Thursday, August 12, 2010
Saturday, August 15, 2009
I keep my head ducked low as he tugs me out of the bar. Oddly, I feel like a five year old about to get scolded. All of his movements are intense and rigid, almost as if he might explode at any second. We finally get outside, and I already feel a lot safer. At least until I turn to face him as he paces the ground frantically. I pull my coat tighter around me before tying it closed and then pull my arms back behind my back, my head bowing uncontrollably as I bite my bottom lip as he continues to fume. What he's so mad about I have no idea, but I feel as if it's my fault anyways.
"Are you okay?" I ask quietly, just loud enough to grab his attention. He stops pacing and looks at me, almost as if he needs a few more seconds to compose himself before answering. He takes a deep breath and then nods his head once.
"Do you live close by, or do we need to get a cab," he asks in a strained voice, almost sounding as if he's still struggling to remain calm.
"I'm not far," I answer while pointing behind me, indicating the direction I live in. "Thanks for earlier, but I can manage from here," I continue before giving him a small smile and turning around to leave. He reaches out and grabs my arm, catching me by surprise.
"I'm not letting you walk by yourself." I open my mouth to object, be he raises his arm, cutting me off. "Humor me, if you will," he says with a small smile before sticking his arm out like an old fashioned gentleman. I roll my eyes before sticking my arm through his as we both start to walk. We fall into silence as our steps fall into pattern as we walk the short distance to the apartment I share with Shelby. I think about asking why he was so irritated earlier, but I bite my tongue every time I about have the courage to say something. Finally, I can't take it anymore and I speak up.
"Why are you mad at me?" I almost whisper as I divert my eyes to the ground, thinking counting the cracks in the sidewalk would be way better than watching the intensity appear in his eyes again. He stops walking, so I finally look up at him only to find a surprised expression on his face instead of the one I had been anticipating.
"I'm not mad at you," he replies. I give him a look as if to say 'Really..?' so he continues. "It just.. irritates me when guys think they can do whatever the hell they want, especially after they've been told to stop." I look into his eyes, wanting nothing more to call bullshit on him, but all I find is sincerity, so I turn and continue walking, him following me step for step.
"This is me," I say quietly when we reach the door to our apartment complex. He nods his head, and then continues to follow me inside. I think about telling him he's not coming with me, but I keep my mouth shut once again as we head to the elevator. Once inside we stand on opposite sides, starring at each other, almost daring the other to look away first, calling the other out or prodding to the other to blink. It's not until the elevator dings that we stop looking at each other. I make the first move and step out, him following after me quickly. As we approach the door to our apartment, I finally come to a realization.
"My key is in my purse," I say matter of factly while looking straight at Patrick.
"Okay," he says while a confused look crosses his face as he kind of shrugs his shoulders. I shake my head before rolling my eyes at him and raise my arms, signaling that I have no purse with me. His eyes light up as if the light bulb went off in his mind, and I find myself rolling my eyes at him again. I shove my hands in my pockets, hoping that the key will magically appear, but all I pull out is twenty cents that I throw down on the ground in frustration. I try shaking the handle on the door, hoping that just maybe it will open under the powers of my mind, but when it doesn't I bang my head lightly on the door. "Why don't you just call Shelby?" he finally asks with a small chuckle after watching me.
"I'll give you that one, I didn't think of that," I mumble before reaching for my phone. I dial her number, but it goes straight to her voice mail.
"Want me to try Jon?" he asks while sitting down on the ground next to the door, leaning back against the wall. He pats the ground next to him, and I give in, knowing it could be a long night as I shake my head yes. He whips out his phone, but after he closes it quickly I can only infer it's because of the same reason. We sit in silence for I don't know how long before he finally speaks up. "You could come back to my place," he offers.
"No thank you, I'm not that drunk," I mutter, causing him to laugh at me. We sit a while longer before he speaks up again.
Watching him place his hands all over her, it took ever ounce of control I had not to wipe that smirk off his face. Even after I had gotten her outside, I still had to take a few seconds to calm down. And okay, so she might have turned me down, but she hasn't asked me to leave yet, so I'm not giving up hope yet.
"Did you have fun at the game?" I ask, trying to break the ice a little. I see her eyes light up, and I know automatically what her answer is going to be before she gives her head a little nod, a smile lighting up her face.
"Those seats were amazing," she gushes before laughing a little bit. Okay, so as much as she wants to deny it, she's a little drunk.
"Never sit that close before?" I continue, loving how her head is now resting on my shoulder as we continue to sit in the hallway. One of her neighbors walks down the hallway, glancing at us before disappearing into his apartment.
"Are you kidding me? I don't have two dimes to rub together, much less money to throw away on seats like that," she continues, but I can tell by the tone of her voice that she's becoming more tired as we sit here, so I cut the conversation off there. Within a matter of minutes, I can hear that her breathing has become even and after glancing down at her, I confirm that she is in fact asleep before lightly leaning my head on hers and relishing this moment; she's actually not fighting me right now.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
"Where did those come from." I ask with an even tone while looking at the passes in Shelby's hands. The form of the sentence is a question, but I say it much more like a statement.
"Pat gave them to us to use along with the tickets. Come on, we gotta beat he crowd!" she says enthusiastically while trying to walk past me to get to the stairs, but I stay where I am, not moving an inch for her to get past me. She looks up at me, and it's then that she realizes I'm starring daggers at her. "Pey, seriously. This is my chance to meet Toews, are you going to ruin that for me?"
"I'm sure you're bff Pat can arrange for you to meet him some other time," I retort, cocking my head to the side just a little bit to let her know how irritated I am with her.
"Don't be so dramatic," she replies while rolling her eyes at me. "And besides, you and Pat are friends too, maybe even more." I narrow my eyes at her in response, but that just makes her smile more before she continues. "Don't think I didn't see the way you were undressing him with your eyes during the game. He seemed to be enjoying the view too." Without listening to her anymore, I rip my pass out of her hands and look down at the ice one last time to see the shit eating grin that makes me pissed as hell before stomping in the direction of the stairs, Shelby smiling as well behind me because she got her way; once again.
After finally finding our way down toward the locker room, we showed our passes and got in easily. We both stand timidly by the door; at least until Shelby spots her prey. She throws a wink over her shoulder in my direction as she walks over in Jon's direction, leaving me shaking my head and all by myself. I look around the room, looking for no one in particular, but being very surprised when I don't find a certain someone lingering around the room. I make my way in the direction away from the door, knowing I'm probably in the way standing there. I walk past Shelby, but she's too busy to even notice me; all her attention is on Jon, and his likewise. I head toward a chair on the far side of the room, sitting down in it even though I figure it's probably for media personnel of some kind.
"Burish?" I hear a name ask, a chuckle following afterwards. I turn to my left and see Patrick standing there, freshly showered as he gestures to my jersey. He walks past me and to the stall right by me. It's then that I see the words P. Kane above the stall, and I silently curse myself for not noticing that earlier.
"Tough guys need love too," I say with a shrug, trying to keep my answers simple. He laughs that boyish laugh of his in return, and as he raises his arms to pull a shirt over his head, I sneak a glance at his bare upper body and am quite shocked that it's much more muscular than I was anticipating. He catches me starring, and I think I'm surely going to die of humiliation. "Enjoying yourself?" he asks with a smug smile.
"If you're referring to the game, then yes. Now?" I ask, standing up, wishing I was taller than 5'2. "Not so much." I'm sizing him up when Shelby walks over to us. She looks at the way we are glaring at each other, and then shakes her head.
"Come on, we're going home to change and then going out," she says before tugging on my arm, not giving me a chance to respond. I glance back over my shoulder just in time to see Patrick shake his head while a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
I follow silently as Shelby continues to pull me in Jon's direction, who is obviously waiting on us. I remain silent as we take a back way out of the arena, head toward the player's parking lot and then to a car that I can only assume is his. All three of us climb in, and I sit silently as he drives to our apartment. Only after we get out of the car and are on our way inside so I speak up.
"I'm not going," I say quietly as the elevator door closes behind us.
"Yes, you are," Shelby replies defiantly, but in an even tone.
"You can. I'll be fine, really. I'm just going to call it a night, maybe take a hot bath or something," I say with a shrug before stepping out of the elevator and walking into our apartment without another word. I head into my bedroom, dropping my stuff on my bed and walking over to my dresser to take my jewelry off. As I'm doing that, I know she's standing in my doorway, so I turn my head slightly but keep it pointed toward the floor, acknowledging she's there, but doing nothing more.
"I know Bryan hurt you," she says quietly while leaning on the door frame. "But you have to stop doing this to yourself sometime," she adds before turning around and leaving, going to get dressed to go out with Jon, no doubt.
Sighing to myself, I walk into my bathroom to wash my face before crawling into bed, but it's then that I catch a glimpse of my reflection. The bags under my eyes and dark circles are hidden with the proper application of make up, but I know they are there. It's been a while since everything happened, but I hardly sleep nonetheless. I know for a fact there isn't a single night that I've slept soundly. I pop my head out of the bathroom just in time to see Shelby walking by my room slowly, trying not to look at me but I know she is out of the corner of her eye.
"Give me 5 minutes," I mumble before heading toward my closet. She gets excited and follows me, helping me pick out my outfit.
After we arrive at the club, I follow silently as Jon makes his way toward the rest of his teammates, trying to hide behind Shelby. Introductions are preformed, but I still feel oddly strange around all of these guys. I sit at an empty table in the general area of the guys, and I can't help but notice Patrick staring at me from a table across from mine. Under age or not, he sits there and knocks a shot back, and I know that nobody in here has a problem with it. A waiter comes by, and I grab a drink, and then another, and then one more and sit them on my table as I see Patrick approach me. It could be a long night..
"Drowning your sorrows?" He asks while sitting down across from me.
"I could ask the same for you," I reply while gesturing to the drink in his hand. "Except I don't quite see what sorrows you have to drown. You won, played well," I say while shrugging my shoulders. "I'm not seeing the problem."
"I would explain, but we'd be here for a while," he says with a chuckle. No sooner than that has escaped his mouth, it's as if girls swarm the table, coming out of no where. I sit there for a little while, very uncomfortable before I can't take it any longer.
"Excuse me," I mumble softly before making my way through the pack of them. I look for Shelby, but find her and Jon getting along great so I know I can't crash their private party. My eyes continue to scan the room until they fall on the dance floor. With a sigh, I head in that direction, hoping dancing can at least take my mind off things.
I walk down the stairs and into the middle of the dance floor where I dance by myself, getting lost in the music. Well, okay that's not completely true. I almost get lost in the music, but I can't help but notice how Patrick is still staring at me, and oddly enough, I don't find it irritating. Maybe that's the alcohol talking, but I find myself shaking my ass almost as if to taunt him.
Just as I'm about to whip my head back in his direction, a very attractive guy approaches me and starts dancing. A smile crosses his face when he finds me dancing back, and then I smile in return.
I've been dancing with my mystery man for some time now when things get a little bit out of hand as I feel his grip tighten on me.
"Don't do that," I say politely as I bat his hand off of my behind. He smiles a drunken smile at me before stepping closer once again toying with the edge of my shirt. I push him away, but he doesn't seem to take the hint as he slams our hims together, his hand exploring up under my shirt and resting on the side of my stomach.
"I said don't do that," I yell at him before trying to push him away once again, but failing as he once again pulls me toward him. I know my eyes are getting wide as I start to look for an escape route, but coming up with nothing since I'm still in a state of shock. I feel a pair of hands clasp onto both sides of my arms, tugging me away from a now very irritated man standing in front of me.
"I think the lady made is clear she doesn't want you to do that," he almost barks while standing in between me and the mystery man. The guy opens his mouth to object, but just shuts his mouth and continues to stare at us both. "Come on, I'll take you home," he says in a nicer tone after turning toward me.
I had never been so glad to see Patrick Kane in my life.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
After having to get out of our cab about 4 blocks away because of the traffic jam, we finally are closing in on the arena now. I was still a little skeptical about even coming to the game. We never missed a Penguins game we had tickets when we were back in Pittsburgh, and I knew that tonight definitely couldn't be an exception to that pattern, even though we were both sporting Blackhawks gear now and in Chicago. As we come up upon the players parking lot, I can't shake the feeling that I'm forgetting something.
"Mhmm, look who it is," Shelby says while nodding her head toward the parking lot we had just passed. I turn around, only to see none other than the one person I was trying to avoid tonight. He smiles that cocky little crooked smile of his, and waves before heading off toward the players entrance. I roll my eyes, turning my attention back to power walking to pick up our tickets, which makes Shelby laugh at me. "Oh come on, he's kinda cute," she continues while once again looking back at his lingering form.
"Cute my ass," I mumble sarcastically, which once again just makes her laugh. Somewhere in the time frame from after I met up with Shelby, I finally caught back up to reality. I don't know why I had such a difficult time trying to pick out something to wear, I have no one to impress.
We get our tickets and head inside to see where they are, which takes a long time due to all the people meandering around aimlessly inside the arena, waiting for something interesting to happen I'm sure. I look around at all the bubbly girls running around in Toews and Kane jerseys, accessorized with short skirts or skin tight jeans, and I can't help but think that even though we are probably around the same age, we are no where near anything alike. I look at their freshly curled hair and made up faces and feel slightly tacky standing here in my oversized jersey with my hair pulled halfway in a pony tail, the closest thing I can get to the real thing with how short it is now. Finally, I glance over at Shelby, who is dressed the exact same way as all the other girls around me.
"What?" she asks while we sit down in our seats.
"Nothing," I reply with a shrug of my shoulders. "I was just wondering when jerseys got traded in for tight fitting t-shirts," I add while waving my hand in the direction of her attire. Her eyes follow my movements, but a smile crosses her face, the type of smile that normally means shes up to no good.
"When getting these guys' attention became so much of a competition," she says with a laugh before looking at all the girls sitting in the stands, starring intently at the door the players should emerge from soon. As if on cue, the guys start filing out of the hallway and make their way to the ice. We sit in silence as we watch them start warm ups. "These are great seats," she continues, her flirty face automatically appearing when she sees Jon skate by. He looks up at her, nods his head with his little half smirk on his face before skating off.
"Mhmm," I agree. "Close enough to smell the sweat." She nods her head in agreement, and as I'm sitting there, I'm almost amazed at how I can't keep my eyes off of the undersized number 88 as he glides across the ice effortlessly. I follow him until he makes his way over to the bench, grabbing a gatorade bottle and squirting the yellow liquid into his mouth as his eyes meet with mine. He swallows, but not before a little runs down his chin, and I'm suddenly wishing I was close enough to wipe it off for him, but he reaches up and does it himself after taking a glove off, that little smirk that I love and hate crossing his face at the same time. His eyes bore into mine, making the butterflies in my stomach more frantic before he nods his head slightly, just as Jon had done, and skates away. When he's finally across the ice, I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding and my senses come back to me. What the hell was that..?
As I'm skating around during warm ups, I can't help but watch her. I normally always look into the crowd, but just for kicks and giggles. Tonight I find myself glancing around looking for a particular pair of eyes. It's amusing how many girls, and that's what they are.. girls, bat their eye lashes at me or whisper to their friend when I glance their way. Or, and this one is my favorite, their eyes go wide and their jaw drops, and after I pass they jump up and down. Classic...
But not Peydon..
Even as we were taking the ice for the first time, she sat in her seat even while everyone else stood up to cheer us on. Instead of acting like we're the best thing that has happened to this town, she sits there with a satisfied look on her face, almost as if she's just taking this all in. Even when I scored on a break away, so still had the same little content look on her face, almost as if saying 'That doesn't impress me.. try harder.'
I continue to watch her throughout the game the same way that she is watching me. Anytime I catch her though, she gets the deer in the headlights look in her eyes and her cheeks blush the cutest shade of pink before she adverts her gaze somewhere else and I can't help but smirk before looking away as well.
After the final buzzer sounds signaling the game is over, I glance up at her one more time, only to find Shelby handing her the pass that will get her into the locker room. I watch as she shakes her head adamantly, obviously telling her friend no, but then she looks down at me and the coldness to her look now makes a shiver run down my spine. She rolls her eyes before ripping the pass from Shelby's hands and starts marching for the stairs. I can only shake my head at her. This one.. now she's feisty.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
I sit with the guys at the coffee shop, watching the two of them leave. I had watched them as they discussed the whole game issue, and judging by their body language, I think they are coming tonight, which is good for me.
The rest of the time with the guys, I chime in every now and then to the conversation, but my mind is still on Peydon.
I must have been day dreaming longer than I thought because everybody is now getting up to leave. I follow their lead, laughing at some of their stupidity as we walk through the door, only to be caught off guard by Shelby, who walks right through the pack of guys in front of me, not letting them intimidate her at all as she walks right up to me.
"We need to talk," she says while shoving me backwards a little bit. I look at the rest of the guys and they all have the same 'Oh shit..' look on their faces, but they all continue to stand there. She gives them an icy glare and then they all realize that she meant alone, and they all start moving at once in different directions, breaking up the pack just like that and leaving me to face her alone. I see Johnny give her a lingering stare, a smirk spreading on his face in approval before he follows everybody else. How hockey players can be afraid of someone as little as her I'll never know. At least I never thought I would, except until she turns her stare on me, then I find out real quickly.
Shelby walks back in the coffee shop, so I follow suit and head back inside too, finding her sitting at a table, her arms crossed, dead serious.
"I'm not going to beat around the bush here," she starts while shaking her head. "If you like Peydon at all, you'll leave her be."
"I don't see it that way," I argue, bracing myself for another icy glare, completely surprised when I don't see one.
"Patrick," she says while shaking her head once again. I'm slightly worried about her using my full name once again.. that didn't end well last time. "Peydon, she's been through a lot, don't you understand that? She doesn't need to be one of your games or a whole hockey teams for that matter."
"I'm not playing games," I say calmly while shrugging my shoulders. "And besides, it's just one hockey game. And, contrary to what you want to believe, not all hockey players are man whores."
"I never said you were. I suppose you aren't going to listen to my warning are you," she sighs, obviously frustrated. I just shake my head, knowing that I probably should, but I can't help but feel drawn to Peydon, and one crazy friend isn't going to change that. "Okay, well then will you at least listen to some advice?"
"You want to give me advice?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her, completely shocked she's even offering.
"Proceed with caution. She just got out of a very rocky relationship, you saw the side effects not too long ago, and because of that she doesn't trust anybody easily," she starts while standing up and placing her hand on my shoulder. "I promise you, if you get demanding of her or move too quickly she will put up all defenses and run in the opposite direction," she finishes before walking away from me and through the door, leaving me still completely in shock that she just game me advice.
I stand in my closet, looking over the loads of clothes I have, not being able to choose what I want to wear. I know it's stupid.. I've been to tons of hockey games before. Okay, that's not exactly true. Not tons, but at last a handful or two, and I've always worn my jersey. Starring at it now, I can't decide if I should go for the average fan look, as if I could car less what I'm wearing and only worried about hockey, or if I should try the 'What... this old thing?' approach and wear something a little sexier, but not looking like it took me 4 hours to get ready instead. I really don't know why I'm even worrying about this so much. I've been to hockey games before, it's not that big of a deal. Except this time, it feels like it is..
I've never been specifically invited to a game before now. Especially by one of the players, and a cute one at that, even if it is in a childish sort of boyish way.
Sighing, I grab my jersey off of the hanger it was on and tug it over my head, deciding that it's what I've always worn, so why change it now. Plus, I haven't focused on just myself in the longest time, so I'm going to do this and other things like I use to do them before.. before Bryan. Now that I'm not as broken as before, albeit still broken somewhat, that's one of the things I'm promising to myself. From now on, I'm doing things for me, I'm doing things simply because I want to, and it will be enough and it will be a perfectly plausible reason. I'm not living for somebody else, and I'm definitely not going to try to measure up to any ones standards ever again. No, not anymore. That is just trapping yourself into a life nobody should ever have to live. And plus, I've been there before and I definitely don't want to go back to living like that, always afraid to voice my opinion, to make a mistake, of being in constant fear. No, I will never be ruled or dominated ever again.
Not all times were like that with Bryan though. In the beginning, we had our fair share of laughs and good times, its just that now, looking back on the whole situation from the outside I can see now that he was tricking and playing me all along because he needed to have someone he could boss around, so the only memories branded into my every thought now are the ones that kept me in constant fear of him, the ones that possibly hurt me beyond repair, the ones that still have me afraid today. A shiver goes through my body at the mere thought of some of those memories, of how I felt so inferior to him all the time, right up to the moment I packed my stuff and left, but even that got ugly.
All of these thoughts lead me back to one thing though.. the blond haired, blue eyed, overly confident hockey player that found me no more than two weeks after the worst of everything blew up. I can't shake the feeling that he was worried about me, or maybe he even pities me or feels sorry for me and that's why he's doing this. That's the idea I want and need.. I'm hoping, no praying he leaves me be. One person can only go through so much heart break and devastation, and I've had enough for a lifetime.
Finally deciding what to wear, I head into the bathroom to fix my hair and make up, a task that takes me about 10 minutes tops for both combined on a normal day, but even that is a difficult task for me today.
After finally being completely ready, I head off to meet Shelby down on the same corner we always meet. She moved out here to Chicago with me because she said she needed a new adventure, but truth be told, I know that she just wanted to look after me. She's always been so giving like that. I know that she had it great in Pittsburgh, the perfect business, the perfect house, the perfect boyfriend, and she gave all of that up and opted to start over with me. I don't think I'll ever be able to thank her enough, I definitely needed someone to keep an eye on me. Not even I could fool myself, I knew I wasn't in the best state mentally, but I still had to get out of that town, everything reminded me of him and what had happened.
"Come on girlfriend," Shelby greets me as she hands me over a cup of my favorite kind of coffee.
"What's this for?" I ask, taking it from her hands gratefully, taking a whiff of it like I normally do before taking the first sip, loving how its just the right temperature as it slides down my throat.
"It could be a long night," she says with a devilish grin that can only tell me she is up to no good.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I see him walk through the door and recognize him immediately. I see him look over at his fellow teammates before walking up toward me and the counter. The first thought that runs through my mind is 'please don't let him recognize me'. I'm still bitter about all of the stuff that I've been through and still scared as hell, but I've jumped hurdles since the last time he saw me. I would love if anybody didn't remember me that way. I've never been that weak or fragile before, another couple of emotions you can add to the list that Bryan caused. Ugh, Bryan. Over time, the main feeling I've felt at the mention of his name as changed from afraid to disgust.
Not just disgusted with him, disgusted with all men in general. I swore them all off a couple of weeks ago, every tall, strong, determined, obsessive, and controlling man in the world is off my list. That has to cover all males, right? I look at him standing in front of me, taking him in. I look at the way his blond curly hair hangs down in his eyes a little, the way his blue eyes watch me the way I'm watching him, at the way his lips form this cute little smile, and then I look at the way his friends are waiting for him. Ugh, hockey players.. very male.
Shaking my head, it's then that I realize he's waiting for me to take his order.
"What can I get you?" I ask, faking the best friendly, hurt ridden smile I can muster and have been practicing for the past couple of weeks. The smile Shelby said was necessary, otherwise nobody would dare come into this coffee shop anymore and I would find myself unemployed.
"Just a bottle of water please," he says with that same smile.
"Coming right up," I respond with my fake smile. Any smile coming across my face anytime soon is definitely described as fake. Happy people smile, I'm not happy.
"You cut it," he says as I'm turning around. I stop dead in my tracks, praying he isn't referring to what I think he is.
"Hmm?" I ask, acting like I have no clue what he's talking about as I turn around to grab his bottle of water.
I can see how she freezes up at the mention of her hair. She didn't think I wouldn't remember her, did she?
"Your hair," I say while point to the blond hair that is just longer than to her shoulder. "You cut it."
"Oh, yeah," she replies simply, obviously trying to get rid of me. "Here you go. Water as requested." At the way she changes the subject so abruptly, it must still be a touchy issue..
"Thanks," I reply while handing her my money in return for the bottle. I turn to walk away, but decide that this is the only chance I could get, I need to make the most of it.
"Do you go on break soon?" I ask, hoping she does but hoping even more than she allows me to sit with her.
"Not for another hour or two," she replies after looking down at her watch.
"Hawks fan, right?" I ask with a smile, pointing to the t-shirt she has on with Sharps name and number on the back. She meekly nods her head as her cheeks flush red. "Busy tonight?" I ask, just as I see Shelby walk through the door and behind the counter to stand by Peydon, giving me the evil eye the whole time.
"She doesn't really go out," Shelby answers for her.
"You sure?" I ask, ignoring Shelby's icy glare as I continue to look at Peydon. "There's a game tonight, I could get you tickets." She looks over at Shelby and I can tell I have her hooked, can tell that she really wants to go, but I can also tell that she seems unsure. "It's Peydon, right?" I continue, but she just nods her head in response. "Well, if you all change you're mind, I'll leave two tickets for you." I finish before turning around and walking to sit with the guys.
Shelby and I watch him walk away in silence. I know we are both running the same thoughts and questions through our minds as we continue to watch him as he sits down, watch him as he messes around with the guys, and watch him and the rest of them as they all turn to look at us, no doubt talking about us as well.
"So do we go?" I ask, not taking my eyes off them for a second.
"We probably shouldn't," she answers with a sigh. "Wouldn't want to make someone think we want them around, right?" she continues while looking over at me.
"Good point," I agree while nodding my head, still starring intently at him as he continues to look at me, that shit eating grin on his face that almost makes me want to smile back. Almost. "So we don't go," I conclude while grabbing a towel and wiping down the counter again, going back to trying to look busy like I was doing earlier. I hear Shelby sigh, and I know that the issue is not done being discussed.
"It is a hawks game..." she says, running the whole situation through her mind again.
"We've never turned down tickets before..." I add, knowing its true, but oddly just wanting to go for some strange reason.
"And I'm sure superstar over there could give us good tickets.."
"Behind the bench or penalty box, no doubt.." I add, knowing once again that it's probably true. He definitely has everything handed to him, practically the whole city of Chicago eating out of the palm of his hand, why couldn't he get good tickets for us?
"Ugh," she sighs in frustration. "We really can't turn something like that down, can we?"
"No," I reply, the same frustration in my voice that was apparent in hers. "We can't," I add as she starts to make her way toward the door.
"Pick me up at 6," she concludes while leaving me alone to stare at him again. He's obviously watched our whole thought process, and I have no doubt he knows that we are indeed coming tonight. Oh boy, this should be interesting.
Monday, June 22, 2009
I sit in my stall after practice, finding my attention fading away from hockey and to the blond haired girl I met nearly two weeks ago now. I keep telling myself that her face will fade from my memories, that I won't catch myself dazed thinking about her, but the more I keep hoping that will happen the less likely it seems.
Even the guys have picked up on my lack of focus, which just tells me that I must really be out of it for them to notice. Don't get me wrong, the second I step out onto the ice it's all business, but the second I step off of it, it's as if I can't keep my mind from wandering or even pay attention enough to join in on all the pranks that go down in the locker room or any other time the guys are all together.
I can't think straight in general. Every thought leads to a vision of the last time I saw her, sitting on that stool starring into the mirror at her reflection, bruises on her face, which makes me wonder what was under the baggy clothing she was wearing. I can't even think about that without getting aggravated, which is weird since I don't even know her. I barely got her name but yet I find myself wanting to be protective and wanting very much to get my hands on the asshole that did that to her.
And I'm doing it again.. like what was that? I don't even know her.. for all I know she might have already moved on and found another guy. Or maybe she went back to him, but I can't think like that, because even the idea of such a thing has my skin crawling.
All of these thoughts running through my mind is exactly what is coaxing me to continue walking down the street toward the hair salon I was in what feels like yesterday. I walk inside, finding more people working today, more clients, and the same brunette standing behind the register. She looks at me, recognizing me again before smiling.
"And what can I do for you today, Pat?" she asks while putting away the paper work she had been previously preoccupied with.
"Um," I begin, but it's then that I realize I never learned her name. "I'm sorry, I never caught your name."
"Shelby," she answers over her shoulder, turning around briefly to smile at me.
"Well, Shelby, I was actually looking for the woman, Peydon I believe, that was in here--"
"Why?" she interrupts me, turning around to face me and walking over to me, standing very close to me while she continues to check my face for motif. I continue to stare back at her, wondering how she just went from extremely nice to on guard in a matter of seconds. She realizes I'm not going to say anything, so she continues. "Patrick," she begins, using my full name this time which I can only think isn't good, before she shifts her weight from one leg back to the other, wondering how she should word whatever she has to tell me. "Peydon, she's had a rough last couple of months."
"I know, which is exactly why I'm looking for her. I need to know if she's okay or not."
"She's not. But I don't think another man is what she needs to help fix things," she says bitterly, obviously thinking all men are the scum of the earth right about now.
"I don't want to fix things, I just want to know if she's alright, know the full story."
"Well she's not alright. You can leave now," she says while gesturing toward the door, getting madder as I just continue to stand there.
"If you could just tell me where to find her--"
"Just leave it alone. If you find her again, you do, but it wont be on my account," she interrupts once again. "It's for the best. Now, please leave," she asks once again, which I actually listen to this time. She's the only person I know that can get into contact with her, it's best to at least have her semi-on-my-side.
I take a rag and wipe down the counter in an attempt to keep my hands busy. I've been doing that a lot lately, doing just about anything to try and occupy my mind so my thoughts don't wander. Good things never happen when I get to thinking about things, images, feelings, and memories filling my mind that make me want to go run and hide in my apartment.
Except Shelby seems to think that that won't help anything, so here I am, working and paying bills like a normal person. Except I'm not. Normal people aren't scared to walk out to their car in fear of being found. Normal people don't sit in bed at night starring at the ceiling, scared that if they close their eyes they might see something they don't want to. Normal people aren't afraid to feel, one of the 5 senses I've tried to abandon sometime ago. No, none of that is normal.
But after weeks of doing things my way, hiding out in my apartment, Shelby insisted that I needed a change, that I need to enjoy my life while he's locked up, because not even that is a guarantee for that much longer.
So all of this leads me to where I am, standing behind a bar at a coffee shop, working my normal 12 hour shift, hoping it gives me enough to think about that my mind won't get the best of me, sitting here watching the crowd around me, just in case I spot that all too familiar face that haunts my every thought.
Actually today, there is a pretty good crowd around to watch. Hockey players. Granted they are extremely loud and I know it's more than frustrating the rest of the people in here, but not me. Standing here watching them mess around, having such a good time with each other reminds me of when I use to be so care free and had just as much fun. I can't believe how much he changed me.. Sighing to myself, I can't help but think that that all seems like such a long time ago.
After getting kicked out by Shelby, I climb back into my car to meet the guys. We all try to spend as much time together as possible, because it's suppose to help with team bonding. I really can't complain, I like the company. It gives me less time to think about her and what she's doing, how she's doing, or even how she's doing it.
Shaking my head, I enter the coffee shop, spotting the guys immediately. I acknowledge them before walking up to the counter, sighing and taking a deep breath of the regular coffee shop smell. The waitress turns around, and a smile crosses my face as I can't believe my luck...