Your Love is my Drug

The door closed and I glanced behind me. Jon walked in, pulling off his sweater so that he was in a white t-shirt, and went to the refrigerator. He let out a groan as he realized that we had no Gatorade left and took a water bottle out instead.

With the sound of the fridge shutting, I listened to his footsteps as he walked past me and went to his room, shutting the door. I sighed, looking at the television, which was playing a re-run of friends I’d seen a thousand times. Not worth it.

Standing, I pulled the blanket over my shoulders and walked down the hall. I reached his door and knocked. When I received a muffled reply, I opened the door and saw him already laying on the bed, one hand behind his head and the other on the remote.

He barely glanced up at me, but I simply walked over and climbed on the bed, falling down next to him. I still had the blanket wrapped around my tightly, but I peered through the small hole to look at Jon.

“Are you still mad at me?”

He looked at me and shrugged, “No.”

“I’m leaving Jon, I have to,” I could only whisper and that was enough to see his jaw clench, “I know you’re worried... but I talked to Brent today... I realized that I’m in love with him and staying here going to kill both of us... and the team too.”

He frowned and turned to me, “You’re in love with Brent now? Jeez, make up your mind.”
I took the stab for one reason and one reason only... he was right. I was acting like a high school girl who fell in love with any boy who remotely gave her any attention. It made me sick. He was right, my mind was confused, but I knew now. I could feel it.

“Patrick was purely sex,” I said sadly, “It took me a while to realize it.”

He scoffed and then let out a heavy breath, “I could have told you that, Lee.”

“I thought it was different,” I defended myself, but still in a soft voice.

He reached over and rubbed my shoulder, sympathetically. The one gesture that I hated more than jealousy. I didn’t like people feeling sorry for me, or feeling like I needed comfort. It made me uncomfortable and it made me feel weak.

I sat there, with my best friend in silence, and for the first time I realized that this was my new beginning. This was the first minute where I’d begin to move on. From here on I would grow up, get over it and become a better person and I would learn from my mistakes. This was the start of getting over Brent Seabrook and the Chicago Blackhawks.

I bit down on my bottom lip and shuffled closer to Jon. He didn’t move away, instead, he lifted his arm down to grab his black blanket and pulled it over top of us. His arm found its way around me; just enough to let me know that he wasn’t going anywhere... even if I was.

“Nothing’s different with Patrick,” Jon said plainly, kissing the top of my head, “Girls come around every day and think they’re gonna be the one who fucking changes him. They’re not... and they don’t.”

I let him talk, even though it made me feel like the stupidest person in the world. I let him talk because throughout these last month’s I hadn’t let him share anything at all.

“He’s not going to settle down... not for a while. That’s just who he is,” Jon continued, proving his point with every word, “Brent’s different. He puts you before everything; he cares about you more than anything... I think he’s hurt that he wasn’t the same person for you.”

I sucked in a shaky breath; I had no tears left to cry “He was though. It just took me one big fucking mess to realize it.”

He shuffled around so that he was comfortable and while the TV flickered in front of us, he said the most influential thing I’d ever heard from him:

“Sometimes things fall apart, so something better can fall together.”

I looked up at him and smiled and all he could do was give an encouraging nod. His message was simple. If Things were meant to be with Brent, if I was meant to be with Brent, I’d be with Brent. I’d have to let him go, and if we found our way back together, it was meant to be. Perhaps though, just maybe, there’s someone waiting for me out there... and this mess was fate’s way of sending me to him.

I thought of Brent with another girl and for once, it didn’t make me want to cry. It made me sick, but that would surpass. Now, as I sat in bed next to my best friend, I realized that if he was happy, I’d be happy.

If there is one thing Brent deserves, its happiness.