All the Way

S A S K A T O O N , S K
C A N A D A

When we finally arrived in Saskatoon, John looked like he was near shitting himself. He always tried to play off the cool and calm demeanor around the media, but with something as huge as this, there was no hiding his excitement. By the time we got to the hotel, though, John had calmed down considerably, especially since the place was flooded with media personnel. I would be lying if I said all of the attention wasn’t getting to me and I stuck as close to John’s side as I could as we entered the building and headed towards the front desk. Once we had checked in and received our key cards, we headed towards the elevators where, once again, a massive media mob was waiting for us.

As we neared the clump of people, my nerves started to get the better of me. I was terrified that one of them would ask about my relationship with John and how I would respond. We weren’t going out, but would they buy that or would they just make up something about us? I never even thought that a World Juniors tournament would get this much publicity to begin with. I guess when you’re in Canada where there’s nothing else better to do, this is an enormous deal.

Using his psychic powers, John seemed to sense my discomfort with the media slowly closing in on us. He calmly reached for my hand, entangling our fingers and proceeded towards the elevators. As we got closer, reporters started shouting questions at him. He merely flashed his signature press smile and insisted that he wouldn’t know anything until after the team meetings tomorrow afternoon.

Once we were safely hidden behind the solid elevator doors, I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. John looked down at me, amusement clearly written in his eyes as he let out a soft chuckle at my expensive. I failed to see the humor in my inability to handle the pressures of the press.

“What are you laughing at,” I asked him bitterly, only making eye contact through his reflection in the metal doors.

“You.” I sent him a daring look and he returned with one of his genuine smiles before continuing. “I was laughing at your inability to handle the press.”

“I don’t see how that’s funny.”

“It’s funny because you’re the one who wants to become a reporter,” he mumbled, pulling me close into his body and pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. I was slightly caught off guard by his sudden need to be all touchy feely, but I was quick to regain myself.

“I don’t want to become a reporter John. I want to be a photographer. There’s a difference.” I knew he was rolling his eyes at me so I didn’t see the point in looking up.

“Well in case you didn’t realize because you were too afraid, there were photographers in that grouping too.”

“I don’t want to do paparazzi photography. I want to do the in-game action and post-game locker room shots.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers Chelsea,” John mocked.

“Easy for you to say Mr. Calder-Cup-Winning, NHL-Debuting, Team-USA-Making superstar.” John let out a long laugh at that one as the doors finally opened and we made our way down my floor.

“I’m so glad I brought you along Chels. Otherwise, this may have been a boring trip.”

“Oh shut up,” I mumbled as he took my key card out of my hand and unlocked my door, holding it open for me to walk through. “Now when do your teammates arrive?”
John merely rolled his eyes before walking right back out the door and into the hallway.

“And where do you think you’re going,” I called to him before he could close the door all the way. John let out a sigh before responding.

“To go and meet up with my teammates so I know which ones to warn you about.”
He was able to get in one last smirk before the door fully closed behind him. That little shit was lucky I was so supportive of him or else I’d be angry with him right now.

A couple hours and countless rounds of flipping through the channels later, I was officially bored out of my mind. Just thinking about my boredom made my stomach growl. Not really in the mood for the tiny, overly expensive, packs of peanuts that the hotel provided, I grabbed my key card, a couple of bucks and headed down the hall towards the vending machines. Just as I had decided on white cheddar popcorn and a Pepsi, another person entered the small room. I sent them a polite smile, slipping in the necessary bills and pressing the right buttons before my refreshments fell out of their respective machines.

I quickly moved aside after removing my food and drink, assuming the other person had wanted to use the vending machine. Suddenly, she turned to me, a polite smile on her face and I knew instantly that she had some sort of agenda. I tried to slink back to my room as quickly as possible to give her the message that I didn’t really want to chit chat, but she was too fast; obviously a professional.

“Hey, are you the girl who was with John Carlson earlier?”

“Um, yes,” I replied hesitantly. John had warned me about sneaky reporters.

“How long have you two been together?”

“What?” Where was this crazy lady getting her information from?

“You two looked so cute together. You’ve probably been together for awhile, right?”

“Well, actually…”

“So, does he have any pre-game rituals? What kind of equipment brand does he like best? What’s it been like for him to win a Calder Cup and make his NHL debut?”

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but all of that is John’s business, not mine. So if you want to know anything, ask him. I have to go now.”

I turned quickly on my heel and sped towards the elevator, going down two floors before taking the stairs back up in hopes that I’d lose the reporter-on-crack during my escape.

Once I was finally safe in my room, I pulled out my phone and sent John a quick text letting him know that the press was absolutely crazy. I knew he had team stuff going on so I was surprised when I almost immediately got a text back asking if I was ok. I told him I was just insanely bored out of my mind and he responded with a typical “hahaha,” and that was the end of our conversation. I plopped down on the bed, turned the TV back on and proceeded to munch contently on my snack. However, my contentment didn’t last long because as soon as the bag of popcorn was empty, I was bored again.

John would have mocked me if he had known that the only thing keeping me from going insane was snack time. Just thinking about John made me let out a long sigh that I attributed to just missing my best friend and some company. So after just sitting there for five more minutes, with still no word from Johnny boy as to when his team crap would be done, I decided to head down to the lobby to see if I could at least meet some of the players from other teams. If John Carlson wasn’t going to sit here and entertain me, then I’d just have to go out and find some other hockey boy to get the job done. With a quick snatch of my phone, wallet and room key, I was out the door and headed towards the hotel lobby.

As it turns out, the hotel lobby wasn’t any more entertaining than my hotel room was, except for the fact that I could people watch down there. Of course, that was all until Team Canada decided to grace the hotel with its presence. While the boys were floating around the lobby waiting to be checked in, Stefan Della Rovere took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with me. It wasn’t anything interesting, in fact we were mostly talking about the Caps and about John’s debut. My back had been to the elevators, so when Stefan’s eyes went wide and ended our conversation quickly so he could hurry away, I was thoroughly confused. That is, until I was bombarded by about five or so reporters, all with knowing looks on their faces. I was seriously starting to hate letting John bring me here.

The questions were coming like rapid fire, all of them with the same theme. Where’s your boyfriend, John Carlson? How long have you guys been dating? How were you able to keep it a secret for so long? Does the rest of the Hershey Bears team know you guys are dating? And then there were various other questions about his daily life. My response to all of these was just a deer in headlights look. I didn’t want to just tell them off because maybe John had purposefully told them that we were dating for some publicity thing. I didn’t want to just destroy his plan; in all fairness though, he could have told me what was going on. Panic was beginning to wash over me until I felt the comfort of a very familiar arm wrap around my shoulders.

~| JOHN’S POV |~
The team and I were about to head out for an early dinner so I sent a quick text to Chelsea, asking if she wanted to come. After five minutes with no response, I just assumed she was sleeping and decided to just bring her back something. We all crowded into the elevator and when we got off at the lobby, there seemed to be a small herd of reporters.

I nudged Philip McRae next to me and smirked, “Looks like Canada’s finally rolled in.”

He gave me a weird look before responding, “But isn’t that Chelsea?”

Looking farther into the huddle of people, I realized he was right. I’m not sure what they were harassing her for, but by the look on her face, she wasn’t very thrilled. Telling the team I’d be back in a second, I put on my best “press smile” and made my way towards the group. Chelsea’s back was to me so it was easy to just walk right over and slink my arm around her shoulders without her knowing. Her gaze snapped up to mine and a look of relief washed over her face.

I briefly heard a couple of the reporters say variants of “what a cute couple” and instantly everything fell into place. I understood why everyone was dogging her and for now I’d just have to play along and hope she understood. I dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head before facing the reporters again. I gave them another smile before providing my answer in a trained, generic tone. “I’d be nothing without my other half.”

The words fell easily out of my mouth. I almost didn’t have to think about them as I responded. My main concern at the moment was getting Chelsea out of here and if it meant playing along with their little game for the time being, then so be it. It’s not like Chelsea and I couldn’t pull off being a couple if we wanted to. It would be easy to humor these reporters, but just as long as Chels was up for it as well. A couple of the reporters looked as if they were about to ask more questions, but I cut them off with a readymade response. “Look guys, we gotta go; team dinner. I promise I’ll talk to you later, just no more cornering my girl all right?”

Some of them chuckled at my response, giving me knowing smiles. Seeing as they were seemingly satisfied with my answer, I grabbed Chelsea’s hand and led her back over towards the team so we could leave as quickly as possible. I linked our fingers together as we neared the group and headed towards the exit of the building. The entire time I only stole quick glances at Chelsea, slightly afraid of what her reaction might be to what I had said.

On our way over to the restaurant, Chelsea and I were still holding hands and we still hadn’t said a word to another. Finally she squeezed my hand and I looked down to meet her intense eyes.

“Thanks,” she mumbled to me.

“For what?”

“Saving me from those reporters.”

“Chels, you don’t have to thank me for that. I wasn’t about to let you piss yourself in front of the media.” She sent me a playful glare and I sent her a cheeky smile.

“Well you didn’t have to play along with them. I don’t know what made them think we were dating.”

“Chelsea, seriously, it’s fine.” She let out a sigh and rested her head on my shoulder as we followed my teammates into the restaurant.

“Have you figured out which teammates to warn about me yet?” I let out a laugh, knowing this incident was fully behind us.

“I’ve narrowed down a top five. Why?”

“Oh no reason, I was just wondering.”

Just then a waitress came by, ushering all of us towards our private room in the back of the restaurant. I kept my fingers laced with Chelsea’s as we followed behind the majority of the team.

~|CHELSEA’S POV|~
As John and I followed the team, he began pointing out players I should watch out for.

“Danny Kristo: don’t trust him, he’s a ginger. Jack Campbell and Mike Lee are both goaltenders and they’re too flexible for any natural man to be trusted. Jerry D’Amigo is used to scoring so obviously he can’t be trusted. Jordan Schroeder could break a record in scoring this year so he definitely can’t be trusted because he’s used to scoring and he’s experienced. Jason Zucker is way too young for you-”

“John,” I cut him off before he could continue. “That’s more than five.” Although I couldn’t keep the smile off my face at some of John’s reasoning for why I couldn’t date his teammates.

John gave me a sheepish smile as we reached the private area and the earshot of John’s teammates. We all began scattering between the four large tables that had been set up throughout the area. He all but punched Jordan out of the way to sit next to me, and I couldn’t help but blush slightly at his actions. It was cute how overprotective he was being.

We were all clumped together at a table with Philip, Derek Stepan, Ryan Bourque, Tyler Johnson, Cam Fowler, and a smattering of the other boys’ girlfriends, sisters, etc. Conversation seemed to flow freely between all of us and I quickly found that they were a very entertaining group of guys. The entire room was buzzing with excitement seeing as the coaches had decided to opt out of this one so it was a room filled with testosterone and a smattering of estrogen. The theme seemed to be excitement seeing as it was only a couple of days before the preliminary games began.

After we had ordered, I began feeling John start to tense up next to me. After already being here for a full fifteen minutes, talk of the upcoming tournament was long gone. Now they were typical teenage-ish boys talking about what teenage boys talk about best; their injuries, how much more macho they are and girls. I began feeling a couple of the guys’ eyes on me, particularly the tiny but spunky and cocky Ryan Bourque. I merely brushed it all off as nothing, knowing that John was by my side and they wouldn’t dare try anything with him here.

As if to prove he wouldn’t let anyone try anything, John calmly slipped his hand into mine under the table. Finally, after another half hour of the other boys at my table making joking, but still slightly dirty, comments about me, I felt John snap. His grip around my hand tightened as he took a sip of his drink. One glance in his direction told me that he was smoldering. His eyes had turned to a much colder grey rather than their usual bright, stone blue color.

“Scratch what I said before about narrowing down a top five; it’s the whole team,” John whispered into my ear so no one else at our table could hear us.

“The whole team? You never let me have any fun,” I fake pouted at him. He let out a soft chuckle, his grip on my hand loosening slightly and a smirk crossing his soft features. Of course, I almost choked on my water at his next words.

“Well, I’m perfect, so naturally I’m to be excluded.”