For You
Jordan
July 10, 2010
4:45 PM
Location -- Chicago, Illinois
Jordan
“Guys, this girl is awesome! I swear, she’s like me, but in the form of an eighteen year old chick!”
“Jare, do you have to use the word chick?”
“C’mon mom!”
I’m in the back seat of my moms rental with Marc in the front and Jare in the back next to me. I have a cast on my boot, thanks to PK Subban. Jared was going on about the friend he made at dinner a few nights ago. My mother decided she needed a trip and Jared wanted to go with. Their destination ended up being Chicago, since my mother has never been there and Jared wanted to go to the Cubs Twins game.
From what Jared told Marc and I when we flew in from Ontario, they went to some Japanese restaurant either near or at the mall in a suburb. It was one of those places that they seat you with another family and they cook in front of you. They were seated with a mom and her daughter. From what Jared said, she was wearing Erics player name and number shirt, which brought up a conversation. Her mom and my mother were talking too. It was at that moment my mother decided we were all going to go to dinner.
“Okay, so who is this woman?” I asked, trying to block out the thoughts of my argument with my girlfriend.
“She has four kids and a single mom. Their greats kids from what she’s told me.”
“You okay buddy?”
I don’t look at Marc, I keep staring out the window, hoping to God my girlfriend would just break it off. Honestly, I would, but I don’t have the balls to do it. I love her to death and everything, but lately, it seemed as if she was getting to clingy and wanted to know my every move. Sure, we had been dating for only god knows how long, but it was getting old now. It was like I needed something new. “I’m fine,” I say, still looking out the window as Stevie Nicks took over the radio.
I wasn’t fine, I was far from fine, I needed excitement in my life. I needed something new. This boot on my food wasn’t giving me any excitement whatsoever, it was making me agitated, and it was making me want to retaliate from doctor’s orders by putting a pair of skates on. I knew I couldn’t do that though, I had to keep the boot on and do what I was told so I can get back out on the ice as fast as I can. “How old are her kids?” I ask.
“The girls are twenty-one, eighteen, and seventeen, while her son is fourteen. Don’t get any ideas Jordan,” my mom says, winking at me in the mirror.
“Mom, I have a girlfriend.”
“I think you’d like Azalia though.”
“Azalia?”
It was the first time I had heard that name, ever. It sounded so exotic, like a name you’d find in a book about a girl living in the jungle. I was beginning to try and picture what this girl looked like. So far, I had a mental image of a girl with purple streaks in her hair, ripped jeans, and a band tee-shirt. The mental image I had in mind at the moment was fitting her name just well.
“Exotic name, I know,” My mom said, as she pulled on to a street. “Well, we’re here. Guys, be nice.”
“We always are,” Marc smiles.
I hobble my way out of the car and follow Jared to the front door that swings open to see a woman in her early forties standing in the doorframe. She’s about five two and has long dark brown hair with an olive colored skin tone. Their Italian, it’s obvious. “Hello there, I’m Alessandra Mariani.”
“Hi Mrs. Mariani,” Jare smiles. “These are my brothers, Marc and Jordan.
“Come in guys,” she begins as we all walk in and follow her into the kitchen/dining room. “Make yourselves at home. Maria, Joe, Makayla, and Azalia, get down here now!”
Out of all four of them, Azalia has the least Italian name. I’m starting to wonder if the mental image I had of Azalia is correct when the two girls come into the kitchen. The taller one I assume is Maria, who has shoulder length blonde hair that’s obviously died, along with blue contacts, that I assume are fake. She’s wearing a pair of jean capris and a white tank top that goes with her tan.
Makayla is standing next to her and has fake blonde hair as well. She’s a little shorter than Maria, but has a tiny frame to her body. She has a pair of ripped jeans and is in all Abercrombie attire. You can tell the two are related, but she looks a little less like Joe, who comes down stairs following her.
Joe is about five three, which is somewhat normal for a soon to be freshman in high school. His hair is curly and almost in an afro. He looks like his mom in a way, and has the darkest eyes I had ever seen.
The only one that was missing was Azalia.
“Where is your sister?” Mrs. Mariani asks to noone in particular.
“Azalia and I had a fight over the blowdryer…I won,” Maria smiles.
“Clearly. Kids, this is Mrs. Staal and her sons, Marc, Jordan, and Jared. These are three of my four kids, Maria, Makayla, and Joe.”
“Nice to meet you,” the three say in unison.
“AZALIA STEFANIA MARIANI, HURRY UP!” her mother yells.
“Will you hold on like ten minutes please!?” She yells back before turning the blow dryer on.
It was at that moment I was praying she didn’t live up to the mental image I had of her. I’m staring at her siblings, who are talking to Jared and Marc about why Eric didn’t come while I’m going at it with Heather, my girlfriend, via text message. It was at that moment where I wish I had the balls to tell her off. I mean, if I had the balls to tell someone off on the ice, why couldn’t I do it off the ice?
“Azalia, are you almost done?” Maria yells.
“I’m coming right, OH SHIT!”
I snapped out of my argument with Heather when I heard a roar of laughter coming from the stairs. I get up and look over at the stair care, and see a girl sitting on the stairs, laughing as she tries to get up. “Are you okay?” I ask the girl whose walking on the floor now.
“Yeah, no big, oh snap!”
This time, she’s on the ground now. How she fell down the stairs and slipped on hardwood floor in a thirty second time span is beyond me. She’s still laughing, but finally gets up and looks at me. I’m taken a back now, as I look back at her.
I’m staring at a fucking Greek Goddess.
She had long brown hair hat was up to her breasts, blue eyes that you could tell were fake but looked so natural with her olive skin tone, and a curvy body that fit her five foot two frame. She was wearing a jean skirt and a white graphic tank top. She was nothing that the mental image I had in my mind gave me, she was fucking beautiful, and I pretty sure I forgot at that moment I had a girlfriend who was pissing me off at the moment.
“What are you staring at?” She asks.
“I’m Jordan,” I finally get out.
“Azalia.”
“That’s my brother, Marc.”
I see her face light up when her and Marc make direct eye contact. It usually happened when girls meet Marc for the first time. Marc had good looks, I had to admit, which is usually why the girls were always chasing after him in high school. “It’s nice to meet you,” she smiles at Marc.
“Did anyone tell you you’re a beautiful girl?” Marc says, as she blushes.
“Did anyone also tell you have a girlfriend?” I snap at Marc.
What the hell just made me do that?
“I think it’s time we leave for dinner,” Mrs. Mariani suggests.
“Where are we even going?” Azalia asks.
“Capital Grille in Oakbrook.”
“That’s good enough for me so can we go now? I’m starving.”
“Says the one who was the last to get ready,” Maria rolled her eyes.
“If I can recall, you’re the one who kicked me out of the bathroom…so I stand corrected bathroom hog.”
“Girls, get in the car now.”
We pile in my moms car and no one says anything. I’m pretty sure Marc wants to kill me right now, but then again, I don’t even know what came over me. It was like her looks intimidated me, and she was younger than me by a few years. I felt my dick twitch, there was no way in hell an eighteen-year-old girl could be giving me a boner at this moment. “What the fuck was that outburst for?” Marc finally asks me.
“Since when did you become the charmer?”
“At least I had the balls to tell her she was beautiful, instead of just standing there, staring at her.”
Marc had a point, I just stood there and stared at her, staring at her beauty, the way she was smile when that roar of laughter came out of her, the way her blue contacts looked natural, she was just beautiful. She was prettier than Heather for goodness sake. “Marc, keep in mind you have a girlfriend.”
“So do you.”
“Yeah…we’re in a fight right now.”
“Then take this as an opportunity to talk to exotic Italian girl we just met.”
“Her name is Azalia.”
“Same difference.”
I roll my eyes at Marc’s comment and sigh. I couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. The mental image I had in mind before didn’t compare to how she looked when she walked into the kitchen. I needed to talk to her; I needed to get to know her. I needed to some how or another make her mine at one point in my life. That’s my quest now, to make Azalia Mariani mine.
4:45 PM
Location -- Chicago, Illinois
Jordan
“Guys, this girl is awesome! I swear, she’s like me, but in the form of an eighteen year old chick!”
“Jare, do you have to use the word chick?”
“C’mon mom!”
I’m in the back seat of my moms rental with Marc in the front and Jare in the back next to me. I have a cast on my boot, thanks to PK Subban. Jared was going on about the friend he made at dinner a few nights ago. My mother decided she needed a trip and Jared wanted to go with. Their destination ended up being Chicago, since my mother has never been there and Jared wanted to go to the Cubs Twins game.
From what Jared told Marc and I when we flew in from Ontario, they went to some Japanese restaurant either near or at the mall in a suburb. It was one of those places that they seat you with another family and they cook in front of you. They were seated with a mom and her daughter. From what Jared said, she was wearing Erics player name and number shirt, which brought up a conversation. Her mom and my mother were talking too. It was at that moment my mother decided we were all going to go to dinner.
“Okay, so who is this woman?” I asked, trying to block out the thoughts of my argument with my girlfriend.
“She has four kids and a single mom. Their greats kids from what she’s told me.”
“You okay buddy?”
I don’t look at Marc, I keep staring out the window, hoping to God my girlfriend would just break it off. Honestly, I would, but I don’t have the balls to do it. I love her to death and everything, but lately, it seemed as if she was getting to clingy and wanted to know my every move. Sure, we had been dating for only god knows how long, but it was getting old now. It was like I needed something new. “I’m fine,” I say, still looking out the window as Stevie Nicks took over the radio.
I wasn’t fine, I was far from fine, I needed excitement in my life. I needed something new. This boot on my food wasn’t giving me any excitement whatsoever, it was making me agitated, and it was making me want to retaliate from doctor’s orders by putting a pair of skates on. I knew I couldn’t do that though, I had to keep the boot on and do what I was told so I can get back out on the ice as fast as I can. “How old are her kids?” I ask.
“The girls are twenty-one, eighteen, and seventeen, while her son is fourteen. Don’t get any ideas Jordan,” my mom says, winking at me in the mirror.
“Mom, I have a girlfriend.”
“I think you’d like Azalia though.”
“Azalia?”
It was the first time I had heard that name, ever. It sounded so exotic, like a name you’d find in a book about a girl living in the jungle. I was beginning to try and picture what this girl looked like. So far, I had a mental image of a girl with purple streaks in her hair, ripped jeans, and a band tee-shirt. The mental image I had in mind at the moment was fitting her name just well.
“Exotic name, I know,” My mom said, as she pulled on to a street. “Well, we’re here. Guys, be nice.”
“We always are,” Marc smiles.
I hobble my way out of the car and follow Jared to the front door that swings open to see a woman in her early forties standing in the doorframe. She’s about five two and has long dark brown hair with an olive colored skin tone. Their Italian, it’s obvious. “Hello there, I’m Alessandra Mariani.”
“Hi Mrs. Mariani,” Jare smiles. “These are my brothers, Marc and Jordan.
“Come in guys,” she begins as we all walk in and follow her into the kitchen/dining room. “Make yourselves at home. Maria, Joe, Makayla, and Azalia, get down here now!”
Out of all four of them, Azalia has the least Italian name. I’m starting to wonder if the mental image I had of Azalia is correct when the two girls come into the kitchen. The taller one I assume is Maria, who has shoulder length blonde hair that’s obviously died, along with blue contacts, that I assume are fake. She’s wearing a pair of jean capris and a white tank top that goes with her tan.
Makayla is standing next to her and has fake blonde hair as well. She’s a little shorter than Maria, but has a tiny frame to her body. She has a pair of ripped jeans and is in all Abercrombie attire. You can tell the two are related, but she looks a little less like Joe, who comes down stairs following her.
Joe is about five three, which is somewhat normal for a soon to be freshman in high school. His hair is curly and almost in an afro. He looks like his mom in a way, and has the darkest eyes I had ever seen.
The only one that was missing was Azalia.
“Where is your sister?” Mrs. Mariani asks to noone in particular.
“Azalia and I had a fight over the blowdryer…I won,” Maria smiles.
“Clearly. Kids, this is Mrs. Staal and her sons, Marc, Jordan, and Jared. These are three of my four kids, Maria, Makayla, and Joe.”
“Nice to meet you,” the three say in unison.
“AZALIA STEFANIA MARIANI, HURRY UP!” her mother yells.
“Will you hold on like ten minutes please!?” She yells back before turning the blow dryer on.
It was at that moment I was praying she didn’t live up to the mental image I had of her. I’m staring at her siblings, who are talking to Jared and Marc about why Eric didn’t come while I’m going at it with Heather, my girlfriend, via text message. It was at that moment where I wish I had the balls to tell her off. I mean, if I had the balls to tell someone off on the ice, why couldn’t I do it off the ice?
“Azalia, are you almost done?” Maria yells.
“I’m coming right, OH SHIT!”
I snapped out of my argument with Heather when I heard a roar of laughter coming from the stairs. I get up and look over at the stair care, and see a girl sitting on the stairs, laughing as she tries to get up. “Are you okay?” I ask the girl whose walking on the floor now.
“Yeah, no big, oh snap!”
This time, she’s on the ground now. How she fell down the stairs and slipped on hardwood floor in a thirty second time span is beyond me. She’s still laughing, but finally gets up and looks at me. I’m taken a back now, as I look back at her.
I’m staring at a fucking Greek Goddess.
She had long brown hair hat was up to her breasts, blue eyes that you could tell were fake but looked so natural with her olive skin tone, and a curvy body that fit her five foot two frame. She was wearing a jean skirt and a white graphic tank top. She was nothing that the mental image I had in my mind gave me, she was fucking beautiful, and I pretty sure I forgot at that moment I had a girlfriend who was pissing me off at the moment.
“What are you staring at?” She asks.
“I’m Jordan,” I finally get out.
“Azalia.”
“That’s my brother, Marc.”
I see her face light up when her and Marc make direct eye contact. It usually happened when girls meet Marc for the first time. Marc had good looks, I had to admit, which is usually why the girls were always chasing after him in high school. “It’s nice to meet you,” she smiles at Marc.
“Did anyone tell you you’re a beautiful girl?” Marc says, as she blushes.
“Did anyone also tell you have a girlfriend?” I snap at Marc.
What the hell just made me do that?
“I think it’s time we leave for dinner,” Mrs. Mariani suggests.
“Where are we even going?” Azalia asks.
“Capital Grille in Oakbrook.”
“That’s good enough for me so can we go now? I’m starving.”
“Says the one who was the last to get ready,” Maria rolled her eyes.
“If I can recall, you’re the one who kicked me out of the bathroom…so I stand corrected bathroom hog.”
“Girls, get in the car now.”
We pile in my moms car and no one says anything. I’m pretty sure Marc wants to kill me right now, but then again, I don’t even know what came over me. It was like her looks intimidated me, and she was younger than me by a few years. I felt my dick twitch, there was no way in hell an eighteen-year-old girl could be giving me a boner at this moment. “What the fuck was that outburst for?” Marc finally asks me.
“Since when did you become the charmer?”
“At least I had the balls to tell her she was beautiful, instead of just standing there, staring at her.”
Marc had a point, I just stood there and stared at her, staring at her beauty, the way she was smile when that roar of laughter came out of her, the way her blue contacts looked natural, she was just beautiful. She was prettier than Heather for goodness sake. “Marc, keep in mind you have a girlfriend.”
“So do you.”
“Yeah…we’re in a fight right now.”
“Then take this as an opportunity to talk to exotic Italian girl we just met.”
“Her name is Azalia.”
“Same difference.”
I roll my eyes at Marc’s comment and sigh. I couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. The mental image I had in mind before didn’t compare to how she looked when she walked into the kitchen. I needed to talk to her; I needed to get to know her. I needed to some how or another make her mine at one point in my life. That’s my quest now, to make Azalia Mariani mine.
♠ ♠ ♠
Song that was playing while listening --- Augustana -- Shot in the Dark