Team Max seems to be catching up but is Team Sidney making a come back???
“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.
“I am sooo 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.
“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.”
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“Holeeee sheet! 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.
“Tu es si beau. Tu ressembles à une princesse féerique.”
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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“Don’t you dare ‘huh’ 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.
“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.
“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.
“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….”
“Oh girl, you are soooo 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.”
“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 now.”
“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.”
“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.
“Even man whores have feelings Mel,” Kensie sighs, shaking her head.
“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….”
“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?”
“He won’t,” I insist, remembering how Max had promised me that the guys would never tell.
“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….
“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.
“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?”
“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.
“He was…oh my god, he was, 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.
“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.
___________________________________________________________________
“As-tu un souhait de mort?”
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.
“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.
“Is uh…is Mel coming down?” Max asks, peering around them at the empty stairwell.
“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?”
“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.
“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.”
“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?”
“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?”
“I love this girl,” Jordy declares, grabbing her and pulling her onto his lap before reaching for her tonsils with his tongue.
“Ewwww, get a room,” Lauren cries, appearing, alone at the bottom of the stairs.
“Can’t you two keep your hands off each other for like…ten minutes?”
“Jealous much?” TK asks, looking up hopefully at her.
“If I wanted to play tonsil hockey with a Staal, and I do mean if,” she points out emphatically. “It wouldn’t be that 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.
“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.
“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.
_______________________________________________________________
“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.
“So you’re talking to me now?” I ask, still staring at the way the lights play on the water of the pool.
“I wasn’t not 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.
“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.
“I am…I am,” 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.
“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.
“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?”
“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 ‘woof’ sound of losing his air as we both scramble to our feet. “And I totally vetoed that.”
“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.
“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.
“As my mistress wishes,” he laughs back at me.
“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.
“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.
Showing posts with label Tyler Kennedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tyler Kennedy. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Chapter 18
“You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly but insistently as he noses the Land Rover into the darkened driveway. “We could go back to my place...you could stay,” he offers and for once I believe he means it. I look down at where our hands our joined on the console between the seats and think how much I’ve longed to hear those words and now....
“Neither of us wants to do something you’ll regret in the morning,” I reply quietly, forcing myself to look up into his hazel eyes to see the confusion my answer has put there. “You said you weren’t ready for that kind of commitment,” I remind him gently, putting a smile on my face and letting him see that I do appreciate every inch he’s given tonight and that I won’t ask for a millimetre more. “I told you I loved you,” I add in an almost whisper because I have to force the words past my lips. It still feels a little humiliating and sort of like I’m squeezing lemon into a raw wound when I do. “You haven’t said that yet and,” I reach up and across to press my hand over his mouth, shaking my head when he tries to say it past my fingers. “I don’t need you to. Not until you’re ready. When you say that...and I hope you will, I want you to mean it and not just because I’ve said it.” That’s the decision I’ve come to during the silent drive through the dark and empty streets of Pittsburgh, that those words are the key that I’m missing and if I have to, I can wait for them, but I will not force them from him and I don’t want to hear him unless he means them from the bottom of his heart. “I’ve waited this long,” I add with a grin that he returns, “I guess I can wait for another month.”
“You could still come back to mine. You could stay with me,” he says hopefully and it’s tempting, god only knows, but I shake my head and lean in, offering my lips instead.
“I’d only lie awake all night and if I’m honest, I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to keep my word if I was that close,” I add, feeling his lips touch mine softly before I reach for my seat-belt and the door.
“Just this last thing, the Olympics and then I swear...,” I turn to press my fingers to his lips again. No more. I can’t bear to hear it anymore tonight.
“I know. I said I know. Now go, we’ll see you tomorrow for brunch after practice,” I promise before turning to slide out of the vehicle to find Max standing in the doorway in his threadbare robe and flip flips. He waves at Sidney and then disappears into the house and I follow without looking back, without saying good bye or good night. We don’t do that, Sidney and I. It always sounds too final and we’ve had enough goodbyes between us.
“Want a drink?” Max offers as I drop my bag on the floor and head into the kitchen, the only room in the house with a light on.
“Yes please, a strong one,” I reply, dragging myself to the kitchen table while Max pours out two glasses of red wine.
“So are we...celebrating?” Max inquires, handing me my glass before crossing to slip into the chair across from me. Celebrating...I mull over the evening in my head and decide the word doesn’t taste right on my tongue. Not tonight.
“It’s...complicated,” I sigh, staring into the ruby depths of the liquid in the glass.
“Can it ever be anything else with that one?” Max asks and that makes me smile because of course that could only ever be the way to explain anything with Sidney. How I could ever have thought it could be otherwise, I don’t know.
“Are we too young Max?” I ask, looking across the table and into the hooded eyes of his teammate, my friend and he gives me a half smile and then shakes his head.
“How can anyone say when is the right time to fall in love? I don’t think there’s any right time,” he replies, staring into his own glass, running the tip of his finger around the rim thoughtfully. “You don’t choose who you fall in love with so how can you choose the time, ça va?” he asks, looking up at me with those hooded bedroom eyes and that charming smile and I wonder just how often that same look turns some poor girl to Jello. “So what’s the problem now? What excuse has Mr. Perfect come up with now?”
“It’s the Olympics, apparently,” I sigh, taking a long sip of the strong red liquid, feeling that little burn at the back of my throat and warm feeling it leaves as it works its’ way down. “God help me if Canada loses. I’ll have to wait another four years to have sex,” I add with a groan. Apparently that’s funny as it causes Max to spew red wine across the table, and both of us jump to grab something to clean it up. Thank god it’s just a rustic wood table and not something covered in light coloured linen. Between the paper towels I grab and a wet rag Max gets from the sink we get it cleaned up quickly and settle back into our places.
“So the sex machine still hasn’t made the move?” he asks as he lifts the bottle up, offering to refill my glass, but I’ve hardly touched it so I cover my glass with my hand and shake my head while he tops up his own glass.
“Sex machine?” I can’t make the name fit Sidney, or maybe I just don’t want to. It’s not like I don’t know that he’s long past innocent, that I haven’t had evidence to the contrary practically shoved down my throat but I guess I just don’t want to think about it.
“Sarcasm,” Max replies dryly, shaking his head. “He’s not exactly the first guy any of us would pick as the womanizer on the team.”
“No, that’s your nick name,” I remind him with a grin but Max only shrugs and turns his attention to the glass in his hand, swirling the dark contents silently until I realize that he’s not going to make some kind of smart ass comment.
“Do you think I’m pressing him too much? I mean...do you think I have any chance at all of making this work?” I ask, honestly, bringing the subject back to me. Max looks up at me with tired eyes and shrugs.
“Why ask me?” he shrugs, and then looks back down into his wine, which he then lifts to his lifts and drains, tipping the glass and his head back to get the last dregs from the bottom of the glass before slamming it back down onto the table like it’s some kind of beer stein. I half expect him to wipe the back of his arm across his mouth and belch. “Everyone knows I don’t know a thing about relationships,” he adds, before grabbing the bottle by its neck and leaving me alone in his kitchen.
I listen to his footsteps recede into the big empty house and curse myself quietly. As if it hasn’t been enough that he’s been my friend as well as Sidney’s and that he’s let me sleep in his guest room not to mention that he’s listened to me whine about how my supposed best friend doesn’t want to sleep with me, but I have to remind him that he’s alone?
Nicely done Melody Kelly, nicely done.
________________________________________________________________
“I dropped your girlfriend off at the airport. You’re welcome,” Max snarls as he drops his bag beside me and lets his sticks clatter on the floor. “What was so god damned important you couldn’t at least do that for her? No, let me guess. The Olympics are in a month and you had to get extra sleep,” he adds, kicking off his shoes and dragging his sweatshirt over his head.
“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” Gronk notes as he passes by, already in full practice gear. Max only glares at him before turning the full force of his fury back on me.
“No, really, please, I’m interested to know because Mel’s so damn sweet she wouldn’t even tell me and put on a brave face all the way to the airport. So go on, what’s so damn important you couldn’t even do that much?”
“I had a phone interview and I couldn’t get out of it. Damn Max, pourquoi est-il si important pour toi?” I ask, wondering what’s with the fucking attack all of a sudden. I mean, he’s the one who suggested he had a big empty place.... “What, did she keep you up all night bitching and moaning about me again?” I ask, having had the night to think about it and in the bright light of day, I have been feeling pretty good about what happened last night, so there had better be no bitching.
“No, she doesn’t bitch tu marde embulante! She cries herself to fucking sleep because she thinks you don’t love her tu criss de fif!” Max shakes his head and then turns his back on me and goes back to getting out of his street clothes and into his on ice gear. I find myself staring at his back but not really seeing anything. I can’t get my head around that picture.
“She wouldn’t...,” I begin but Max spins and pokes a finger right between my eyes.
“Ecoutes-moi tu maudit fif! Maybe around you she’s strong all the time but she has feelings and you should at least try and be a little fucking respectful of them,” Max snarls and then turns and grabs the rest of his gear, heading for the hallway, obviously choosing to get dressed anywhere other than near me. I stare after him, pissed that he, of all of my teammates, is telling me how to deal with my relationship. As if he’d know, as if he’s ever had more than a one night stand; hell as if he’s ever wanted more than a one night stand.
I reach back into my jacket pocket for my phone and then laugh at myself. As if Mel would ever cry herself to sleep. We left things on good terms. She sounded fine when I talked to her this morning.
“C’mon creature, stop daydreaming and get moving. I can practically see the porno playing in your head,” TK laughs as he swats my skates with his stick.
“You wish,” I call after him, pushing myself to my feet, telling myself to forget about Mel and definitely to forget about whatever Max was on about. He obviously did wake up on the wrong side of the bed. He’ll get over it.
“I’ve seen your girlfriend,” TK grins turning to me and mimicking playing with a pair of tits and making rude sounding sucking noises. “I totally wish.”
“You better run Kennedy, you’re a dead man,” I yell as he turns and dashes out onto the ice.
___________________________________________________________
“You’ve been quiet,” Kennedy says as she stows my overnight bag and hers in the back of the taxi outside JFK. Shrugging, I slide into the back seat. I keep telling myself I should be happy but I don’t feel happy. What I feel is empty. What I feel is helpless and that’s what has me scared to death.
“I’ve put it all out there you know?” I tell her after she gives the taxi driver our address and then climbs into the back with me. “All this stuff I’ve hardly told anyone, never mind him. I’ve basically said, here’s my heart, don’t crush it. It’s kind of a vulnerable position to be in.”
“You could say that,” Kensie agrees, sitting back and closing her eyes. I can tell by the dark circles and the way she packed light that she’s probably spent most of her visit on her back and on her knees and various other positions having fun with Jordan. I don’t want to load all my shit on her any more than I did Max. I just don’t know who else I can talk to about this.
“I imagined being all happy with him. I just never imagined this...in between shit,” I mumble, turning my attention to the passing traffic, the cacophony of cabs, limos and town cars.
“If it’s any consolation,” she sighs, reaching for my one of my hands and gathering it in both of her own. “Jordy says he’s always this backward about being forward in social situations. I think you just need to give the guy some space to figure his shit out.”
“I guess,” I shrug pulling to take my hand away but she pulls it closer and brings me with it until I’m leaning on her shoulder.
“Hey, you’ve got a Cinderella fucking story going on her babes,” she laughs, wrapping her other arm around my shoulder. “Don’t ruin it for me by being all fucking maudlin. Be fucking happy will you? Just remember, it could be worse. You could be having the best sex of your life and not know if the guy even cares a little bit about you.”
“You’re falling for Jordan?” I gush, looking up at her but she doesn’t open her eyes, only wrinkles her nose and shrugs.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s lack of sleep or lack of food or both but yeah, I guess I could be,” she admits and then shudders, as if it’s a bad thing to think of.
“You looooove Gronk!” I laugh, poking her in the ribs and even that doesn’t get more than another nose wrinkle from her.
“Whatever makes you happy. Now let me sleep. Wake me when we get home, unless the cabbie will take a fifty to carry me upstairs.”
“Neither of us wants to do something you’ll regret in the morning,” I reply quietly, forcing myself to look up into his hazel eyes to see the confusion my answer has put there. “You said you weren’t ready for that kind of commitment,” I remind him gently, putting a smile on my face and letting him see that I do appreciate every inch he’s given tonight and that I won’t ask for a millimetre more. “I told you I loved you,” I add in an almost whisper because I have to force the words past my lips. It still feels a little humiliating and sort of like I’m squeezing lemon into a raw wound when I do. “You haven’t said that yet and,” I reach up and across to press my hand over his mouth, shaking my head when he tries to say it past my fingers. “I don’t need you to. Not until you’re ready. When you say that...and I hope you will, I want you to mean it and not just because I’ve said it.” That’s the decision I’ve come to during the silent drive through the dark and empty streets of Pittsburgh, that those words are the key that I’m missing and if I have to, I can wait for them, but I will not force them from him and I don’t want to hear him unless he means them from the bottom of his heart. “I’ve waited this long,” I add with a grin that he returns, “I guess I can wait for another month.”
“You could still come back to mine. You could stay with me,” he says hopefully and it’s tempting, god only knows, but I shake my head and lean in, offering my lips instead.
“I’d only lie awake all night and if I’m honest, I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to keep my word if I was that close,” I add, feeling his lips touch mine softly before I reach for my seat-belt and the door.
“Just this last thing, the Olympics and then I swear...,” I turn to press my fingers to his lips again. No more. I can’t bear to hear it anymore tonight.
“I know. I said I know. Now go, we’ll see you tomorrow for brunch after practice,” I promise before turning to slide out of the vehicle to find Max standing in the doorway in his threadbare robe and flip flips. He waves at Sidney and then disappears into the house and I follow without looking back, without saying good bye or good night. We don’t do that, Sidney and I. It always sounds too final and we’ve had enough goodbyes between us.
“Want a drink?” Max offers as I drop my bag on the floor and head into the kitchen, the only room in the house with a light on.
“Yes please, a strong one,” I reply, dragging myself to the kitchen table while Max pours out two glasses of red wine.
“So are we...celebrating?” Max inquires, handing me my glass before crossing to slip into the chair across from me. Celebrating...I mull over the evening in my head and decide the word doesn’t taste right on my tongue. Not tonight.
“It’s...complicated,” I sigh, staring into the ruby depths of the liquid in the glass.
“Can it ever be anything else with that one?” Max asks and that makes me smile because of course that could only ever be the way to explain anything with Sidney. How I could ever have thought it could be otherwise, I don’t know.
“Are we too young Max?” I ask, looking across the table and into the hooded eyes of his teammate, my friend and he gives me a half smile and then shakes his head.
“How can anyone say when is the right time to fall in love? I don’t think there’s any right time,” he replies, staring into his own glass, running the tip of his finger around the rim thoughtfully. “You don’t choose who you fall in love with so how can you choose the time, ça va?” he asks, looking up at me with those hooded bedroom eyes and that charming smile and I wonder just how often that same look turns some poor girl to Jello. “So what’s the problem now? What excuse has Mr. Perfect come up with now?”
“It’s the Olympics, apparently,” I sigh, taking a long sip of the strong red liquid, feeling that little burn at the back of my throat and warm feeling it leaves as it works its’ way down. “God help me if Canada loses. I’ll have to wait another four years to have sex,” I add with a groan. Apparently that’s funny as it causes Max to spew red wine across the table, and both of us jump to grab something to clean it up. Thank god it’s just a rustic wood table and not something covered in light coloured linen. Between the paper towels I grab and a wet rag Max gets from the sink we get it cleaned up quickly and settle back into our places.
“So the sex machine still hasn’t made the move?” he asks as he lifts the bottle up, offering to refill my glass, but I’ve hardly touched it so I cover my glass with my hand and shake my head while he tops up his own glass.
“Sex machine?” I can’t make the name fit Sidney, or maybe I just don’t want to. It’s not like I don’t know that he’s long past innocent, that I haven’t had evidence to the contrary practically shoved down my throat but I guess I just don’t want to think about it.
“Sarcasm,” Max replies dryly, shaking his head. “He’s not exactly the first guy any of us would pick as the womanizer on the team.”
“No, that’s your nick name,” I remind him with a grin but Max only shrugs and turns his attention to the glass in his hand, swirling the dark contents silently until I realize that he’s not going to make some kind of smart ass comment.
“Do you think I’m pressing him too much? I mean...do you think I have any chance at all of making this work?” I ask, honestly, bringing the subject back to me. Max looks up at me with tired eyes and shrugs.
“Why ask me?” he shrugs, and then looks back down into his wine, which he then lifts to his lifts and drains, tipping the glass and his head back to get the last dregs from the bottom of the glass before slamming it back down onto the table like it’s some kind of beer stein. I half expect him to wipe the back of his arm across his mouth and belch. “Everyone knows I don’t know a thing about relationships,” he adds, before grabbing the bottle by its neck and leaving me alone in his kitchen.
I listen to his footsteps recede into the big empty house and curse myself quietly. As if it hasn’t been enough that he’s been my friend as well as Sidney’s and that he’s let me sleep in his guest room not to mention that he’s listened to me whine about how my supposed best friend doesn’t want to sleep with me, but I have to remind him that he’s alone?
Nicely done Melody Kelly, nicely done.
________________________________________________________________
“I dropped your girlfriend off at the airport. You’re welcome,” Max snarls as he drops his bag beside me and lets his sticks clatter on the floor. “What was so god damned important you couldn’t at least do that for her? No, let me guess. The Olympics are in a month and you had to get extra sleep,” he adds, kicking off his shoes and dragging his sweatshirt over his head.
“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” Gronk notes as he passes by, already in full practice gear. Max only glares at him before turning the full force of his fury back on me.
“No, really, please, I’m interested to know because Mel’s so damn sweet she wouldn’t even tell me and put on a brave face all the way to the airport. So go on, what’s so damn important you couldn’t even do that much?”
“I had a phone interview and I couldn’t get out of it. Damn Max, pourquoi est-il si important pour toi?” I ask, wondering what’s with the fucking attack all of a sudden. I mean, he’s the one who suggested he had a big empty place.... “What, did she keep you up all night bitching and moaning about me again?” I ask, having had the night to think about it and in the bright light of day, I have been feeling pretty good about what happened last night, so there had better be no bitching.
“No, she doesn’t bitch tu marde embulante! She cries herself to fucking sleep because she thinks you don’t love her tu criss de fif!” Max shakes his head and then turns his back on me and goes back to getting out of his street clothes and into his on ice gear. I find myself staring at his back but not really seeing anything. I can’t get my head around that picture.
“She wouldn’t...,” I begin but Max spins and pokes a finger right between my eyes.
“Ecoutes-moi tu maudit fif! Maybe around you she’s strong all the time but she has feelings and you should at least try and be a little fucking respectful of them,” Max snarls and then turns and grabs the rest of his gear, heading for the hallway, obviously choosing to get dressed anywhere other than near me. I stare after him, pissed that he, of all of my teammates, is telling me how to deal with my relationship. As if he’d know, as if he’s ever had more than a one night stand; hell as if he’s ever wanted more than a one night stand.
I reach back into my jacket pocket for my phone and then laugh at myself. As if Mel would ever cry herself to sleep. We left things on good terms. She sounded fine when I talked to her this morning.
“C’mon creature, stop daydreaming and get moving. I can practically see the porno playing in your head,” TK laughs as he swats my skates with his stick.
“You wish,” I call after him, pushing myself to my feet, telling myself to forget about Mel and definitely to forget about whatever Max was on about. He obviously did wake up on the wrong side of the bed. He’ll get over it.
“I’ve seen your girlfriend,” TK grins turning to me and mimicking playing with a pair of tits and making rude sounding sucking noises. “I totally wish.”
“You better run Kennedy, you’re a dead man,” I yell as he turns and dashes out onto the ice.
___________________________________________________________
“You’ve been quiet,” Kennedy says as she stows my overnight bag and hers in the back of the taxi outside JFK. Shrugging, I slide into the back seat. I keep telling myself I should be happy but I don’t feel happy. What I feel is empty. What I feel is helpless and that’s what has me scared to death.
“I’ve put it all out there you know?” I tell her after she gives the taxi driver our address and then climbs into the back with me. “All this stuff I’ve hardly told anyone, never mind him. I’ve basically said, here’s my heart, don’t crush it. It’s kind of a vulnerable position to be in.”
“You could say that,” Kensie agrees, sitting back and closing her eyes. I can tell by the dark circles and the way she packed light that she’s probably spent most of her visit on her back and on her knees and various other positions having fun with Jordan. I don’t want to load all my shit on her any more than I did Max. I just don’t know who else I can talk to about this.
“I imagined being all happy with him. I just never imagined this...in between shit,” I mumble, turning my attention to the passing traffic, the cacophony of cabs, limos and town cars.
“If it’s any consolation,” she sighs, reaching for my one of my hands and gathering it in both of her own. “Jordy says he’s always this backward about being forward in social situations. I think you just need to give the guy some space to figure his shit out.”
“I guess,” I shrug pulling to take my hand away but she pulls it closer and brings me with it until I’m leaning on her shoulder.
“Hey, you’ve got a Cinderella fucking story going on her babes,” she laughs, wrapping her other arm around my shoulder. “Don’t ruin it for me by being all fucking maudlin. Be fucking happy will you? Just remember, it could be worse. You could be having the best sex of your life and not know if the guy even cares a little bit about you.”
“You’re falling for Jordan?” I gush, looking up at her but she doesn’t open her eyes, only wrinkles her nose and shrugs.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s lack of sleep or lack of food or both but yeah, I guess I could be,” she admits and then shudders, as if it’s a bad thing to think of.
“You looooove Gronk!” I laugh, poking her in the ribs and even that doesn’t get more than another nose wrinkle from her.
“Whatever makes you happy. Now let me sleep. Wake me when we get home, unless the cabbie will take a fifty to carry me upstairs.”
Friday, February 26, 2010
Chapter 11
hope you guys are still liking this and please keep letting me know what you think!
“Watch this one, she’s just got her license and she thinks she’s running the Indy,” Sidney warns as he walks me out to the car where Lauren is waiting. “I strongly advise holding on and keeping your hands in the car at all times,” he adds, sounding a lot like a ride operator. “As for you,” he turns his attention to Lauren, “this is precious cargo. I don’t want to hear that you’ve dropped her in a ditch or something.”
“Are you kidding me?” Lauren laughs, turning to slide into her car, a brand new series 1 BMW, the smallest of the Beamers, but one hundred times more expensive than the car I got when I was her age. “She’s going to make me haute couture for homecoming. I won’t let a hair on her head get harmed.” Nodding, Sid seems contented with this and turns back to me, stopping to push my hair back behind my ear and leaning in to press his lips to my forehead.
“This was good, I’m glad you stayed,” he whispers against my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. No matter how much I batted my eyelashes at him, he wouldn’t join me in the guest room and no matter how long I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, hoping and praying that he would, he didn’t try to sneak in my room either. Our time, under Mario’s roof, has almost been platonic, other than a few kisses and it hasn’t been nearly enough. Not for me. “Have a good week at school, study hard,” he adds, brushing his lips across mine before reaching around me to open the door.
I feel rooted to the spot, wanting to pout, wanting to grab him by his t-shirt and pull him to me and have him press his body against mine but I don’t. Not only because Lauren is sitting right behind me but because Mario and Nathalie are standing in the doorway, holding hands, looking like proud and approving parents. I know what their approval means, not only to Sid but to me. So as much as this goodbye is far to chaste, I smile and wave to his ‘foster’ parents and hope that he can see in my last look shared with him, that this needs to be remedied and soon.
He reaches in when the car door closes and covers my hand with his and he holds my gaze and I’m almost sure that he shares my feelings but he says nothing. He does, however, lean in and presses his lips once more over mine before tapping the roof of the little red sports car and Lauren obligingly punches it, squealing the tires as she turns the car out of the driveway and onto the quiet tree lined street.
I turn to watch Sidney disappear into the distance but the curve comes too soon and he’s gone from my view so I turn my attention back to real life, sinking down in the black leather seats.
“I’m glad he’s finally dating someone,” Lauren says out of the blue. I glance over at her, trying to decide if I want her to elaborate or not, and decide to keep quiet and see what she says. “I used to have a huge crush on him, just so you know,” she adds, unprompted, glancing over to me with her father’s winning smile before she wrinkles up her nose, making a face and turning her attention back to the road. “I so couldn’t deal with all his…bullshit though,” she continues and then, just when I do want her to elaborate, she falls silent. She looks over at my, quizzically, as if to say ‘you do know what I mean, right?’ but when I don’t affirm that fact, she sighs dramatically and turns her attention back to the windy suburban lane in front of us. “You know. All that chicken cacciatore on game days and no sex the night before a game and waking up at the same time and putting your right sock on first…all that nonsense.” She turns to me again, waiting for me to agree, so I shrug, because I don’t.
“I’ve known a lot of players around the Harbor and they’re all kind of crazy like that,” I suggest, which makes her roll her eyes and shake her head and flip her long hair back over her shoulder.
“Let me tell you, I’ve lived with my dad my whole life and he’s not like that, at all,” she sighs, but before I get a chance to ask what Super Mario is like, she continues on as if it was merely a statement of fact, not to be challenged. “I mean, if we’re going to be like…practically sister in laws then I can tell you,” she adds with a secretive sort of smile. “Max and I are having this sort of…thing and he’s not like that at all. In fact that’s sort of how I knew he was serious about me, when he’d still see me the morning of a game,” she adds, with this innocent but completely honest grin. My breath catches in my lungs and part of me knows that she’s sharing and she is sort of like Taylor to Sidney and if she’s treating me like a confidant, I have to respect her privacy but the other part of me is shaking my head and alarm bells are going off.
“Thing?” I ask, hoping that she’ll say friendship and knowing damn well she isn’t going to.
“It’s all very hush hush,” she begins, with this beatific smile on her cherubic face that tells me I am not going to like what I’m about to hear. “I mean if my dad found out…,” she shudders and makes a face before continuing, “Max would so be on the next plane out to Florida,” she adds in a matter of fact sort of tone and there is no doubt that she’s right, but I can’t help but think that Mario isn’t the only one who would come to that same conclusion, unless….
“And Sid knows?” I ask, thinking that the protective boy I knew who would never even let the older boys near me, even if they were his friends, must have changed a lot more than I think he has if he’s allowed this. Lauren’s eyes go wide and she shakes her head vehemently.
“Oh my god, are you kidding? He’d be so much worse than my dad,” she cries, turning her wide eyes to me, pleading silently for me to keep my council. Well, at least that means he hasn’t changed as much as I thought.
___________________________________________________________________
(flashback)
“This thing…this thing with you and Jack…it stops, now.”
I look up from my Biology textbook and smile up at a very annoyed Sidney who’s standing over me with his most ferocious look, his nostrils flared, his eyes glittering dangerously gold like a lions and his fists curling and uncurling at his sides. Then I look back down and continue to highlight what I’ve just read on the page. I’ve heard him and now I’m ignoring him. I can hear his breathing. He’s taking short shallow breaths through his teeth, which normally means that either he’s just come off the ice, or he’s about to break something; because it’s never someone and it’s never, ever me.
He knows I’ve heard him and what with all his recent media attention his new pet peeve is having to repeat himself, which I know he’s not going to do. I also know that I’m not going to answer him because it’s none of his damn business.
“I’ve already told him,” he suddenly continues, his voice rising a little because it’s just breaking and normally I’d tease him about it, but that would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull right now and I’m determined not to fight with him about this. Not that there is anything to fight about. Who I see and when is none of Sidney Crosby’s damn business. If he won’t go to the Valentines’ dance with me, I am so not going alone again.
“Is that so?” I ask, not looking up at him because I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing that he’s getting to me, that I’m clenching my teeth which probably means my nostrils are flaring now.
“He won’t go with you. Not if I tell him not to.”
Oh that is so it, the final straw.
I carefully and slowly put the lid back on my highlighter and then close my text book before I feel like I have my expression under control enough to look up at him.
“Really? Well I guess we’ll see about that.” I can see that little twitch in his jaw that tells me he’s not sure what I’m going to do, which is good. I’m not one of his opposing forwards that he can try and guess my next move and out maneuver me. After all, I’m a girl and smarter than him. I smile, that smile that says that I’m about to do something either he or my mother are definitely not going to like and then I turn and walk over to the table in the library where our friend Jack is sitting, put my books down carefully and quietly next to his, and then while he’s looking up at me expectantly, plant a long, slow kiss on his lips.
__________________________________________________________________
(present)
I’ve been tapping my fingers impatiently on the arm rest of the taxi while the driver maneuvers it through the narrow streets of the older urban neighborhood. I can feel Kennedy’s eyes boring a hole in the back of my head but I know if I tell her where we’re going and why she’ll only ask too many questions and then try and stop me from getting involved and maybe that would be the right thing to do, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m already involved.
“Are you sure this is it?” I ask as the taxi pulls up in front of a brownstone on a side street and the driver nods, looking at the two of us a little sheepishly. I know what he’s probably thinking; stalkers. But when I hand him the hundred dollar bill his expression changes and he no longer seems at all concerned for the local celebrity’s safety and well being.
“Where are we? What are we doing here? I thought we were going to the airport?” Kennedy complains from the back seat as I get out and stand on the sidewalk looking up at the building, wondering why he’d choose to live here when the rest of the guys live in brand new homes in the ‘burbs where their anonymity and security are assured.
“Just wait here. I won’t be long, I promise.” I don’t even turn to her before I head up to the door because if I do she’ll see it in my face; that I’m up to no good. Instead I cross the sidewalk and pound on the door, mostly for the sake of how this looks, and then I push the door open. It figures of course that it’s unlocked. I’d guessed that already by the fact that his car was parked out front and the other guys are already on their way to practice.
He’s late.
But then again he is injured, which probably means he’s not taking a full practice today, I tell myself as I slam the door behind me so that he knows someone is coming in.
“Mon chère,” he grins, stopping half way down the stairs. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
“This thing with Lauren…. Max, are you crazy?” I snarl accusingly at him. “Christ Max, she’s a child.” I expect him to argue, to point out that I’m only a very few years older than her and I have a counter argument for that, but he doesn’t. He only hangs his head and slumps on the stair until he’s sitting, his hand still curled around the banister.
“You’re right, naturellement,” he replies quietly, letting out a long, frustrated sounding sigh before he raises his gaze to meet mine. “Would you believe me if I said this is all just a joke that got completely out of control?”
I’m ready for just about any argument he might have come up with, except this one and for some reason, I believe him and it sort of takes the wind out of the sails of my anger. So instead of giving him the huge lecture I bite my tongue and walk up to sit beside him on the stair.
“She’s in love with you, you know that right?” He nods, his shoulders sagging and then he shrugs and lets out another long, pathetic sounding sigh.
“It was just to see if I could. I mean, TK and Jordy and some of the others thought it was funny but…it was just to see if I could and then it turns out she’s not exactly the spoiled princess that we all thought she was and now I don’t know how to end this without hurting her…or getting sent to Edmonton,” he adds with just the hint of a grin playing across his features. That I can sympathize with. Not only because Edmonton is the asshole of Canada but because the weather sucks and they’re the worst team in the conference, barely on life support and being sent there would be like being sent to purgatory.
“What we did…Max what we did was bad but it was for a good cause. This…this is bad,” I point out and he only nods, mutely. Obviously he doesn’t need to be told.
“So how do I do it?” he asks, looking over at me with puppy dog eyes and I almost feel bad for landing on him like a ton of bricks. He obviously does feel bad for what he’s done. “I mean, without getting sent to the KHL?”
“Well normally I’d say honesty is the best policy,” I begin, but then shake my head as we both snort at the idea. “But in this case…lie Max, lie your ass off. “
“Oui but…what? What can I say that won’t send her running to daddy or…or Crosby?” he asks, and even though I search his gaze, ready to call his bluff, I can see that he is honestly drawing a blank.
“Must I do everything?” I sigh, reaching over to grab his hands. “It’s not you , it’s me. You’re far too good for me. I’ll never be good enough for someone like you. You have your whole life ahead of you and…my whole career could be over the next time I get pushed into the boards and besides,” I add more softly, batting my eyelashes at him, “I don’t want to ruin your reputation and it would be ruined if anyone found out about us and I couldn’t do that to you.” I can see it in his eyes that Max is going to argue but then he seems to think better of it and nods his head, dropping his gaze from mine.
“You’re right, of course you’re right,” he sighs, giving my hands a squeeze before putting them carefully back in my lap. “It’s only my pride, after all. It’s not important.”
“You’re pride? Max, you can get any girl in this city and you know it,” I laugh, pushing him hard, sending him sliding down one stair and threatening to kick him down the rest. “And if it’s some bet you’re going to lose, better that then practicing in West Edmonton mall for a bunch of trailer trash honeys,” I add, grinning at him when he laughs. “Now I’m stupid late for a flight. Promise me you’ll do it today,” I insist, accepting his hand up and then walking down to his front door beside him.
“This week, at least,” he promises with another sigh. “What?” he grimaces, and then, when I roll my eyes at him he nods. “D’accord, alright already. Today.”
“Best to get it over with, like a band aid,” I explain, grabbing his arms and pinching his skin hard before pulling it back, making him wince. “Just remember, it would hurt worse to have Quinn tossing pucks and spitting his gum at you.”
“”Okay, today. Fuck. Do you boss Sidney around this way?”
“Of course,” I lie with a smile on my face as he leans in to buss each of my cheeks before turning to lock his front door.
“How was your weekend, by the way?” he asks, actually sounding interested. I keep the same bright smile on my face and lie some more.
“Amazing, really good. Thanks.”
___________________________________________________________________
“Morning Mr. Staal, nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Coach calls out as Jordan stumbles out onto the ice. For his part, Jordan just waves at Bylsma and puts his head down and tries to sort of meld in and disappear into our ranks as we skate laps to warm up. He isn’t the only missing, I notice as I turn to skate backwards, enjoying the feeling of my muscles bunching and flexing as they warm up.
“I don’t think I can take it if Kennedy comes down every weekend with your girlfriend,” Jordy grumbles as he catches up to me, using the flat of his blade to try and trip me, but I’m obviously more awake than he thinks I am, as I sidestep his stick and shake my head at him.
“I think this might be the first time I’ve heard you complaining about getting laid,” I laugh at him, knowing the difference between Gronk hungover and Gronk exhausted and right now, he looks a whole lot like he’s been rode hard and put up wet.
“I’m not complaining, exactly” Jordy assures me with a sleepy sort of grin. “I’m just saying I didn’t get any sleep, if you know what I mean,” he adds with a raised eyebrow, his grin growing as I roll my eyes. “Oh c’mon Crosby, are you tryin’ to tell me you couldn’t have used another couple hours after you kicked her out this morning?”
“I’m fresh as a daisy,” I reply as I skate a close circle around him, ending with my elbow in his ribs and both of us up against the boards. “Not all of us are only looking for a quick fuck.”
“Oh god, not that holier than thou shit again,” Jordy moans, pushing me off of him and starting to skate away from me, “there’s nothing wrong with a good fuck.”
“I’m not saying there’s not,” I agree, falling into step beside him. “But Mel and me, we go way back and I’m not going to just turn her into another notch on the belt. Not that it’s not fucking tempting,” I add, thinking about the way she tried to drag me into the guest room with her, grabbing me by my belt loops and giving me that come hither look that just about had me following her in.
“I’m glad to hear you’re still wearing the chastity belt mon ami,” Max suddenly joins us out of nowhere and I’m almost sure he wasn’t on the ice a minute ago. “Some things are worth waiting for, non?”
“As if you would know,” Jordy laughs, sending Max sliding across the ice on his ass, cursing loudly en Français and gesturing wildly. “But seriously, you two are holding out? Really? That’s sweet,” Jordy adds, patting me on my shoulder and I actually do feel pretty proud of the fact that I haven’t tried anything major on Mel yet.
“I don’t know, you know? Shit’s changed between us. I want to make sure it’s right before we get into…that,” I explain, to which I’m surprised that Jordy actually nods in agreement.
“Because she could be it, that’s what you’re saying,” he adds, which sends a shiver down my spine. I open my mouth to object, to argue, but quickly shut it again. He could be right. It’s kind of scary to think of it that way but…yeah, he could be right.
“Oh my god, do I hear the patter of tiny little Crosby skates?” TK asks, making kissing noises at me like we’re in grade five or something, so I take a leaf out of Jordy’s book and shove him into the boards, ignoring his threats and curses as I skate away.
I have other things on my mind, namely, getting to know Mel better and spending more time with her lips moving under mine. Yeah, that’s definitely worth thinking about.
“Watch this one, she’s just got her license and she thinks she’s running the Indy,” Sidney warns as he walks me out to the car where Lauren is waiting. “I strongly advise holding on and keeping your hands in the car at all times,” he adds, sounding a lot like a ride operator. “As for you,” he turns his attention to Lauren, “this is precious cargo. I don’t want to hear that you’ve dropped her in a ditch or something.”
“Are you kidding me?” Lauren laughs, turning to slide into her car, a brand new series 1 BMW, the smallest of the Beamers, but one hundred times more expensive than the car I got when I was her age. “She’s going to make me haute couture for homecoming. I won’t let a hair on her head get harmed.” Nodding, Sid seems contented with this and turns back to me, stopping to push my hair back behind my ear and leaning in to press his lips to my forehead.
“This was good, I’m glad you stayed,” he whispers against my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. No matter how much I batted my eyelashes at him, he wouldn’t join me in the guest room and no matter how long I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, hoping and praying that he would, he didn’t try to sneak in my room either. Our time, under Mario’s roof, has almost been platonic, other than a few kisses and it hasn’t been nearly enough. Not for me. “Have a good week at school, study hard,” he adds, brushing his lips across mine before reaching around me to open the door.
I feel rooted to the spot, wanting to pout, wanting to grab him by his t-shirt and pull him to me and have him press his body against mine but I don’t. Not only because Lauren is sitting right behind me but because Mario and Nathalie are standing in the doorway, holding hands, looking like proud and approving parents. I know what their approval means, not only to Sid but to me. So as much as this goodbye is far to chaste, I smile and wave to his ‘foster’ parents and hope that he can see in my last look shared with him, that this needs to be remedied and soon.
He reaches in when the car door closes and covers my hand with his and he holds my gaze and I’m almost sure that he shares my feelings but he says nothing. He does, however, lean in and presses his lips once more over mine before tapping the roof of the little red sports car and Lauren obligingly punches it, squealing the tires as she turns the car out of the driveway and onto the quiet tree lined street.
I turn to watch Sidney disappear into the distance but the curve comes too soon and he’s gone from my view so I turn my attention back to real life, sinking down in the black leather seats.
“I’m glad he’s finally dating someone,” Lauren says out of the blue. I glance over at her, trying to decide if I want her to elaborate or not, and decide to keep quiet and see what she says. “I used to have a huge crush on him, just so you know,” she adds, unprompted, glancing over to me with her father’s winning smile before she wrinkles up her nose, making a face and turning her attention back to the road. “I so couldn’t deal with all his…bullshit though,” she continues and then, just when I do want her to elaborate, she falls silent. She looks over at my, quizzically, as if to say ‘you do know what I mean, right?’ but when I don’t affirm that fact, she sighs dramatically and turns her attention back to the windy suburban lane in front of us. “You know. All that chicken cacciatore on game days and no sex the night before a game and waking up at the same time and putting your right sock on first…all that nonsense.” She turns to me again, waiting for me to agree, so I shrug, because I don’t.
“I’ve known a lot of players around the Harbor and they’re all kind of crazy like that,” I suggest, which makes her roll her eyes and shake her head and flip her long hair back over her shoulder.
“Let me tell you, I’ve lived with my dad my whole life and he’s not like that, at all,” she sighs, but before I get a chance to ask what Super Mario is like, she continues on as if it was merely a statement of fact, not to be challenged. “I mean, if we’re going to be like…practically sister in laws then I can tell you,” she adds with a secretive sort of smile. “Max and I are having this sort of…thing and he’s not like that at all. In fact that’s sort of how I knew he was serious about me, when he’d still see me the morning of a game,” she adds, with this innocent but completely honest grin. My breath catches in my lungs and part of me knows that she’s sharing and she is sort of like Taylor to Sidney and if she’s treating me like a confidant, I have to respect her privacy but the other part of me is shaking my head and alarm bells are going off.
“Thing?” I ask, hoping that she’ll say friendship and knowing damn well she isn’t going to.
“It’s all very hush hush,” she begins, with this beatific smile on her cherubic face that tells me I am not going to like what I’m about to hear. “I mean if my dad found out…,” she shudders and makes a face before continuing, “Max would so be on the next plane out to Florida,” she adds in a matter of fact sort of tone and there is no doubt that she’s right, but I can’t help but think that Mario isn’t the only one who would come to that same conclusion, unless….
“And Sid knows?” I ask, thinking that the protective boy I knew who would never even let the older boys near me, even if they were his friends, must have changed a lot more than I think he has if he’s allowed this. Lauren’s eyes go wide and she shakes her head vehemently.
“Oh my god, are you kidding? He’d be so much worse than my dad,” she cries, turning her wide eyes to me, pleading silently for me to keep my council. Well, at least that means he hasn’t changed as much as I thought.
___________________________________________________________________
(flashback)
“This thing…this thing with you and Jack…it stops, now.”
I look up from my Biology textbook and smile up at a very annoyed Sidney who’s standing over me with his most ferocious look, his nostrils flared, his eyes glittering dangerously gold like a lions and his fists curling and uncurling at his sides. Then I look back down and continue to highlight what I’ve just read on the page. I’ve heard him and now I’m ignoring him. I can hear his breathing. He’s taking short shallow breaths through his teeth, which normally means that either he’s just come off the ice, or he’s about to break something; because it’s never someone and it’s never, ever me.
He knows I’ve heard him and what with all his recent media attention his new pet peeve is having to repeat himself, which I know he’s not going to do. I also know that I’m not going to answer him because it’s none of his damn business.
“I’ve already told him,” he suddenly continues, his voice rising a little because it’s just breaking and normally I’d tease him about it, but that would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull right now and I’m determined not to fight with him about this. Not that there is anything to fight about. Who I see and when is none of Sidney Crosby’s damn business. If he won’t go to the Valentines’ dance with me, I am so not going alone again.
“Is that so?” I ask, not looking up at him because I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing that he’s getting to me, that I’m clenching my teeth which probably means my nostrils are flaring now.
“He won’t go with you. Not if I tell him not to.”
Oh that is so it, the final straw.
I carefully and slowly put the lid back on my highlighter and then close my text book before I feel like I have my expression under control enough to look up at him.
“Really? Well I guess we’ll see about that.” I can see that little twitch in his jaw that tells me he’s not sure what I’m going to do, which is good. I’m not one of his opposing forwards that he can try and guess my next move and out maneuver me. After all, I’m a girl and smarter than him. I smile, that smile that says that I’m about to do something either he or my mother are definitely not going to like and then I turn and walk over to the table in the library where our friend Jack is sitting, put my books down carefully and quietly next to his, and then while he’s looking up at me expectantly, plant a long, slow kiss on his lips.
__________________________________________________________________
(present)
I’ve been tapping my fingers impatiently on the arm rest of the taxi while the driver maneuvers it through the narrow streets of the older urban neighborhood. I can feel Kennedy’s eyes boring a hole in the back of my head but I know if I tell her where we’re going and why she’ll only ask too many questions and then try and stop me from getting involved and maybe that would be the right thing to do, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m already involved.
“Are you sure this is it?” I ask as the taxi pulls up in front of a brownstone on a side street and the driver nods, looking at the two of us a little sheepishly. I know what he’s probably thinking; stalkers. But when I hand him the hundred dollar bill his expression changes and he no longer seems at all concerned for the local celebrity’s safety and well being.
“Where are we? What are we doing here? I thought we were going to the airport?” Kennedy complains from the back seat as I get out and stand on the sidewalk looking up at the building, wondering why he’d choose to live here when the rest of the guys live in brand new homes in the ‘burbs where their anonymity and security are assured.
“Just wait here. I won’t be long, I promise.” I don’t even turn to her before I head up to the door because if I do she’ll see it in my face; that I’m up to no good. Instead I cross the sidewalk and pound on the door, mostly for the sake of how this looks, and then I push the door open. It figures of course that it’s unlocked. I’d guessed that already by the fact that his car was parked out front and the other guys are already on their way to practice.
He’s late.
But then again he is injured, which probably means he’s not taking a full practice today, I tell myself as I slam the door behind me so that he knows someone is coming in.
“Mon chère,” he grins, stopping half way down the stairs. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
“This thing with Lauren…. Max, are you crazy?” I snarl accusingly at him. “Christ Max, she’s a child.” I expect him to argue, to point out that I’m only a very few years older than her and I have a counter argument for that, but he doesn’t. He only hangs his head and slumps on the stair until he’s sitting, his hand still curled around the banister.
“You’re right, naturellement,” he replies quietly, letting out a long, frustrated sounding sigh before he raises his gaze to meet mine. “Would you believe me if I said this is all just a joke that got completely out of control?”
I’m ready for just about any argument he might have come up with, except this one and for some reason, I believe him and it sort of takes the wind out of the sails of my anger. So instead of giving him the huge lecture I bite my tongue and walk up to sit beside him on the stair.
“She’s in love with you, you know that right?” He nods, his shoulders sagging and then he shrugs and lets out another long, pathetic sounding sigh.
“It was just to see if I could. I mean, TK and Jordy and some of the others thought it was funny but…it was just to see if I could and then it turns out she’s not exactly the spoiled princess that we all thought she was and now I don’t know how to end this without hurting her…or getting sent to Edmonton,” he adds with just the hint of a grin playing across his features. That I can sympathize with. Not only because Edmonton is the asshole of Canada but because the weather sucks and they’re the worst team in the conference, barely on life support and being sent there would be like being sent to purgatory.
“What we did…Max what we did was bad but it was for a good cause. This…this is bad,” I point out and he only nods, mutely. Obviously he doesn’t need to be told.
“So how do I do it?” he asks, looking over at me with puppy dog eyes and I almost feel bad for landing on him like a ton of bricks. He obviously does feel bad for what he’s done. “I mean, without getting sent to the KHL?”
“Well normally I’d say honesty is the best policy,” I begin, but then shake my head as we both snort at the idea. “But in this case…lie Max, lie your ass off. “
“Oui but…what? What can I say that won’t send her running to daddy or…or Crosby?” he asks, and even though I search his gaze, ready to call his bluff, I can see that he is honestly drawing a blank.
“Must I do everything?” I sigh, reaching over to grab his hands. “It’s not you , it’s me. You’re far too good for me. I’ll never be good enough for someone like you. You have your whole life ahead of you and…my whole career could be over the next time I get pushed into the boards and besides,” I add more softly, batting my eyelashes at him, “I don’t want to ruin your reputation and it would be ruined if anyone found out about us and I couldn’t do that to you.” I can see it in his eyes that Max is going to argue but then he seems to think better of it and nods his head, dropping his gaze from mine.
“You’re right, of course you’re right,” he sighs, giving my hands a squeeze before putting them carefully back in my lap. “It’s only my pride, after all. It’s not important.”
“You’re pride? Max, you can get any girl in this city and you know it,” I laugh, pushing him hard, sending him sliding down one stair and threatening to kick him down the rest. “And if it’s some bet you’re going to lose, better that then practicing in West Edmonton mall for a bunch of trailer trash honeys,” I add, grinning at him when he laughs. “Now I’m stupid late for a flight. Promise me you’ll do it today,” I insist, accepting his hand up and then walking down to his front door beside him.
“This week, at least,” he promises with another sigh. “What?” he grimaces, and then, when I roll my eyes at him he nods. “D’accord, alright already. Today.”
“Best to get it over with, like a band aid,” I explain, grabbing his arms and pinching his skin hard before pulling it back, making him wince. “Just remember, it would hurt worse to have Quinn tossing pucks and spitting his gum at you.”
“”Okay, today. Fuck. Do you boss Sidney around this way?”
“Of course,” I lie with a smile on my face as he leans in to buss each of my cheeks before turning to lock his front door.
“How was your weekend, by the way?” he asks, actually sounding interested. I keep the same bright smile on my face and lie some more.
“Amazing, really good. Thanks.”
___________________________________________________________________
“Morning Mr. Staal, nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Coach calls out as Jordan stumbles out onto the ice. For his part, Jordan just waves at Bylsma and puts his head down and tries to sort of meld in and disappear into our ranks as we skate laps to warm up. He isn’t the only missing, I notice as I turn to skate backwards, enjoying the feeling of my muscles bunching and flexing as they warm up.
“I don’t think I can take it if Kennedy comes down every weekend with your girlfriend,” Jordy grumbles as he catches up to me, using the flat of his blade to try and trip me, but I’m obviously more awake than he thinks I am, as I sidestep his stick and shake my head at him.
“I think this might be the first time I’ve heard you complaining about getting laid,” I laugh at him, knowing the difference between Gronk hungover and Gronk exhausted and right now, he looks a whole lot like he’s been rode hard and put up wet.
“I’m not complaining, exactly” Jordy assures me with a sleepy sort of grin. “I’m just saying I didn’t get any sleep, if you know what I mean,” he adds with a raised eyebrow, his grin growing as I roll my eyes. “Oh c’mon Crosby, are you tryin’ to tell me you couldn’t have used another couple hours after you kicked her out this morning?”
“I’m fresh as a daisy,” I reply as I skate a close circle around him, ending with my elbow in his ribs and both of us up against the boards. “Not all of us are only looking for a quick fuck.”
“Oh god, not that holier than thou shit again,” Jordy moans, pushing me off of him and starting to skate away from me, “there’s nothing wrong with a good fuck.”
“I’m not saying there’s not,” I agree, falling into step beside him. “But Mel and me, we go way back and I’m not going to just turn her into another notch on the belt. Not that it’s not fucking tempting,” I add, thinking about the way she tried to drag me into the guest room with her, grabbing me by my belt loops and giving me that come hither look that just about had me following her in.
“I’m glad to hear you’re still wearing the chastity belt mon ami,” Max suddenly joins us out of nowhere and I’m almost sure he wasn’t on the ice a minute ago. “Some things are worth waiting for, non?”
“As if you would know,” Jordy laughs, sending Max sliding across the ice on his ass, cursing loudly en Français and gesturing wildly. “But seriously, you two are holding out? Really? That’s sweet,” Jordy adds, patting me on my shoulder and I actually do feel pretty proud of the fact that I haven’t tried anything major on Mel yet.
“I don’t know, you know? Shit’s changed between us. I want to make sure it’s right before we get into…that,” I explain, to which I’m surprised that Jordy actually nods in agreement.
“Because she could be it, that’s what you’re saying,” he adds, which sends a shiver down my spine. I open my mouth to object, to argue, but quickly shut it again. He could be right. It’s kind of scary to think of it that way but…yeah, he could be right.
“Oh my god, do I hear the patter of tiny little Crosby skates?” TK asks, making kissing noises at me like we’re in grade five or something, so I take a leaf out of Jordy’s book and shove him into the boards, ignoring his threats and curses as I skate away.
I have other things on my mind, namely, getting to know Mel better and spending more time with her lips moving under mine. Yeah, that’s definitely worth thinking about.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Chapter 4
As always, thank you for the feedback. You make me blush, you really do!
“There aren’t very many people that know him as well as I do,” Max explains as we walk down the street, my arm in his, passers by looking at us like we were a cute young couple, and I guess we may look that way. After all, for some odd reason I’m beaming. Maybe it’s having got the whole sordid thing out in the open. Maybe it’s having finally shared my secret with someone. Or maybe it’s just because Max is highly entertaining. “So you couldn’t have picked a better accomplice,” he continues, looking down at me like a fond older brother would do, and I suppose, if we are going to carry off the ruse he’s proposed, I’ll have to get used to looks like that. “And he’s crazy competitive, but then, I don’t have to tell you that, do I?” I shake my head. Everybody knows that about Sidney. You don’t need to know him that well to know just how competitive he is about everything. “So your idea was a good one. If someone has something he wants, like the scoring title, a girl, the puck, he gets very single minded about it, non?”
“You betcha, very,” I agree with a sigh, “to the exclusion of every damn thing around him.”
“Are you sure you want anything to do with him?” Max asks suddenly, stopping me in the middle of the sidewalk, putting his hands on my shoulders and staring down at me with a serious look on his face that doesn’t seem much like the Max I’ve been getting to know at all. “I mean…Mr. Intense, he’s like this all the time you know; serious, distracted, intense, moody. He’s not exactly a bundle of laughs.” As if I don’t know that. As if I haven’t sat on the sidelines and watched him practice his shot for hours. As if I haven’t sat on the steps in his basement and watched him play with the other boys from the street. As if I haven’t been in the car with him after a loss when he wouldn’t speak to anyone, not even when bribed with treats or tickets to watch the older boys play. As if I haven’t sat with him through those games and watched him watch the puck sliding across the ice, his eyes greedily following the play. As if I don’t know exactly what he’s like.
“I’m sure,” I reply, to which Max only nods solemnly, and turns, offering me his arm which I take and we walk silently down the street, each of us no doubt pondering our roles in our proposed charade and the dark workings of Sidney’s mind.
___________________________________________________________________
“If you keep looking up at the door every time it opens, you’re going to get whiplash,” Gronk warns, which only serves to make me turn my attention, very self consciously back to the movie I haven’t really been paying much attention to. I’ve been waiting for Max to get back and every time one of my teammates comes or goes, my heart speeds up, hoping it will be Max and every time it isn’t means that he’s still with Mel and that means….
Well that isn’t something I want to think about. Because the later it gets, the closer the hour hand creeps toward curfew, the more my stomach clenches and knots up. I’ve been telling myself not to care, but the fact is that I obviously do. Now I’m busy trying to convince myself that I’m just worried that Max will be…well Max and somehow I’ll end up with the blame for being the one to introduced them. Not that I had, well not exactly. Max had just sort of horned in, which is what Max does when he’s not dumpster diving for sluts and puck bunnies.
“You know what they say about a watched pot don’t you?” Billy G asks, from the back of the room where he’s sitting reading, not watching the movie, despite the fact that it had been his idea to watch the damn thing in the first place; Miracle on Ice…whatever.
“Just hoping Max doesn’t get caught missing curfew,” I mutter, wishing everyone would stop sticking their nose into my business.
“Sure you are,” TK snorts, earning himself a hard punch in the shoulder which I’m gratified to see makes him wince. “What?” he whines, moving farther away from me, just out of punching range I notice. “I saw her waiting in the hall. She’s cute. I’d tap that.”
“You still jerk off into a sock Kennedy,” Cookie sighs, kicking TK’s chair hard enough that it topples over, sending him sprawling onto the floor. “You’d tap anything that stayed still long enough to let you,” he adds shaking his head as our younger teammate comes up fists clenched.
“Give it up Kennedy, no one’s fighting anyone,” Gonch sticks his leg between the two and, with a look that makes both men shake their heads and laugh, TK storms from the room, nearly knocking Max over as he reaches to push the door open.
“Hey, what’s with him?” Max asks, staring after our disgruntled teammate as he flees the room with a virtual black cloud over his head.
“Never mind what’s with him,” I grumble, grabbing his arm and pulling him back out into the hallway, ignoring the laughter that follows me out. “Where have you been?”
“On a date, mon ami, remember? We talked about this earlier,” he grins at me, reaching up to pat my cheek, which only raises my slow boil to a rolling one.
“I know but it was just supposed to be dinner, and it’s almost midnight, so, where have you been?” I don’t want to say it and I hate the shit eating grin that he gets on his face when I do and I have this sinking feeling in my stomach that he’s about to tell me something that I’m not going to like.
“Walking,” he suddenly replies, yawning like he’s exhausted, a full head back, gap mouthed yawn so that I can see his tonsils dangling in the back of his throat.
“Walking?” I hiss, disbelieving, as Billy G finally emerges from Gronk’s room and with a sidewise glance towards us, heads for his own.
“Oui, nous sommes sortis pour une promenade gentile. It is New York after all. A little window shopping, a little Italian ice….” I want to shake him, make him tell me the truth, but on the other hand I really don’t want to hear the truth if the truth is what I think it is. And yet…though he’s got that Cheshire cat grin on his face, it’s not exactly the look he usually wears when he’s…well, when he’s gotten lucky.
“That’s it?” I ask again, trying to be blasé, like I don’t care, like it doesn’t matter if he did take her to bed or not and Max just shrugs.
“Oui, c’est tout,” he sighs. “I told you mon capitaine, she’s different. I’m not just going to treat her like all the rest,” he adds with a flourish, a dramatic waving gesture as if to signify all of the other girls who have gone before, of which we both know, there have been many. “Now, if this recherché Espagnole is over…. What is everyone watching?”
He moves past me and into the room, met with wolf whistles and cheers like he’s returned a hero from battle or something, and just for a moment I wonder if he’ll tell the boys something different than he’s told me and I wonder why I care.
I shouldn’t care. I don’t care about Mel, not like that, not in a way that this should bother me. She’s all grown up. I shouldn’t even be feeling protective of her. I can just imagine how very unimpressed she’d be with me giving Max the third degree over their date. If she were here, she’d be telling me to stuff it, in no uncertain terms and probably using much more colorful language than that.
Actually thinking about that makes me smile and that makes me think of her smile, or the way she used to smile when we were friends, and that…well that makes me wonder if we can ever be friends again.
It’s funny. I didn’t know I missed her. Not until now. But I do…at least I think I do because I can’t be jealous…that can’t be what I’m feeling.
Can it?
_____________________________________________________
“He was…perturbed let’s say.” Max says with a note of amusement in his voice. Lying on my single bed, cell in hand, staring at the ceiling I imagine Sid’s full lips pursed and his hazel eyes flashing as he pins Max to the wall and I can’t help but smile.
“Did he want to fight? Y’know, punch your light out?” I ask, to which Max only snorts and I can hear him coughing as he barely contains laughter. “So he wasn’t that mad?”
“No ma petite, not that mad…not yet. But he was…pas très calme, let’s just say that. Don’t worry ma petite chou, by the time I am done with him, he will want to kill me. Déchirez-moi member du member. Qui tu rendent heureux?”
“I don’t want him to kill you Max…I just…want him that’s all,” I sigh, thinking about him being angry enough to pin me against a wall and have his wicked way with me…now that would make me happy but that isn’t a fantasy I’m willing to share. Not with Max anyway.
“And he you shall have, ma belle princesse. By the time we are done, he will not know what’s hit him but he will be so twisted around your little finger he’ll never find his way loose again,” Max promises and now I really can’t stop grinning at the thought of him weak at the knees for me for a change.
“So what’s next Max? What do we do now?” I ask, that fluttering in my chest telling me that I can’t wait too long to have this whole…game over with and have him, for real, in my arms with his lips pressed to mine again. In fact, just thinking about it has me brushing my lips with my fingertips, the sense memory of that kiss still so clear in my mind that it makes my lips tingle.
“Ah well, I have put a ticket aside for you for the game in New Jersey. Now, here’s what I want you to do….”
“There aren’t very many people that know him as well as I do,” Max explains as we walk down the street, my arm in his, passers by looking at us like we were a cute young couple, and I guess we may look that way. After all, for some odd reason I’m beaming. Maybe it’s having got the whole sordid thing out in the open. Maybe it’s having finally shared my secret with someone. Or maybe it’s just because Max is highly entertaining. “So you couldn’t have picked a better accomplice,” he continues, looking down at me like a fond older brother would do, and I suppose, if we are going to carry off the ruse he’s proposed, I’ll have to get used to looks like that. “And he’s crazy competitive, but then, I don’t have to tell you that, do I?” I shake my head. Everybody knows that about Sidney. You don’t need to know him that well to know just how competitive he is about everything. “So your idea was a good one. If someone has something he wants, like the scoring title, a girl, the puck, he gets very single minded about it, non?”
“You betcha, very,” I agree with a sigh, “to the exclusion of every damn thing around him.”
“Are you sure you want anything to do with him?” Max asks suddenly, stopping me in the middle of the sidewalk, putting his hands on my shoulders and staring down at me with a serious look on his face that doesn’t seem much like the Max I’ve been getting to know at all. “I mean…Mr. Intense, he’s like this all the time you know; serious, distracted, intense, moody. He’s not exactly a bundle of laughs.” As if I don’t know that. As if I haven’t sat on the sidelines and watched him practice his shot for hours. As if I haven’t sat on the steps in his basement and watched him play with the other boys from the street. As if I haven’t been in the car with him after a loss when he wouldn’t speak to anyone, not even when bribed with treats or tickets to watch the older boys play. As if I haven’t sat with him through those games and watched him watch the puck sliding across the ice, his eyes greedily following the play. As if I don’t know exactly what he’s like.
“I’m sure,” I reply, to which Max only nods solemnly, and turns, offering me his arm which I take and we walk silently down the street, each of us no doubt pondering our roles in our proposed charade and the dark workings of Sidney’s mind.
___________________________________________________________________
“If you keep looking up at the door every time it opens, you’re going to get whiplash,” Gronk warns, which only serves to make me turn my attention, very self consciously back to the movie I haven’t really been paying much attention to. I’ve been waiting for Max to get back and every time one of my teammates comes or goes, my heart speeds up, hoping it will be Max and every time it isn’t means that he’s still with Mel and that means….
Well that isn’t something I want to think about. Because the later it gets, the closer the hour hand creeps toward curfew, the more my stomach clenches and knots up. I’ve been telling myself not to care, but the fact is that I obviously do. Now I’m busy trying to convince myself that I’m just worried that Max will be…well Max and somehow I’ll end up with the blame for being the one to introduced them. Not that I had, well not exactly. Max had just sort of horned in, which is what Max does when he’s not dumpster diving for sluts and puck bunnies.
“You know what they say about a watched pot don’t you?” Billy G asks, from the back of the room where he’s sitting reading, not watching the movie, despite the fact that it had been his idea to watch the damn thing in the first place; Miracle on Ice…whatever.
“Just hoping Max doesn’t get caught missing curfew,” I mutter, wishing everyone would stop sticking their nose into my business.
“Sure you are,” TK snorts, earning himself a hard punch in the shoulder which I’m gratified to see makes him wince. “What?” he whines, moving farther away from me, just out of punching range I notice. “I saw her waiting in the hall. She’s cute. I’d tap that.”
“You still jerk off into a sock Kennedy,” Cookie sighs, kicking TK’s chair hard enough that it topples over, sending him sprawling onto the floor. “You’d tap anything that stayed still long enough to let you,” he adds shaking his head as our younger teammate comes up fists clenched.
“Give it up Kennedy, no one’s fighting anyone,” Gonch sticks his leg between the two and, with a look that makes both men shake their heads and laugh, TK storms from the room, nearly knocking Max over as he reaches to push the door open.
“Hey, what’s with him?” Max asks, staring after our disgruntled teammate as he flees the room with a virtual black cloud over his head.
“Never mind what’s with him,” I grumble, grabbing his arm and pulling him back out into the hallway, ignoring the laughter that follows me out. “Where have you been?”
“On a date, mon ami, remember? We talked about this earlier,” he grins at me, reaching up to pat my cheek, which only raises my slow boil to a rolling one.
“I know but it was just supposed to be dinner, and it’s almost midnight, so, where have you been?” I don’t want to say it and I hate the shit eating grin that he gets on his face when I do and I have this sinking feeling in my stomach that he’s about to tell me something that I’m not going to like.
“Walking,” he suddenly replies, yawning like he’s exhausted, a full head back, gap mouthed yawn so that I can see his tonsils dangling in the back of his throat.
“Walking?” I hiss, disbelieving, as Billy G finally emerges from Gronk’s room and with a sidewise glance towards us, heads for his own.
“Oui, nous sommes sortis pour une promenade gentile. It is New York after all. A little window shopping, a little Italian ice….” I want to shake him, make him tell me the truth, but on the other hand I really don’t want to hear the truth if the truth is what I think it is. And yet…though he’s got that Cheshire cat grin on his face, it’s not exactly the look he usually wears when he’s…well, when he’s gotten lucky.
“That’s it?” I ask again, trying to be blasé, like I don’t care, like it doesn’t matter if he did take her to bed or not and Max just shrugs.
“Oui, c’est tout,” he sighs. “I told you mon capitaine, she’s different. I’m not just going to treat her like all the rest,” he adds with a flourish, a dramatic waving gesture as if to signify all of the other girls who have gone before, of which we both know, there have been many. “Now, if this recherché Espagnole is over…. What is everyone watching?”
He moves past me and into the room, met with wolf whistles and cheers like he’s returned a hero from battle or something, and just for a moment I wonder if he’ll tell the boys something different than he’s told me and I wonder why I care.
I shouldn’t care. I don’t care about Mel, not like that, not in a way that this should bother me. She’s all grown up. I shouldn’t even be feeling protective of her. I can just imagine how very unimpressed she’d be with me giving Max the third degree over their date. If she were here, she’d be telling me to stuff it, in no uncertain terms and probably using much more colorful language than that.
Actually thinking about that makes me smile and that makes me think of her smile, or the way she used to smile when we were friends, and that…well that makes me wonder if we can ever be friends again.
It’s funny. I didn’t know I missed her. Not until now. But I do…at least I think I do because I can’t be jealous…that can’t be what I’m feeling.
Can it?
_____________________________________________________
“He was…perturbed let’s say.” Max says with a note of amusement in his voice. Lying on my single bed, cell in hand, staring at the ceiling I imagine Sid’s full lips pursed and his hazel eyes flashing as he pins Max to the wall and I can’t help but smile.
“Did he want to fight? Y’know, punch your light out?” I ask, to which Max only snorts and I can hear him coughing as he barely contains laughter. “So he wasn’t that mad?”
“No ma petite, not that mad…not yet. But he was…pas très calme, let’s just say that. Don’t worry ma petite chou, by the time I am done with him, he will want to kill me. Déchirez-moi member du member. Qui tu rendent heureux?”
“I don’t want him to kill you Max…I just…want him that’s all,” I sigh, thinking about him being angry enough to pin me against a wall and have his wicked way with me…now that would make me happy but that isn’t a fantasy I’m willing to share. Not with Max anyway.
“And he you shall have, ma belle princesse. By the time we are done, he will not know what’s hit him but he will be so twisted around your little finger he’ll never find his way loose again,” Max promises and now I really can’t stop grinning at the thought of him weak at the knees for me for a change.
“So what’s next Max? What do we do now?” I ask, that fluttering in my chest telling me that I can’t wait too long to have this whole…game over with and have him, for real, in my arms with his lips pressed to mine again. In fact, just thinking about it has me brushing my lips with my fingertips, the sense memory of that kiss still so clear in my mind that it makes my lips tingle.
“Ah well, I have put a ticket aside for you for the game in New Jersey. Now, here’s what I want you to do….”
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