Chapter 15

That last chapter definitely had you guys thinking and I loved hearing from you and I'm glad that I'm keeping some of you guessing (won't tell you who's guessing in the right direction tho'!) So I was getting ready to throw a wrench in the works but then I had this conversation with someone and....


The regular duty to return me to the airport had fallen to Lauren and I found that I didn’t mind spending a little girl time with Mario’s eldest, even if it meant holding onto the holy shit handle of her car while it careened at top speeds through the early morning traffic. This particular morning, she’d barely snuck back in the house, her hair still wet and she was wearing a pair of jeans that looked an awful lot to me like they really belonged on a guy with more junk in the trunk than she had.

I wasn’t brave enough to ask her about that yet though. Maybe it was because I didn’t think I actually wanted to hear the answer.

“So have you and Max…?” Lauren shoots me a look that I hope she’s not going to make me interpret as she turns her baby Beamer onto the highway. It’s a question I had been longing to ask her when we’d gone to the spa together but hadn’t had the courage to. But now that Max had told me that things weren’t quite as they seemed, my curiosity was getting the better of me and besides, I’d decided it was easier to ask about Max then where she’d actually been last night, though I was willing to bet it hadn’t just been a house party.

“Almost,” she finally answers as she puts her foot to the floor and shoots past a slow moving minivan, flicking the driver the bird when the haggard looking mother leans on her horn. “We were like, right there,” Lauren confides with a roll of her eyes and a dramatic sigh. “That’s when he decided that he couldn’t go through with it. Can you believe that?” Actually I could and Max went up in my estimation for having had that kind of self control, although it was that kind of self control that was beginning to make me more than a little impatient with Sidney. “I mean literally, my legs were wrapped around him and that’s when he decides he can’t be the one to deflower me. Can you believe that shit?”

“Wow…really?” It’s the best I could come up with as I stare straight ahead, trying very hard to erase the image that had just sprung into my head.

“I know, right? Actually, once I got over being like, entirely mortified he told me that he thought it would be better for me to be with someone closer to my own age for the first time and I guess he was being like…thoughtful or whatever but…I mean, hello? I was naked so it was just a little humiliating.”

“So you’re a…?” I feel this immediate sense of relief in thinking that I’m not the last virgin on earth and can’t help but grin at her, wanting to wrap my arms around her and thank her for not being the worldly big city girl that I’d been thinking she was.

“God no,” she snorts rolling her eyes at me again as she slams on the brake pedal and dives off of the highway and onto the turn off leading to the airport. “I mean not anymore, thank god. Who do you think I was getting the wax for?” she asks as the car rolls to a stop at the next red light. I shrug, because that’s the best and only answer I can come up with. That had been what I’d been trying to work out in my head. “I mean, when Max suggested Tanger I was like…oooh, yeah, he’s nice to look at plus he has the same accent which, I mean, c’mon, it’s totally nice to listen to right?” I nod, clenching my teeth and trying very hard not to think ‘here we go, from the frying pan into the fire’. Max was going to have some definite explaining to do. “But he’s so, like, friggin’ shy and I did not want to be doing all the running but it wasn’t like that at all and he was such a gentleman about the whole thing. I am soooo glad that’s out of the way.” I literally had to push my mouth shut and force an agreeable smile on my face when she looks over at me before stepping on the gas again.

“So…I mean…just so I’m clear…you arranged to lose your virginity with Kris Letang?” I had to get her to tell me, out loud, that that’s what she’d done because it just didn’t make sense in my head.

“Well you don’t want to do that with someone you actually care about. Am I right?” she laughs like there’s no way in the world I’m going to disagree with her. So when she turns to me, I smile and nod, because it seems like the right answer. Completely weird and utterly foreign an idea as it seems to me. “I mean, can you imagine? The blood and the pain? Doing that with someone you actually like?” She shudders as if the thought itself makes her sick.

“So now you and Max…?” I don’t know how to ask this and part of me thinks I should be telling her to turn the car around so that I can have a serious discussion with that boy, but as soon as I ask the question, her high, free sounding giggle fills the car.

“Oh don’t get me wrong. Max is like…so great. I mean, I’d totally date him but I don’t think he’d ever be serious about anyone. He’s such a boy,” she grins conspiratorially over at me and I can’t help but at last completely agree with something she’s said.

__________________________________________________________


“Congratulations mon frère!” Even over my iPod I can hear Max and Dupers calling to Tanger as he walks towards the bus with his bag in tow, a shit eating grin on the usually quiet defenseman’s face. Narrowing my eyes, I notice yet another one of those cherry air fresheners hanging from the handle of his carry one bag and shake my head.

“Seriously, you guys are such frat brats sometimes,” Bill G pipes up and I’m glad I’m not the one that actually said it out loud.

“Tangs took one for the team this time,” Dupers laughs, slapping Kris on the back who at least shows a certain amount of reticence and turns a light pink as his teammates greet him like the returning hero.

“Do I wanna even know?” I ask, to which Max quickly shakes his head, laughing.

“No, definitely not. We wanna hear your big news, don’t we mes amies?” he grins, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and giving me a familiar squeeze. “So how’s it feel to be back in the saddle again?” Either my poker face needs work or Max just knows me too well, but it seems like he only needs one look at me to know that things didn’t go the way that he’d obviously thought they would when he and Gronk snuck out the door New Years Eve.

“No way! Still?” Gronk stares at me like I’ve just grown another head and then he shakes his head and has the temerity to look at me like I’ve somehow disappointed him. “Dude...seriously?”

“It’s not like what you guys are...doing,” I shrug, feeling very self conscious under the shocked gazes of my teammates. “I’m not ready for that kind of commitment yet.”

“Commitment? It’s just sex,” Gronk shudders, like the thought of it actually meaning more than just a roll in the hay has given him a serious case of the heebiejeebies.

“It’s not just sex or it wouldn’t be. Not with Mel. It would be like saying...well I don’t know what, but it would be more than sex and I don’t know if I’m there yet,” I try to explain, glad that Gronk’s case of the yips is seemingly more amusing than my lack of carnal knowledge of my girlfriend and most of the guys have lost interest in my pathetic explanation.

“Seriously, give me one good reason you aren’t ready to commit to that poor girl?” Max asks, and I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but when I look over at him, that ‘I’m fucking with you’ smile I expect to see isn’t there. Instead, my usually impish friend is staring back at me with an entirely too serious look on his face.
“She’s got a nice rack,” Dupers points out, just to be helpful and start me off I’m sure.

“Oui, et elle n’est pas dur sur les yeux,” Flower throws in his two cents, as if it’s required.

“Don’t forget she’s only known your pathetic ass votre vie entière,” Max adds, still not so much as cracking a smile as he faces me down with this expression on his face that I know too well. It’s the look that says ‘don’t fucking bullshit the bullshitter’.

“Oui, it’s not like she’s after your bags of money,” Flower agrees with Max. Well of course he does. He almost always does.

“A way out of the Harbour amounts to the same thing,” I mutter but the look on Max’s face makes me take it back, which I do, with a shrug. “I don’t know...I’m just not feeling what I think I should be feeling, if this is right I mean.”

“And what’s that, exactly?” Billy G asks, looking up from the paper I assumed he was actually reading. “Sorry, I know you guys don’t think you need the old guys advice but uh...in this case it sounds like you need someone’s advice that actually knows what they’re talking about,” he adds, folding his paper over carefully, along the creases, before tucking it up under his arm. “So, what is it you think you’re supposed to feel?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug, feeling really self conscious now that the elder statesman of our team is looking down at me. “I just...I guess I’m waiting for whatever you’re supposed to feel when you know it’s right...you know that ‘she’s the one’ feeling.”

“Right, and what do you think that’s going to feel like, just curious,” he adds and the smile on his face tells me I’m being mocked and I feel the tips of my ears go red in response. I can’t help it. This is bad enough without everyone else knowing that I’m a complete relationship retard.

“I don’t know...I just figured I’d know...like maybe a fucking bolt of lightning or something.” It feels kind of stupid when I say it, but it’s the truth. That’s exactly what I keep waiting for, like the fucking hand of God is supposed to come down and light her up like a fucking Christmas tree with a fucking blinking neon sign over her head that will tell me I’m making the right choice.

“Yeah well, I don’t think it works quite like that,” Billy G chuckles, which makes me not want to look at him and causes me to shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Well then what the fuck am I supposed to feel? I keep hearing that I’m gonna just know but....”

“Do you want to know how I knew Kara was it?” Billy asks, sounding dead serious, and when I look up at him he has that ‘father knows best’ look on his face, so I shut my mouth and nod. “Because she wouldn’t put up with my shit, never complained about the job and never asked for anything. Plus she’s pretty damn hot,” he adds with an impish grin. “But seriously kiddo, it’s not like you feel more of something it’s actually like you feel less...less worried that she’s slept with your teammates to get to you, less like she wants you to pay for her parents’ house or that she’s with you for the wrong reasons. It more like...you just feel calm around her. At least that’s what it was like for me and Kara. I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong her kid but it kinda sound like maybe that’s what you’ve got going on here but without the whole drama thing, you’re just assuming you’re missing something and my bet is you’re not. But I’ll tell you one thing I do know for sure. If she is it and you keep playin’ her off like this, a year from now when you do figure this shit out, she’s gonna be with someone else.”

________________________________________________________

“Kens, you awake?” I call across the hall. I’m pretty confident she is. I’m fairly sure I heard her having a mumbled, under the covers type conversation, probably with Jordy.

“Yeah,” she calls back, sounding like she’s been waiting for me to ask. “What’s up?”
“Do you remember your first time?” I ask, hoping that I sound nonchalant.

“Ugh...I wish I didn’t but yeah. Why? Oh my god, is Sid a....?”

“No, I mean I don’t think so, no,” I answer quickly, happy she doesn’t automatically assume that it might be me. “I was just talking to Lauren and....”

“Oh that little tramp. So you heard about the whole Kris thing,” she laughs and suddenly she’s crawling in under the blankets with me and it’s like a sleepover when I was a teenager, except I never had one of those. I heard about them, just, never wanted to get involved with the whole ‘you paint my nails and I’ll paint yours’ scenario.

“Yeah, so...what do you think?” I ask, rolling over to face her, expecting a look of disgust to be on my roommate’s face but she just rolls onto her back and lets out a sigh.

“Smart girl. I sooo wish I’d thought of doing that,” Kennedy replies, catching me entirely off guard. “In fact, when Jordan told me about it, I was totally thinking of setting up a website and pimping that kinky Frenchman’s ass out as a professional cherry popper. I bet he’d have them fucking lined up around the block. Fuck, he could totally quit his day job,” she adds with a laugh, before rolling back onto her side to face me, a big grin on her face. “Oh what? Yours was wonderful and romantic and you think she did a horrible thing?”

“No..I mean...it’s not always that bad,” I mutter, wondering if I really look that shocked and trying to school my features.

“Give me ten girls and I bet you a hundred bucks each they’d say the same thing,” Kensie sighs, flipping back onto her back. “The mess, the pain...I wish someone had actually told me the fucking truth instead of telling me to ‘wait until it’s right’,” she adds, pitching her voice higher and making a face.

“Your mom too huh?” I laugh and she rolls her eyes and nods.

“It’s like childbirth. I mean thank god for the tv and internet, now we all know how much that fucking hurts, now we just need to get the word out about this fucking myth and woman might actually give up on the whole idea of romance and get their heads on straight,” she replies in that ‘sisters together’ way that sounds like she’s about to get up on her soap box.

“So yours was really that awful?” I ask again and she rolls her eyes and wrinkles her nose.

“Graham Meier,” she begins, pulling the sheet up to her chin as if she can protect herself from what is obviously not a pleasant memory. “His parents were away and I thought I was in love and man I had dreamed about how great it was going to be and I had all this romantic rose petals and candlelight thing set up and it was totally great until he put my legs up over his shoulders and shoved that thing inside of me and then....,” her voice trails off and she shudders. Actually shudders in revulsion. “I am telling you, I thought I was about to die. It hurt so bad and then I was crying and he was like freaking out and there was blood and he was totally not prepared for me to be screaming at him to stop and...oh yeah, if I could do that shit over again, I would definitely go for someone that has way more experience with that sort of shit and I would never, ever have done it with someone that I cared about.”

“So you and Graham?”

“Oh yeah, we totally broke up. I couldn’t face him after that. It was just too...icky,” she laughs, letting out one last long sigh before rolling over to face me again. “So, anyway, you and lover boy, everything okay there?”

“Oh yeah,” I lie; painting what I hope is a realistic smile on my face. “Everything’s just peachy.”

Chapter 14

(Flashback)

“You can’t wait up in your room all day.” Mel leans in the doorway of my room with her arms crossed, wearing my Rimouski jersey and a pair of jeans that I don’t remember seeing before. They look new...tight. “I know you only have a few more minutes as a regular Joe,” she adds with a smirk, “but your dad is driving Trina crazy down there and poor Tayzie, she’s just about to lose it thinking about her big bro moving so far away. The way they’re all behaving, you’d think you were leaving tomorrow.”

“There are cameras down there,” I remind her, going back to flipping through the sports illustrated on my bed.

“Yeah, like you’re not used to all the attention, you’ve been anointed by Gretzky remember, wonder boy,” she laughs, a tennis ball appearing out of nowhere, bouncing hard against the wall just above my head. She catches it one handed, a big grin on her face.

“I thought we were Batman and Robin?” I grin back at her while she scrunches up her nose and shakes her head, tossing the ball at me again. This time I’m ready and catch it one handed, giving it hard squeeze just to let some of the tension out before tossing it back.

“Are you kidding? I’m totally Cat Woman,” she purrs as she catches it. “But you’re right, you’re totally Robin. You’re never getting any action,” she adds, purposefully tossing the ball wide, making me dive to catch it before turning and heading down the hall. I listen to her skidding around the corner aiming for the stairs and my younger sister’s high pitched squeal that probably means Mel’s grabbed her from behind and launched her down the stairs.

Shaking my head and laughing, I push myself off the bed.

I guess I can’t hide forever. It’s just weird, all this attention to a lottery I have no control over, but that’s not really what’s got me hiding in my room. It’s just suddenly hit me that it’s all really about to happen. My dream’s coming true. I’m going to the big game.

I’m going to be leaving home.

It’s kind of a big deal.

_________________________________________________________

(present day)

“Can’t believe the Olympics are almost here,” Mel grins as she climbs over the back of the couch, handing me the bowl of popcorn before plopping down on the leather beside me. I’ve turned the channel away from another one of those Appolo Ono commercials but it’s too late for her not to have seen it. “Just think, in a couple months you’ll be Olympic champ. Gold medal winner, Sidney Crosby,” she adds with a wide, proud smile.

“Don’t say that shit out loud,” Gronk admonishes her, tossing a handful of napkins her direction, to which Mel’s only reaction is to shrug.

“Oh come on. This is our Sidney we’re talking about,” she replies grinning and leaning in to press her lips against my cheek. “He’s a Canadian hero. It’s a foregone conclusion.”

“No, really, don’t jinx it,” I mutter, getting that someone’s just walked over my grave feeling.

“You and your superstitions,” she muses, grabbing a handful of popcorn before sitting back and putting her feet up on my lap. “So who are you more afraid of, Ovie or Parise?”

“Miller,” Max and Jordy say at the same time and I have to agree, although the whole thing makes me squeamish when I think about it. It was all my dad could talk about at Christmas. Although I know he wanted to talk about me and Mel, he didn’t dare. My mom and Nathalie had made sure of that, and any time it looked like he was even going to try and bring it up, Mario stepped in. So without that to talk about, all he had to badger me about was playing in the Olympics and how I had to step up my game.

I can’t believe I’ll have another month to think about it. I think it might drive me insane.

“Can we talk about something else?” I ask, flicking madly through the channels, most of which seem to be dance based or live band type of New Years Eve specials, which just reminds me of what we’re missing by staying in. Not that we couldn’t have gone out, or at least not that everyone else couldn’t have. Still, it’s good to know who your friends are.

“Yeah, how about where’s the pizza? I’m starvin’!” Gronk groans, pretending to faint against Mel’s roommate, who lets him roll onto the floor instead of catching him.

“I’ll go,” Max offers, and Mel turns to give him a look and shakes her head.

“I don’t think so mister. You stay right where you are. I’ll go,” she offers, dropping what’s remaining of the popcorn in her hand back in the bowl and moving to climb back over the back of the couch. That’s my girlfriend, I think as she straddles the back of the couch, reminding me a lot more of the Mel I used to know and it makes me smile.

“Who ordered the pizza?” Mel stops, mid straddle, as Lauren walks down the stairs to the rec-room wearing a pair of very high heels and a very short skirt that make me wonder if Nathalie and Mario weren’t already out, if they’d let her out in that outfit. It also makes me think about how comfortable Mel is here in her pyjama pants and t-shirt but I can’t help but wonder, just for a moment, what she’d be wearing if we had gone out.

She’d arrived too late for Nathalie to wear it to the Christmas party, but when she’d come downstairs tonight, we all had to admit that Mel obviously does know what she’s doing with a pair of scissors and some fabric. I don’t know much about fashion like that, but I know the look in Mario’s eyes had said he hadn’t seen her look that beautiful in a long time and the smile on her face said she’d known it too.

“Really Lauren? Really?” Mel laughs, getting up to take the pizzas out of Lauren’s hands but Gronk speeds past her, taking the top box off of the pile and grabbing two pieces out of it before he even turns around. We all watch while he turns them over to make a pizza sandwich out of the two pieces and then inhales half of it before he sits down again.

“What?” he asks, looking around at all of us as if butter wouldn’t melt, as if that were actually possible of any of the Staal boys. “I’m a growing boy.”

“Growing out,” Max laughs, joining Mel in actually taking the boxes out of Lauren’s hands and carrying them over to the table. “Mon ami, we should hit the gym in the morning after all this, d’accord?”

“You don’t need to hit the gym,” Lauren smiles at him and I find myself suddenly watching something that makes me really unhappy as Mario’s daughter blushes from her collarbones to the tips of her ears when Max shows his guns, making the T on his bicep dance for her.

“Are you kidding me?” I hiss, pushing myself up off the couch, only to have Mel shove me back down.

“She’s old enough to make her own decisions,” she whispers, stuffing a piece of pepperoni in my mouth. “And as much as it feels like it, you’re not her brother and you don’t get a say.”

“Mario will kill him and then trade the body to the Coilers,” I growl, but Mel cradles my face in her hand in a not so tender way, forcing me to look away from the obviously flirting pair.

“Maybe, but Max has been warned and he’s still going there so leave it be,” she adds, pressing her lips to mine to silence me. “Okay?” she adds, before letting go of my chin and sliding back to her place beside me, but not before she gets a good grip on my hand, ensuring I don’t immediately pop up and start something with Max, which I kind of want to do.

“I can’t believe I haven’t noticed this. How long?” I ask after thinking about it for a moment, about all the times Max has showed up uninvited. Not that I’d ever considered that a problem before. I mean, him and Fleur and Jordy are pretty much my best friends in the entire world, so naturally we hang out and Mario’s place is huge and he doesn’t seem to mind the guys hanging out here, so why would I have thought about it?

“A while,” Mel answers quietly, giving my hand a squeeze and when I look over at her she just shakes her head. “It’s not like they wanted you to know and Lauren’s a pretty smart cookie, so just leave it alone. If it was Tayzie...I’d let you kill him but it’s not so...leave it.”

“It may as well be Taylor,” I growl back but she just shakes her head, even while she gives me a sympathetic look.

“But it’s not,” she reminds me quietly. “Lauren’s grown up here. She’s a big city girl and she’s used to dealing with players. I mean, think about it. There have always been players in this house, before you were here even. Plus...she’s a little more...savvy than you might think.” I didn’t want to think what that meant. All I knew was, I didn’t like it. “And don’t look like that either,” Mel adds without even having to look over at me, her attention firmly glued to the game of ‘twister’ Gronk and her roommate seemed to be having over a piece of pizza. “You’re the captain of the team, not of her.”

“Maybe not her but I am of Max,” I snarl back, turning to shoot him a look but he’s obviously preoccupied with Mario’s eldest and that hankie she’s wearing. “I think you should probably change Lauren. I don’t think Nathalie would approve do you?”

“Umm, she was there when I bought it and it’s none of your fuckin’ business,” Lauren snaps back at me and Mel snorts her ice tea across the room.

“I did warn you,” she whispers, before getting up to go to the bathroom to clean up.

____________________________________________________________

“He knows,” I hiss as I grab a handful of Max’s t-shirt and steer him out of the room, and probably to safety, for the moment anyway.

“Knows what? Quelle es-tu parlant du femme?” Max hisses back, actually having the nerve to be wide eyed and angry at the same time.

“You and Lauren, he knows, and by the way, could you two be a little more obvious?” I snarl back, getting right up in his face.

“We’re not...we’re just talking and I’m not even going to this house party she’s going to,” he complains and just for a moment, Mad Max manages to look hurt by the fact he’s getting left behind and for that same moment, I can’t help but hope some young guy closer to her own age hits on her too.

“Well he knows so...and he’s pissed. Just so you know,” I add, turning to head into the powder room but Max grabs my wrist and pulls me back to him.

“It’s not...what you think it is between her and I...it’s not,” Max sputters and the expression in his eyes is earnest but the tips of his ears turn bright red at the same time.

“Max, I don’t care,” I answer, hoping that I sound, at the very least, supportive. “Gronk and Kennedy, me and Sid...why shouldn’t you have someone? If she makes you happy...then I’m happy for you,” I add, leaning in to kiss his cheek. But when I pull back, I expect to see relief but what I see instead is something else.

“But it’s not...we’re not...it’s not like you think,” he continues to try and explain, even though I’ve told him that he doesn’t have to.

“I don’t think he’ll tell Mario, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I add, hoping that will erase the concern from his face and return the happy go lucky smile we all know and love, but even that doesn’t seem to comfort the usually funny Francophone. And then it comes to me. “Max...if it’s not...I mean if it’s just fun between you two...that’s good too,” I try and that seems to ease his conscience enough that he nods and just the ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. “Just...be careful okay? I mean, she is the boss’s daughter so...if she’s still more in to you than you are her....”

“That’s not...I mean it is but...I’ve told her, you know, that’s all it is. I’ve told her I’m not in to anything more...permanent but...,” his voice trails away as he looks at the floor for a long moment before turning his gaze up and looking at me with something that looks like resignation on his face.

“I think it’s sweet that you don’t want to hurt her feelings,” I grin, patting his cheek and laughing. “No go and tell her to behave and then go be you. Sid needs a swift kick up the ass tonight.” That twinkle is back in his eyes as Max nods and gives me a swift hug before heading back towards the rec-room and even through the powder room door I can hear his booming voice followed by Jordy’s deep, throaty laugh, quickly followed by Sidney’s high pitched, boyish giggle and suddenly all feels right with the world.

For now, anyway.
________________________________________________________________

By the time midnight rolls around, Jordan and Kennedy are already too deep into a make out session to notice which leaves me, sitting between Max and Sidney at the table where we’ve been playing poker. Not strip poker, as Max had suggested, but just regular old poker, and I’m losing, badly.

When the grandfather clock in the hallway begins to make that deep bonging sound I look over my cards at Sidney, waiting for him to get up from his chair and sweep me into a romantic, deep kiss that will curl my toes. Of course he doesn’t though.

Because he’s so damn competitive that my bet is he’s so consumed in his cars that he’s neither heard the clock or the racket coming from the replay of the big apple dropping in Times Square. My slow burn is cut off, however, when Max’s chair is knocked over as he gets up, grabs me and bends me over his knee in a sweeping dip that ends up with his teeth digging into my neck.

The mad gesture has its intended effect however, as I quickly forget my anxiety over missing the first kiss of the New Year and we both end up giggling and play fighting like a couple of kids.

“We should probably go,” he says breathlessly as he holds me at bay at long last, stopping me from pinching him again. “Leave you two to bringing in the New Year properly. Just get me a big bucket of cold water for Gronk and….”

“You don’t have to go, we’re not finished the game,” Sidney looks up from his cards, as if he hasn’t noticed anything at all, which leaves both me and Max staring at the huge pile of chips he has in front of him.

“Nobody can beat you mon ami, and you’re lovely lady needs your attention, ne penses-tu pas?” Max suggests, raising his eyebrow at Sidney and giving me a shove in his direction at the same time. “Just remember we leave for Florida in the morning, you can sleep on the plane, tu sais ce que je veux dire?”

Now it’s my turn to feel my ears burn brightly as Max swats my ass, hard enough to make me actually jump. Giggling, I turn to see if Sid is feeling as self conscious as I am, but instead of finding him looking sheepish, Sidney is glaring daggers at his friend, and now there’s no Lauren around to blame.

“Holy shit…you don’t want to be alone with me.” The words come out of my mouth before the idea actually forms in my head and I’m almost as shocked that I’ve said them as thought them but when Sidney’s head swivels and his gaze meets mine, there’s no denial in those hazel orbs.

We haven’t been alone since before Christmas. There’s always been one excuse or another. I was busy, he was out of town, and then his parents were here and the house just wasn’t big enough that either of us was willing to take the chance on having Troy breaking in on a romantic moment.

Or at least that’s what he’d told me. Now, now with the little ones having been shipped off to friends for the night, with Lauren out and we’re about to finally have the entire house to ourselves, he doesn’t want Max and Gronk to leave.

“It isn’t…I’m just saying they don’t have to go right now,” he insists, keeping his voice low as if somehow I’m the one that’s doing something wrong, like I’m the out of control child that needs to be spoken to ‘we don’t need everyone to hear our business’ tone.

“Do you…or don’t you want to be with me tonight?” It’s a simple question, or at least it is to me. I may be in a pair of faded pyjama bottoms and a plain t-shirt, but beneath that I’m wearing an uncomfortable black satin g-string and matching push up bra and I don’t suppose now would be the time to tell him that Lauren and I both went for a Brazilian this afternoon. The point is, I’ve been planning for this to be the night and the longer he stands there, staring at me, silently, the more I’m beginning to realize that I’m entirely alone in that hope.

“It’s not like that,” he replies, with that threatening undertone in his voice that says ‘not in front of the guests dear’. I know Max and Jordy and Kensie are still here, but I’ve already forgotten about them or at the very least I don’t care if we have this fight here and now and in front of them. Maybe it’s because Kensie and Max know just how frustrated I am, and I have to assume that by telling Kensie I’ve essentially told Jordy, so there’s no one here that doesn’t know that Sid and I haven’t had sex yet.

“Then how is it Sidney? I mean, forgive me for being confused but you put this ring on my finger and I thought that actually meant that I mean something to you,” I snarl back, raising my right hand and turning it so he can see the ring. “You said you were taking this seriously. You promised...,” I swallow the next words I want to say because I know if I say them I’m going to cry and I know damn well that won’t get me what I want. Not with Sid. He’s too much his father’s son for tears to work. Not that I’d be crying to get what I want but he would see it that way.

“You do...Mel, but you can’t just...it’s not like I can just...,” he looks at me helplessly and then glances at his friends who are trying to retreat as quietly as they can without making eye contact or getting dragged into the argument.

Sometimes I forget just how small town Sidney can be. I forget that other than a few select friends Sidney was never very sociable. He was never the first to put up his hand in class. Even once all those reporters started coming around, he preferred to stay in his room or his basement or the lacrosse box at the park than go to a house party. It’s only with his very best friends or out on the ice that the more...outgoing Sidney shows his face. So this, embarrassing him in front of his closest friends is a betrayal of the highest order and I should know better than to put him in this kind of position because when it comes to fight or flight, if he’s not on the ice, Sidney Patrick Crosby will always run.

______________________________________________________________

“Good night guys,” I call out to them, half hoping they’ll come back so I don’t have to deal with this. I should have made sure that she drank more, so she’d be less argumentative, more agreeable.

Christ! It isn’t that I don’t want to be with her it’s just....

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, walking past me to gather the poker chips up off of the table. I watch her, speechless, as she puts them away in the box and then shuffles the deck before putting it in the same box and putting both in the games cupboard. I can hear Max and Jordy talking in hushed tones by the front door and then the door closes firmly behind them and only then does Mel turn back to me, and the hurt in her eyes cuts me to the core.

“Melody,” I sigh and the speech I’d prepared in my head about timing and waiting for the right moment sort of flies away as a single tear escapes her grey blue eyes.
“It’s fine...whatever,” she mutters, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand before turning to head out of the room but I cross the room before she gets to the door and I snap the lock shut on it and then grab her wrist in my hand. We both look down at my fingers curled around her slim wrist and then slowly we look at each other and the hope that springs into her eyes makes my chest hurt but there are ways to make this easier, on both of us.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” I whisper to her, leading her to the couch and pulling her down onto it with me. “It just doesn’t seem right to put all this pressure on something that should happen naturally,” I try to explain and she nods her head as if she understands but I doubt that she does because I’m not sure I believe my own bullshit anymore. I’m still terrified that once we cross that line that she won’t be my friend anymore. Actually, ever since I put that ring on her finger it all feels like it’s sliding through my fingers, that everything is changing and I’m not ready for it. “I just think you might be putting too much emphasis on it, you know?” I ask hopefully but as soon as I say it I can see she’s going to argue that she’s not. “I just think if it’s not perfect you’ll be disappointed and if I’m worried about Mario and Nat coming back or Lauren...do you understand?” She nods, but I can see in the set of her jaw and the way she won’t quite look at me that she doesn’t really believe that what I’m saying is the truth. Mel always could smell a lie.

“You didn’t buy the ring did you?” she suddenly says out of the blue and I have this sharp pain in my chest when she does look up at me with a world of pain and disappointment in her gaze. “Just...please don’t lie to me. Who bought it? Nathalie? Lauren?”

“Max,” I reply holding her hand in mine, running my thumb over the tiny crown and the heart shaped jewel.

“Max?” she sound incredulous and when I look up at her I can see that she’s struggling with the idea of Max giving relationship advice. I know I felt the same way.

“He asked me an important question,” I tell her, reaching up to cradle her pretty face in my hand. “He asked me if I wanted to lose you and I don’t Mel, I don’t so...so it’s kind of like a bookmark. Like I’m saving my place and just so you and anyone else who might be looking will know, that place is reserved for me and I promise,” I add, realizing what is likely holding me up now, “I promise that when the Olympics are over, good or bad, I’ll make sure you and everyone else knows exactly how much you mean to me.”

When I kiss her, it’s like that first time on the dock, hesitant, slow and sweet, and then it’s not. Then her lips move beneath mine and I realize I’m backing her down onto the couch and the feel of her body, soft and pliable beneath mine and her fingers curling around the back of my neck makes it very clear how much I do want her.

She whimpers into my mouth when I press my erection against her inner thigh and a similar, but deeper sound comes out of my throat when she presses her body up against mine. We’re not going to do this, I tell myself, even as she presses her hips up and grinds her pelvis against mine making it hard to think we could do anything else but I am a professionally trained athlete and I do have control over both mind and body and all I have to do is think of cold, unheated ice rinks and the stench of twenty male bodies and their hockey gear, especially Max’s shoulder pads, and I regain my control.

I don’t expect her to be able to do the same; however. In fact, I’ve planned just what I’ll do and slipping my hand beneath the waist band of her pyjama bottoms, I slide my fingers into the hot wet heat of her cleft and send up a silent thank you to the women who have come before her that have taught me how to bring a woman to orgasm this way.

I watch with a mixture of pride and fascination as her head falls back and her eyes scrunch tight and her lips fall open as I work my fingers in and out of her, slowly working the pace upwards as my fingers mover up to find that special little button that makes her cry out and makes her entire body shudder.

There is no need, after all, for both of us to suffer because I need to save all of my energy for the Olympics.

Chapter 13

“What’s going on with you and Mel? I haven’t seen her around lately,” Max asks as he lounges on the leather couch, annoying the shit out of me by clicking through the channels slowly, watching everything for a couple of minutes before deciding against it and moving to the next channel.

“She’s got midterms or whatever they call it,” I mutter, my fingers itching to rip the remote out of his hands but I know damn well that my more ferocious style of clicking drives everyone else equally insane and no one else seems to be complaining, yet, so I keep my opinion and my hands to myself, for now.

“She has to have an entire collection designed before Christmas Eve,” Lauren corrects me, not bothering to glance up from behind the magazine she’s seemingly engrossed in. One of those big, thick fashion things with stick figure models and glossy photo spreads. I’m still finding it hard to believe that Mel is into this stuff. Especially after what she went through with her mom but then as I look over to where Nathalie is curled into Mario’s arms with her glass of chardonnay, they do say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “Do you have any idea what it takes to put an entire collection together?” Lauren adds, giving me a kick with her bare foot before turning the magazine around to show me a two page spread of some size zero model made up to look half dead wearing a bright red, shiny evening gown. I’ve seen a couple of those model shows, and I get that it’s supposed to be high fashion or whatever, but it does nothing for me.

“No, I don’t. I just know she sounded stressed the last time I talked to her,” I shrug and Lauren rolls her eyes at me.

“She’ll probably be sewing her fingers to the bone. I bet she’ll be exhausted when she’s done,” she adds, turning her magazine back around and flipping ahead a few pages. “She’s promised to bring mom one of the dresses though. She says it will be the hit of the Christmas party.”

“The Christmas party?” Max comes awake and is suddenly the animated Max we all know. “She’s coming to the Christmas party?” he asks, turning to me with a grin. “Is she bringing Kennedy for Gronk? Maybe she can bring someone for me.”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, because I haven’t even thought about it. Tonight is one of the first nights we haven’t either been playing or travelling in what seems like ages and I guess I hadn’t given much thought to the party, let alone asking Mel if she’d like to go.

“What do you mean you don’t know, mon ami? Don’t tell me, it slipped your mind?” Max shakes his head and passes the remote back to Stephanie who’s just back from Shattucks and then turns his full attention back on to me. “What did you get her for Christmas?”

“I…,” it’s no use, when no answer comes out immediately, everyone is down my throat, from Nathalie to the girls and both Mario and Max are shaking their heads at me.

“It should be easy,” Lauren sighs dramatically, closing her magazine and fixing mw with one of her patented teenage ‘you’re such a loser’ stares. “You’ve only known her, like, your entire life. How hard could it be to get her something she’ll like?”

“She’s right mon frère,” Max gives me that ‘now you’re in trouble’ look and pushes his foot into my ribs, nearly sending me off the end of the couch. “Do you think she’ll come empty handed from New York? Je ne pense pas ainsi,” he adds with a laugh as I glare at him, hoping to shut him up but knowing full well, with an audience, that’s an almost impossible expectation.

“And I suppose you have all your shopping done?” I mutter, still shooting daggers at him and he keeps grinning back at me.

“Mais oui,” he grins, “I’m a great shopper. In fact, I’ll be happy to help you with your shopping mon ami. You hand over your plastic and I’ll…”

“Right, after seeing you wearing that sweater,” I chuckle, staring at the brightly striped monstrosity he’s wearing, expecting everyone to agree with me but no one says anything. I mean nothing at all. They all just stare at me like I’m the one wearing something outrageous.

“No offense Sidney but uh…I think Max is a little more…fashion forward than you,” Lauren sighs, making a face and then returning to her magazine. “Max and I will go shopping for you. Do you need something for Taylor and your mom too?”
_____________________________________________________________

(flashback)

“Where did you get that?” I ask, seeing a pile of bills stacked in the middle of the kitchen table where my mom is sitting, staring at it as if it might suddenly come to life, develop rows of teeth, and bite.

“You’ve been doing Sidney’s paper round,” my mother says, without looking up at me, her tired gaze still trained on the pile of crinkled bills in the middle of the table. I don’t answer. What would be the point? I know it and now obviously now so does she, so what would be the point of arguing about it? Except obviously that’s exactly what she wants and I know it as I stand there on the cool linoleum floor, staring at her sitting there with her coffee and her cigarette and her perfectly coiffed hair and her severe make up and her choker of pearls around her neck.

So I wait, standing there with my hands curled into fists at my side, until she turns her grey blue eyes on me and tilts her head to one side and gives me that ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ look that makes my skin just crawl.

“Don’t ask me to stop doing it, because I won’t,” I begin, clenching my teeth and trying to hold my head high. She raises her eyebrow and then lets out a long, low sigh before she turns her attention back to the pile of bills on the table.

“You gave this to Mrs. Crosby. You’re doing his paper round for him while he’s gone to do...whatever he does during the summer and you’re not even keeping the money.”

She doesn’t make it a question, but she does make sure that I can hear the revulsion in her voice before she turns her cold gaze back towards me. It makes me want to shrink, to find a hole to hide in, but then she knows that. That’s why she does it.

“It costs money to go to skate camp,” I explain, with the barest of shrugs. My voice sounds tiny, far off and nothing like the strong, bold voice I should use when fighting with my mother. I won’t win if I go all fucking mousy, but it’s hard when she’s giving me that look. The one that says ‘I can’t believe you’re my daughter’.

“It costs money to get your teeth straightened and it costs money for you to take those elocution lessons, and tap and....”

“I don’t want any of those mother!” I yell, stamping my foot and feeling like I’m five, but then she does have that effect on me. “I don’t want to go to tap and I don’t want to enter Miss Lobster Fest. You want that. I don’t want any of that. You make me. I don’t want to go to any of it!” I’m yelling and usually my mother would yell back, but not today. Today, she picks up her cigarette, takes a long drag off of it, turning the end of it a glowing cherry red and then she blows out a long thin stream of smoke towards the pile of bills before she turns her cold, unforgiving gaze on me and looks me up and then down, slowly before shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders.

“You think he’ll marry you someday don’t you, you silly little girl?” She draws it out as she says it and it begins to feel like I’m listening to her long, blood red nails being drawn down a chalk board. My innermost hopes, being spat out on the kitchen table like last night’s undercooked leftovers. It makes my stomach churn and my head go all fuzzy. “Do you think he’ll save you from this god forsaken little town? Is that it? Are we so bad that you’ll attach yourself to that pudgy little gap toothed boy next door and pray that he’ll take you away from here and you’ll never have to see us again. Is that it?”

Part of me wants to say yes, and laugh in her face. The other part of me is scared to death to admit that she might be right. After all, I’ve never thought of it like that or of him like that for that matter. I just know, in the way you do, that Sidney won’t get stuck in this little fishing town for the rest of his life and that I don’t want to be stuck here without him. I haven’t thought that much past that. Not at twelve.

“I’m not your dress up doll,” I mutter instead, because it’s easier to fight about my mother trying to dress me up and pass me off as some kind of miniature beauty queen than it is to fight about something and someone that makes it hard for me to even speak.

“Because he won’t you know,” she continues as if she hasn’t heard me, taking another long drag off of her cigarette. “Not if you don’t turn out to be pretty like Jana Britton with straight teeth and good posture and better manners. That’s the kind of girl that wins a boy like that,” she says, cruelly, pursing her lips as she stares at that pile of bills. “Do you see his mother?” she adds, wrinkling her nose. “She trapped him, you know. Sidney’s father. Got herself up the duff and stopped him from carrying out his promising career. That’s what will happen to you if you continue chasing after him like some kind of common slut,” she adds, turning her gaze disapprovingly on me. “You’ll end up like me, stuck in this god forsaken little town with a brat like you.”

_______________________________________________________________

(Present day)

“We’re here.” I dig my elbow into her ribs and turn to watch her blink up at me, her eyes still full of sleep.

“Already?” she mutters, closing her eyes for a long moment before yawning and stretching and sitting up to stare blankly at the house lit by the headlights on my SUV.

“You fell asleep on the way here,” I tell her, which seems sort of pointless but considering she fell asleep almost the moment she was buckled in and I’ve driven in total silence all the way here from the airport, it also seems fair.

“Sorry,” she mutters, covering another yawn with her hand. “You have no idea what this last week has been like. Sewing, fittings, sewing, hemming...,” her voice trails off as a satisfied little smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she turns to me. “It went really well in the end. I mean not perfect but I had a couple of pieces I’m really proud of and...I’m sorry, I’m boring you. You’ve got no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” she asks, again a question that seems sort of mute, except that it brings up the subject that I’ve been wanting to talk about the entire way here.

“I’m sure it was...fine,” I mutter, still unsure of how to say this. I’ve gone over it in my head, maybe a hundred times already but it never comes out quite right.

“You don’t have to do it you know. I mean, look at you, you’re exhausted. Isn’t there some course you can take here? I mean, if you really feel like you have to take anything, because you don’t you know. I mean, if you’re serious about this styling thing I could maybe talk to some of my contacts at RBK and maybe there’s a position they could find for you closer to here....” My voice trails away as that line appears between her eyebrows and her eyes narrow as her lips purse in that way that tells me I’m about to get it from both barrels. “I just mean, can’t we find some kind of compromise so that when we’re together you’re not so tired?” I suggest, thinking if I let her know I’m open to suggestions she won’t take it as me telling her what to do. I know how much she hates that.

“Styling thing?” she snorts, shaking her head at me. “I wish the Olympics didn’t fall in Spring Fashion week or maybe you could come to New York and see what I’m actually doing there,” she adds, sitting back against the door and eyeing me with this mixture of surprise and derision on her face. “Thank you, I guess, for the thing about RBK but...I’m not picking out t-shirts and wanting to put my name on them like you do Sidney. This is haute couture, ball gowns, wedding dresses, high end work wear...not sweats and tank tops,” she adds, wrinkling up her nose as she stares at me like I’ve just grown two heads and I guess I sort of feel like that as she continues to just stare at me like I’m some kind of idiot.

“I just thought...I’m not saying that what you’re doing isn’t...interesting or whatever. I’m just saying you’ve been really busy and I thought the whole idea was to spend some time together and you haven’t been around and....”

“So this is about you now? I mean, you’re admitting, this is about you not getting enough attention, is that it?” she asks, tilting her head to one side and regarding me with a kind of cruel edged amusement that reminds me of the way her mother used to talk to her. I guess the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“I don’t know why you want to do all that stuff anyway,” I snap, feeling defensive and a little angry at the way she’s taking this. I thought she’d jump at the chance to move closer to me, spend more time together. I wasn’t prepared for this reaction. “You always said you hated when your mom made you dress up and enter those pageant things.”

“I did. Fuck, of course I did. Miss Lobster fest,” she laughs and shakes her head and I guess we’re both imagining her wearing a red dress with a white sash on it and carrying lobsters around behind Jana with her tiara and sceptre. “I hated her dressing me up and all those people looking at me, but I found out that I actually liked the idea of dressing other people up and that I have this knack for knowing what looks good on people. They tell me I have a talent for this,” she adds, a sort of glow infusing her features as she tells me about something I had no idea she was actually passionate about. “If you want to compromise then get traded to the Rangers,” she continues with a bigger smile on her face so that I know she’s kidding, but the dark warning I see flash in her eyes says that maybe she’s not. “I have to be in New York. Around the models and the Meat Packers district and all the Fashion houses and the modelling agencies and the top boutiques in the world,” she explains and that light is back in her face and I suddenly feel like what I do might mean absolutely nothing in comparison.

“I didn’t know...,” is all I can come up with, feeling that awkwardness I feel around her too often, that sense that I don’t really know her at all.

“I know you don’t,” she smiles and reaches across the divide to brush my cheek with her fingertips before her hand slides back around my neck and pulls my lips down over hers’ in a long, slow, sweet kiss that leaves me aching for more. “People do this Sidney,” she adds, her lips still just barely brushing mine. “Like those two guys who play for the Sens...,’ she adds just before I cover her mouth with mine and kiss her harder. “And who knows,” she adds breathlessly as she grins up at me, that fire lighting her from within in a way that I do understand. “Maybe I can help you with your line for RBK, make it a little more...edgy.”

I nod, wishing that this solved all of our problems, except it doesn’t. In fact it probably just makes things worse.

“We don’t have to go in,” I offer, and not because I know she’s tired and could probably do with some sleep before she has to face the next obstacle but because I’m a coward. She opens her lips to say something witty, I can tell by the sparkle in her eyes, even here in the dark of the car, but then her lips press into a thin line and her eyes narrow and she searches my face and I can’t help but think that it seems like an unfair advantage, how well she actually knows me.

“You haven’t told him...Sidney Patrick Crosby...,” she shakes her head and leans back in her seat again, her fingers pressed to her temples and her eyes screwed shut as if she’s suddenly come down with a migraine, and I guess there couldn’t be a better description of what lies ahead of us. “If you’re ashamed of me...,” she begins but I shake my head because that’s not it.

Well, not exactly.

“There hasn’t been a good time,” I explain, which is the truth. I can’t think of when would be a good time to tell Troy about her or any other woman in my life, but particularly her. It’s not like he’s ever going to be happy about any kind of distraction in my life but he’s always been afraid of Mel becoming that distraction. So it’s a weak excuse at best and the tired, jaded look she gives me tells me she thinks so too. “And now with the Olympics...,” I shrug and she nods, knowing that even now that I have the Cup there is one more goal, one more brass ring that I have to get before my dad will admit that his son just might be a success.

“So you want me to go in there and what?” she sighs, looking even more haggard and exhausted than she did when I picked her up at the airport. “Lie? Hey Troy, just visiting, don’t worry about little ‘ol me?” she mumbles, sounding more hurt than she probably intends to and the resignation I see in her eyes tells me she’ll do it too, if I ask her too. Except that I won’t.

I’d hated the idea when Lauren and Max came up with it but now it seems like it might just save my life, I think to myself as I reach into my pocket for the small box I’ve been carrying around all day.

_______________________________________________________________

(flashback earlier in the day)

“It’s a Claddagh ring,” Max explained enthusiastically when I opened the box and stared at the contents.

“I know what it is. I am from Nova Scotia, and my middle name’s Patrick, hello,” I mutter, staring at the gold and green tourmaline ring nestled in the small box he’s holding towards me. “What I don’t know is why you’d think we’re ready for...for that.”

“It’s not an engagement ring,” Lauren pipes up and I turn my unhappy expression on her, but just like Max, she doesn’t shrink from it either. “It’s like...a promise ring. Love and friendship and loyalty forever,” she continues with this giddy grin on her face, like she’s the one getting the damn thing. “I think it’s totally sweet.”

“C’mon mon ami,” Max continues, glancing over and around me at Lauren like he doesn’t need or want her help in this but I can’t imagine he’s come up with this crazy fucking idea all on his own. “You keep telling me how it’s good she knows you and how at least you know she doesn’t want anything from you. Oui?”

“Yeah, but...a ring?” I keep staring at the two hands surrounding the green stone with the crown above it and I know Max can’t possibly know this but back home in the Harbour this kind of thing had heavy significance that I’m not ready for.

“Do you want her to get away?” Lauren asks from behind me and I have to admit, there’s something to that thought that sends chills down my spine.

_________________________________________________________

(Present time in the Lemieux home)

“I just saw your mother the other day Sobeys and she never said a thing about this,” Trina gushes as she holds my hand, exclaiming over the small gold ring on my right hand with the heart and crown facing inward towards my body and my heart. I can’t wipe the smile off of my face and I can’t help but notice the thunderous clouds in Troy’s eyes as he stands there like a mountain behind his wife. I’m grateful for the support I feel with Sidney’s hand on the small of my back.

“It’s just since I’ve been at school in New York,” I reply quietly, taking my hand back and reaching for Sidney’s as he slides his around my waist.

“We used to talk about this, your mother and I,” Trina continues, her hands now reaching up to capture my face as she grins happily at me. “Ever since you two were in diapers.”

“Mooommm,” Sidney groans and everyone laughs, everyone but Troy. I know there was a time, a long time ago, that he didn’t hate me quite so much, but it’s hard to remember that as he glares daggers at me. I can’t help but imagine that he’s trying to make my brain blow up in my head by staring at me, or at the very least, for a hole in the earth to open and swallow me whole.

“They’ve been taking things very slowly,” Nathalie offers, crossing the room with glasses of champagne in her hands and as she offers me one, she kisses my cheek, very lightly. “It’s good to know that he has someone who’s there for him without any other motive other than what you see,” she adds, making my heart swell gratefully in my chest.

“Th...thank you,” I mutter, stuttering as I force my voice past the sudden swell of emotion filling my chest and making it hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“Now we just need to get that gold medal and get Sidney settled down and then we can’t ask for more eh, Troy?” Mario adds, wrapping his arm around the big guy whose face transforms from a dark storm cloud immediately to something far lighter and more sociable as Super Mario claps him on the back.

“Right...couldn’t ask for more,” Troy replies agreeably but the look he gives me...is far less friendly.

Chapter 12

Sorry for the wait for this chapter but I was having a hard time getting where I wanted to go with it and I ended up re-writing it a few times so I apologize ahead of time. I didn't want Mel to sound too whiny in this and I'm not sure if I got it right or not.


The restaurant is empty, except for the staff who are either standing back by the bar or hovering nervously nearby, just in case Sid’s glass gets to half empty. This is what it means to date a superstar. You either do it in private or you pay for a kind of privacy. I thought a full restaurant would be more clandestine, that it would be easier to hide in the noise and the crowd but he simply explains that he knows best and I have to concede. After all, he is the one that’s been living this life.

I just know he wouldn’t have to do this back in the Harbour. Everyone back home respects him too much to bother him.

Of course I can’t remember the last time I ever saw him go out for dinner there….

“You don’t like the shrimp?” he asks, actually looking concerned for me. I shake my head and smile across at him.

“I was just thinking, at home…you wouldn’t do this would you? Could we just go out there, do you think?” The smile that meets my gaze then is a sad one, but not like he’s feeling sorry for himself, but more like he’s feeling sorry for me.

“Just wait, once this is out…you and I…you won’t be able to go to Timmy Ho’s for coffee anymore,” he replies calmly and factually, as if there’s no doubt about it. He reaches across the table and stabs one of my shrimp with his fork and chews on it while I stare at him, thinking about what that might be like. “Ask Natalie what it was like the first time the cameras were on her at a game and she went home to Montreal,” he adds, as if I don’t believe him and need further proof.

“But it won’t always be like that,” I decide, blocking his fork with mine as he reaches for another shrimp from my plate. “Some other player will come along and…not that you won’t be important but…”

“It’s still like that for Gretzky,” Sid replies, sitting back in his chair and regarding me like a disobedient child that hasn’t been listening. “He can’t go out. Not in Canada. Still. And he hasn’t played in what? Twenty years? It’s always going to be like this Mel. You’ll need to get used to it. I have.”

“The others don’t,” I reply petulantly. If he’s going to go back to treating me like a little kid again, I feel like acting like one. I feel like stamping my feet and saying ‘but I don’t want to’ and making him grab me and shake me instead of sitting across the table all cool and calm and controlled.

“You mean Max,” he sighs, taking the starched, white linen napkin and crumpling it up to put it on his plate, indicating to the wait staff that he’s done. He falls silent, staring across the table at me with this disgruntled look on his face that makes me feel like I should be squirming and staring at my plate or anywhere else but at him. But I won’t. If we’re going there, then I’ll answer for my malfeasances like an adult. So I cross my fork and knife on my own plate and wait silently, my hands twisting in my lap while the waitress silently takes our plates. I notice she doesn’t ask if we want any desert. They must know him here, or at least the Sidney that won’t allow himself so much as a single chocolate chip cookie anymore, although there was a time…. “Some of the guys like the attention,” he continues as soon as she’s out of range of overhearing the conversation. It’s fascinating how he seems to know just where that line is without so much as looking. “Max likes the attention. He’ll do almost anything to get to be the center of attention.”

“I thought you two were friends,” I point out quietly, making it a statement rather than a question as I watch Sidney slide his credit card into the waiting black leather bill fold without even looking at what the total comes to. When he looks up at me, it’s with that tired half smile of his that says volumes and nothing at the same time.

“He’s just very different from me,” Sid states quietly, falling silent again the moment the waitress reappears at his side to take his credit card away. She glances over at me, not for the first time, with that curious look on her face as if she’s trying to decide if I’m a friend or something less, but not more. She doesn’t give me that narrow eyed look of disapproval and she would, I know, because I’ve seen the furtive, hopeful smiles she gives to Sidney, hoping he’ll notice her. He won’t, of course. That’s not his modus operandi; at least not when he’s with someone that matters to him.

“Oh I don’t know about that.” I tilt my head to one side as I look at the boy I knew across the table and the man I hardly know at all. I know he probably shaved between practice and taking me out today but he still has a dark line on his upper lip now where, if he didn’t shave for a couple of days, there would be a fine, but dark moustache. I hate when he lets it grow during playoffs and he knows it. Of course I also know it grows in thicker now than it did the first time he let it grow. “You can be fun,” I say at long last, just as the waitress reappears. “Or at least you used to know how to be fun.”

Sidney takes the bill fold from her and I watch the way she makes sure to slide her long, slim fingers along his thick ones, her blood red nails serving as a stark contrast to his pale skin. If he notices the insistent, if unrequested touch, Sid doesn’t show it. Just signs the slip quickly, omitting his number that he’d include in an autograph and taking the top slip before handing the bill fold back to her. She affords him a wide, brilliant smile but he only nods and turns back to me. It’s only then that she gives me that dark, almost threatening look that says she doesn’t think I’m nearly good enough for him and then it’s my turn to give her my widest, happiest smile as Sidney comes around to my side of the table to pull out my chair and hold my jacket for me, draping it carefully over my shoulders. I hold her annoyed gaze as he presses his lips, very lightly, to my cheek.

“I can still be fun,” he promises in a whisper against my cheek, his hands still resting on my shoulders as the full solidity of his chest presses against my back. “Just not in public. Not where people will talk,” he adds, his hand trailing slowly but deliberately down my back, down the line of my spine until it comes to rest on the swell of my hip. “So let’s go.”

I try to make my smile triumphant as he guides me out of the restaurant but I can feel my lips twitch as my heart begins to hammer once again in my chest at the thought, no, the hope, that he might actually mean that.
_____________________________________________________________

(flashback)

“Truth or dare? What are we, twelve?” Matt laughs as he shakes his head and then adds a shake of his outstretched hand to add to the negativity of his thoughts on the idea before uncoiling himself from the floor and heading toward the main body of the party which is upstairs or out in the pool. Part of me wants to go with him but Jana Britton isn’t making a move to leave and if there’s any chance at all….

“So what’s it gonna be then Kelly? Truth or dare?” Jack asks, leering across the circle at where Mel is sitting with her knees drawn up to her chin. She stares back at him and I can see the wheels turning in her head. If she says truth, he’s going to ask her something stupid or possibly embarrassing or both but if she says dare….

“Dare,” she says calmly, unfolding herself until she’s kneeling and staring at him, like maybe if he says the wrong thing she might actually spring at him like a mountain lion and claw his face off and it would probably serve him right. Everyone knows that he tried to get Mel drunk at the school dance. What Jack didn’t know is that she’s been drinking from her mother’s gin bottle since kindergarten and probably has a higher tolerance than any adult we know.

“Okay then,” Jack grins, that Halloween jack-o’-lantern grin of his that he’s had ever since he lost one of his front teeth when he want over his handlebars into the back of a pick-up truck down Huntingdon Drive. Mel just keeps staring him down, her chin high, like she’s ready to do anything. Maybe I’m the only one who notices that she’s blinking like crazy, just like she does when she’s getting ready to be good and scared. “Kiss Sidney.”

The room falls silent and everyone turns to look at me. Well not everyone.

Mel’s still staring at Jack but now the look on her face is totally different. She’s looking at him like…like he’s the worst person in the world; like he’s just killed her rabbit Cody or something. She almost looks like she wants to cry.

“Go on,” Jack grins like the cat that’s got the mouse under its’ paw. “I double dare you.”

I want to tell her she doesn’t have to, and I actually turn to tell her so but the way she’s holding her head, high with her chin sticking out, which doesn’t really hide the fact that her bottom lip is trembling makes me keep my thoughts to myself. I’ve seen that look, too many times. It’s the same look she gets when her mom tells her that she can’t do something. No, not just can’t, but that she’s incapable of doing it.

“This is a stupid game,” I mutter, getting to my feet, intending to give Mel an escape but she grabs my hand and spins me back to her and plants one no me, fast and hard, before turning and wiping the back of her arm across her lips and running up the stairs and out of the basement.
__________________________________________________________________

(Present day)

We used to call it necking, back when we’d take a girl out behind the rink or, when we had drivers’ licenses and cars, out to the lake in the dark where we’d steam up the windows and spend hours just trying to get to second base. Right now I’d call it torture, her soft body pressed against mine in the dark, her arms wrapped around me, our mouths melded together.

As hard as I try to keep my hands still, or in her hair, they slip. As if they have minds of their own, they slip down to cup her ass or worse, slide down over her shoulders to brush over the soft mounds of her breasts. That’s when she sighs, or moans and my body reacts the only way it knows how and then I have to resort to thinking about pk formations and shot angles, anything to make my mind go blank instead of rushing ahead to seeing her naked.

Because that isn’t going to happen, I mean, not tonight and not for awhile.

I mean it can’t. Not while we still have so much to figure out and not until she understands what she stands to lose to be with me. Like tonight, I knew she thought it was weird to have a restaurant all to ourselves and that’s just dinner. What about when she finds out about sneaking into movie theatres after the show starts? Or that it’s got to the point where I have to have someone else do my Christmas shopping?

And I haven’t even had her introduced to the WAGs yet or told her that she’ll be expected to do charity work instead of a real job and that she’ll have to give up all this fashion nonsense.

“Sidney,” she breathes, placing the flat of her hand against my breast bone as we come up for air and I wonder if she can feel how hard my heart is beating beneath her fingertips. “Where were you just then?”

“What?” I smile at her, leaning in to taste her sweet lips again, part of me wondering why it took me so long to realize that kissing her could be so much fun.

“Just now, I could swear you were thinking about something else,” she says, her eyes searching mine as if she’s going to find any kind of answer there. I try to erase the doubts I feel and smile back at her but as she’s always been, she’s too damn quick for me and the next thing I know she’s scrambling back across the bed until her back hits the wall. “Do you actually think about hockey when you’re kissing me?” she asks, not exactly sounding hurt but more betrayed and a little outraged at the same time.

“Not exactly,” I begin but she only rolls her eyes and grabs one of my pillows and wraps her arms around it, using it like a shield.

“Sidney…arrrggh!” I have just enough time to block the pillow she throws at me with my forearm but try as I might, I can’t stop myself from laughing, even though I can see how pissed she is at me.

“I’m sorry Mel. I just…I think a lot,” I try to explain but another pillow sails towards my head and I manage just to duck out of the way of it but her aim is exceptional and I feel it just brush the top of my head.

“Well you know what I think? I think if you thought a little less about hockey and a little more about me we’d be making a little more progress, that’s what I think,” she mutters and there it is, a sight I haven’t seen for a long time, her full bottom lip trembling while her eyes spit fire.

“Melody Kelly you know that doesn’t work on me,” I grin, reaching for even while she tries to push me away and gathering her onto my lap. “And for your information, I do think about you, probably more than I should,” I admit, brushing her hair from where it’s stuck to her cheek. “So please don’t pout and ruin our time. I have to go on the road in the morning and I don’t want us to fight.”

“Stop. Treating. Me. Like. I’m. Some. Kind. Of. Kid!”

Instead of being placated, like I’d hoped, Mel shoves her way clear of my arms and scrambles off of the bed and stands there in front of me with her little hands balled into fists, like she’s going to fight me.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sigh, shaking my head at her and holding my hands out for her again. “Now you’re acting childish.”

“Don’t you dare patronize me Sidney Patrick Crosby. Just because you know I’ve been in love with you since I was five fucking years old does not mean you get to be a condescending asshole,” she snarls and then her hand swipes across my face with a slap, so hard, that it makes my head snap to the side. “And if it’s more fun to think about hockey than be with me I hope you have a good time whacking your hockey stick off you…you freak.”

She turns to leave and all I can think of is ‘I wonder how she thinks she’s going to get back to New York in the middle of the night’ when I know damn well I should be stopping her from leaving, especially as angry as she is. But it’s such a stupid misunderstanding that it makes it hard for me not to just laugh and let her go. But I know it’s not the right thing to do, not if we’re supposed to be building something here.

“Melody,” I call out, forcing myself to get onto my feet and take the few steps it takes to put my hand on the door and stop her from walking out. “Don’t go. Not like this. I wasn’t thinking about hockey, not like you think,” I add quickly as I manoeuvre to get in front of her, or at least between her and the door. “I was just thinking of all the things you don’t know that you’re going to have to put up with to be with me, about what it’s going to take for us to be together,” I explain, keeping one hand on the door, because she still has her hand on the doorknob, but reaching out to cradle her face in my hand. “Because you’re right when you say not all the guys have to live like hermits but I do Mel. That’s what my life is and if you’re going to be in my life, I’m sorry, but it’s not going to be easy for you.”

She stares straight ahead, but not at me, but I can tell she’s listening by the tension in her jaw. She remains silent for a long moment and then she turns the full force of her anger on me.

“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I haven’t thought about that? I said stop treating me like some kind of ignorant child and I mean it Sidney. I think you hide yourself away a lot more than you really need to but I know that you do what you think is right and fair by the other guys and, even if I don’t like it, you’ll do what you think is right for me. So don’t you dare stand there and play the fucking high and mighty all seeing all fucking knowing hockey god. Mister 'l’m twenty-two years old and an NHL player and I have the Cup so I know fucking everything'. You don’t even realize that the reason I’m here, that the reason that I’ll be here for you is because I do get it…I’m just not sure you’re going to get me.”

_________________________________________________________________________

It’s a challenge and as I look into his gold flecked hazel eyes I know he knows it too. Oh yeah, I get him. I understand him better than he thinks because I’ve seen him face challenges and I’ve seen him fail, probably more than anyone else. So I know what makes him tick and as I stare him down I can see him start to chew on the corner of his lip where his full bottom lip always looks a little swollen because of the build-up of scar tissue from his worrying at it. I also know what that means and it’s all I can do stop myself from grinning at him, bearing my teeth like a wild dog and growling my challenge.

“Melody Angeline Kelly,” he begins, his hand snapping up to cup my chin, hard. Hard enough that I’m wondering what the imprint of his fingers will look like in the morning. “This is not a game. I won’t let you play me like you played with Jack or Stew…,” he’s saying it but the look in his eyes is saying something else and I can’t help but grin as his mouth crashes down over mine and he presses me up against the solid wood door so that the width of his chest presses against mine and I can feel both of our hearts beating wildly together.

“You keep forgetting that I’m a woman and not a girl,” I hiss to him as his teeth graze the line of my jaw.

“I can hardly ignore that fact,” he growls back at me, his hand finally sliding down over the flimsy silk of my blouse to cup my breast and stay there.

“Then stop treating me like a little girl,” I whisper into his ear, my eyes fluttering closed as his thumb flicks at my nipple, raising an ache through me entire body. “I won’t break, I promise. And I’ve waited so long….” And that was the wrong thing to say, I realize, as his head snaps back from where he’s been nibbling at my collarbone and his eyes search mine in the half dark. I can see the question there and it makes me squirm. I don’t want to give him that power, to know that I’ve waited all this time for him to do this, to take my v-card, to make me his and his alone. But on the other hand, I don’t want to lie. “I just meant to be with you…I just want to be with you,” I manage to squeak out, telling myself it isn’t a lie and omitting the fact that he’d be the first to place his flag on me isn’t a bad thing, not yet.

“I know,” he smiles, becoming that gentle, sweet boy again, his hand lifting to cradle my cheek as he kisses the tip of my nose and then both of my eyelids in turn. “But we should wait, don’t you think? You do mean a lot to me Mel and I want us to really know each other before this gets any more…complicated.” I want to growl and snap at him, dig my teeth into his flesh and tear at it I’m so frustrated. I want him to be passionate about me like he is about hockey not…business like and economical. “Besides, you don’t want it to be like this, not here.”

“I don’t care where,” I mumble, feeling like stamping my feet, except apparently that isn’t getting me anywhere. “I just…I want to stay with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he sighs, winding my hair around his fingers. “We’re both too tempted to…rush things. You understand, don’t you? Why I don’t want to rush into this?” he asks, to which I can only shake my head, half afraid if I say much more I’ll start to cry and that’s the last thing I want to do now. “If we’re going to do this…if we’re going to be serious about this then I have to be sure Mel…”

“I’m sure,” I whisper, forcing my voice around the huge ball of emotion that I can’t quite swallow and he smiles affectionately at me before letting the back of his hand brush across my cheek.

“You think you are, but it’s not easy…my life…Mel you can’t know what it’s like. It can be so hard and I don’t want us to get…tangled into something we can’t get out of if you suddenly realize that it’s too much for you.” I grind my teeth together as I force myself to look into his eyes. I know he thinks he’s doing the right thing for me, being protective, but it feels too much like it used to when he was being the older brother, making all the decisions for me and I hate it. “Before you say it,” he smiles, kissing the corner of my mouth, “this is just as hard for me as it is for you.” I’m doubting it, sincerely, but I swallow my pride and nod, deciding that I’m not going to win this argument and I know that I’m not going to force the control freak into anything he isn’t willing and ready to do. “I knew you’d understand,” he adds, cupping my cheek and pressing his lips softly over mine.

“So…the guest suite…again?” I mumble, spitting the words out like they’re poison, which is exactly what they taste like to me.

“Mel…don’t be like this,” he sighs, and I can hear the tired pleading in his voice so I force myself to smile up at him.

“Forgive me if I’m a little impatient. I don’t mean to push,” I lie, trying to force the lie into my gaze, telling myself I can deal with my disappointment later. I really don’t want to make this any harder than it has to be on him. I know I can’t win that way. Not in the long run anyway. “Can I borrow something to sleep in?”

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers as he reaches down to squeeze my hand and I nod, although it doesn’t feel okay, not at all. I smile and nod and play the obedient girlfriend and bite down on the inside of my cheek as he roots through his laundry to find a clean pair of shorts and a t-shirt that’s worn enough he doesn’t mind losing it. Still, when he places them in my hands, I can’t help but feel a shiver run down my spine as his hands cover my own and I know when exactly what he’ll see when I look up into his eyes. “It isn’t because I don’t care,” he begins, but I shake my head and clench my teeth together, refusing to cry.

“Sometimes…sometimes I just wish you’d treat me a little less like…well, like me and little more like one of your pucks.” I know the minute I say it that it’s not coming out the right way, or at least he’s not going to take it the way I mean it.

“You don’t ever want to be treated like that,” he growls, his fingers digging into my shoulders. “Do you hear me?” I want to tell him that I do, that he has no idea how much I want him to but instead I just shrug my shoulders and sigh.

“I just meant…I’m not made out of glass. You don’t have to be so…careful with me.” I feel his hands loosen and then his hand cups my chin again, forcing me to meet his gaze and he smiles down at me but there’s something dark and dangerous in his eyes, something protective and angry too.

“Of course I’ll treat you like you’re fragile. I’ve missed you Mel. I’ve missed you calling me on my shit. I’ve missed you giving me hell when I play bad and when my head gets too big and…and I’ve missed things I had no idea I was even missing and I am not going to take a chance on losing that by jumping into bed with you,” he whispers, his voice harsh with an edge of both anger and need. “No matter how much you pout Mel. I’d rather not do this at all than lose you altogether.”

“You won’t lose me,” I sigh, feeling resigned to my fate and much more like the younger sister again than the girlfriend.

“You never were very patient,” he chuckles, that indulgent brotherly grin reappearing. I hate the sight of it. It makes me want to slap him, again.

“Yeah, well you never were one for taking chances,” I add, wanting the last word, even if it means being petulant and childish. “Good night Sid. I guess if I don’t see you in the morning, good luck.”

“I’ll see you before I go,” he sighs, shaking his head before pressing his lips softly to the top of my head. “Try not to worry so much. Everything will happen when it’s supposed to happen.” Nodding, I turn to head down the hall, because I swear if I look back, I’ll either cry or scream and neither of those is going to help the situation at all.
__________________________________________________________________

I push the door closed behind her and sink to the floor with my back to the solid weight of the wood, my eyes screwed tight, my jaw clenched, and my hands balled into fists.

I hate this. My head is everywhere. I want her. I want to do things to her that I shouldn’t even be thinking of and I want to wrap her up in bubble wrap and send her away from me until I get my head on straight. This is insane, this seeing her only once a week, if that. One day, a few hours, here, there. It isn’t enough and it’s too much.

I hate the way she looks at me, like she’s disappointed, like I’ve done something to hurt her. As if I would.

Of course I have. Not that I knew that I was but she blames me all the same. I can see it, in the way she looks at me, that hurt little girl looking out at me through her eyes, accusing me. I don’t know how to make it up to her, how to make it right, except to do what I’m doing, holding her at arms’ length.

It’s not like that’s what I want. It’s not like I want her to be down the hall, in another bed. It’s not like I’m not going to lie here awake, thinking about what could have been. Fuck, I’m human aren’t I?

Not that she think so.

Not one for taking chances…no, she has that right. Not that my dad would ever let me. Don’t take a chance on getting hurt by playing in the prospects tournament, he said. Yeah, I’ve never heard the end of that one. Don’t take a chance on getting some girl pregnant and have her take all your money and by that he didn’t just mean put a condom on, he meant don’t do it at all.

Which is why I was shipped off to Shattuck's. Not that Mel knows that. Hell I didn’t even know it at the time. Troy took one look at Mel washing her dad’s car out in the driveway in her very first bikini and caught me looking and the next thing I knew, I was on a one way ticket out of town. For my own good.

As if Mel had even been aware of how she looked at the time. Hell I hadn’t really understood.

No, that’s a god damn lie. I may not have really understood my feelings then or maybe, just like now, I was only in denial but I did ache for her. I missed her then with a bone deep ache that took time and space to ease and only after I told myself, just like I’m doing now, that I can’t take the chance on losing my head over her.
If only she knew, if she had any idea at all, how easily she could be...is my undoing. If she knew....

Fuck! I hate this.

But I have to do this. If only to show my father...even just to show myself that this is for the right reasons and not just for reasons that have to do with hormones and lack of self control. I will do this. I will .
_______________________________________________________________________

Its wishful thinking, I know, when I see a shadow fall across the pool in front of me. I look up and behind me hoping that it will be Sidney, knowing that it won’t but am surprised to find Max sneaking around the deck with his shoes in his hand.

“Are you kidding me?” I reach into the water and send a handful of water his way, causing him to curse under his breath in French. “You told me you were breaking it off with her.”

“I was…I am,” he grumbles as he slides down onto the smooth concrete beside me. “Tabernak, it’s not so easy…she’s a nice girl. I don’t want to hurt her and besides,” he sighs, dropping his feet into the warm water and making lazy circles, “it’s easier to be with her than some of those…other girls.”

“Other girls?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

“You know the ones, those girls that wait outside the arena, or the ones we meet at the bar. Even if they seem nice…you don’t know what they’re after. Or you do…I mean I do…and it’s not my sparkling personality,” he grins over at me but it’s a smile that doesn’t go all the way up to his eyes. “Sid’s lucky to have you. At least with you he knows where he is,” he adds, and then goes back to staring into the water, lit from below, turning our feet bright white.

“Does he?” I sigh, leaning back on my hands and staring up at the sky. “I don’t think he thinks he’s lucky…or if he does, why am I out here and he’s in there?” I don’t need to glance over at him to feel Max’s eyes on me and then I feel his foot hit against mine.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asks, and I shrug.

“I love him Max,” I sigh, tracking a satellite as it makes its way slowly across the sky, “but he puts me on this pedestal and treats me like…like I’m some kind of porcelain ornament to be looked at but not touched and…well you know,” I glance over at him, feeling bashful, feeling heat rising into my face as I think about it. “I’ve been thinking about it so long…wanting him so long, that this waiting…it’s making me a little crazy…and maybe a little angry at him too.”

“Don’t be too hard on him mon chère,” Max replies after a long silence, his little finger reaching over to pull on mine until I look over at him. “For you it’s easy, you’ve known what you want for a long time. But for him…,” he shrugs one shoulder and then lets my finger go and turns his attention back to the water. “For him it’s either going to work or not at all and I can understand why he would want to avoid making that mistake.”

“You men!” I groan, pulling my feet out of the water until I can pull my knees up to my chin. “Why is everything so god damn black and white with you?”

“Because we’re men mon chère,” Max grins at me, reaching over to take my hand and kiss the back of it before looking up and meeting my eyes with a mischievous grin. “If it’s that bad, you could come to my house for the rest of the night,” he adds, with a surprising lack of the usual Max lechery in his voice and expression.

“As tempting as that sounds,” I sigh, playfully kicking a spray of water in his direction, “I don’t think it would be a good idea to slink off in the middle of the night after behaving like such a brat...no matter how much he frustrates me,” I add, tilting my head back in the direction of the house.

“No, you’re probably right, but perhaps next time it would be wise to have...other accommodations ready, non?” he offers, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his shoes once again. “Are you...okay?” he asks, after a moment’s thought and I can’t help but think how many women must miss the truly sweet side beneath all of Max’s renegade exterior.

“Oui, je pense que je serai bien, merci,” I smile up at my friend, knowing that he actually cares. I only wish someone else cared that I was still up, still awake and feeling lonely.

“You have my digits, if not, oui?” he asks, and I nod. “Good night mon chère, jusqu’au lendemain.”

“Bon soir mon ami,” I call after him, watching him walk into the dark, wishing I felt the pull of my bed...and not someone else’s.
__________________________________________________________

For a moment I just watch her sleep, lying on her side sort of curled around one of the pillows, with the comforter pulled up to her chin. She looks content and restful and it seems like a shame to wake her, but I did promise.

Lowering myself onto the bed, I try not to think about how wrinkled my suit will look when I get back up and concentrate instead on how warm and inviting she is, how relaxed her body feels as I tuck myself up against her. I do my best not to think about the way she fits so snugly against me or how the curve of her hip feels under my hand. Thoughts like that have already kept me up half the night.

“Sidney,” she mumbles my name in that way that says she’s really still asleep, even as she pushes herself back into my arms until her back is pressed against my chest and my lips are pressed to the curve of her shoulder. She makes a little sound, in the back of her throat that sounds...if not happy, then at least satisfied and I wish I felt the same. I wish this was enough, to hold her, to breathe in the clean, warm scent of her skin, and to know that she’s mine. I wish it was enough. It would be so much easier if it was.

“I’m going now,” I whisper and this time the sound she makes is an unhappy one, a complaint in the form of a low whimper that’s matched with her warm, relaxed body going rigid in my arms. “I know, but you knew...,” my voice drops away as she scrunches up her cute little nose and shakes her head, or makes a movement approximating that considering most of her face is pressed into the pillow.

“I know...I know you have to play,” she says sleepily, stifling a yawn before stretching and rolling over until she’s facing me, but with her cheek pressed to my chest. “I just wish we hadn’t gone to bed...mad.”

“Oh I’m not mad,” I sigh, running my fingers through her silky hair before dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. “What did I say? I missed you calling me on my shit. So I’m sorry if you went to bed mad at me. But I’ll make it up to you when we get back, I promise.”

“Yeah?” she blinks and rubs at her eyes as she turns those orbs up to meet my gaze. “Whatcha gonna do Crosby?”

“I don’t know yet,” I reply honestly, because if I think about it, especially now, even with a sheet separating us, I can feel her soft curves, the valley of her waist, the slope of her hip and the now that the sheet has tugged tightly across her chest, it’s all too clear that my t-shirt has ended up somewhere other than on her. “But believe me Mel, I’m not...blind and I’m no matter what you might think, I’m not unsympathetic to your...to what you might be feeling.” In fact it’s becoming all too apparent just what I’m feeling as she snuggles closer to me, using my tie to pull my lips down over hers’. In fact, as her lips open beneath mine and her tongue snakes out to curl around hers’, my mind begins to go blank, a sort of haze falling over my thoughts, and I know exactly how easy it would be for me to forget that Fleur is probably already waiting in the driveway to take me to the airport. “I have to go,” I mutter, pulling back from her enough so that our lips are barely touching and I prepare myself for the complaints I’m sure will follow, but they don’t. Instead, she smiles up at me and brushes her lips against mine again.

“So go,” she smiles and then yawns before going back to a dreamy, happy sort of smile. “Sooner you go, sooner you come home.”

“That’s my girl,” I sigh in relief, cupping her cheek in my hand before happily pressing my lips over her eyelids one more time. “Lauren will take you to the airport. See you Saturday?”

“If you’re good. Score lots,” she mumbles, quickly falling asleep again.

“I will. I promise. And Mel?” I look down at her, wondering if she’s already fallen asleep but her full lips curl up into a mischievous smile.

“Mmmhmmm?”
“Thank you...for being here. For being her for me,” I add, wanting to say more but knowing I’m not ready to say it. Not yet. Not out loud.

“Go,” she mumbles, stifling another yawn behind her hand. “I can hear Flower’s Lambo.” Nodding and smiling to myself, I turn to go, heading down the hall feeling a hundred percent better than I had when I’d got up to shower this morning. At least she seems like she understands. That’s something, a step in the right direction anyway. The last thing I want to do is make her unhappy.

“Mon ami, you look well rested. Ce n’est pas ce que je me suis attendu àce matin,” Flower calls as I grab my bag from the doorway and swing it over my shoulder.

“How many times?” I sigh, shaking my head as I descend the front steps to where his Lamborghini is idling in the drive. “We’re waiting until it’s right.”

“Well don’t let the others find out about that,” Fleur sighs, shaking his head. “Mon Dieu, peux-tu imaginer ce que Max dirait?”

“No, you’re right, I don’t want Max’s fucking opinion,” I laugh, stuffing my bag behind the seat and sliding into the warm leather. “No more talk of girls. Let’s talk about medals,” I grin as he slides behind the wheel.

“Médaille d’or you mean,” he grins back at me as he puts his foot on the gas and my mild mannered friend burns rubber out of Mario’s driveway.