I've Got A Problem

I get up at 8:00 the next morning to the sound of Theory of a Deadman ringing out of my iHome. I turn it up and head to the bathroom to get ready. I grab clean clothes and hop in the shower. It was probably the quickest shower on record, but I’m excited what can I say. I’ve decided that I want to look especially good if I have to see the rest of the team today. Looch can look at me all he wants in sweats, but I’ll be damned if I look like a slouch in front of his hot friends, call me shallow if you want. After I dry off I grab my undies, a pair of lacy black bikini panties that I’m especially proud of, and a matching bra from Victoria’s Secret. I have to say, whatever her secret is, I want to know. I have a thing for lingerie. I love it. It’s my one shopping weakness, well that and shoes. But Looch always appreciates going shopping with me, because he gets the deciding vote on my underwear. God help me now. I don’t know why I encourage it, probably because deep down I enjoy it. I throw on my jeans and grab a shirt, slipping it over my head on the way to my closet. I pick up my pair of converse and shove my sock-covered feet inside. Grabbing my crappy of flip phone, I snatch my bag off the hall table and head across to Looch’s place.

I slip the key in the lock and slowly open the door, half expecting something to jump out at me, but as soon as I walk in I see Tyler Seguin standing in the doorway to the living room. He smiles and motions me forward.

“So, are you Looch’s bitch for the day, Sega?” He laughs and wraps me in a hug, whispering a happy birthday in my ear. When I pull away, he grabs something out of his pocket and hands it to me. It’s another damn envelope.

“I’m warning you now, some of the guys helped him with his clues, so be prepared.” I laugh and take a deep breath tearing open the envelope.

I’d like to see you wearing just my shirt making my favorite in here.

I roll my eyes at the lame and cheesy Looch-like sexual innuendo, but head to the kitchen. I see Blake Wheeler standing there with his hands in his pockets. When he notices me he smiles and hands me yet another envelope.

Go back to the place we cuddle and watch our movies. A surprise will be waiting for you.

I frown but make my way out of his apartment waving good bye to the guys on my way out. It feels like he’s sending me on a wild goose chase. I walk through my home into my living room and spot Nathan Horton standing by my coffee table. I’ll wonder how he got in my apartment later. He slides a box to me across the table.

“Open the box first and then I’ll give you your next clue.” I tear the paper off of the box spotting the robin’s egg blue color only associated with Tiffany and Co. I look at Horts, but the sick bastard is only smiling like the cat that swallowed the canary. I open the box and gasp. No, it’s not a ring, but the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever seen. It’s in the form of a key and there are too many diamonds to count. I swear this man will be the death of me. I told him no gifts and what does he do? He buys the most expensive necklace I’ve ever owned. I’m a big fan of T.J. Maxx. You know, cute but cheap. This is most definitely cute, but in no way, shape, or form cheap. Horts hands me a piece of paper already out of the envelope. This time it’s a note, not a clue.

Now, on certain days this room is packed with the sweaty, beat-up men you so admire. I’ll be there with your gift in hand. I’d like you to wear the yellow dress you wore to Sega’s last party. It’ll make it easier to get in your pants that way. I want you to know that I plan to, get in your pants I mean. I’ll make sure you won’t walk straight for a week…or two. I’ll see you when you get here. Be sure to take my car instead of the bus, keys are in the ignition.

I blush at his comment about getting in my pants, because now I know that the whole damn team knows that Looch wants to fuck me. And fuck me well from the sounds of it. Not that I’m complaining. I’m starting to believe that Looch is definitely something special. Not just anyone would go through all of this for a friend. Let alone one they’ve only known for six months. And he can just get over my jeans and black tank top. There’s no way I’m going back home to change. So, I jump into Looch’s car and head to TD Garden. Taped to the steering wheel is yet another envelope. I open it and find a set of directions. I’m getting better with the whole technology thing, so I made a CD for you to listen to on your way. I have a feeling you’ll like the songs I picked. I press play and Bad Girlfriend by Theory of a Deadman explodes from the speakers. Quickly reaching to turn the volume down, I cycle through the rest of the songs. I laugh at his choices because each and every song has a reference to sex. I swear that Looch is perpetually horny. By the time I get through all 11 songs I’ve made it to the arena. I climb out of his car and pocket the keys, heading towards the player’s entrance. I flash a smile at staff members and I walk through heading to the locker room. I slow down as I approach the door, trying to calm the butterflies that seemed to pop up in my stomach. I push the door open and step inside. I spot Looch right away, which isn’t hard considering he’s a big guy. I step up behind him and cover his eyes with my hands.

“Guess who?” He places his warm calloused hands on mine and smiles.

“Hmm. Well, you’re too delicate to be Wheeler. Sega?” I snort. There’s nothing delicate on me or about me. What? It’s true. He pulls my hands down and turns to face me placing a kiss on my forehead.

“Well, are you ready for your gift?” I smile and nod. He pulls something red and shiny out of his pocket and slaps it on his head. A bow. Milan Lucic got me himself for my birthday. He’s not conceited at all, you know? I wrap my arms around his midsection squeezing him into a hug.

“Okay, in all seriousness, I did get you a legit present, actually more than one.” I roll my eyes. I seem to do that a lot around him. He leads me over to his stall and sits me down. He pulls several wrapped packages out of his bag and sits them on my lap. He sits cross-legged on the floor in front of me and motions for me to open. I open the smallest one first and gasp. He bought me a new phone, a Blackberry Torch to be exact.

“You’re old phone is about to kick the bucket. I thought you’d like all the features this one has. I have all of your numbers programmed in already.” I balled up the wrapping paper and tossed it at him hitting him square in the forehead, and tear into the second gift. The second present is a Mac. I could have screamed at him. He spent entirely too much money on me. He can tell I’m peeved, too. So, he takes the computer from me and pushes me the third gift. It’s a maze to get to the actual gift. He packed different sized empty boxes and envelopes into it to make it impossibly hard to find. I dig to the very bottom of the box and find a big orange envelope, looking at him curiously before breaking the seal. I reach inside and pull out its contents. I find not one but two round-trip tickets to Canada.

“You’ve never been to Canada before so I figured when the season’s up here in a few weeks you and I could go. You’ll get the whole experience. We’ll go to Nova Scotia and we can take the train, and you can put your French skills to use in Montreal. We can finish up in Vancouver. I’ll show you my summer house. It’ll be great.” Looch looks at me almost sheepishly, like I’m going to tell him to fuck off. Let me tell you, that’s about the furthest thing from my mind. I haven’t spent the last six months learning French from Patrice Bergeron to waste it now. I squeal (yes, squeal) and wrap him in a hug.

“This is so great! I’m still mad at you for spending so much on me, but let’s face it I’m greedy and I’m not about to give these tickets back. I can’t believe you. This means so much. For your birthday, I’ll have to take you to Italy. You’d love it there, plus my grandma wants to meet you so bad she can taste it.” Inwardly, I cringe. Did I really just drop the F-bomb? Possibly. I’m not talking about letting ‘fuck’ slip every now and then. I’m talking the other ‘F’ word. Family. Let’s just hope he didn’t notice.

“That’d be awesome. You can meet my family when we go to BC. My brother’s going to love you.” And he noticed. Great. Oh well, let’s just accept this as a bump in the road and move on. As I’ve stated previously, it’s not like we’re dating. Just friends here people. I’ve got ‘best friend nothing more nothing less’ tattooed across my forehead.