Tuesday, February 22, 2011


hey guys! i'm really sorry i haven't updated at all in a while. i'm extremely busy with basketball and things, so bear with me. i'm hoping to update soon.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Chapter 3

[Sorry, I know this one is short!]

The next morning, the first thing I did was walk out the French doors that led to my balcony. It was in the front of the house, so I could see the driveway. I smiled when I saw my car parked right where it usually was. In a very good mood, I made my way downstairs.

“Morning,” my dad said. “G’morning,” I replied. I sauntered over to the fridge, grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit in the middle of the island. I took out a bottled water and plopped down next to my mom at the kitchen table. “Slept in a little today?” she asked. I glanced at the clock, it was 8:30. “Whoa, yeah,” I said, shocked. I hadn’t been asleep past 7 since 6th grade. At about 9:45, I got a text from Jordan.

Jordan: doing anything today?
Peyton: nope.
Jordan: meet me at the arena in an hour.
Peyton: ok. why?
Jordan: don’t ask questions.

Getting ready was not something I could do quickly. But since we were just going to be in the arena, I decided to keep it casual, throwing on a pair of jeans, one of my basketball sweatshirts from high school, and blue puma sneakers. I put my hair up in a high ponytail, and put on a little mascara.

I was ready to go, so I told my parents I was leaving and headed out to the car. I was probably imagining this, but it smelled just like him. With traffic, it took about a half an hour to get to the arena. Looking around, I saw four other cars. Sure enough, one was his.

I walked in, and told the man there that I was supposed to meet Jordan Staal. Apparently it had been prearranged, so I was allowed in. Not sure where I was supposed to go, I just went into the rink and took a seat in the first row.
“Peyton,” a raspy, creepy voice sounded over the loudspeaker, making me jump out of my seat. Turning around, I saw that it was Jordan, sitting in the announcers box. Smiling, I made my way up to join him. “I’m not supposed to play with this stuff,” he said, and I laughed.

“Well,” he said, dragging out the word. He took my hand and led me down onto the bench, and handed me skates. It took me a while to figure out how to put them on, but once I did, I tried to stand up and fell into him. I panicked. I had never skated before.

“Um, Jordan, I can’t skate. At all,” I pleaded. He looked at me. “Well lucky for you, I can,” he said, pulling me gently out onto the ice. I rolled my eyes. “Oh, you’re a baller?” He asked, looking down at my sweatshirt. “Hardcore,” I laughed.

As soon as he let my hands go, I fell straight on my butt. He laughed and skated to the other side. “Jordan!” I yelled. “Help,” I sounded pathetic. He made a few laps while I tried to get up. I couldn’t. So eventually, I crawled over to the wall and grabbed onto it, pulling myself up.

Jordan was laughing; hysterically. “You’re amazing!” He said between breaths. I raised my eyebrows. “I know. And I’m even better on the basketball court,” I said. “I doubt that. I’ve never even picked up a basketball, and from what athletic ability I see you have, I’d look like…uh, Michael Jordan compared to you,” he challenged. “Michael Jordan? You’re so old school.”

* * * * *

The team was off that day, which was a rare occasion. Apparently Jordan, Max and Marc-Andre had made plans to go out to lunch. I was invited to go with them, which I was a little wary about. I had just met Jordan, and I didn’t want to impose on any guy time.

Jordan insisted though, and hell, who was I to turn down an almost too-attractive, famous, hockey player? I wasn’t, exactly. So in the end, I went with him. Max and Flower were already there when we arrived, and so was (thank God) another girl.

“Hello, Peyton,” she said, standing up and hugging me. Which was weird, but a nice gesture anyway. I noticed she sounded very French. “Hello,” I said. “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Veronique, but you can call me Vero or V if you like that better. I’m Marc’s girlfriend,” she smiled. “Oh, it’s nice to meet you!” I said, also saying hello to Max and Marc.

When I sat down, Max leaned over to me. “You like sleeping?” he asked. “Uh, yeah,” I said, confused. “Me too! We should do it together sometime,” he said. “As tempting as that sounds…” I said, laughing. “No, seriously…it’s ok. I’m sterile,” he whispered, as if that would change my mind.

“Oh, in that case,” I shrugged. “HA! I’m just kidding. But don’t tell that to all the girls who I may or may not have gotten pregnant. Wouldn’t be good for my rep, you know what I’m saying?” “OKAY, Max thank you for scarring her for life,” Jordan said, standing up and motioning for me to do the same.

“Switch me seats and sit next to Flower. He’s much less dangerous,” he said. I laughed, but wasn’t about to disagree. “No, dude, seriously. She wants me. I can smell it,” Max explained. I smiled and shook my head. “Sorry about Max. He can’t control himself around girls,” Marc leaned over, smiling his drop-dead gorgeous smile.

 He had about the cutest damn accent I had ever heard. “No, it’s ok. He’s a funny guy,” I said, unable to resist smiling back at him. “Ha, it’s funny until you realize that he’s not kidding,” Marc said, winking at me.

Chapter 2

We found our way out of the maze of hallways and stopped at a Pizza Hut stand along the way. Pizza and sodas in hand, we made our way down to our seats (first row, right beside the Pittsburgh Penalty Box). We still had another half hour until the game started, but it was good to get there early.

Right on cue, the announcer growl-yelled into the microphone, “PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR YOUR PITTSBURGGGGGGH PENGGGGGGGGUINS! LED BY NUMBER 87, SIDNAAAAAAAAAY CRRRRROSBYYYYYY! FOLLOWED BY NUMBER 71, EVGENIIIIIIII MALKINNNNNNNN! NUMBER 11, JORDANNNNNN STAAAAAAL!” And he introduced all the other players as they skated out into the rink.

This sent the arena into an uproar. The screams were deafening, the pounding of the Penguins Fight Song was right in tune with “Let’s go Pens!” echoing from every corner. Skating triumphantly as they heard the reassuring sounds of the nearly 20,000 people jam-packed into the Igloo, a few of the players skated past me, going too fast for them to notice anyone besides themselves.

The score was 2-1 Capitals at the end of the first period. Ovechkin and Mike Green had both scored, and Pascal Dupuis had scored for the Pens. During the first intermission, while Lauren and Cooper had gone to get something else to eat, I got a text.

814-505-8239: I’m gonna score next period.
Knowing who it was, I replied.
Peyton: we’ll see about that.

As promised, Jordan scored, and after he did he made sure to skate right over to where we were sitting and slammed into the glass. The score was 3-2 at the end of the 3rd period, also picking up a short-handed goal from Letang.

When we were heading out of the arena, I got another text from Jordan saying to bring Lauren and Cooper and meet him in the hallway we were in earlier. After the interviews and showers, Jordan walked out into the hall. “Okay, let’s go,” he said. “Go where?” I asked. He shrugged. “Wherever I want. I’m Jordan Staal.”

I raised my eyebrows. “And what makes you think I’m interested in coming with you?” I asked. He looked at me for a second, and then pretended to burst out laughing. Grabbing his stomach, he keeled over with laughter. I couldn’t help but smile. “Someone’s a little full of himself,” I laughed.

“Yeah, well. I pull it off. Don’t you think?” he asked. “You certainly seem to think so,” I replied, trying to keep a straight face. “And you don’t?” he asked. “I’m not sure yet,” I answered, smiling. “Well indecisiveness isn’t a good thing. Eventually you’ll realize that I can pull off anything. But seriously, let’s go,” he said.

“Fine. But only because it’s Valentines Day,” I smiled. He grinned, exposing his oh-so-beautiful teeth. “Let’s go, then,” he shrugged. “Uh, hello? What are you gonna do, just leave us here?” Lauren asked. “Ugh, right. Forgot about you for a second,” I groaned.

“They can come,” Jordan said, and I rolled my eyes but agreed. We walked down so many halls it was ridiculous, finally exiting into a reserved parking lot in the back. Jordan motioned towards his car, a black Escalade. We all shuffled in, Jordan and I in the front, Lauren and Cooper in the back.

Driving in downtown Pittsburgh was a nightmare. Bumper to bumper traffic, and the noise. By the time we got to place, it was 10:00. When we pulled up, I looked at him strangely. This place sure wasn’t…multi-million dollar, star hockey player worthy; to say the least.

When we walked in, there was a chorus of whistles and cheers. “NICE ONE JORDO!” Someone yelled. Jordan grinned at them and nodded. “Thanks, it was a good game,” The guy raised his eyebrows. “I was talkin’ about that right there beside you,” he pointed to me and roared with laughter.

“Mr. Big Shot likes to slum,” I leaned over and whispered in his ear. He winked at me, “I’ve actually never been here in my life. I was just tired of driving, and it said this place had food. I’m not quite sure if it’s edible, but hey…who’s complaining?” he answered. “Uh, me,” Lauren replied.

* * * * *

I rolled my eyes. We grabbed a tiny little table in the corner, and were waited on almost immediately. “Hey there! What can I get you?” Asked a tiny little bleached-blonde with about ten pounds of eye makeup on. The way she was looking at Jordan made me want to fight.

Before he had time to answer, she asked, “That your girlfriend?” She was glaring at me, smacking her gum loudly. Jordan looked up, pretending to be confused. “Who, her?” he asked, pointing to Lauren. “No, gross! That’s illegal!” he finished.

“No, her,” the blonde said, looking at me. “Oh, her! Yeah, she is,” he said. I whipped my head in his direction and he shot me a look that said “play along.” “Never seen you guys together before…” she mumbled. “Well we’re trying to keep it quiet, you know. The media lives for this stuff and it could get pretty brutal. I don’t want her to have to go through that. So if you could keep it quiet that’d be great. Just until we’re ready to go public with it,” he said with a small, close-lipped smile.

“So uh, I saw the game. You got one of those…what are they called?” she prodded. “Uh, yeah I’ll take a burger, thanks!” Cooper yelled with a sarcastic smile on his face. Lauren snorted, I smiled broadly at him. Jordan’s lips were twitching and he was trying to concentrate very intently at a picture of a high school baseball team hanging on a wall, to take the attention off himself.

“I’ll have one, too,” I said, and Jordan said he wasn’t allowed to eat food like this very often, so he’d just have a water. We ordered a side of bread. There really wasn’t anything else to choose from. Lauren, being the snob she was, refused to order anything. She sat there with her arms crossed, a hideous look on her face. “Excuse me, Mr. Billionaire, you honestly couldn’t take us anywhere nicer?” She hissed at him.

He smiled, nothing ever seemed to bother him. “Sorry but you have to admit, this bread is so good!” He said. Which, obviously he was joking about because it was solid as a rock. “Lauren!” I said, appalled. She glanced at me.

“Good job, Pey. You finally learned my name! Those special-ed teachers are really getting through to you.” I smiled sweetly at her, “Yeah, they work wonders.” We finished up our dinner at the dump and got back into the car.

Jordan had his right elbow up the console in between the seats. I don’t know what made me do this, but I put mine up there, too, just barely nudging his. He glanced over at me, and then looked down at my elbow, before flashing me a small, closed mouth smile. I returned the gesture. “So, how do I get to your dorm?” He asked after a while. “Eh, it’s pretty far. You can just drop me off at home for tonight.”

I gave him directions, and he found the house without difficulty. I felt a pang of sadness as we drove down the long driveway. The second we pulled in, Lauren was gone, and we had already dropped Coop off. “Jordan, I--had a really good time,” I blushed, feeling corny as hell.

This was a cheesy 80’s movie gone wrong. He nodded, “I did too.” We both started to say something at the same time, and then shut up, waiting for the other to speak. “You go ahead,” he said. Such a gentleman. “Oh, uh, I was just wondering if this was like a one time thing or what. I mean, are we ever going to see each other again? If not, that’s totally fine, I just--” I was rambling.

He smiled, “I was really hoping you’d ask that.” I looked at him. “So that’s a yes?” I asked, tilting my head. He nodded. I laughed. “Well, see ya,” I said brightly. “Goodnight,” he whispered. I got out, accidentally slamming the door. “Sorry! Sorry!” I breathed. I could hear him laughing all the way from inside. “Oh, shit!” I huffed, reopening the door.

“My car is at the arena, I just realized,” I said to him. “I’ll take care of it,” he smiled, “It’ll be here when you wake up.” I beamed at him, tossing him the keys. “Thank you so much! It’s a silver Range Rover,” I said and closed the door very softly this time. I dashed inside, closing the front door.

“Hey, Mom! You’ll never guess what just happened!” I breathed as I ran into the office. “Hmm?” she asked absentmindedly, focused on the computer screen. So I told her the story, from following Kris, to Jordan promising that my car will be in the driveway by the time I wake up.

Her mouth was gaping open a little by the end. “Jordan Staal,” she said like she was daydreaming. I smiled. She considered this. “You probably shouldn’t tell your dad about this yet. You know how he gets,” And I knew all too well.

I gave her a hug, and trudged up the stairs to my room. We had one of those houses that everyone assumed just because we lived there we were some rich snobs. Except for Lauren, the snob part wasn’t true. It was huge, and modern meets classic.

Stainless steel kitchen, big windows in every room, and my favorite was the big, marble spiral staircase that you saw right when you walked in. After you walk up the steps, there’s an open foyer, hardwood floor walkway around the place where you see downstairs.

I walked into my room, glanced at the clock (it was 11:15), and sat down on my bed. I changed into some blue boy-shorts and a white t-shirt and climbed into bed. It was early for me, because I usually went to bed late and got up early, but I was tired and had a lot on my mind. I turned the 42” flat screen hanging on the wall adjacent to my bed to Cake Boss (my recent addiction) and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 1

[I'll post the first few chapters for now, then if people read it & like it I'll post more]
“Look, buddy. There’s a bus! It probably has some Penguins fans in it!” I rolled my eyes. If I had to listen to this guy educate his kid one more time, I was going to snap. My sister, Lauren, and I looked at each other.

Lauren, with her wavy, shoulder-blade length brown hair whipping wildly around her face, and her full lips chapped and chattering from the cold, looked over at the guy with a disgusted look on her stunning face.

She shuddered violently in her Pittsburgh black Malkin jersey. It was Valentine’s Day, and she had bought her and her boyfriend tickets to a Pens game. Of course, I was their chaperone since they were only 16.

We had been standing in line for over an hour. “This is torture,” Lauren moaned. “It’s not so bad when the wind isn’t blowing,” I said. Apparently I spoke too soon, because just then another violent breeze had Lauren burying her face into the shoulder of her boyfriend, Cooper.

He wrapped his arms around her. After what felt like forever, the line started moving. I exhaled, moving up with the rest, as I fought to not reach over and strangle the know-it-all from before; who was now teaching his son about the history of Mellon Arena.

As soon as we were searched, we headed into the arena, color instantly coming back to our pale faces. Thawed out, we headed into one of many gift shops, looking around. I glanced at a few things, not really noticing anything.

That was until I saw Kris Letang, with his hood up, trying to sneak along without being noticed. I nudged Lauren, who saw him and her eyes widened. She grabbed Cooper’s arm and dragged him off behind me, already on the move.

Once we were outside of the gift shop, Kris let his hood fall, as there was no one permitted in the main part of the building yet. “Kris!” Lauren screeched. He froze and turned around. The crowd of people was already swarming into the building.

“Shhhh!” Letang said. “I’m Cooper. Browning. Cooper Browning,” Coop said. “I’m uh, a big fan of yours.” Kris nodded. “Thanks, Cooper Browning.” Cooper was awestruck at being addressed by such a famous NHL player.

“Could-could I get your autograph?” He asked. Looking worriedly at the rush of oncoming people, Kris nodded. “Just, come in here,” Kris said, leading us into a narrow hallway.

Cooper took off his Penguins hat and handed it to the athlete. Kris signed it and Lauren’s cell phone cover before looking at me. He raised his eyebrows. “Peyton,” Lauren whispered. “Sorry,” I said sticking out the sleeve of my blue (alternate) Talbot jersey.

 “Oh no, not a Max fan,” he joked, and I couldn’t help but think that his accent was the most delicious thing I had ever heard. “Gotta love the Superstar,” I said. He smiled at me and signed it, too. “Tanger!” I heard someone yell from down the hall. I didn’t have to look to know who’s voice it was.

* * * * *

“Whoa,” I said quietly. He smiled his amazing, breath-taking smile. In person, he was even more gorgeous. Perfect, golden blonde hair. Light blue eyes. Beautiful skin, teeth, and everything. I know most girls think that Crosby is the best looking guy on the team, but honestly…look at him.

I could feel my face burning up. Lauren interrupted my daydream, shoving me aside. “Peyton
here is a fan of yours, Jordan. Actually, a better word to describe her would be pedophile. But anyways, just don’t think too badly about her. She’s only semi-retarded.”

Jordan laughed. “I think she’s cute.” I felt my mouth fall open. “Yeah,” Lauren said. “She thinks that, too. I swear, the girl can’t get enough of herself.” He laughed again. I shoved her, hard. “OUCH!” She flinched. Jordan laughed. “Sisters, I’m guessing?” He questioned.

“Yup,” I said. “My last therapy session is in two weeks.” Jordan smiled. “So anyway, why are you three even back here? It’s off-limits to everyone but players and coaches,” he said. Kris raised his hand. “I let them back here,” he said. “You know them?” Jordan asked.

This led Kris into telling them the story of why we were back here in the first place. Jordan shrugged. “I guess that’s okay. So, while you guys are here, how about a tour?” He offered. I could feel my eyes bug out of my head. “Sure,” Lauren, Cooper, and I all said in unison.

I let out a deep breath. As we walked, I took in everything about him. His clothes: a plain white t-shirt, black Adidas shorts, and sneakers. His smell: wow. It was very hard to describe, but smelled amazing all the same. I laughed, like I always did when I was nervous.

He turned around to look at me, almost knocking the breath right out of my lungs. “Why are you laughing?” He asked. Of course, Lauren had to chime in. “Oh I forgot to mention…she has tourettes too. Uncontrollable laughing, twitching, screaming profanities, you know…we try just to tune it out.”

Jordan smiled at me. I looked at him pleadingly. “I don’t have tourettes. And I’m not semi-retarded either,” I said. He laughed, “I know.” Just around the corner from the narrow hallway, was another. This one was much wider, and had white tables running down the right side. On the left side were a few doors scattered around.

Jordan and Kris led us to the second door labeled Pittsburgh Penguins Locker Room. The smell was the first thing you noticed when you walked in. It practically slaps you in the face. Lauren gagged right away. “SHIT! I thought this was a locker room, not a sewer plant!” A few of the guys chuckled at that.

As I looked around, I noticed that all the players were walking in circles, stretching, talking, and in some cases texting. “Dude! Sidney Crosby! Max Talbot! Evgeni Malkin! Marc-Andre Fleury! This is amazing!” Cooper disappeared, weaving in and out of players, asking for autographs, shaking hands, and introducing himself.

“Guys! Would you look at this!” I heard a familiar, husky French voice yell. I didn’t know why, but Max Talbot was walking over to me. “Hey, hey would you mind turning around and showing these guys the name on the back of your jersey?” Oh, I thought in my head, and smiled.
“Congratulations, Max! I was starting to worry that no one even remembered you were on the roster,” Sidney Crosby said smiling.

Jordan continued to show me and Lauren around the locker room until Dan Bylsma, the head coach, entered, wearing a black suit. “Time for you guys to leave,” Jordan said. He handed me his phone, “Put in your number,” he said quietly. “It’s for Max, of course. Not me or anything.”