Stubborn

His Carolina blue eyes stared at me from across the busy room. I breathed deeply and diverted my gaze to the stacked coffee cups in front of me. It had been the same scenario all night; I would look up briefly and there he’d be, his eyes blazing with whatever question danced on his tongue. I, then, would quickly look away and we’d start the whole thing over again. I avoided drama for this exact reason and somehow it managed to find me. To my left, the giant ice sculpture of a hockey player striking a generic pose had begun melting, leaving a puddle next to my feet. That was enough to keep me preoccupied until I noticed two people stop in front of my table.

My eyes had to scan up their tall physics and fitted suits before I could reach the faces of Jordan and, who I now knew to be, Paul. Paul had a mischievous smirk on his lips as he looked down at me, his eyes darting to the six foot whatever giant next to him. Jordan, on the other hand, wasn’t smiling. Not even mischievously or in a cocky way.

I gave an awkward cough as I shifted my position. “What can I get you guys?”

Paul stared at me for a moment, and then looked over at Jordan, wondering if he was going to speak up. I was wondering the same thing, though I tried to keep my eyes off of him for as long as possible. This was weird, to say the least. If what happened a week ago was with anybody other than Jordan than it wouldn’t have been this uncomfortable, but the fact that it was all so unexpected had me questioning everything since the moment I met him all those weeks ago in this exact same position, in this exact same uniform, at this exact same function.

“Uh, two coffees,” Paul said, obviously deciding to spare the three of us anymore of an uncomfortable silence. I nodded, picking up two cups and placing them on saucers as I gave a quick glance around the enormous room, wondering if anyone else could sense this tension between us. As I had expected, no one was paying attention to my trivial life; they were all either at their nicely decorated tables eating whatever gourmet food was catered, or softly conversing with one another about things that were definitely more important than what had happened between me and Jordan Staal.

I placed the cups down in front of me on the table, sneaking a look at Jordan’s unmoving face, before facing Paul. “Regular or decaf?” I asked.

“Regular,” Jordan interjected swift and smooth with a hint of eagerness to his voice.

I looked at him for a moment, noticing the emotion behind his eyes but not really sure which emotion it was. “You guys planning on a long night?” I asked.

Then, as though I had triggered something, his lips rose on one side into a smirk. “I’m always planning on a long night,” he replied. Paul chuckled next to him and I gave a small nod, filling their cups carefully. My eyes flickered upwards and I saw Jordan looking over his shoulder before fixing his eyes back on me. “I’d invite you to come,” he began, letting his tongue run over his pink lips as he grabbed the full cup from in front of me, “but I want it to be fun so...”

Paul let out a low “oohh” as he looked back and forth between me and Jordan, waiting for my retaliation. Whatever was going on behind that facade Jordan put up, he was doing a good job of hiding it by trying to get under my skin. There was no use trying to understand him, it would only give me an ulcer. One week he’s pulling me into his bed, and the next he’s pushing me out into public humiliation. I was sick of it. Whatever game he wanted to play, I wasn’t interested.

“Whatever, Jordan,” I mumbled, handing the other cup over to Paul, who seemed too intrigued by the present situation to look away from us. “I don’t ask you to talk to me.”

He shrugged. “But I feel like a better person when I do.” That sentence stung because I knew exactly the kind of vicious implication he had in mind.

“I’m not a charity case,” I said, my temper rising. I hated when he made me react to his stupidity, but I just couldn’t control myself. I didn’t ask for Jordan Staal to come into my life. I wasn’t a fame-seeking Puck Bunny or soon-to-be youtube celebrity that needed connections. My simple, drama-free life would have been so much easier without him pointing out my flaws or shooting down the only forms of self-esteem I had.

“Yeah, well, you came over to my house last week,” he said, after taking a sip of coffee, “it can’t get any clearer than that.”

I let out a breath that had, up to the end of his sentence, been lodged in my throat, threatening to suffocate me. “I came to make sure you were okay after making a complete ass of yourself at Tyler’s party. Kind of like what you’re doing now.” Paul’s eyebrows rose and his jaw fell slightly open. I hated confrontation, but it felt good getting out every problem I had with this pretentious hockey player.

“You stayed the night,” he retorted.

“To make sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit!” I could feel my body shaking as his face held on to that smirk and his eyes burned with the satisfaction of seeing me lose control. “And I left right after.”

He shrugged again. “Not like it really mattered. I had another one of you in my bed the next night...and the next...and the next.”

I could feel every ounce of emotion overflowing like a volcano in the pit of my stomach as Jordan waited for me to retaliate and Paul stood motionless next to him. Licking my lips slowly, deliberating, I came to a conclusion that would probably make me lose my job but gain back most of my dignity. Without hesitation, I raised my hand and gave Jordan a swift slap on his left cheek. It was as though the entire room went silent. All those people I thought didn’t care about my life were now watching as I injured one of the Penguin’s star players.

Jordan’s head flew to the side then he turned back to me, his face somewhat shocked. He rubbed his jaw slowly as he stared down at me.

“Have a nice life, Jordan,” was the last thing I said before walking out from behind the desert table and to the kitchen where I grabbed my stuff and headed home.

Banner by: Sharpie19 (on quizilla)