According to Him

My ex-boyfriend could be considered the biggest prick on the face of the planet. I know, I know, what's new, you're bitter about the break up, and you'll never love again. But I'm dead serious about both of those statements. My ex-boyfriend, who for naming purposes will be The Prick, always liked to fill my mind with a whole bunch of bull crap that I was worthless, that my life and who I was never amounted to anything. I used to sit back and take it, but then I got sick of being bullied. I wasn't one to be pushed around, I had five brothers and although they loved me to pieces, that didn't stop them from messing with me. So I threw all of his stuff out of my third floor apartment window, including his TV, and got ready to move on with my life.

I never expected my life to be so boring without him though. I always thought that I would be so much better off, but it gets tough when the only person you can talk to is yourself. I moved to Chicago right out of high school, enrolling in Northwestern University because it was far enough away for my freedom, and because it was a good school in a city that I had always been fascinated with. It also happened to be the home of my Chicago Blackhawks, the team I had idolized since the two teenage boys brought about a change.

It was hard to believe that two guys around my age were completely revolutionizing hockey in Chicago. Most guys my age were getting plastered and skipping class, but Patrick Kane and Jonathan Toews were leading their team to the Western Conference Finals. Playoffs in Chicago were intense, no matter what team it was. Chicago loved their sports, the athletes were like the celebrities of tinsel town, we worshiped the ground they walked on because they were the shit as we knew it.

One of the first things I did as a newly single girl, was grab a couple of tickets for a Hawks game, a nice way to take a shot at The Prick, because he hated hockey, another reason we never would have worked out. So me and my best girlfriend, Brianna, grabbed a bite to eat and headed over the the United Center on a chilly, fall night at the end of October.

"My feet hurt," Brianna whined as we climbed down the stairs to where our seats were located, along the Hawks blue line where they were skating around, warming up for their match up against the Minnesota Wild, my hometown team that I couldn't honestly care less about.

"Why did you wear heels? It's a hockey game Bri," I scolded her, pulling my camera out and snapping a picture of her as she scowled at me.

"So? I still want to look pretty." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as we both fell silent, watching the boys skate around the ice, shooting, passing, and testing their equipment.

My eyes immediately found Patrick Kane, watching as he batted the puck up and down on his stick, his eyebrows lowered in concentration and his tongue caressing his top lip. Jonathan Toews skated past him, swatting the puck out of mid-air and laughing as Kane shoved him in the back with his stick, mouthing some sort of joke back to his captain and good friend. I smiled softly, feeling my heart flutter at the cute little smirk that always seemed to be fixated on his face.

Patrick Kane was with out a doubt my hockey obsession. It was not only his adorable face, but the way he made the game of hockey look so easy. Every time he was on the ice, I would hold my breath, watching as his skates dug into the ice, flicking up chips of ice while he powered his way across the ice with such determination and grace. My heart fluttered inside of my chest as his eyes scanned the crowd briefly, our eye contact such a coincidence that it was silly for me to react in such a way.

The game began quickly and I held on to the edge of my seat as the Hawks took the fans in the United Center for a ride on the victory band wagon. The arena was bursting with energy, from the loud cheering to the pretty goals that were meant to make a statement. The Hawks were contenders this year and when it came to the Stanley Cup, they wouldn't take no for an answer. The game ended with the Hawks winning be a landslide, a perfect beginning for a crazy celebration in Chicago.

"We're going to go out right?" Bri asked me, running a hand through her long dark hair.

"Of course," I told her, looping my arm through hers as we headed back to me car.

We ended up inside of a bar a couple blocks from the arena, the place filled to the brim with fans from the game. We grabbed a couple of beers, both of us thankful to be 21 finally. I took a swig of my Red Stripe, doing a quick sweep of the bar and finding it disappointingly empty of any potential hot guys. Then again, it was hard to go from looking at Patrick Kane to men in their late twenties who were already starting to bald.

A loud cheering from the door, brought Brianna and I out of our conversation a couple hours later, the fans parting like the Red Sea as a group of people walked in, shaking hands and joining in on the cheers. Adam Burish poked his head through the crowd first, coming right next to Brianna and ordering a beer. Bri looked back at me, her mouth agape and silently asking me if that was who she thought it was. I nodded, a little more than star struck as Patrick Kane appeared along with Jonathan Toews and Brent Seabrook. I glanced down at my shirt, wondering if it was a good or bad thing that I was still wearing my Kane shirt. I decided it was good as Patrick's eyes flicked over me again, just like during warm ups, except this time, they didn't move away. I gulped as he moved towards me, his mouth tilted in that infamous smirk that did crazy things to girls like me.

"Hello," he murmured softly to me, extending his hand. I shook in cautiously, giggling at how formal it was. "We've definitely not met before."

"No." I shook my head.

"I know, because I would have remembered eyes like that," he breathed out, his blue eyes getting darker by the minute. Or maybe it was the lighting?

"I hate them," I murmured to him, fluttering my lashes self consciously as he continued to stare into my eyes.

"Why? They're so unique." He murmured, taking the stool that Brianna had occupied until Brent Seabrook had asked her to join him on the dance floor.

"I don't know. They're not normal." I told him, taking a nervous sip of my beer.

"Normal is overrated anyway." He smiled, his teeth showing completely for the first time. My own smile responded to his in seconds, my pink lips stretching to match his expression. I bit my lip at the butterflies that erupted in my stomach. But he was THEPatrick Kane, the savior of the Blackhawks and he was paying attention to me.

"What would you know about normal?" I raised an eyebrow at him as he shrugged.

"I guess nothing."

Silence fell over us as we both glanced around the bar, searching for the other people we came with. My mouth dropped open when I saw Brianna and Brent, already attached at the lips, his hands roaming over my best friends body in a not so subtle way. I blushed and shook my head, turning back to the baby faced boy who was still studying me.

"What's your name?" He asked me, tilting his head to the side.

"Kara."

"Kara, where's your boyfriend?" He asked, his hand coming to rest on my knee. I looked down at it, my leg bursting into flames as a hot wave of lust rushed over my body at the simple gesture. I swallowed and looked into the deep blue eyes of my favorite infatuation, finding the smirk on his face once again because he knew exactly what he was doing to me. I pursed my lips and batted my lashes to clear my head from the haze that had settle over form Patrick's touch.

"I don't have one," I confessed softly, The Prick far from my mind because for the first time since we broke up, I wasn't thinking about how I missed the way someone would caress me and hold me, having that ownage that I was theirs and he was mine.

"Then he won't care that I'm about to ask you to dance?" He asked me, pulling me into a standing position and tugging me onto the dance floor.

I followed obediently behind despite the fact that I wasn't really into the whole club dancing scene. But Patrick Kane was leading me onto the dance floor, there was no way I was going to complain. Patrick's fingers were laced loosely with mine, the warm and calloused skin making my hand tingle. He stopped next to Brianna and Brent, turning at the same time he pulled me into his body, swaying me to the beat of the music. I swallowed hard as his lusty gaze looked me over, his eyes and hands making no effort to hide what he was thinking and what he wanted from me.

But as much as I wanted to bang Patrick Kane tonight; there was no way I was going to be just another girl to him. No, if I was going to hook up with a hockey player, I was going to make him earn it, and I sure as hell wanted him to remember it. But that didn't stop me from having fun. Patrick and I danced to every song that blared though the crappy bar speakers, lost in our own little world, both of us turning into one as our bodies moved together on the crowded floor. I arched my back into him, feeling a certain hardness against my backside that made me want to throw him on the floor. But the good Midwestern girl in me told me to back away, keep him coming back to more because guys like Patrick loved the chase.

"Patrick," I murmured to him, pushing at his chest. "I have to go."

"What? No, you can't go." He complained softly, his hands brushing my hair behind my ear and away from my eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not that kind of girl," I told him honestly, figuring it was time to set the record state.

"I know. I don't want that kind of girl. I could tell from the second I saw you that you were different. You're incredible beautiful." He whispered to me and even though I shouldn't have been able to hear him over the loud music; my heart took in every word, ever syllable that dropped from his lips, because I might never get to have this again. I wanted to remember everything, from the frantic look in his eyes to try and get me to stay, to the sweetness to his voice, and his gentle touch, much too soft for a hockey player.

"Goodbye, Patrick," I told him, stepping away and turning towards the bar where Brianna was talking to Brent, giggling uncontrollably. A hard grasp on my wrist stopped me and I turned around, only to be met with Patrick's lips, the pursed bundles of flesh moving over mine in a perfect kiss. My whole body seemed to freeze as I grasped his shirt, his hot, wet, tongue dancing over my bottom lip, the feeling making me dizzy and my head ache.

"Do you always do this to the fan girls you just meet?" I sighed out once I was able to breath and form a coherent sentence.

"Only the ones I want to see again,' He told me, flashing me his killer smile.

It was then that I decided, Patrick Kane could be the death of me someday.
***

"Kara, Baby! Come here!" My boyfriend exclaimed, his boyish laugh following as he ran down the hallway to our bedroom, diving onto the bed and not giving me a chance to actually meet him like he had called. He wasted no time in straddling my lap, placing soft, wet kisses all over my face.

"Yes?" I asked him, smiling up at his adorable face. It had been a year since I met Patrick in the bar, and absolutely nothing had change. He was still my idol, he still had that boyish look to him, and I was still his biggest fan, next to his mother of course.

"I made it. I made the team," he whispered to me, his excitement making his voice small and tentative because he was trying to be considerate of the major headache I had from too much wine the night before when we celebrated the end of a decade and the beginning of a new one.

"Baby!" I exclaimed, ignoring the pain that surged through my head and wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him into my body. "I am so proud of you!" I placed a soft kiss on his cheek before moving to his jaw and down to the shell of his ear where he like it the best. I tugged on his ear lobe, enjoying the moan of approval that escaped his lips.

"They're going to announce it after the game," he told me, nodding to the TV where the Winter Classic was playing out, the Bruins and Flyers battling back and forth at the frozen over Fenway Park.

Patrick slid underneath my body, his arms wrapping around my waist as he cradled me to him. His chin rested against the top of my head as we watched the game, once and a while his lips would brush over the top of m head. It was hard to believe the cocky hockey player had turned into such a caring and sweet boyfriend. I now knew that the whole conceded role he played when he was the hockey star was just that, a role, and underneath his tough skin, Patrick was normal, and one hell of a romantic.

He spoiled me. He showered me with love and affection, making sure he told me how beautiful I was and how much he cared about me every day. He bought me roses on random days, gave me back rubs when I had a stressful day at my job working as a cook for a catering company. I loved my job, but there were days where I wanted to rip my hair out. He was understanding when I had to sleep instead of fool around, needing to get up early for class. He never pushed me, always made sure I was comfortable, and he made me feel loved. He made all of the scars and pain from my ex-boyfriend, disappear until Patrick was the only thing I could focus on. It scared me, but at the same time I rejoiced in the feeling, an emotion I never thought I would feel again.

"Here it is!" Pat exclaimed, jostling me a bit as he shifted around excitedly in the bed. My eyes had been closed and I had been so close to drifting off to sleep, but now I was wide awake. I held on to Patrick as the announced the names, one after one.

"From Buffalo, New York and the Chicago Blackhawks, Patrick Kane," the announcers voice boomed from Fenway Park. I squealed, wrapping my arms around Pat's neck burying my face in his neck as my grin widened. His arms tightened around me and he dropped a soft kiss to the top of my head again.

"Baby, your dreams are coming true," I whispered softly, pulling away to look into his blue eyes that held an undeniable sparkle. He nodded, no words needed to express how happy and honored he was to get a chance to dawn the USA hockey jersey once again, but this time on the big stage.

"You'll come to Vancouver right?" He asked me, his expression hopeful.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, Patty." I assured him, kissing his lips softly. He pulled me down into him so I was laying on top of his chest. His hands ran over my back, softly pressing into my muscles and massaging them. I moaned softly into his mouth to let him know I didn't want him to stop. And he didn't. He kept the pressure up while his tongue slid into my mouth, making everything disappear until it was just Patrick and I, both of us content to stay just like that for the rest of the night.

Later that night, after much celebrating with delicious food and alcoholic beverages, Patrick and I laid on the couch with our kitty, Lucy. She curled up in Patrick's lap as he softly stroked her fur, causing the black and white feline to purr and flick her tail against his chest. She burrowed into his hand, every time his movements stopped, swatting at his fingers until they began to move again.

"You're spoiled like your mommy," Pat told her, his other hand squeezing my side and making me jump slightly.

"What are you talking about? You're the superstar." I snorted at him, playing with my kitty's soft fur.

"I'm spoiled just by having you in my life," he murmured to me, his lips brushing against my forehead lovingly.

"You're such a charmer." I rolled my eyes at him, but secretly, my heart was beating ten times faster from the sweetness of his words. It was incredible to see the difference from the way he was portrayed, to the way he actually acted. The Patrick the public seemed to know would never know that deep down, he was a softy at heart.

"Tis true my darling," he drawled to me as I shook my head, giggling at how ridiculous he sounded.

"Hey Pat?" I whispered to him after we had returned to watching our movie.

"Hm?"

"I'm very proud of you." I kissed his chest through the fabric of his grey Blackhawks shirt, watching as his eyes fluttered shut.

"That means so much coming from you." He sighed happily, his blue eyes drooping as he became tired.

"Come on kid, let's go to bed," I suggested, standing up and stretching. Patrick swiveled his eyebrows at me as the fabric of my shirt came up, exposing part of my mid-drift.

"No," I giggled at him, pushing his head and tugging him up. "You have a game tomorrow."

"They don't need me that much," Patrick chuckled, reaching for me as I maneuvered around him and ran down the hall to our bedroom. "Hey!" Patrick yelled after me, his footsteps following me as I jumped on the bed, his body joining mine in the fluffy sheets. He rolled on top of me, his hands grasping my wrists and pinning them to the bed. "Are you SURE?" He asked me, his lips instantly moving against my neck and the shell of my ear, desperate to change my mind.

"Okay. But only because I've always wanted to have sex with an Olympian," I teased him, watching as his eyes narrowed like he was going to pounce.

"Well then I guess I'm going to have to bring my best game," he growled at me, his teeth snapping playfully. He hovered over me, his blue eyes turning darker by the second as the anticipation built. "Hey Kara?" He whispered, his eyes never wavering from mine.

"Hey Patrick..."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Patty."I cooed to him, my hands running through his blonde locks, getting lost in the pools of blue that had pulled me in the moment I saw his pretty face.