow. <br /><br />“I told you man,” Jack chuckled as he sat on the edge of my bed, pulling off his shoes. “The first time she caught sight of good old Jack, she was gagging for it.”<br /><br />“Mel’s never gagged for anything...apart from maybe beer battered cod,” I corrected him, feeling angry and not quite understanding why. <br /><br />“Hey, it was just like those girls in L.A. They just can’t get enough of this, I’m telling you,” Jack continued crowing, his chest puffed out, this stupid self satisfied smile on his face. <br /><br />“She isn’t like those girls...and besides,” I sat up, realizing why I was feeling like I needed to put my hands around his throat, “that’s like...like saying you screwed Taylor dude...that’s not right, man. Mel’s like...she’s like my other sister. That’s just gross,” I added, a sudden taste of bile filling my mouth. <br /><br />“Well, what can I say?” Jack leered at me. “Your other sister is slutty and she loves to suck cock,” he added with a salacious grin before reaching out to slap me on the back. “Now, I’m gonna hit the head and then wash her pussy juice off my dick and then I hope your mom can make a fuck load of pancakes because I worked up quite an appetite givin’ it to little miss four eyes next door, if you know what I mean,” he added, pumping his fist in a suggestive manner that just made me want to gag. <br /><br />I wanted to argue the point some more but he was already sauntering towards the hallway in that confident strolling sort of gate he always seemed to have and so I just watched him go, wishing that I had balls that big. <br /><br />Funny thing was, I could have sworn I’d heard the duster pull into the driveway next door before midnight and I know that Mel’s mom is home, I heard them arguing when she went inside. So how he spent the night with her....? <br /><br />Well, it’s not like he’d like about it, I told myself with a sigh. He’d probably just done the same thing as he did to get back in here. He’d squeezed himself into her bedroom window. It was weird though to think of the two of them doing it right next door. It was weird to think of Mel being like that at all. I mean she hated spin the bottle, how could she have gone from that to....<br /><br />No, I decided. It wasn’t worth thinking about. First it was Mike’ little brother and now this...? Shaking my head, I head out to the kitchen to see if there’s going to be food soon. Maybe on a full stomach I can think about this.<br /><br />______________________________________________________________<br /><br />(<span style="font-style:italic;">present</span>)<br /><br />“I’m so tired. I can’t wait to curl up on the train and go to sleep,” Kennedy yawns as we watch the luggage carousel go around and around, it’s stainless steel slide waiting for our luggage to be tossed down its’ reflective surface. “It was a good holiday though hmmm?” she adds, leaning against me like she actually needs me for support. <br /><br />“I suppose,” I mumble, mostly because I don’t actually agree. I didn’t really have that good a time at all but I don’t want to rain on her parade. <br /><br />“He’s <span style="font-style:italic;">sooo</span> fucking handsome, don’t you think?” she asks for what seems like the hundredth time since we got on the plane. I know she had a couple of those baby bottles of wine on the plane but I can’t decide if she’s drunk or if she really has slipped into that whole purple haze of love thing. <br />“I suppose,” I agree, although had I had to choose between Jordy, his ginger brother and Tanger who are walking towards us, I keep thinking I’d probably choose Marc or Kris over Jordy, but again, what would be the point of ruining her buzz?<br /><br />“At least say you’re looking forward to crawling into our own beds and sleeping for like...days,” she sighs as she straightens to stretch her arms over her head. I’m sure I can hear her spine cracking and try not to think about what kind of strange new positions she and the human praying mantis have come up with in the bedroom that has her that badly in need of an alignment. <br /><br />“I was,” I admit with a sigh as the luggage starts to drop, “but I’m not going back to New York with you.” I wait the three beat minimum that I know it’s going to take for that news to sink in before I add, “I’m going back to the Burgh with the boys. So I guess that leaves you with the big ginger.” <br /><br />“<span style="font-style:italic;">What</span>? Why?” she asks, suddenly much more awake as she turns and grabs me by the shoulders. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to go back to Nat and Mario’s and wait there for him like some kind of god damn dutiful girlfriend?” she searches my gaze and when I don’t disagree she rolls her eyes and throws up her hands in frustration. “Do you do everything that pious, self-absorbed, entitled little shit asks you to do?” It should be like a slap in the face, but it isn’t. It also isn’t the first time I’ve been attacked like this and in all likelihood it won’t be the last time either. <br /><br />“I don’t expect you to understand,” I shrug, “but don’t blame him. If that’s the way he comes off...it’s not his fault. Ask Jordy. Ask any of the guys on the team. He’s not...that’s not really him. You don’t know him, not like I do,” I explain, though I can tell by the way her hands curl on her hips that she’s not buying a word of it.<br /><br />“So you’re <span style="font-style:italic;">really </span>going to do it? You’re going to go and sit there and wait for him?” She looks at me like what she’d really like to be doing is slapping some sense into me, except that we’re in public and she’d rather not get arrested. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to scare Jordy away by letting him know she has a violent side. <br /><br />“I am,” I shrug, reaching for my bag as it begins to spin on the carousel. <br /><br />“I can’t believe you’d do that, that you’d stoop like that,” she hisses at me, eyes wide, like she’s looking at something she doesn’t believe is really in front of her.<br /> <br />“You have no idea what I’d do for him,” I answer quietly, dragging my bag behind me and heading over to where the other boys are saying goodbye to Jordy’s brother. <br /><br />“You don’t have to you know,” Jordy begins before I shoot him a withering look. “What? I’m only saying. I mean, she’s right. It might do him good to have to do a little extra work once in a while.” <br /><br />“That’s just the point. I want to be the person that makes things easier for him,” I explain quietly, looking up into the faces of his friends. They all nod because they know, just as I do, how complicated his life can get. <br /><br />“You’re like his easy button,” Kris laughs, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and aiming me down the hall towards our flight. <br /><br />“Well you didn’t have to go that far,” I snort, hip checking him away from me only to be hip checked back hard enough that I almost fall, except that his catches me with one hand and pulls me roughly back against him and laughs. <br /><br />“Going far would be making you my easy button mon chère,” he replies, raising his eyebrows and giving me a half hopeful look. <br /><br />“You wish Tang, you wish,” I laugh pushing him back. <br /> <br />“No you wish, I think,” he laughs louder, grabbing my hand and pulling me along beside him as if I’m a small child, and for a while and probably as long as I’m on the plane with them, that’s not a bad thing to be.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-18548111000137972442010-04-06T12:40:00.000-07:002010-04-06T12:56:01.420-07:00Chapter 24<span style="font-style:italic;">Happy Easter one and all. Hope everyone's still on an easter bunny chocolate sugar rush. Happy reading</span><br /><br /><br />“Mmmm remind me to thank Vero for taking Fleur out shopping,” I hum happily into Sidney’s chest, my eyes closed, his warm and familiar scent filling my nostrils and making me slightly lightheaded. He feels all warm and relaxed in his sweats, fresh from practice, his skin still that almost fever temperature from the showers, his dark hair still damp. On the other hand, I feel like I’ve been sitting for hours on that damned plane and am grateful just to allow my muscles to relax. <br /><br />“I can’t believe they’re going to stand in that line to get Olympic mittens. We got mittens in our Olympic welcome kit,” Sidney mumbles, sounding half asleep, but the way he’s stroking his hand through my hair tells me he’s not quite falling asleep on me yet. <br /><br />“You did, she didn’t and honestly Sid, you should see the crowds out there. There are literally thousands of people walking around in the streets,” I tell him, the feeling of just walking the few blocks from the nearest street the taxi could get us from the airport to the Olympic Village still makes my heart sing. “Everyone’s wearing team Canada jerseys and waving flags...babe you should see it,” I add, looking up into his face but his eyes are closed and his full lips are slightly parted like he is about to go to sleep on me. “A lot of the guys are going out. I think even you could get away with it.” <br /><br />“Why? Because Superstar did?” he asks, his lips turning up in a grin as he pulls me closer and snuggles further down into the quilt without opening his eyes.<br /><br />“No, I mean a lot of the guys. I mean Shea Webber and....” I hear him make a sarcastic snorting sound and poke him in the ribs until he looks at me. <br /><br />“Oh c’mon Mel. You know he could walk down the street and no one would know him but I’m damn sure Lou and Brodeur aren’t out there walking around. Some guys can, some guys can’t. You know that.” It stings, to have him talk to me like that. Like he would his younger sibling instead of his girlfriend but with a deep breath, I let it go. “Besides,” he adds, with a sigh, going back to stroking his fingers through my hair, making it easier to forget his biting remark. “I’m not playing that well. I don’t think I’d win myself any brownie points by going out and hanging at Molsen House, do you?” I have to agree with this, but it’s also one of the reasons I know that he’s allowed me to be here. <br /><br />“You have to get out of your head Crosby.” It’s my turn to admonish him, albeit far more gently than he's done to me. “You need to stop thinking about the crowd and the pressure and what it all means.” I add, rolling over so that I have the upper hand, so that I have my chin resting on the back of my hands in the middle of his chest. “You need to think about each play as they happen, each pass, each shot. Don’t anticipate. Just be grasshopper,” I add with a grin that makes him laugh as he reaches up press an errant curl behind my ear. <br /><br />“How come when you give me that speech it sounds so much better than when Troy does it?” he asks, a sentimental warmth filling his gold flecked eyes. <br /><br />“Because I’m prettier than your dad?” I grin back at him, batting my eyelashes and generally attempting my best ‘adorable’ look. <br /><br />“That,” Sidney growls, rolling to pin me to the bed before attacking my neck like a bloodthirsty vampire, which causes my eyes to flutter shut and my lips to fall slack, “goes without saying.” <br /><br />“And you told me to behave,” I remind him, biting down on my bottom lip as his teeth graze the thin skin behind my ear. “I thought you said I had to keep my hands to myself during your nap time,” I add, sucking in a ragged breath as one of his strong hands slides down over the lightweight fabric of my t-shirt to cup my breast. With a frustrated groan, Sid flops over onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. <br /><br />“You’re right,” he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing under his breath before he rolls up into a sitting position, facing away from me. “And then there’s no sex during the playoffs...fuck!” he snarls, curling his hands into meaty fists on his knees and slamming them repeatedly on his thick thighs. <br /><br />“There’s time before the play offs,” I remind him, getting onto my knees and moving behind him, careful not to brush his back with my breasts, not to make it worse as dig my hands into the knots in his shoulders. <br /><br />“I know, I’m sorry,” he sighs, reaching up to still my hands, clasping one of my hands in both of his and bringing it down to press his lips into the centre of my palm. “I’m just feeling...I don’t know, frustrated right now,” he adds in a husky sort of voice as I remain rigid behind him, afraid to move. “I don’t mean to take it out on you,” he sighs, turning to look up at me. <br /><br />“Used to it,” I remind him with half a grin. I am used to it and I’m also feeling very proud to know that he feels safe enough with me to show me his real emotions.<br /> <br />“It’ll be better after this,” he promises, a little boy earnestness in his eyes as he gazes up at me that makes me want to cradle his face and cover it with kisses. I nod and ease myself around him until we’re sitting side by side on the single bed he and every other athlete has been provided. “I’m glad you came though,” he adds, with just the hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his full, plump lips, “even if my dad didn’t want you to be here.” It’s like a shot to the gut, one that knocks the wind out of you but isn’t enough to require actual help but still leaves you sitting helplessly gasping for air. I say nothing for a long time, just staring at my bare feet on the tan coloured rug, counting to ten and willing myself not to cry. <br /><br />“Is there ever going to be a time when I’m good enough?” I ask, my voice sounding squeaky like an old door hinge as I turn to look at Sidney who is looking straight ahead with his jaw thrust forward in that defensive sort of way that says ‘don’t start something’. So I still can’t cross that line. He can say whatever he wants about his old man but no one else can.<br /><br />“They’ll see...when we’re together in the summer. They’ll see then,” he says finally, reaching over to cover my hand with his. I look down at our hands and then up at him and I know that the look on his face is supposed to be supportive or something but it doesn’t feel like it. But I nod anyway and try to not to let him see that it bothers me that he doesn’t take my side. I came here for him. Not me. <br /><br />“About being...together,” I begin, that voice in the back of my head that’s been niggling at me, telling me that I have to tell him, getting louder as we sit there on his bed. <br /><br />“Yeah, about that,” he gives my hand a squeeze and then reaches over to cup my cheek while he presses his lips to the centre of my forehead. “We shouldn’t over think that either,” he tells me with grin. “Not that I don’t know it’s going to be great. I’m just so glad we’re both adults and haven’t been waiting all this time, you know? Did you know that’s what Jordy and Heather were doing? Oh wait, not Jordan, <span style="font-weight:bold;">obviously</span>, but Heather was totally holding out for a ring...can you imagine?” I grin like a fucking idiot and shake my head, all the while biting down so hard on the inside of my cheeks that I can actually taste the coppery tang of blood. <br /><br />“Waiting...no...Wow, really?” I squeak as Sid shakes his head and laughs at poor Heather’s misfortune. <br /><br />“I didn’t know people still did that kind of shit. I mean, look how well that worked for Jessica Simpson,” he adds and I’m still bobbing my head like the Taco Bell dog trying to ignore the screaming sounds in my brain, except for the one that keeps telling me that he knows. <br /><br />“So ummm you don’t have that whole...breaking in the new gear kink that Tanger’s got?” I ask a little too breathlessly, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He just rolls his eyes before turning entirely towards me, and framing my face with his hands, he kisses me deeply, his tongue curling enticingly around mine. <br /><br />“I remember when Jack told me how...how <span style="font-style:italic;">good </span>you were. I wanted to kill him,” he admits breathlessly, his thumb tracing my bottom lip before he captures my mouth again, kissing me back onto the bed, his other hand slipping down to knead my breast. “But now...now I can’t wait to find out for myself,” he adds, with a growl as he nips and kisses his way along my jaw and down my neck. <br /><br />“Really...Jack...?” I’m caught between the flame licking up between my thighs from his kisses and telling him the truth that I know full well will have the very same effect as throwing ice cold water over both of us. “So you’re not...ummm mad?” I ask, pushing him away long enough for him to look down at me with a huge grin on his face. <br /><br />“Do you think I’d actually want that kind of responsibility? Don’t I have enough to live up to?” he replies with a grin before grabbing the wrist of my arm that I’m holding him at bay with and all I can do is shake my head and mutter something inane like ‘of course not’ while his other hand slides up over my breast, his thumb and forefinger pinching my nipple until I whimper his name. “It’s going to be so good between us Mel,” he promises, grinding his not very confined and very obvious erection against my thigh. All I can do is nod and try to ignore the panic rising in my chest, threatening to cut off the rush of oxygen to my lungs. “Babe...would you...just so I can relax?” he whispers in my ear, his tongue making wet circles around my earlobe as he pushes my hand down to his rock hard erection. “Please Mel...just...need...relief.” My hands shake as they slide down, beneath the loose elastic of the waistband of his track pants. This isn’t how I imagined this moment. This isn’t what I’d wanted or the way I’d wanted it, but I wrap my hand around the heated thickness of his dick and am rewarded with a shudder and his tongue wrapping around mine as he kisses me into submission, or not quite.<br /><br />I slide down the length of the bed and take his track pants with me, leaving them bunched around his knees before I kneel over him, staring down at the long, thick length of him. This...this I dreamed of and it’s every bit as beautiful, as perfect as I’d imagined that it would be. Gingerly, my entire body shaking with nerves, I reach out to lick away a drop of pre-cum glittering on tip of head. He looks adoringly down his body at me and it’s the gratitude mixed with the heat of passion that has me swallowing my pride and sliding my mouth down the length of him, or as far as I can, until I hear him sigh my name out loud. Then I close my eyes as I feel his hands knot in my hair, forcing my head down over him and I try not to feel humiliated as he fucks my mouth with his cock, athletically lifting his hips off of the bed, his abs crunching enticingly in front of my eyes. <br /><br />This isn’t how this should have been. There was supposed to be candles and wine and romantic music and rose petals and, most importantly, it should have been him doing the honours first to ease my nerves. Instead I screw my eyes tightly closed and breathe through my nose, doing my best not to gag every time the head of his cock buts up against my tonsils because I can and I will do this for him. This is why I came, for him, because he was wound up as tightly as a coiled spring and he needed me. <span style="font-style:italic;">Me</span>. <br /><br />So I will not cry over spilled milk and I will not begrudge him this one thing and I will not ask him for anything in return, because he needs me, because I’ve always wanted him to need me the way I’ve needed him. <br /><br />_________________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />“I can’t take it. I can’t watch,” I squeal, covering my eyes with my hands but peeking through my splayed fingers at the same time. “I hate when they pull the goalie.” <br /><br />“You have to watch,” Max laughs, prying at my fingers. “I think it’s bad luck or something if you don’t.” <br /><br />“Ouch, what are you trying to do? Break my fucking fingers?” I snap, as he pries one of my fingers back enough that it hurts. <br /><br />“Just watch and quit whining. You remind me of your boyfriend. He hates to watch the shoot-outs too,” Max grins, shaking his head at me as Belarus sweeps into our end.<br /> <br />“He’s always in the shoot-out, how can he not watch?” I ask, partially because I want to know and partially because it’s better than watching the swarm of blue jerseys heading for our net. <br /><br />“God, remind me never to go to a movie with either of you,” Tanger grouses, giving Max a shove that sends him into a hipcheck that puts me back in my seat, which is good, because then I really can’t see. “You’re like a couple of old women,” he adds, shooting us both a distasteful look. “Merde! Luongo you useless fuck. You almost cost us the game!” he calls through tented hands, as if the big goalie can hear him from where we are up in the team Canada box, thanks to Sid and Mario. <br /><br />“Hey, <span style="font-style:italic;">hey</span>, someone might hear you,” I hiss at him, to which Tanger, without ever taking his eyes off of the action on the ice, only scoffs. <br /><br />“Oh whatever. Flower would be much better than this greasy wop. I mean look at him. I’m Count Sieve. One, one early goal. Two, two easy goals,” he adds, doing his best Count from Sesame Street, which, and not for the first time, has Max and I holding our ribs. For his part, Flower, sitting on Tanger’s other side, just shakes his head and keeps his own counsel. <br /><br />“C’mon Neidermeyer, clear the fucking puck!” I yell, my pulse racing as the crowd begins to count down the seconds. “Oh god, I hate this!” I add, going back to my original defence, hiding behind my hands, but this time I squeeze my eyes shut for good measure. “Tell me when it’s over.” <br /><br />I hear the whistle, or at least I think I do, but just as I peek through my hands to check, Max grabs me in a bear hug and lifts me off my feet. The crowd is going is berserk. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything this loud before in my life. Everyone’s jumping around, yelling, screaming, waving flags and blowing horns, but I’m not and Max is not. <br /><br />One minute I’m in the air in his arms, grinning and laughing and the next minute he’s put me down but isn’t letting go of me and there’s this moment, this long, uncomfortable moment where we’re just looking at each other and we’re in our own little world because we both know everyone’s watching the guys celebrate on the ice and no one cares about what we’re doing. <br /><br />That’s when he kisses me, and not just the ‘yeah aren’t we happy’ little smooch that would be okay from your cousin kind of kiss. No, this is the his body is pressed to my body and his hand is cradling my cheek and I know he’s going to do it and for some reason I don’t stop him and then he’s doing it and his lips are soft and warm and they’re moving over mine and I’m thinking that this is a really, really bad idea but I’m still not doing anything to get that message across, even when his lips pull back and I find myself looking into those hooded green eyes of his and I can see that he’s waiting for me to push him away or smack him. When I do neither, he bends in to kiss me again and I just wait for him to do it, except he doesn’t. <br /><br />Instead, he screws his eyes shut and he lets go of me all at once so that I fall, ‘plop’, back into my seat. I stare up at him, watching him, waiting for him to say something because I don’t think I can and he doesn’t. He just keeps shaking his head. <br /><br />“Let’s go down and see them,” Tanger grins, grabbing Max by the shoulders and shaking him. For some reason, I really want Max to say no, to come up with some other idea, anything else, but he smiles and nods and, even more surprisingly, offers me a hand up which I take, feeling an electric shock the minute my fingers slide over his palm. <br /><br />We both stare at the spot, so that I know he’s feeling it too, and the next thing I know, we’re get stuck in this current of humanity, pouring out and down the hall and towards an elevator. There’s way too many of us to fit and for that I’m grateful because now that my brain is starting to clear, I need to ask Max what the hell has just happened, except when I turn back to ask him, he’s gone, disappeared into the crowd.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-67594662884228113202010-04-01T13:29:00.000-07:002010-04-01T13:53:09.034-07:00Chapter 23<span style="font-style:italic;">Looks like a lot of you definitely picking sides here so I am curious to see what the results are after this chapter. </span><br /><br />“Aren’t you mister popular today?” Bergie smirks as my phone begins to vibrate across the table towards the plate of sushi we’re sharing. Rolling my eyes, assuming of course it’s my mother asking if I can come to lunch, <span style="font-style:italic;">again</span>, I grab my phone and then grin. <br /><br />“Hey Max! You on your way?” I ask, popping another Ikura roll into my mouth. <br /><br />“Uh...actually no,” he replies, and then I’m back to rolling my eyes. <br /><br />“Let me guess. You met some hot chick in New York and you just rolled out of her bed and missed the flight?” I laugh and Bergie grins back at me, sharing a knowing look that says ‘that sounds like Max’. <br /><br />“You realize it’s her show today, oui?” Max says slowly, like he’s talking to Gronk and not me, the way we do when we’re treating Jordy like the retard he can be sometimes. <br /><br />“Is it? I’m kinda busy here so, you know, I guess it might have slipped my mind,” I snort, rolling my eyes again. <br /><br />“It’s worth fifty percent of her grade, it’s kind of important. At least tell me you’re going to call and wish her good luck? Send some flowers maybe?” he says like it’s an order and not a suggestion. <br /><br />“I’ll call her after the game,” I sigh. The last thing I need right now is another distraction. It’s bad enough that Charline is sitting two tables away having an animated conversation with some husky looking bobsledders. There’s utter silence on the other end of the line. Or, I should say, not silence exactly. More like disapproving breathing while he’s waiting for me to say something. “Okay, whatever. Have some roses sent for me while you’re on the way to JFK. If you get the next flight you might get here in time for the after game party after we kick Kane’s ass!” I call across to the next table and then turn to high five Toewsie. A general cheer goes up from our table so I don’t exactly hear what Max says, only that he’s talking, so I plug my ear with my finger and yell into the phone. “You are coming right?” <br /><br />“Like I said, you’ve got a lot of people there. I mean the whole fucking country is cheering for you. She’s just got sa mere ici. I thought I should stay, for her,” Max replies and part of me wants to call him a fucking puss but I’m in too good a mood to fight with him. <br /><br />“Whatever man, your loss. It’s gonna be epic,” I laugh and snap the phone shut because Bergie’s eyeing the last eel roll and you don’t get sushi this fresh back in the ‘Burgh.<br />____________________________________________________________<br /><br />“No, no. I said <span style="font-style:italic;">slicked </span>back. This isn’t about her hair, it’s about my clothes,” I snap, grabbing the comb out of the hair dresser’s hand and dragging it through the model’s hair until it sits flat to her scalp. “Like this. Do you think you can manage that?” I snarl, giving the hairdresser my best ‘or else’ look before I turn to go back to supervising the choice of outfits. If it’s one thing I’ve learned today is that you can’t let the models choose their own. <br /><br />“Nervous?” I spin, my heart leaping in my chest, to find Max standing behind me with a huge bundle of daisies in his arms and I immediately find myself grinning from ear to ear.<br /><br />“Omygawd, a friendly face. You have no idea. I want to throw up,” I blurt out, gazing longingly at the flowers but knowing I can’t touch them, not yet. Not only is it bad karma to take flowers before the models hit the runway but if I get pollen on my hands and then on the clothes and then god forbid one of the models has hay fever... “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought you left to go to Vancouver!” I realize, feeling a surge of guilt. I know some of the guys have tickets to the next couple of games and Sidney was expecting him. <br /><br />“Yeah well, he’s got all of Canada rooting him on and from what you’ve said about your mom...I thought maybe you needed my support more than he does,” Max says sweetly and I find myself standing there in the middle of absolute chaos, feeling like I could just sit down and have a good old fashioned cry. It must show on my face, because Max puts the flowers aside and pulls me into the circle of his arms and just holds me until I can breathe again. <br /><br />“Sorry, I’m a mess. This is like...it’s like the Calder Cup for me. If I can get past this then I have a chance at working in a design house and....” Max holds me at arms’ length and looks down at me like I’ve just grown another, less attractive, head. <br /><br />“You know if you two get married you’ll never have to actually work a day in your life, comme ca?” he asks, as if I don’t know that my boyfriend is a multi-millionaire. <br /><br />“If you think for one minute that I’m the kind of girl that would sit around eating bon-bons and watching Coronation Street and Oprah all day...,” I begin, feeling fired up at the very idea anyone would mistake me for one of those girls that grabs onto the coat tails of a shooting star and once there digs in her claws for dear life, scoops his plastic and shops all day long, drops a rug rat once every three years and figures getting a mani pedi once a week is actual work. <br /><br />“No, non that’s not...I’m saying or trying to say de ma proper manière maladroit,” he adds with a half a grin, “is that I think it’s good. No it’s <span style="font-style:italic;">great </span>that you know you don’t have to do this but you have a dream too. It’s good,” he adds earnestly and the fire in my belly goes out. <br /><br />“Merci mon ami, vraiment merci,” I whisper, grabbing his face and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Now go, get a seat out front. There’s a surprise at the end of the show you don’t want to miss,” I add with a wink before turning back to what is almost a non-recoverable disaster of a wardrobe cart. “Fucking models,” I mutter, grabbing a now empty hanger and looking around for the half starved thieving whore who’s grabbed the mini dress from it. <br /><br />“The flowers?” Max asks, retrieving them from the table behind him and I hold my hands out defensively in front of me. <br /><br />“After. Save them for after. But thank you Max. I’ll see you later,” I grin before turning to slap another stick thin hand away from the rack. “Oh, Max, did Sidney tell you I loved daisies?” I turn to ask and he looks down at the bouquet and then back up at me with the most curious expression on his face. <br /><br />“Uh...no...I mean, mais oui! He told me to get these for you. This?” he laughs, pointing at the huge bunch of white and yellow flowers in his hand. “This is totally him. All him. Would I buy flowers for a girl? C’mon, this is Superstar we’re talking about. I don’t have to buy flowers for some chick, they beg for it!” He adds with a wink and a grin before turning to head back out towards the curtain between this chaos I’m in and the chairs around the runway. I watch him go, shaking my head and laughing. <br /><br />Max. That boy...<br /><br />“Hey, bitch, did I say this outfit was for you? You don’t have the tits to hold up the halter, are you shitting me?” I growl, snatching a long, flowing sun dress from one of the she-giraffes and handing her form fitting evening gown instead. “Have some cake or something. Guys don’t actually like hip bones, I don’t know if you know that,” I add, shaking my head. <br /><br />_____________________________________________________________<br /><br />I stare at my phone, as it dances and bumps its’ way along the table. It’s pretty funny when you watch it from table level which is what I’m doing, because the table feels kind of cool and I feel like I’ve just drunk a whole case of JD. Finally I reach out and grab it, and stare at the display. <br /><br />“Maximus dogimus, if you’re calling to tell me we could have used your two goals against Detroit...,” I begin, closing my eyes against the throbbing in my head. <br /><br />“I saw the score mon ami. Je suis vraiment très désolé,” my friend replies and manages to actually sound like he means it. It makes me wonder if he lost a bet. <br />“No, what I called about...did you get the photo I sent?” Cracking one eye open, I tab to the icon for my received texts and begin to scroll through.<br /><br />“If this is gonna be some skinny ass model you picked up at the show...,” I begin but Max sighs impatiently on the other end of the line, so I stop my usual line of questioning. “Could you just tell me man, please? My head is banging and I swear...I just need to like sleep or something,” I mutter, wondering if Nathalie packed me any Advil. <br /><br />“Did you even call Mel to wish her good luck?” he asks, with that tone in his voice that makes me think of my father. ‘Did you do your stretching exercises before you went out son?’ I’ve gotten over that so Max doing it has about as much of an effect on me. <br /><br />“Well I’ve been sort of busy here. Didn’t you get her the damn flowers?” I grumble, wishing he’d just get to the point and get on with berating me for being a bet friend or whatever so I can go back to remembering the shots I missed or didn’t take. Fucking Miller....<br /><br />“The picture. Did you get the picture yet?” Max asks impatiently and I finally find his message somewhere about twenty five down from the top and open the attachment and then I just sit there, staring at it, for a long time. <br /><br />“Wow,” I breathe, staring at the vision on the display of my phone, and then, when my brain actually starts to tick over, I email it to myself and then open my lap top so I can see it better. “I don’t think...I mean...is that Mel?” I ask, which is stupid because it’s obviously her, just...more so. I’ve never seen her look like that. Like some fashion magazine has gotten a hold of her and did things with her hair to make it bouncy and to her lips to make them look all...full and sexy and as for the rest.... “She looks like an angel,” I mutter, still dumbstruck by the vision in silver and white that is now blown up on the screen of my lap top. <br /><br />“Oui, elle est un ange...and if you’re not completely blind, ce que je commence à penser que tu es, that, I believe, is her fucking wedding dress.” At first all I’d seen was the white toile and the silver threading but sitting back, putting it altogether, yes...I can't deny that what she's wearing could be a wedding dress. <br /><br />“But...I haven’t...we haven’t...Oh for fuck sakes, I haven’t asked her so how could it be? How can she be wearing a....?”<br /><br />“Parce qu’elle tu aimes,” Max admonishes me, “et elle crois que tu feres la bonne chose.” There’s silence on the other end of the line. A long drawn out silence that asks, will I? Will I do the right thing? Am I going to do the right thing? What is the fucking right thing? “Just call her. Fucking congratulate her at least. Can you do that Creature?”<br /><br />“Don’t lecture me on my relationship Max, like you’d know how to have one. I’ll call her...I will. Just...what is it to you anyway?” I ask, feeling annoyed at being cornered, in more ways than one. <br /><br />“You make her unhappy and she doesn’t even know it. Comprends?” <br /><br />I hit 'end' because I don’t need to have Dr. Talbot ‘relationship therapist to the stars’ tell me that I’m a bad boyfriend. Mel gets it. She understands how important this is. She texted me a good luck message this morning before the game and a sad face and a gift certificate for a back rub after the game. She gets it. I don’t have to follow her around like a puppy and pretend to be interested in what she’s doing. <br />And he’s got to be reading shit into that dress. That’s so not Mel. She looks great, no doubt about it but it’s not her. Even if I do ask her, she’d never want anything that over the top. She wouldn’t want all that sparkly shit. That’s just something for class.<br /><br />No, I tell myself, I don’t have anything to worry about except the next game. A must win to stay in this tournament. I have to play better. Mel will understand that I have to concentrate on this. That’s what’s so great about her. She’s not demanding and high maintenance. She doesn’t need me to get involved in what she’s doing. I’m sure she’s just fine.<br /><br />______________________________________________________<br /><br />“Don’t keep staring at your phone dear, it’s rude,” my mother hisses at me as through her teeth which I’m sure, like any good pageant girl, are probably covered in Vaseline to make them shiny and to remind her to keep smiling. I keep waiting for some sign of life from Sid, who I’m sure is berating himself and generally getting down about what happened against the States. I was hoping to distract him, if only for a few minutes, but he hasn’t answered any of my texts so far. “Is that Donna Karan?” <br /><br />“Is it mom? I’m not sure,” I mumble, knowing in my head I’m supposed to care about some of the VIPs that have been invited to the show, that it’s important for me to introduce myself to them and point out which pieces where mine in the collection, but I can’t help worrying about Sid. <br /><br />“Now that is definitely Adrienne Vittadini. Darling, you should definitely introduce yourself to her. She is <span style="font-style:italic;">so </span>classy. I would love to tell everyone at the club that you’re working for her.” I glance towards the tall blonde with the impossibly high cheekbones and grimace. Well of course my mother would love her. She caters to that old fashioned twinset and pearls crowd. I was hoping for someone a little edgier, someone like Emma Cooke.<br /><br />“Is this when I give you the flowers?” I turn to smile gratefully at Max for saving me from my mother. I accept the bouquet this time and his kiss on my cheek.<br /> <br />“Oh...well I see how it is now.” My heart stops in my chest and the spark of warmth I felt with Max’s greeting is quickly blown out. <br /><br />“Mom this is....”<br /><br />“So you’re not dating Sidney, you’re dating one of his...<span style="font-style:italic;">teammates</span>.” She says the word like it’s something distasteful to be spat out. She even wrinkles up her nose and looks at the two of us with a cold, disapproving glare. <br /><br />“You don’t have to worry Mrs. Kelly. Your daughter is far too classy to go out with me,” Max interjects, in an honourable attempt to save me from my mother but I'm not having any of it. If there’s one thing I live for, it’s upsetting mommy dearest.<br /><br />“You don’t have to lie for me babe,” I coo, turning and planting my lips against Max’s and then wiping my lipstick from his mouth with my thumb. “He’s a superstar. He scored the winning goal to win the Stanley Cup, didn’t you babe?” I ask, batting my eyelashes at him and making my best ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ face. Though Max’s eyes are a little wider than normal, he steps right into his role and snakes his arm around my waist. <br /><br />“That’s right. They call me Superstar,” he grins, transforming into Mad Max before my very eyes. <br /><br />“Melody, may I speak with you...<span style="font-style:italic;">privately</span>?” my mother hisses, venom dripping from her words. <br /><br />“You know what mom...no. Like you said, I have to mingle and besides you told me you were proud of my pieces and I’d like to hold onto one nice thing for the day,” I sigh, picking up the trailing fabric of the full skirt of the dress, the pies de resistance of the show, and, tucking the bouquet into the crook of my arm, I reach my free hand out for Max’s and feel his thick, warm fingers clasp onto mine. “Come honey, you can help me get out of this.” I feel his hand twitch around mine and guess that he’s doing his best not to laugh out loud as I stare my mother down and tug Max behind me in the direction of some younger, more cutting edge designers.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-14699858939849104392010-03-30T15:41:00.000-07:002010-03-30T15:52:57.889-07:00Chapter 22<span style="font-weight:bold;">it's warmin' up in here folks...<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span><br /><br />“Oh my gawd it’s a beer, it’s not going to kill you!” Getzlaf tries to shove a beer into my hand for like the tenth time and I’m having none of it, laughing, but shoving it away all the same. <br /><br />“Too many calories,” I explain. “Find me something harder and we’re talking,” I add while he rolls his eyes he and Perry take off in the opposite direction in search of someone more fun, I presume. I’ve never been to a frat party, but I’m guessing that this sort of wandering the halls of the athlete’s village with beer in hand is as much like that as I’m ever going to get. Well, apart from the craziness after winning the Stanley Cup. <br /><br />“You did good today kid.” I turn to see Haley Wickenheiser walking towards me with a couple of her teammates, all three of them with beer in hand, making me wonder, am I the only one around here that doesn’t drink the stuff during the season.<br /><br />“Thanks,” I nod, feeling a bit awkward. I mean I know who she is, I’m pretty sure everyone who plays hockey in Canada does, but I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced before. “I hear you guys set some kind of record for goals?” I offer, remembering back to my junior days when I’d score eight goals but thirteen?<br /><br />“I just hope we didn’t blow our load you know?” one of the girls with Haley laughs and I find myself grinning back at the blue eyed, fresh faced forward. I seem to remember someone telling me that they call her the female Sidney Crosby but I can’t quite remember her name.<br /><br />“Who do you play next?” I ask and the other girl, the dark haired, dark eyes beauty who doesn’t look anything like you’d think a hockey player would.<br /><br />“Same as you, Switzerland,” she grins. “Nooo problem.” <br /><br />“I’ve heard the Swiss guys are actually pretty good,” I offer. “I’m actually a little worried about them. They’ve got a hot goaltender. I actually have problems with Hiller. <br /><br />“Well if you need help, we can always give Marie-Philip here a buzz cut and put her in,” Hayley offers and the blonde blue eyed girl laughs but doesn’t exactly object. <br /><br />“I’ve heard you have a hell of a shot,” Flower appears at my side and I gather he knows more about these girls than I do. <br /><br />“She’s got a wicked release,” the dark haired beauty adds. “I should know, I’m black and blue from taking shots in practice.” I find myself mesmerized by her bubblegum pink lips and dimple in her right cheek, unable to look away. “Ca va Fleur?” she asks suddenly and she and my goalie exchange fists in a familiar way that has me looking confusedly back and forth between the two of them. <br /><br />“Charline’s from nearby. She was on TV en Quebec,” Flower explains and I nod, mutely, still focused entirely on her shiny pink lip gloss. <br /><br />“So, Crosby...beer?” she asks, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow before tossing her long, shiny dark hair over her shoulder. <br /><br />“Ummm, yeah,” I reply falling in step with them as they head for the main lounge area. Flower looks inquisitively at me and all I can do is shrug because I don’t know the answer either.<br /><br />____________________________________________________________<br /><br />“Still no answer,” I mumble under my breath, hitting end and tossing my cell across the couch. Max is, I don’t know where, sulking. Tanger is out gallivanting and likely getting laid and Kennedy took off pretty much right from the shoot to join Jordy and the rest of his family in Vancouver to cheer on older brother Eric. And that leaves me alone, in my jammies, with my cell phone apparently.<br /><br /> Not that I begrudge him a celebration with the boys, which I tell myself is probably where he is. I mean, it would be nice if he answered his phone but it’s probably pretty loud wherever he is and I have seen the crowds on the internet. It looks pretty crazy and maybe even the Sidney Crosby could get lost in those crowds. <br />I tell myself I’m happy for him if he is out having fun. He deserves it. He played really well. Of course if he’s just out with Trina and Troy....<br /><br />The door opens and I turn to see Max standing in the doorway, warily looking at me like he expects me to tell him to fuck off again except I’m over it and besides, I hate the whole silence thing. <br /><br />“Where’ve you been?” I ask, picking up my sketch pad again and going back to work on something that’s been in my head for a while now. <br /><br />“Walking,” he replies, still standing in the doorway. <br /><br />“In New York? You can get mugged here you know,” I muse, turning my pencil sideways to do some shading. “Well don’t just stand there. You’re letting in that horrible curry smell from the hall,” I add with a smile that I don’t let him see. It’s not as fun as making Sid squirm, but almost. <br /><br />“You’re not going to throw something at me?” he asks, sounding more like the happy go lucky fun loving Frenchman we all adore.<br /><br />“That depends. Are you going to act like an ass again?” I ask, listening to him toe off his shoes and then cross the floor in stocking feet before grabbing the remote and aiming it towards the TV. “And that includes changing my show,” I add, reaching out without looking up from my work to snatch the remote out of his hand. I hear him snicker and have to bite down on my bottom lip to stop him from laughing out loud. <br /><br />For a while we sit in companionable silence but there’s that undercurrent. The type where you know the other person is dying to say something, so much so that there’s a palpable electric current in the air. That and I could feel Max watching my hands as I sketched out a full skirted ball gown with a silver and white brocade bodice. <br /><br />“Go on, say it,” I mutter, unwilling to look up to see the ‘I told you so’ look I knew would be in his eyes. <br /><br />“Do you really have to rush into marrying him? You’ve known him your whole life. Maybe he’s not what you think he is,” he suggests, at which point I put down my pencils and put aside my sketch book and turn to face my accuser.<br /><br />“I’m not the one who brought up weddings. You did and I don’t even know if you made that up just get a reaction from me or if he’s actually said something to you and I’m not sure I even want you to tell me. As for who he is…he is Sidney. He is who he’s always been just…more so,” I insist quietly, hoping that he can see the plea in my eyes that says I don’t want to argue about this. <br /><br />“I don’t think you want all of the attention that will bring,” Max continues despite my silent plea and that makes me grab for a pillow to hold onto, wrapping my arms around it like a shield. “Do you have any idea what kind of press you’re going to have to deal with? And I don’t mean like with Nat and Mario and how they’re always in the Pittsburgh Gazette. I mean in every paper and magazine in Canada,” Max continues and my head begins to throb in response. <br /><br />“You don’t know that,” I begin and Max snorts again and then reaches over to put his hand on my knee. <br /><br />“Not to mention the hate mail, the death threats,” he adds, turning the dull throb into a piercing ache behind my eyes. <br /><br />“I can’t stop loving him Max,” I shrug, opening my eyes so that he can see just how tired I am of this entire subject. “I may not want to think about all of that stuff right now but…it doesn’t stop me from wanting to be with him. It just makes it…harder. That’s what I meant the other day. I know it’s going to be hard but that doesn’t mean I stop loving him. Hell…there’s been plenty of times I wish I didn’t. Fuck, I know it would be easier if I didn’t. It would be so much easier to go back to playing in the sandbox and not understanding that I was a girl and he was a boy…and some days I would if I could but…I can’t because I love him. I don’t know how else to explain it.” Max sighs and closes his eyes, nodding as he leans his head back and I know there’s more he wants to say but my phone begins to vibrate on the cushion beside him and when he reaches for it, I can tell by the look on his face exactly who it is. “G’night Max,” I grin, grabbing my phone from his hand and kissing his forehead as I bound towards my room. “Hey hero boy, that was a great game….”<br /><br />_______________________________________________________<br /><br />Maybe it was the beer, or the fact that I was tired, but when Charline Labonté asked me to go somewhere quiet with her…it was tempting. That is, until I reminded myself that I wasn’t the kind of guy that did that kind of thing, at least not anymore. So as tempting as it was, I yawned and stretched and begged off. <br /><br />I didn’t tell her I wasn’t interested or that I had a girlfriend back home. I just looked into those dark eyes, and brushed her silken hair back from her face and kissed her good night. <br /><br />I’m an asshole. I’m a fucking asshole just like Tanger or Max. <br /><br />There’s something about her though and not just her toned athletic body or the fact that she can skate, well as well as any goalie can, although to be able to talk about hockey with someone who plays it was phenomenal. But it wasn’t just that. There was a freeness about her, an openness that I can’t put my finger on.<br /><br />Flower says it’s just cold feet. I asked him how he knows and he couldn’t answer. Of course he couldn’t. He’s always had Vero. <br /><br />“Ma mère dit a moi q’un jour où je me le développerai fatigue d’elle, mais je ne le fais pas,” he explains with one of his easy grins and I can’t help but wish it was that easy for me. <br /><br />“Papa G says that if I’m relaxed around her that she’s the one but I don’t know. I keep thinking maybe if I was like Jordy, the way he runs around falling in love all the time, maybe then I could agree but I want to feel that...I don’t fucking know, something, anything that says yeah, stupid, she’s the one,” I explain, dropping my head into my hands. <br /><br />“Mon ami, tu penses trop,” Flower laughs, mussing my hair as he gets up off of his bed. <br /><br />“Great and the next thing you’ll be telling me is that I need to get laid,” I sigh, letting myself fall back on the bed so that I’m staring up at the blank, white ceiling. <br /><br />“Peut-être ce n’est pas une si mauvaise idée,” he smirks, grabbing his cell phone and heading into the bathroom for some privacy. Vero does phone sex. Apparently very well. <br /><br />Now there’s an idea. <br /><br />Grabbing my phone I look down to see five missed calls; one my father, two Mario and the rest all Mel. As I listen to the sound of her number dialing I fluff up the pillows behind me and try to relax. I’ve never been very good at this, but damn it, I think I need it.<br /><br />“Hey hero boy!” I’d half expected to get admonished for not phoning earlier but as usual Mel surprises me by being happy instead of upset. “That was a great game. You made some fabulous moves out there.” <br /><br />“It was fun,” I admit, taking a deep breath and glancing towards the bathroom door which remains closed. “What are you wearing right now?” <br /><br />“Wh...<span style="font-style:italic;">what</span>?” I can hear the shock and alarm in her voice and I guess I did kinda jump right into it but I don’t know how much time or privacy I’m going to have. <br /><br />“Are you alone or....?”<br /><br />“Max is here but he’s in the living room...why?” she laughs nervously and I’m sure I hear the sound of her closing her bedroom door and then the squeak of her old bed springs. “What’s up with you tonight?” We’ve talked on the phone a hundred times. No, probably more and I’ve never tried this before. I can understand her surprise. <br /><br />“So what are you wearing?” I ask again and I can hear her put her hand over the phone to stifle the nervous giggling. Funny, she never seemed giggly when we made out before. <br /><br />“I’m just in my jammies,” she replies finally, in a sort of breathless voice that tells me she’s still trying to get her breathing under control. <br /><br />“Well don’t,” I tell her, pulling my sheet up over stomach and sliding my hand down to the waistband of my wind pants. “So now what are you wearing?” I ask and I can hear her fumbling on the other side of the line and so I close my eyes, bringing her curves to mind and imagining pulling her pyjama bottoms off, slowly revealing a pair of.... “What kind of panties are you wearing?” <br /><br />“Black, lacey,” she replies breathlessly, and this time I don’t think the sound of her voice is from nerves alone. <br /><br />“Are you wearing a bra?” I ask, thinking about the high round soft globes in my hands, the firm little peak of her nipple pressing into the palm of my hand as I kiss my way down her neck.<br /><br />“No, I took it off when I came home. I’m just wearing that old Shattucks t-shirt you brought home for me,” she tells me and then it’s my turn to take a deep, wavering breath. That old shirt fits tightly across her chest. I’d bought it for the little girl I’d left behind only to deliver it to a more filled out girl. I’d never seen her wear it until she’d stayed over at Mario’s and when I had, it had nearly taken my breath away.<br /><br />“Sooo just that and the panties?” I ask, hearing my voice get low and husky as I imagine her bare legs bent at the knees and her hand sliding slowly down over her breasts and then further down....<br /><br />“Yesss,” she hisses and I can’t help but imagine her hand sliding under the black lace, down inside that mysterious union between her legs.<br /><br />“Are you...are you wet...down there?” I ask, feeling heat rise into my face. As if someone can see me or overhear me. It’s only her and I and yet....<br /><br />“Mmmm,” is her only reply and a little groan escapes my own lips as my hand slides down to circle my now hard and aching cock. <br /><br />“God I can’t wait to taste you Mel. I dream about it...of going down on your sweet little pussy, of you cumming for me. Do you want that too?” I ask and she moans for me and I wonder if she’s rubbing her clit or finger fucking herself or...or both.<br /><br />“Yess Sidney! Your tongue...oh god,” she moans and I can hear her sharp intake of breath and I imagine her arching her back beneath me as I slide my cock inside her dripping wet pussy. <br /><br />“I want to be inside you. Is it tight?” I ask and she lets out a shaky little laugh.<br /> <br />“Oh god...you have no idea,” she whispers in a voice that tells me she’s smiling and I wonder what she’s imagining in her head. Does she see me moving over her, filling her, fucking her hard? Or is she still imagining me lapping at sweet pussy?<br /><br />“Is it shaved?” I ask, my strokes quickening as I imagine watching my cock sliding out of her pussy, dripping with her juices. <br /><br />“Yessss, and oh my god you make me so wet,” she moans and I can clearly hear her sucking a ragged breath through her teeth and I imagine her head tossing from side to side as I make her cum over and over. <br /><br />“How do you want it?” I ask, my eyes screwed tightly shut as I reach for the tissues on the side table. “Hard and fast? Do you want me to fuck you fast?” <br /><br />“Please...yessss,” she sighs, and I hear her making a little squeaking sound and I imagine my teeth closing around one of the pink buds of her nipples, making her squirm beneath me as I slide in and out of her wet pussy. <br /><br />“Say you want me Mel,” I hiss, tossing back the sheets before I shoot my load into them. “Say you want me in your pussy.”<br /><br />“Fuck me Sidney...oh god, fuck me hard. Fuck my pussy” she moans and that does it. I fill the tissues and my hand and spray my load up onto my stomach, leaving me a sticky mess. <br /><br />“Shit,” I mutter, grabbing more tissues and wiping at the mess I’ve made and shoving my dick back in my pants. <br /><br />“Are you...Sid? Are you there?” <br /><br />“Oh...oh damn, Mel, sorry you just...fuck you made me cum and I sort of last track there,” I apologize sheepishly, tossing all the soiled tissues in the garbage with a grateful glance towards the still closed bathroom door. “That was great. I think I needed that to go to sleep. Shit, what time is it there?” <br /><br />“I don’t know, two?” she replies quietly. <br /><br />“And you were up with Max?” I ask, hearing the accusing sting in my own voice and wishing I could take it back.<br /><br />“He’d just crawled in. I was up working on my project,” she explains, and then lets out a long yawn. “You’re probably exhausted,” she adds in a small voice. I am, now. Thanks to her. But as I open my mouth to tell her so, Flower emerges from the bathroom looking similarly happy and exhausted and collapses onto his bed. “Fleur’s back now so good night Mel. I’ll call you tomorrow.” <br /><br />“Okay, night Sidney.” I hit end and put my phone down on the bedside table and roll over to grin at Flower. <br /><br />“Sentes mieux?” he asks groggily, reaching to turn out his light. <br /><br />“Much, thanks,” I grin at him, turning mine off and stretching as I roll over and close my eyes. Much, <span style="font-style:italic;">much <span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span>better. <br />___________________________________________________________________<br /><br />“How’s lover boy?” Max asks over my shoulder as I spit into the sink and I nearly jump out of my skin to see him there in the mirror. My thoughts were, obviously, hundreds of miles away. <br /><br />“Fine, good,” I mutter, reaching for a towel to wipe off the excess toothpaste and hide the beet red colour my skin has just turned to be found thinking about what had just transpired in my bedroom. <br /><br />“I hope you bugged him about not scoring,” Max adds as I reach for my hairbrush, pulling furiously at my hair, unable to face him, hoping like hell he didn’t overhear anything but being completely unwilling to ask. <br /><br />“No, I didn’t,” I snap, sounding bitchier than I mean to but then again, he did leave me sort of high and dry after he finished. Typical male. <br /><br />“Aww. You miss him. That’s sweet,” Max continues and it’s just one comment too many and I whirl on him, claws and fangs bared. <br /><br />“Yes I miss him! Yes I love him! And yes, I want to fuck his brains out but I can’t because he’s there and I’m here and even if he <span style="font-style:italic;">was </span>here I’m not sure I’d have the guts to do what I actually want to do and no, I haven’t fucking told him I’m still holding my V-card, okay? I haven’t, because it’s kind of embarrassing and he’s going to want to sleep with me when he gets back and I don’t know what I’m going to do about that, okay? Satisfied?” Max stares back at me, wide eyed, his mouth hanging open like a dead carp. “Nothing to say? Good, well. Good night Max,” I snarl, pushing past him and heading for my bedroom, fully intending on giving the door a good satisfying slam before tossing myself on my bed and having a good old fashioned pout but Max grabs my bedroom door before I manage to swing it shut.<br /><br />“Did you guys have a fight or....?” <br /><br />“No, not a fight...look, never mind Max. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even be talking about my private life to you. Just...just try and ignore me, ça va?”I mutter, grabbing one of my teddy bears off of my bed and clutching it protectively to my chest. <br /><br />“Mon chère, you put too much stock in this virginity thing. I mean...not me, I’m not one for wanting to be first but Sidney...je ne sais pas but perhaps he will be honoured. You don’t give him enough credit,” Max offers, crossing the room to crouch in front of me, putting his hands on my bare knees, which suddenly reminds me that I’m still in my, now soaked, panties. I press my knees closely together and pray that he doesn’t smell sex on me.<br /><br />“No one likes a virgin. I mean...other than Tanger obviously,” I mutter, which makes Max laugh. “I don’t want my first time with Sid to be...awful,” I complain and Max sighs, giving my knees a squeeze before standing up and moving to sit beside me on the bed. <br /><br />“I don’t think it’s awful for everyone,” Max tried but I just wrinkle my nose at him.<br /><br />“You don’t have a vagina,” I reminded him and to that, all he can do was shrug. <br /><br />“Thank god, or I’d never have become a professional hockey player. I’d be home playing with myself all the time,” he replies, grinning that wide, mischievous Max grin and I can't help but laugh, even though the image I get in my head I immediately try to shake loose. “I’m just saying, mon dieu woman, give the guy a chance. You never know, maybe he’ll actually appreciate that you waited.”<br /> <br />“Maybe,” I agree, at which point Max looks satisfied and leans over to kiss my forehead.<br /><br />“We’re not all monsters ma petite,” he adds quietly, cupping my cheek in his hand. “If it was me...I know I’d be incredibly honoured.”<br /> <br />I can’t keep looking at the kindness in his eyes. I have to look away. It makes me feel embarrassed to be angry at Sidney, even if he did leave me a bit unsatisfied. All I’d had to do was speak up. He probably hadn’t meant to forget about me and he had to be tired and it was late and I was bitchy and Max could be right. Sidney might actually want to be the one...<br /><br />“Merci Maximus,” I sigh, finally looking back up into those green blue eyes and smiling. “You’re a good friend.”<br /><br />“De rien,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss the top of my head before turning to pad back out to the couch in his bare feet. I think about calling him back, asking him to stay and play the part of a teddy bear for me, but then I just laugh at my own insecurity and instead, I turn off my light, curl up around my teddy bear and try not to think of the way my heart beat so quickly waiting for Sidney to call my name.<br /><br />It doesn’t mean anything that he didn’t. It was just phone sex. It doesn’t mean anything and maybe Max is right. Maybe he won’t care. Maybe it will all be fine and I’ll have gotten myself worked up for nothing. Maybe.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3981306778182456799.post-86461713944292771192010-03-29T10:30:00.000-07:002010-03-29T10:39:21.108-07:00Chapter 21“See, now, <span style="font-style:italic;">that’s</span> what I like,” Tania, one of the other women from my design class is sitting behind the photographer with me, drooling over Max and Tanger who are currently posing shirtless, wearing what amounts to cut off military pants and combat boots. What with their muscular physiques and Max’s tats...it seems like a very good look on them. “Hard but not too ripped,” she adds with a dramatic sigh as she tilts her head to one side and her eyes glaze over.<br /><br />While I admit that the sight of two young, hot professional hockey players without their shirts is at the very least distracting, there seems to be only two things I can think about right now. One is that I hope the clothes look good in the pictures and the other one is why aren’t the Canadians beating the Norwegians by ten goals? It’s the end of the first period and no one has scored, which is only slightly better than having the by far inferior Norwegian team taking the lead but still....<br /><br />“Still nothing?” Max asks, joining me where I’ve been hiding behind my lap top, where I haven’t been making a very good pretence of looking at the digital photos as they come up. <br /><br />“No...fuck. What’s wrong with them?” I mutter, glad to have at least written play by play though it’s killing me not to be actually able to see the plays happening or to know what he looks like out on the ice. Certainly I can imagine how handsome he is looking in his crimson jersey, but not to be able to see it or how he’s performing is making me a little crazy. <br /><br />“They haven’t played together yet. You’ll see, the second will be better,” Kris promises with that easy, charming smile of his that no longer looks as sweet and innocent as I once thought it did. Now, whenever I look at Tanger, he drips sex and even now, as he stands there with a towel around his neck, his biceps bulging, his long fingers suggestively stroking where he holds the ends of it, has me a little breathless. <br /><br />“We’ll get dressed,” Max scowls, pushing Kris in front of him before turning to smile apologetically at me. “Then we’ll find that pub in the village and go watch the second.” I feel his hand on my shoulder and nod, my gaze having automatically gone back to the live blog I’ve been following while gnawing my fingernails off. But then Max had been giving me that sort of physical support for a couple of days now and without prying and I did appreciate it, even though I didn’t think I’d been doing a very good job of showing him that.<br /><br />“Hurry up then,” I mutter, reaching up to give his hand a squeeze. <br /><br />“That boy has a thing for you,” Kennedy hisses, glaring at his retreating form. I glance at him and then back at her and wrinkle my nose. <br /><br />“He does not,” I object, wondering how in the hell she can make the jump from his sleeping on the sofa in our apartment to having a thing for me. “I mean we had that one date or whatever but this,” I wave my finger in the air in front of me, trying to suggest the confluence of personalities she has to be referring to, “is purely platonic. I promise you.” <br /><br />“For you, maybe,” Kensie agrees quietly, pitching her voice low because Kris hasn’t made it all the way back to the dressing rooms yet. He’s still by the makeup and hair chair, flirting shamelessly with the hair stylist with the ring through her bottom lip; kinky Frenchman. “He’s always touching you. Have you noticed that?” <br /><br />“All francophone’s are like that,” I reply quietly, thinking about Max is when he’s with Fleury and even how entirely comfortable he and Kris have been over the last two days, no matter what they’ve been asked to wear or how little. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”<br /><br />“You keep telling yourself that,” Kennedy sighs, pushing herself up to her feet, now that she’s creased the hell out of the violet silk gown she’s wearing.<br /> <br />“Shit Kens...damn. We’ll have to steam that now,” I cry, and then stop, hating the tone in my own voice and realizing that the raw silk actually looks better as creased and crinkled as it is now. “Fuck...no leave it. Let’s get this on film and then get out of here so I can at least see the third,” I add, feeling stressed and relieved and worried all at the same time. I hate that his parents are there and I’m not but part of me is glad that I’m not actually sitting there chewing my fingers to the bone and still another part of me feels guilty for not being there for him even though I know he wouldn’t have the time to even see me between the games and yet to miss this experience....<br /><br />“She looks like she just rolled out of my bed,” Kris chuckles behind me as I actually do watch the photographer begin to light his shot of Kennedy in the short, ultra mini silk gown. <br /><br />“You wish. If she did, I’m pretty sure Gronk would have something to say about it,” I laugh.<br /><br />“I could take him. He’s not so tough,” Kris assures me with a lop-sided grin and I can’t help but think that that impish grin had to be one of the reasons Lauren went to him for his ‘services’, which reminds me....<br /><br />“How many girls has he been with?” I ask, leaning back so that I’m almost whispering up into his neck. <br /><br />“Max?” Kris asks, looking confused as he glances over to where the other Montreal native is just emerging from the changing rooms in a grey and black shirt that fits snugly over his muscles. <br /><br />“No, not Max. Why would I...don’t answer that. Sid dummy. How many do you think?” Kris looks thoughtful for a moment, his thumbs stuck in the back belt loops of his pants as he stares into space and the back of my neck starts to crawl with goose-bumps. Hell, if there’s been that many that it takes this long to add....<br /><br />“Not many,” Kris suddenly replies with a grin.<br /><br />“Not many what?” Max asks, leaning in to graze my cheek with this stubble and plant a kiss on the shell of my ear.<br /><br />“She wants to know avec combine de filles notre capitaine has been with,” Kris tells Max over my head and now I’m very much wishing for a very large and very deep hole to open beneath my feet and drag me down underground somewhere where no one can see me turn a deep shade of red and begin to squirm. <br /><br />“I don’t know,” Max blinks and looks serious and now I really want to just be hit by lightening and die. “I’d have to at least take off my socks to count that high,” he adds with a grin as he nudges me with his shoulder. <br /><br />“Funny,” I mutter, turning to head back to where I’ve abandoned my back. The pub and very large amount of alcohol is sounding very necessary at this moment.<br /><br />“We don’t keep count you know,” Max nudges me again and I know that he’s trying to make me feel better but somehow that doesn’t help either. I shoot him a dirty look and Max shrugs and slides his arm around my shoulders. “Not that many, honest. Not too many.” I want to ask what that means, but I don’t want the answer at the same time and thankfully Max seems to sense that and turns his attention back to where Kennedy is working the camera, doing her best bohemian girl next door look. “Jordy is a lucky guy,” <br /><br />“She’s got some friends,” I offer but Max shakes his head.<br /><br />“Maybe for Tanger,” he replies. “I’m good.” <br />___________________________________________________________<br /><br />“Yeah, bitches!” I jump out of my chair, pumping my fist in the air when Iggy tosses the puck in the back of the net for the third time. “Did you see that pass?” I demand, turning to Max and high-fiving him. <br /><br />“He’s very talented, oui,” he replies calmly, sipping his beer and remaining in his chair unlike most of the rest of the crowd of transplanted or visiting Canadians who are on their feet, hugging and high-fiving. <br /><br />“Aw Max. I’m sorry. If you’d been there that would have been you putting that in the back of the net,” I try but he only laughs and shakes his head as I sit down.<br /><br />“Not with this wing,” he adds with another sigh, lifting his bent arm just to shoulder level and no higher. If everyone knew how much he was suffering...but he’s not the type to complain. <br /><br />I slide back into my seat and try to remind myself that he’s probably feeling a bit wounded by being left behind, but it’s only another few minutes and Sid is flying up the boards and making another tape to tape pass and once again I’m on my feet, howling the television, pointing and yelling something like ‘that’s my boy’ and ‘did you see that shit?’. But this time, when I turn around for another high five, Max is staring into his beer instead of watching the game and I feel the smile immediately disappear from my lips. <br /><br />“C’mon Talbot! We’re kicking their asses!” I grin, and reach forward to give his shoulder a shake but the look that comes from those green blue eyes freezes me mid motion and I find myself withdrawing my hand as if I’ve just been yelled at by my mother about burning my hand on the element. <br /><br />“It’s only Norway,” he says quietly as the rest of the crowd goes on celebrating around us, and then turns his attention back to his beer. <br /><br />“Yeah but...”<br /><br />“It’s a bunch of really good players against a bunch of nobodies. Nothing to get excited about,” he mutters, glancing over his shoulder to signal the waitress for another beer. I stand there, staring at him and then sit down and cross my arms in front of me, feeling a full on pout coming on. “Ne le faites pas,” he snarls, admonishing me without even having to look over at me. “You’re better than that.”<br /> <br />“Why are you being such a spoil sport?” I snap back feeling like my parade has just been pissed all over. <br /><br />“Why are you being such a hypocrite?” he snaps back, a dangerous looking flame flickering behind his eyes as he turns his gaze to meet mine. My chest gets tight and I feel just like I’ve disappointed my father, like I’m small and want to crawl into his lap and be forgiven. Except I don’t really understand what it is I’m supposed to have done. “Don’t...don’t look at me with those Bambi eyes,” he sighs, and shakes his head. “You’re the one who said you didn’t love him.” <br /><br />“I didn’t!” I cry, too loud, turning most of the eyes immediately around us towards me before I slink lower in my seat, waiting for them to go back to their business. “I said I didn’t know if I could keep doing it. That’s not the same thing.” <br /><br />“How is it different? Either you do or you don’t and....” <br /><br />“Don’t tell me how I feel Max,” I mutter, staring daggers at him. “I’ve loved Sidney since I was five years old. I just didn’t expect it to be this hard to be in love with him.”<br /><br />“Let me guess,” Max snorts, pushing his beer away and getting up, shoving his wallet back into his pocket. “You thought it would be all teddy bears and roses.”<br /><br />“Fuck you Talbot. I’m not one of your puck fucks. I don’t expect him to drop everything for me and you fucking know it. Don’t you dare try and put me in some kind of cookie cutter mold with those bitches.” I watch as he turns to stare up at the TV, where our boys are currently celebrating as they leave the ice. He watches them for a long moment and then he turns to me, his blue green eyes hard as glass.<br /><br />“You do know, win or lose, he’s going to come back and ask you to marry him,” he begins, and before I can open my mouth to protest he just shakes his head as if to say it’s not up for discussion. “He will because he thinks it’s the right thing to do and you’ll say yes, because you think it’s what you want. Maybe it’s what you’ve always wanted. But what happens in five years when you realize you’ve never been in love with him? What then?” <br /><br />With that he turns and begins to shove his way through the crowd and I watch him go, my mouth hanging open. He’s not right. He’s just not. I love Sidney. I just didn’t know it was going to be this much work but that’s okay. I’m not afraid of work. I can do this. I can.qfdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06210119454272548568noreply@blogger.com8