Status: One-Shot.
Frustration Is Gorgeous
I'll still be lost in poetics or lost in the mail.
One lone person walked along Central Park's path early that morning, a dark grey peacoat drawn tightly to his figure and a knitted hat fitted snugly atop his head to keep the biting cold away. He took a leisurely stroll, keeping an impassive look while contemplating his current relationship status.
He was single. He had his eye on someone. He needed to find a way to steal her heart.
The man, who was none other than the New York Rangers' Marc Staal, let out a sigh, his breath condensing into tiny puffs in the cool December air. This was the first time he found himself in love with a female he barely knew. He met her last week after one of the practices; she and Ryan Callahan had somehow become good friends and the male of the pair decided it would be a good idea to introduce her to his teammates, tell how their friendship came to be. Unfortunately, the poor defenseman was so smitten with the female that he hadn't caught her name; he blanked out, eyes locked on her beach waves that he grew quite fondly of, and then on her legs, with which he'd become so enraptured.
He lightly shook his head back and forth to rid him his thoughts of the woman. The amount of time he spent thinking about her since last week would raise a red flag. He knew it was unhealthy, and he knew it was probably beyond creepy. Marc was surprised at the obsessive attraction he had for his teammate's friend; nothing was more unlike him.
For the time being, Marc admitted defeat to his obsession. He swiftly left Central Park and headed toward the Starbucks nearby. He arrived shortly at the coffee klatch and immediately froze upon entering. With his fabulous luck, the woman he was thinking about a mere five minutes earlier was waiting at the counter for her order, her back to him.
He managed to regain what little composure he had in the first place, and ordered himself a large cup of coffee. Marc stood a decent distance away from the woman, but close enough to hear her name, if the barista said it.
The barista said "Tara?" in a hushed tone; the woman before him nodded and a coffee carrier was pushed in her direction. Marc was triumphant, as he didn't have to start an awkward conversation to find out what her name was.
Tara turned around to exit, caught Marc's eye and gave him a small smile. All he could do is smile in return as she walked past him and out the door.
"Idiot," he muttered to himself, walking closer to the counter. The barista handed Marc his much-needed caffeine; he then walked home so he could relax before practice that afternoon.
When Marc got home, he had about four hours to kill. He spent most of that time napping, as he woke up at an ungodly hour that day.
He woke up from his nap, completely disoriented, and realized that he was running late; practice starts in ten minutes. He got changed as quickly as his body would allow him and rushed out the door in what seemed like ten seconds. Lucky for him, there was minimal traffic on the roads, and he was able to arrive at practice with a few minutes to spare. Again, Marc changed into his hockey gear at lightning speed, and arrived on the ice milliseconds before his coach. He let out an inaudible sigh of relief.
Practice was relatively easy that day; it consisted only of a practice game and some drills. Coach allowed them to go home a bit early, as the Rangers' next game wasn't for a few days.
Ryan Callahan invited him, along with some of their other teammates, over his house, for some video games, possibly a movie and general insanity. He jumped in his car and drove to his teammate's house, only to arrive seconds after his love interest.
He was happy she was here, maybe even elated, to the point that it would have been slightly creepy, had she known what he was feeling at the moment.
He, as nonchalantly as he could, stepped out of his car and walked toward the door of his friend's home. Tara joined him at his side.
"Hello," she said. "I don't think we were formally introduced. I'm Tara."
Marc unconsciously smoothed his hair back and straightened the shirt he was wearing. They arrived at the front door when he said "I'm Marc."
"I know," she said, ringing the doorbell. Marc gave her a sideways glance and noticed the small smile playing upon her lips.
Dan Girardi opened the door to Ryan's house. Marc gave him a slightly confused look, turned around and saw that three other cars, in addition to Marc's, Ryan's and Tara's, were also sitting soundlessly in the driveway. He had been so focused on the fact that Tara came as well that he failed to notice everyone else there.
He thought he may just be going insane.
The two of them walked in, receiving a chorus of mixed greetings from the occupants of the living room. Michael Del Zotto and Brian Boyle were both already in an epic battle of hockey on Ryan's Xbox 360. Ryan sat on the couch behind them and watched what they were doing intently.
Dan, Marc and Tara joined the three men occupying the living room; Marc chose to sit in a recliner, Tara sat next to Ryan and Dan, annoyed by the fact that Marc stole his seat, sat on the other side of Ryan.
Marc looked on, feeling like the third wheel as Tara chatted freely with everyone else in the room.
"Del Zotto!" she exclaimed. "You're losing!"
"Yeah, well, that's only because Brian is a cheater."
"No I'm not!" Brian countered. "You just suck!"
Michael just huffed and tapped the buttons on his controller furiously, somehow resulting in him earning a goal. He threw his hands up in the air in victory and stuck his tongue out at his opponent.
The afternoon went on with the six of them playing video games. Marc eventually played hockey against Dan, which earned him a tally in the loss column, and Ryan against Tara, which ended in a tie.
They watched a random movie Ryan found lying around in his room, during which Marc tried thinking of ways to tell Tara how he feels without sounding creepy or desperate. Unfortunately, this ultimately failed.
Tara said her goodbyes, and walked out the door. In a frantic moment of stupidity, Marc also said a general goodbye to the population of the room and stalked out the door.
"Tara," he called out. The woman paused, looking at him from behind the door of her car.
"What is it?" she queried.
Marc let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know what's going on. This is really weird because I've never had this happen to me. The truth is, I love you. I love you so much, it's stupid."
Tara looked at him evenly, her mouth slightly open in shock.
"I know it's a bit early to be asking this," he continued, "but would you like to go out sometime?"
She thought for a moment, then smiled and said "Sure. But let's get to know each other first. Like you said, it's kind of early." She climbed into her car and drove away in the direction of her home.
Marc stood in his friend's driveway, slightly dumbfounded. His pondering, or lack thereof, had actually gotten him somewhere.
He was single. He had his eye on someone. He needed to find a way to steal her heart.
The man, who was none other than the New York Rangers' Marc Staal, let out a sigh, his breath condensing into tiny puffs in the cool December air. This was the first time he found himself in love with a female he barely knew. He met her last week after one of the practices; she and Ryan Callahan had somehow become good friends and the male of the pair decided it would be a good idea to introduce her to his teammates, tell how their friendship came to be. Unfortunately, the poor defenseman was so smitten with the female that he hadn't caught her name; he blanked out, eyes locked on her beach waves that he grew quite fondly of, and then on her legs, with which he'd become so enraptured.
He lightly shook his head back and forth to rid him his thoughts of the woman. The amount of time he spent thinking about her since last week would raise a red flag. He knew it was unhealthy, and he knew it was probably beyond creepy. Marc was surprised at the obsessive attraction he had for his teammate's friend; nothing was more unlike him.
For the time being, Marc admitted defeat to his obsession. He swiftly left Central Park and headed toward the Starbucks nearby. He arrived shortly at the coffee klatch and immediately froze upon entering. With his fabulous luck, the woman he was thinking about a mere five minutes earlier was waiting at the counter for her order, her back to him.
He managed to regain what little composure he had in the first place, and ordered himself a large cup of coffee. Marc stood a decent distance away from the woman, but close enough to hear her name, if the barista said it.
The barista said "Tara?" in a hushed tone; the woman before him nodded and a coffee carrier was pushed in her direction. Marc was triumphant, as he didn't have to start an awkward conversation to find out what her name was.
Tara turned around to exit, caught Marc's eye and gave him a small smile. All he could do is smile in return as she walked past him and out the door.
"Idiot," he muttered to himself, walking closer to the counter. The barista handed Marc his much-needed caffeine; he then walked home so he could relax before practice that afternoon.
When Marc got home, he had about four hours to kill. He spent most of that time napping, as he woke up at an ungodly hour that day.
He woke up from his nap, completely disoriented, and realized that he was running late; practice starts in ten minutes. He got changed as quickly as his body would allow him and rushed out the door in what seemed like ten seconds. Lucky for him, there was minimal traffic on the roads, and he was able to arrive at practice with a few minutes to spare. Again, Marc changed into his hockey gear at lightning speed, and arrived on the ice milliseconds before his coach. He let out an inaudible sigh of relief.
Practice was relatively easy that day; it consisted only of a practice game and some drills. Coach allowed them to go home a bit early, as the Rangers' next game wasn't for a few days.
Ryan Callahan invited him, along with some of their other teammates, over his house, for some video games, possibly a movie and general insanity. He jumped in his car and drove to his teammate's house, only to arrive seconds after his love interest.
He was happy she was here, maybe even elated, to the point that it would have been slightly creepy, had she known what he was feeling at the moment.
He, as nonchalantly as he could, stepped out of his car and walked toward the door of his friend's home. Tara joined him at his side.
"Hello," she said. "I don't think we were formally introduced. I'm Tara."
Marc unconsciously smoothed his hair back and straightened the shirt he was wearing. They arrived at the front door when he said "I'm Marc."
"I know," she said, ringing the doorbell. Marc gave her a sideways glance and noticed the small smile playing upon her lips.
Dan Girardi opened the door to Ryan's house. Marc gave him a slightly confused look, turned around and saw that three other cars, in addition to Marc's, Ryan's and Tara's, were also sitting soundlessly in the driveway. He had been so focused on the fact that Tara came as well that he failed to notice everyone else there.
He thought he may just be going insane.
The two of them walked in, receiving a chorus of mixed greetings from the occupants of the living room. Michael Del Zotto and Brian Boyle were both already in an epic battle of hockey on Ryan's Xbox 360. Ryan sat on the couch behind them and watched what they were doing intently.
Dan, Marc and Tara joined the three men occupying the living room; Marc chose to sit in a recliner, Tara sat next to Ryan and Dan, annoyed by the fact that Marc stole his seat, sat on the other side of Ryan.
Marc looked on, feeling like the third wheel as Tara chatted freely with everyone else in the room.
"Del Zotto!" she exclaimed. "You're losing!"
"Yeah, well, that's only because Brian is a cheater."
"No I'm not!" Brian countered. "You just suck!"
Michael just huffed and tapped the buttons on his controller furiously, somehow resulting in him earning a goal. He threw his hands up in the air in victory and stuck his tongue out at his opponent.
The afternoon went on with the six of them playing video games. Marc eventually played hockey against Dan, which earned him a tally in the loss column, and Ryan against Tara, which ended in a tie.
They watched a random movie Ryan found lying around in his room, during which Marc tried thinking of ways to tell Tara how he feels without sounding creepy or desperate. Unfortunately, this ultimately failed.
Tara said her goodbyes, and walked out the door. In a frantic moment of stupidity, Marc also said a general goodbye to the population of the room and stalked out the door.
"Tara," he called out. The woman paused, looking at him from behind the door of her car.
"What is it?" she queried.
Marc let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know what's going on. This is really weird because I've never had this happen to me. The truth is, I love you. I love you so much, it's stupid."
Tara looked at him evenly, her mouth slightly open in shock.
"I know it's a bit early to be asking this," he continued, "but would you like to go out sometime?"
She thought for a moment, then smiled and said "Sure. But let's get to know each other first. Like you said, it's kind of early." She climbed into her car and drove away in the direction of her home.
Marc stood in his friend's driveway, slightly dumbfounded. His pondering, or lack thereof, had actually gotten him somewhere.
♠ ♠ ♠
I'm pretty sure Marc is my favorite of the Staal boys, despite the fact that he plays for the Rangers. :)Also, I'm going to do a little shameless self-promotion here. If you like writing about hockey, I'm running a contest in which you can write a one-shot featuring some amazing hockey player. At the time of writing this note, [12/10/10], there are thirteen spots available.