Stories Left Untold

Jonathan Toews had something about him that drew me in. He made me feel safe, when I knew all of this was shit. He made me feel like there was some hope still left in all of this. He wanted to make me feel comfortable. Jonathan Toews was really was what people made him out to be...

Something near perfect.

We went out to lunch after I explained what I knew we did that night. He wanted to get to know me, he wanted to make this all work.

“So what do you do in life? Do you have a job? Are you in school?” he asked me.

“I go to school at Northwestern and well... I work at the Blackhawks store on Michigan Avenue....” I trailed off.

“What do you study?” he asked me.

“European Studies. I have one year left.” I smiled.

“Do you speak any languages?” he asked me.

“English, German, French, an---”

“French? Like fluent French?!” he said getting kind of excited.

“Oui?” I said confused.

“How good is your French?” he spoke to me in French. Holy hell that was hot as hell.

“Better than yours!” I joked back to him in French. Pretty soon we spent the whole lunch speaking French. When we got back to our hotel room we sat on the bad and we started to speak in English.

“Your brain hurt?” He ask me.

“Oh yeah. You know how hard it is for me to speak four languages. You get things confused sometimes, but right now my brain is fried.” I smiled and then he kissed me.

Well Jonathan Toews.

I moved away for a second and he looked at me.

“I shouldn't have done that.” He said to me.

“No! It is okay. I understand, It is just...” I said.

“Just what?” he said looking into my eyes. I was melting so bad right now. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

“Jon I have to admit something to you, which is gonna make this really bad, but I have to tell you.”

“You don’t have to tell me?” he said not wanting to hear it.

“It isn’t anything overly bad.” I tried to reassure him.

“You have a boyfriend back in Chicago don’t you?” he said looking at me.

“No! God no.”

“Oh okay good, because this would be a tricky one to explain.” Jon said kind of easing up. “What is wrong then?”

“This whole situation as you know, makes me extremely upset. You know that. I never drink excessively. It is frowned upon to do so. Then the way I acted was nothing short of terrible sinning, and I can’t I believe I did such things.” I said looking to the ground. “What I’m getting at is that, well I’m a prude. A big one. I probably haven’t even properly kissed someone until well... That night. I don’t remember it, and it isn’t the cute I wanted to remember my first proper kiss, but more I’m ashamed someone of my actions. When Patrick showed me a picture of me being almost fully naked on top of you, to what seemed to be a lap dance----” I was getting overly upset.

“Elizabeth, whoa calm down. It is fine.” Jon said making me look at him. “We were both drunk we did really stupid stuff. Don’t worry okay? I know by talking to you aren’t some raging slut. You are complex person I know this much by just knowing you for two days. I know anything we did that night wasn’t us in our normal state of mind.” My tears started to stream down my cheek. I felt like such a dirty slut. I felt dirty, and what I was a disgrace to everyone. “Don’t cry, please. Does it look like I’m bothered that you are a prude? I’m not. It is actually kind of nice to hear someone out there nowadays isn’t throwing herself at anyone. Unclassy.” he said trying his best to make me feel better. He wiped my tears away. “We're stuck into this together okay? It isn’t just me or just you. We got married, and that takes two people not one.” He smiled at me.

“You’re almost too good to be true Jonathan Toews.” I looked at him.

“I get that a lot, but I bet that happens to you too.” His smile was so nice.

“Yeah, I do.” I said.

“You don’t feed people bullshit do you Elizabeth Bierhoff?”

“Hell no. Gets you in too much trouble. I avoid that.” I smiled.

“Can I kiss you now without you being scared?” Jon asked inching closer to me. I nodded my head and he kissed me. I liked where this was going. I felt safe, and that’s what I needed right now. That kissed turned into several kisses. Those several kisses turned into hands up my shirt.

“I can get use to this.” I said between a kiss and smiling. I felt him smile and that’s when our door was busted open.

“GOD DAMMIT WHY DO THOSE TWO ALWAYS HAVE TO BE MODELLED GOD DAMN EVERYTHING.” Patrick said. “Well besides Toews almost boner and his hand up her shirt. A+ Lizzie you really know how to stay classy.” Jon moved his hand and got up.

“Don’t talk to her like that... Ever.” Jon said.

“Oh my god you two mind as well stay married. You are practically fucking each other with your eyes half the time, and you treat her like after all of this you still want to see her. She lives in Pittsburgh.”

“No she doesn’t you idiot. She lives in Chicago.” Jon said getting kind of pissed off.

“Oh really? Slutface Magee is coming back with us to Chicago?”

“Don’t call her a slut. She is far from one.”

“I don’t think she can be that wholesome if she did after all marry you the same night she met you.” Patrick was just being mean. I didn’t want to fight back.

“I’m leaving. Jon we’ll sort this out when we get back to Chicago.” I said starting to cry. I got up fixed my shirt and walked passed them.

“You stupid asshole. Just because your wife hates you doesn’t mean mine hates me. I’m trying to make this easy for her, not miserable and make her feel like a piece of shit. You should try and do the same thing.” Jon said explaining to Patrick. Jon rushed after me and I felt him grab my hand. “Wait a second.”

“Jon leave me alone.” I said trying push him away from me.

“Elizabeth no.” he said.

“Leave me alone!” I said in French.

“Non!” he said.

“Let go of me.” I yelled in French again.

“Stop being upset with what he says! You know your aren’t a slut and you are good person. Stop letting him get into your head.” he said back to me in French.

“You don’t think I know what people think of me? What your friends think of me? I’m some slut they see on Patrick’s phone. Some girl that married you for some god damn reason.” I spat in French. There was no English being spoken right now.

“That isn’t you though. That is some drunk girl that Patrick kept getting drinks for that doesn’t remember anything!” Jon yelled back to me.

“Wait...”

“Whoa...” he said.

“What the fuck you two both speak French?” Patrick said coming over to where we were.

“Patrick shut up...” I said in English. “How did you know that?” I ask Jon in French.

“I think my memory is coming back...” Jon said to me.