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.