It's Not Easy Romancing a Stone

After the short walk from our car to the entrance of the arena, the practice was just getting underway. Rian pulled out her camera and started taking shots while I watched all of the players skate around. I was testing myself, seeing if I could recognize the players, then checking by looking on the small white number on the back of their helmets. I was getting most of them right. I already knew the main guys, like Chara, Rask, Thomas, Lucic, Bergeron and Recchi. I even surprised myself when I recognized Boychuk, Kelly, Horton, Krejci and Thornton. I still had yet to see Seguin yet, which I was both happy and let down. Happy because, well obvious reasons. But a little let down because I couldn’t give him a dirty look. I was in thought until I felt a smash against the boards I had foolishly let hold me up. I stumbled backwards a little bit, but didn’t fall.
“What the fuck?” I stood there rubbing my forehead and looked to see the asshole who had the nerve was Tyler Seguin. Of course it would be him. Fucking Douche. I gave him a dirty look and flipped him off. He smirked at me and skated away.
I stood there a little while longer and tried to get his attention so I could give him a death glare, but I was unsuccessful.
Rian, on the other hand, was having a great time. She was getting winks and smiles from guys not only on the team, but who were there doing the same as us. Milan Lucic came over and gave her a smirk, probably thinking she’d fan girl. But she didn’t she pointed to Horton and he looked at her confused. She kept pointing and eventually he got the hint and waved Horton over. Rian smiled big and pulled his old Panthers jersey out from her bag. I don’t think I’ve seen her smile that brightly in a long time, and I was happy that she was happy, she deserved it. Milan’s mouth on the other hand was agape, which made me laugh. Then, two other players approached the glass to see what was going on. Michael Ryder and, unfortunately, Tyler were standing before us. Rian was laughing at something that Nathan had said and I was standing there, awkwardly. I wasn’t really sure what to do. I looked around the rink and noticed that it was now empty (with the exception of the four players surrounding Rian) and people were crowding around Rian, trying to get closer to the players.
“Oh my god look at him. He’s so fucking hot.” I heard a perky blonde girl talk to her friend about Tyler.
“Tell me about it, I’d fuck that boy silly, he wouldn’t even know what hit him.” Her friend spoke. This one was bleach blonde and orange in skin color. She then proceeded to lick her lips and wink at him at the same time.
I stood there looking at them in shock. Were they being serious? Did they really have to say that? When he’s standing right there? A million and one questions fluttered through my mind. I snapped out of it and looked up. Tyler was looking right at me. His face red and an apologetic look plastered on his face. I scowled at him and he broke our eye contact and started playing with the tape on the end if his stick. I only had to wait a few minutes until Rian, Nathan and Milan broke off their conversation. They said their goodbyes and Rian turned to get her camera bag off the bleachers. I stood waiting for her went I heard something hit the ground a few feet away from me. I looked down to see a puck rolling toward me and landing perfectly in front of me, NHL logo side up. I looked at it confused and then realized it. I looked up at the rink to see Tyler standing there with a cocky grin on his face. I picked the puck up off the ground, and looked up at him. His face became hopeful when I turned the black piece of rubber in my hands. It was still wet from the ice and was cold to the touch. I put on a fake smile and tossed the puck up and over the protective netting. It rolled towards him as he looked up at me, was that what I think it was? Was Tyler Seguin, the 19 tear old, cocky Bruin’s rookie mad because he couldn’t get something he wanted? Was he mad because he didn’t have a girl being putty in his hands, doing whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted? Was he mad because he finally not in control of what could happen? I smirked in satisfaction.
“Good. He needs a dose of reality.” I thought as I turned on my heel and walked out. Leaving him there with an expression mixed of anger, determination, but mostly shock, on his young face.