I Couldn't Be More Afraid

Luckily, I didn’t have to work at all on Wednesday and could sleep in. I knew that it was going to be a late night; I had checked the Rangers schedule and noticed that they were off on Thursday and had a home game on Friday, so it was very likely that they would be going out after the game. I didn’t want to assume that Marc was going to invite me out, but he wanted to see me when the game was over. I wished that he gave me two tickets instead of just one; going to a game alone could be kind of boring. The seats were way up in the front, so I wouldn’t even be surrounded by the crazy fans in the blueseats.

I stared at Marc’s jersey sitting on my bed. If I wore the jersey, he would take it as me accepting all of his come ons. The last thing I would let myself become was a puck bunny; getting hit on by a hockey player was flattering, but I knew that he would move on pretty quickly. There would be another girl tonight who would catch his attention. On the other hand, I would never decline a free hockey ticket…especially not one for a Rangers/Flyers game.

I walked to the Long Island Railroad station that was only a quarter mile from my house and took the train into Penn Station. I went to my seat and I was surrounded by the people who stayed somewhat quiet during a game except to join in the “Potvin Sucks” chants that filled the arena. The game was great, my favorite part was the constant fighting, checking, pushing, and everything that came with this rivalry.

After the game, a security guard walked me downstairs and into the locker room. Marc looked at me as soon as I walked in the room and I was sure the first thing he noticed was that I wasn’t wearing a jersey. This was confirmed when he walked over to me and the first thing he said was, “that’s not my jersey.”

“Nope,” was all I said in response. My back was to Dubi when he walked over to us; of course he had the perfect view of the back of my shirt.

“Nice shirt, Layla,” he said to me.

“Thanks, I like it,” I smiled back at him. I could see a hint of jealousy in Marc’s eyes and I was absolutely loving every second of it.

“So, did Marc invite you out with us?”

“I was just getting to that,” Marc interjected before I even had a chance to answer, “Layla, will you come out to the bar with us tonight?”

“Sure, sounds fun,” I responded, trying my best to hide my excitement.

Marc whispered something to Dubi which led him to leave the two of us alone. Marc was looking at me and I could tell he was happy to finally have me alone.

“Thanks for the ticket…and the jersey,” I said.

“Why aren’t you wearing the jersey?”

“I don’t know.”

He wanted more, I could tell, but luckily Drury wanted to talk to the guys about the game and I had to leave the dressing room. I waited out in the hallway where the press was running between the two rooms making sure they got the full scoop. When Torts walked past me into the press room to do the post game press conference, I knew that it was almost time to head to the bar. Marc came out first, followed by the rest of the team, all of them looking dapper in their suits. Marc put his arm around me to lead me to a car that was waiting in the parking lot.

I let him keep his arm there, but I made sure to keep a little bit of distance so that he didn’t get his hopes up too high. We got into a limo and immediately, the guys removed their jackets and started to change from their dress pants into their jeans. They were taking their pants off like I wasn’t even there, but it didn’t have that much of an effect on me.

When we arrived at the final destination, I made a beeline for the bar. Marc and Dubi were both right behind me and made sure that they paid for my drinks. We had a casual conversation about the game and other superficial things. I looked over to the door and saw Mike Richards, Jeff Carter, Brayden Coburn, and James Van Riemsdyk walk in and was curious about the road team showing up at the home team’s party.

“What are they doing here?” I asked.

“Cobie’s one of my best friends, I invited them to join us,” Dubi responded.

“Wow, that’s pretty cool since you’re enemies on the ice.”

Dubi laughed and I added "is that why you and Richie fight so often?”

Both guys laughed and Dubi ignored the question. Something happened on the other end of the club that made the two guys walk away. I was enjoying being alone with my drink and just listening to the loud music that was blaring from the speakers. My alone time was ended when Richards and Carter walked over to me.

“Hey, I’m Mike,” Richards said.

“Hi.”

“Do you have a name?” Carter asked.

“I do.”

“and…?”

“Why did you two come up to the only girl in this place wearing a Rangers t-shirt?”

“I like a challenge,” Richards started.

“Well you’re not gonna win this one,” I responded, starting to flirt a little. Richie and Carter continued to flirt with me and I looked across the room to see Marc noticing everything. I smiled and giggled at their pathetic attempts to hit on me. Unfortunately playing along, just made them stay longer.

A few minutes later Dubi walked over to me and put his arm around my waist. “Are these guys bothering you?” I laughed in response and almost immediately, Richie and Carter walked away. I thanks Dubi for saving me and he told me that he could tell from a distance that I wanted to get rid of them.

“So why are you playing games with Marc?” he asked,

“I’m not.”

“Really? He sent you a jersey and tickets and you’re not wearing the jersey, but you still came out with us.”

“I’ll be honest with you, I’m not getting involved with a hockey player. I’m not going to be another notch on his bedpost.”

“The more you resist, the more he’s gonna try.”

“Well, let him.”

“Dance with me.”

“What?”

“Please?”

I wasn’t sure where that came from, but Dubi was taking me out to the dance floor with him. Everyone else was grinding and practically dry humping on the dance floor; that might have been the normal style of dance, but it wasn’t quite me. Dubi put his arms around me and started to move; I responded by putting his arms around his neck. The dancing was starting to get a little bit dirty, but I just went with it since I had a few drinks. I could see Marc across the room watching and his eyes were shooting daggers at his friend.

After a couple of songs, we were both getting a little tired, so Dubi walked with me back to the bar. He excused himself to go somewhere and within seconds, Marc made his way over to me. I looked at him and his eyes were focused on me; I didn’t say a word before he took my hand and started leading me to the back of the bar.

“Marc, what are you…” I was stopped midsentence by him standing over me against a wall. He was a good eight inches taller than me and was looking down at me. I couldn’t move, but in that moment, I was okay with that. I could feel his breath on my skin as our eyes locked on each other.

“Admit it,” he started, “you want me to kiss you right now.”

He was making me lose my breath and I could feel my body start to flush, but I had to remain strong. “No,” I said, though my voice was a little shaky.

“Then why are you shaking and turning a little white?”

“I’m not,” I responded.

“You’re out of breath. You want me as much as I want you.”

I didn’t say a word; he leaned in to try to kiss me and I turned my head. He stopped before he kissed my cheek again, but he didn’t look defeated at all. There was a look of determination in his eyes and I knew that I was his desired prey. Sure, I was absolutely attracted to him, but I wasn’t going to let him know that. I had to play it cool; I had to remain in control.

While he was still standing over me and complimenting me through his breath, I reached around to his back pocket. I was definitely shaky, so it was difficult not to let him know what I was doing. I didn’t know why he made me so breathless, but the look in his eyes and feeling how much he wanted me was having such a strong effect. From his pocket, I pulled out his cell phone; he looked at me in amazement because he didn’t feel my hand at all.

“How did you….”

“I’m good with my hands,” I teased. The look on his face was priceless. I programmed my number into his phone and sent myself a text message so that I would have his. “Now,” I started, “you can try to get to know me.” With those words, I slipped his phone back into his pocket and walked away from Marc and out the door, back to Penn Station.

I had barely walked into my house before my phone started buzzing. Marc had probably just realized what I did when I had his phone and started to text me.

Marc: I told U that U wanted me
Me: Who said that?
Marc: U gave me UR #
Me: but you have to learn how to use it
Marc: R U always such a tease?
Me: guess that’s something you’ll have to find out.

I turned off my phone and went to sleep. The next day, he texted me on and off throughout the day; he didn’t really have much to say, but I continued to give him the one line responses. It was fun knowing that I had him wrapped around my finger.

On Saturday night, I was working at the bar during the Ranger game. We were busy and filled with sports fans, so I didn’t get to watch most of the game. Luckily, I dressed for the hockey fans and was making amazing tips; a low cut black mini-dress always managed to get my wallet filled on the weekends. After the game, my boss made me take a 15 minute break and I looked at my cell phone to find a brand new text from Marc.

Marc: Where R U 2nite?”
Me: Working
Marc: where’s that?
Me: bar on Long Island
Marc: does it have a name?
Me: Maxwell’s

I didn’t get to talk to him much more than that because I heard the bar get louder than it had been. The late night crowd was arriving and that meant the next five hours of work were going to involve a lot of flirting in order to make a good paycheck. About an hour later, it seemed like the entire bar was focused on the door. There was chatter about someone walking in, but I couldn’t quite tell what they were saying. I looked through the crowd and standing above most of them, I saw that familiar red hair. Marc, Dubi, and Erik started walking towards me and I was completely shocked that they were at a small restaurant/bar on Long Island after a game.

“What can I get you?” I asked as if they were normal customers.

Dubi and Erik ordered beers, while Marc decided to play the smartass, “I’ll take the bartender.”

“Sorry, I’m not on the menu.”

“Damn, then I guess I’ll have a beer.”

I poured beers for the three of them and then everyone who recognized them started asking for autographs. I was relieved to get a break and I moved over to the other side of the bar. A few minutes later, I walked up and saw that Dubi had broken away from the other two and was standing in front of me.

“You know, he really does like you.”

“Good luck to him with that, I told you, I’m not going to sleep with him.”

“I think he wants more than that.”

“Brandon,” I started, using his first name for a change, “your friend has a reputation and I have no reason to believe it’s not true. I might as well end the game before it starts.”

“Baby, you’re playing the game,” he responded before walking way. I wasn’t totally sure what he meant by that, but I let the comment slide. The bar was too busy to worry about cryptic comments from a hockey player. I looked over at Marc and it looked like he was really enjoying all of the attention he was getting from the regulars in the bar.

It took almost an hour for Marc to come back over to me. He ordered a beer and just stood there, looking at me.

“So when are you going to let me take you out?”

“I’m not.”

“Layla, seriously, please, let me take you on a date. I’ll take you somewhere nice, we’ll have a good time.”

“I’m sorry, Marc, but I really can’t.”

“Laayyllaa,” he started to sing, trying to be Clapton, “you’ve got me on my knees, Layla.”

“Marc, please stop.”

“I’m begging darling please, Layla.”

As sick as I was about hearing that song every time I met someone new, I was having trouble continuing to resist Marc Staal.