Find Some Peace

So I'm sitting here bewildered and red in the face, staring at the stars in my pajamas with my source of warmth being one of Sidney's bath robes. It's maybe one or two in the morning and apparently there's going to be some kind of meteor shower. I dunno, it just seemed like something to take my mind off of what happened. Maybe by some random chance, a shooting star will come along and land in my hands with an instruction manual titled Men, but More Specifically, Sidney Crosby and Friends.

He's still asleep. He has been since we returned home from that ridiculous party. My lips still tingle, by the way. And yeah, I'm frustrated by everything that happened. It's not like I wanted it to happen this way. I mean, I'm not sure I even wanted it to happen at all. Either way, the cat is now out of the bag and Sidney hasn't said a word since I got a ride back here with Jordan, who ironically was the only other person sober enough to drive who's last name isn't Crosby. I even tried initiating Sidney into conversation. The man wouldn't look at me, let alone speak or stand being in the same room for more than five seconds. I don't know what his problem is, but I don't want to aggravate him any more than this night has.



A set of warm lips danced over mine, pressing just gently until I returned the pressure. I resisted letting my lips curve into a smile, but at this point, thinking anything was impossible. Senses impaired, I let my entire body melt into submission of the amazing hero who had freed me of my binds.

“What the fuck?” One voice growled as the other pulled away from me. I tore the blindfold off of my face immediately. The expression of hostility and hurt plastered on Sidney's face had me shocked and shaking. Never had I imagined him capable of looking so infuriated. And it was then that realization rocked through my bones. He was standing in the doorway.

Max gave him this weird brotherly knowing look and replied coolly, “Sid, relax.”

“This is fucking low Max, even for you.”

The man who had just kissed me rose his brow and let it furrow without hesitation. “It's not my fault you're too scared to do anything,” he spat back, now ready to fight for his integrity or something that men fight for in these situations. He was being rather defensive. Doesn't that mean he had something to defend?

I whirled around to seek out one of the others for help, but it was somehow only Max, Sidney and I. The others had to be out and about partying it up. What the fuck is going on?

Sidney's eyes naturally met mine the moment I glanced in his direction. Yet all I could was a primal side of him, blinded by anger and almost uncaring that I, the person, was in the room. It was the idea of me that was stuck in his heart and instincts, not me standing there mortified and confused. “Max, I can't believe you!”

“Look, you didn't do what you were supposed to. I even called you like twelve times! What was I supposed to do, leave her sitting there?”

Sidney didn't reply. He was like a cornered child now, craving violence but not having the heart to go through with it. I could see it in his furiously despondent eyes now. He had no idea how to answer, how to voice exactly what he thought. And this was all because I was sitting there shocked and motionless, attempting to take in exactly what was going on. Somehow, somewhere in my head, it came together.

The set of icy blue eyes rolled with a sarcastic smartness almost sickening to the senses. “Like I said, you hesitated.”

“No, you said I don't do shit, which completely isn't true!”

“What the fuck is going on?” I finally managed to blurt out. “And no goddamn filters!”

At that moment the door swung open. In rushed Jordan followed by another ten or twelve guys I assumed were all friends, expecting to see the polar opposite of this stand off. The second that Marc and my eyes met, he took in all I was thinking as though it was the simplest task in the world.

Maybe it was just my luck that he acted on instinct. I never should have asked the damn question anyway.

“Come on Max, there's -uh- someone I need you to meet down stairs.”

“Hold on Mar-”

“Now.”



Marc-Andre really has a big influence on all of the guys and maybe even a bit on the girls. He's like an authoritative figure that still knows how to have wicked fun. The thing that really gets me about him is his knack for reading his friends. Obviously he's not grade A with me yet because we're not really close. However, he still knows when somethings right or wrong.

It still eats at me, though. He was telling the full blown truth to Max, even if it sounded like a lame excuse. The thought of the entire mess sits in my mind as though it's a word problem on some kind of test of morals and personality. No matter how hard I try, I just can't get over it. How can one person, one meaningless kiss, turn everything upside down?



“Jordan, what the-” I was cut off my his blazing eyes. Just the very edge of his glare gave me the goosebumps-and I don't mean that in a good way. However, I was in a defiant mood. Tearing my arm away from him, I stopped dead in the middle of the hall, just outside the door still containing the three men inside. “What the hell is happening?! If this is all part of the initiation-”

“It's not, alright? Max just made a stupid move and Marc is in there to sort it out.”

“What did Max do wrong? I don't get this shit. I just want to know Sidney's not gonna get his ass kicked or hurt Max.”

I was about to turn back around and open the door when Jordan grabbed my hand. “Come on. Just let them sort it out themselves.”

“But obviously they're angry at each other and its my fault, Jordan! I'm not leaving fer shit.”

“Right now isn't the time to be stubborn, Amanda, come on.”

“But I-”

“Just... I'll fill in the blanks alright?”

“Fine.”



Why I denied the answer to my own questions for so long, I don't really understand. I guess it makes some minor sense when I think of it as being scared of what answers might pop up. At least that's my conclusion now. I was just afraid of what I didn't know. The frustrating part is that I did know the answers, but it took one hell of a lot of strength to get the guts up to say it.



Something about the way he was curiously staring at me sent my brain and my mouth into succinct overdrive. It came as a surprise to both of us when I spoke quietly. “Sidney was supposed to be in there with me, wasn't he?”

Jordan took a second, but nodded nonetheless. He handed me a beer as if it would help ease the shock. Luckily for me, I wasn't much of a drinker and the shock was nonexistent. After all, Trent probably fixed it so Sid would be pressured into kissing me or something. Who knows? The guys were a crazy bunch. They could have been blackmailing him or something for all I knew.

Of course then I felt embarrassed. Sidney had to be pressured into kissing me and he still didn't go through with it. Yet he was about to beat Max into a pulp. That much didn't make sense. It had be planned, but how did Max screw up? “Unless... Did Sidney... Well did Max -er- why was Sidney so angry at him?” Now Jordan became more uneasy and it was evident that I was correct. “Sidney wanted to kiss me?”

“And Max fucked it up. Yeah, pretty much.”

I never thought that hearing those words would make me so angry. My fist clenched impulsively.

And it was now, of all times and places, that the pressing question was asked. To make the situation even more emotionally straining and confusing, I somehow found that there and then was the easiest to answer it. One question, the one that had been slowly eating my proverbial insides that seemed to lack words and only consist of feeling, was finally out in the open.

“How do you feel about Sid?”



A star shoots over head and I can't help but let the corner of my lip twitch. The hopes that it would fall to my palm had long been gone and replaced with a childish feeling. Suddenly nostalgic, I gaze into the living city and witness the rise and fall of its breathing streets. Everyone is out there with a purpose of some sort. Why is it only now that I find mine?



Just the sound of the individual words themselves made my mind rattle and cool. The buzzing and flashing red lights shut off, the regular lamps getting flickered back on gradually. Defcon-3 was silenced and in its place was a meeting of the thoughts. A question met an answer and now all I could do was voice it.

“I-I-um...”

And in that very instant, Matthew's face popped into my head, smiling as though he would never smile again. Images flashed across my line of sight, blinding everything but the memory of his hand in mine on just another quiet evening alone in his apartment. And meanwhile, all I could do was sit with him and wonder what he'd do if I just said it. I had regretted so much not telling how I felt and when I finally got around to doing it, it was too late.

Something in me, at that moment, snapped into place. “I've never adored someone like I do Sidney. It's not even adoration, it's... Well it-it's strong.”

“And that's where Max royally fucked up.”

“I think I'm confused.”

Oh, but my heart was not. Max's lips may have touched mine first, but there was a side to the story I didn't know. This side was cast in shadow, beneath the layer of obviousness I had already seen. Thank you Jordan, for uncovering it all.

I could hear my own heart beating.

“Max had no idea that he wasn't supposed to kiss you. He just heard 'kiss' and went for it.”

“Wait, what?”

“I think Sidney thinks Max is moving in on you.”

“Why?”

“He was talking to Marc earlier and I think he saw Max -er- retrieving you from Alex.”

And suddenly my heart was at the bottom of my stomach. “So... Sidney thinks me and Max have a thing?”

“Yeah, which is stupid since you guys hardly speak, but Sidney is Sidney. The kid is way territorial.”

“I hadn't noticed, to be honest,” I replied almost sadly.

“Don't worry about it. Marc is like the group peace-keeper. They'll be out here in five smiling like this was all just some joke here soo-”

But that would just make life too easy.



“You're going to get sick if you stand out there too long,” Sidney mumbles after a good five minutes of standing there, feet from his doorway, just watching me without a word.

I sneeze as if on impulse and stare at my feet, debating on what I should be stressing more: the fact that he's talking to me or the fact that he's even awake. We share another moment of absolute silence before he moves beside me, clad in a large blanket to cover his white t-shirt and sweats. I don't even try to look at him because I know if I do, I'll never be able to look away from his tired, lonely eyes that seem to glow in the moonlight. My eyes will fix themselves on his bed head and his red cheeks and I'll be smiling like a dope as usual because I'm so damn lucky to be standing next to him.

And then it hits me and my eyes do this defiant waltz from his toes to his eyes, which are fixed on my face with hesitance and a care I cannot describe. I know now that this is where I belong, awkward or not, and so the thoughts mesh with my vocal chords and I can't keep my mouth shut, but maybe that's a good thing. The words slip like liquid sugar from my tongue, at first shielded but soon warm and enticing, just like the way he stares back at me now.

“Max is just a friend and he made a mistake,” I murmur without a single blink. Sidney's brow twitches, but refuses to furrow on what I think for a moment is its own accord. He's so open and ready to listen that I can't help but believe he already knows everything I'm going to say. He just wants to hear it for himself before he can believe it too. “He got caught up. People do that. I hope you guys are okay with each other.”

And when the words never come, he doesn't seem the least bit phased.

“We're fine,” he murmurs gently into the passing wind. The air feels sub zero, but I almost enjoy the coolness against my nervously heated cheeks.

“We're not,” I instantly reply without a second's hesitation.

Sidney turns the rest of his body to face mine. I don't even bother to turn to him. “Come on, I need warmth.” it is then that I motion for him to follow me and lead him back through his room, down the hall and into his kitchen. The only thing on my mind it telling him what's what and getting something warm pumping through my bones.

“That's it?” he says, frustrated, “That's all you have to say?” Even though he's getting discouraged, his voice is still soft and weak, weary and jaded from sleep or lack thereof.

I shoot back this time by handing him a mug filled with searing hot water and barely any whole milk poured in. It's the same kind of stuff I use at home during rainy days. Just a touch of whole milk makes coco all the more fulfilling. “Well we don't really need to say a lot,” I reply and hand him a package of mix.

“So what are you saying?”

The boy is so restless that he can't stand holding his cup anymore. He's blinking a lot and his hands are trembling. It's subtle, but enough so I can see it while handing him things and especially when he sets his mug on the counter top. And I know now what he wants to say, what he wants so badly to just blurt, but I know it's taking a lot out of him to just stay awake right now and I know that he isn't coherent enough to form the words he really, truly wants me to hear. He's frustrated and tired and desperate for the same feeling I am, desperate for release.

So the decision is made final in the back of my mind while I set my cup down and wrap my arms around him for a hug. Just as he's getting the mental memo to hug back, I feel as though something is wrong. It is not a hug he's looking for; he wants words. Yet, as I said, he can't just blurt them. Even if he expects me to do it, he's slowly getting the message that words aren't part of the equation anymore.

He wraps his arms around me with very little strength while I know he possesses so much more, even in this state. But in the end, it all works in my favor while I back away just barely and place my palm against his cheek. My thumb runs gingerly under his eye, brushing his lashes, and he doesn't blink even once. In one motion I'm on the tips of my toes and we're nearly eye-to-eye and still staring each other down. This gaze is particularly long, though time doesn't cease, and he's watching me as though he's seeing me for the first time. I'm so close that I can see my reflection in his eyes, but I want closer and my body moves, just barely, into his. His hands find a slightly better grip around my middle and the moment I close my eyes and tilt my head, our lips touch each others.

He feels off guard at first. He is off guard at first. But that's kind of the beauty of it all. I thought I'd never fall for anyone again. I'm kissing the boy who proved me wrong.