Tell Me What To Do

When I reach the address I realize that it’s not an apartment, but an art studio. I raise my eyebrows, wondering why she’s working at an art studio, but I’m more worried about myself than the art at this point. I notice my reflection and I’m suddenly extremely self conscious. I question why I picked my plain black tee shirt and these dorky black, gray, and white plaid shorts. I have my Reezigs on (black and yellow of course), and my hair is styled as carefully as possible. Normally I’d be standing there thinking I’m hot shit, but now I’m kind of freaking out. I check my watch and see that it’s 7:32, so I push open the door and Jane bounds over to me from this weird little desk thing set up in the middle of the studio.

“Sidney, you’re late!” she says happily. I laugh.

“By two minutes. I don’t really think that constitutes as late,” I shrug.

“Oh, a big vocabulary I see. Not too shabby for a banged up hockey jock,” she chuckles. I frown at her playfully and shake my head.

“Just because I play hockey doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I might have been concussed for a while, but never stupid,” I chuckle.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. So when did you land?” she asks. I look around, and notice the art hanging all around the studio for the first time. The paintings are beautiful. They’re a bit modern, so some of them I can’t really tell what they’re supposed to be, but they’re all breathtaking. I’m particularly distracted by the painting on an easel next to the weird desk thing. It is a painting of gorgeous blues, pinks, and purples. There are streaks of mocha brown, hazel, gold and black within it, and the whole thing sort of tells a story. The colors leap and bound across the canvas almost like waves or mountains. There are gentle swirls within it. It’s incredibly lively, and adventurous. I can see bubbles, hear laughter, and I can even smell coffee as I look at the painting. Whoever painted it had a fun time when they painted it.

“Do you like it?” Jane asks quietly from my side. I jump slightly. I hadn’t even realized how enwrapped I had become by the painting.

“It’s awesome. Who painted it?” I ask.

“I did,” she says almost inaudibly. I gape at her.

“You did?” I ask. She nods slowly and then a faint smile dances across her lips.

“Do you know what it’s about?” she asks.

“What it’s about?” I ask.

“Yeah…all of my paintings tell a story. I love finding out what people think the stories are. What do you think?” she asks. I stare at the painting for a while once more, and then I turn to her.

“Well…when I look at it, I think of going on a trip to a place that you fall in love with. It’s gotta be a gorgeous place too, with lots of nature, some water around, good people, and…coffee,” I chuckle. Jane nods.

“You’re the first person who’s ever interpreted my art the way I felt when I was painting it,” she says in surprise.

“Hey, I’m just awesome, what can I say?” I ask with a smirk.

“Shut up. Do you want to know what it’s called?” she asks, punching my arm lightly.

“Yeah,” I say.

“It’s called ‘Coffee With a Friend in Cole Harbour’,” Jane smiles. I raise my eyebrows.

“Who’s this friend? Whoever he is made you really happy,” I ask. I’m afraid she’s going to say someone other than me.

“Oh…well he’s this totally blind hockey jock from the town. I think he might have won a gold medal, or a Stanley Cup or something lame like that,” she teases, and I laugh in relief.

“Wow, so I have a painting of me?” I ask.

“Yep. See the black and gold? That’s because you’re a Penguin…and that hazel color…that’s the color of your eyes when you smile,” she explains with a blush.

“You notice the color of my eyes when I smile?” I ask quietly. I’m amazed.

*Jane’s Point of View*

I blush furiously as Sidney stares at me in amazement. I had painted that painting as soon as I had gotten back to my studio, the memories of Cole Harbour still bright in my mind. I remembered the way the coffee shop smelled, and how happy Sidney had made me, and how gorgeous the town was…and I painted. Sidney was just staring at the painting, and then back at me, and I felt a small flicker of pride in my chest. He appreciated my art, and that made me happy.

“I’ve noticed a lot of things about you Sidney. I’m an artist, it’s my job to notice things,” I say quietly. I don’t want him to notice things about me though, like how red my cheeks feel, or how fast my heart is racing. I lick my lips nervously and Sidney chuckles quietly.

“So is this how you wanted to make up for bailing on me in the Harbour?” he asks.

“Well…not exactly, but I’m glad you like it. I’ve worked really hard on it, and really hard to get this studio too,” I say with a shrug.

“Okay, so what was your real plan?” he asks, and I can’t help but laugh a little bit at his enthusiasm.

“Come on, we can go upstairs. I made some good food, and we can watch movies and hang out,” I say, grabbing his wrist and dragging him towards the steps that are hidden in the back of the studio.

“Upstairs?” he asks.

“My apartment,” I say and he just nods in understanding.

“So, just having a good old friends’ night, huh?” he asks, flopping onto my black futon and stretching out. I raise my eyebrows as his big body takes up almost the whole thing easily, and as he tucks his arms behind his head I laugh.

“Yeah. I hope you’re comfortable Crosby, because that’s my favorite seat your head is currently occupying. After dinner, I expect to be sitting there,” I say, walking into the kitchen. I pull the salad I made out of the fridge and my mouth waters. It’s a leafy green salad with mandarin orange slices, cranberries, almond slices, and raspberry vinaigrette dressing. I also take out two beers, and grab the sliced up loaf of fresh whole wheat bread I had bought a few hours ago out of the bread box. I put everything on the table, and then set it with my favorite dishes. They’re these square ceramic plates in bright colors. I give Sidney the blue one, while I claim the orange for myself.

“Get in here and eat loser,” I chuckle and he jumps up so quickly I’m surprised.

“Oh wow, that looks really good. Are you a vegetarian or something?” he asks. I shake my head.

“No, I’m just health conscious. Besides, we can’t have Pittsburgh’s golden boy getting fat, now can we?” I tease, and he scowls.

“I wouldn’t let myself get fat,” he grumbles. I laugh and his face lightens up a bit.

“I know. I was kidding. I’m extremely snarky, just a warning,” I say.

“I’ve noticed,” he shrugs, biting his bread.

“So why are you scowling then?” I ask.

“I was just kidding too. I actually really like your sense of humor,” he says, and his cheeks turn just the slightest shade of pink. I feel my own cheeks turning pink as I look at his face carefully. I had noticed how gorgeous his eyes were the first time we met, but this was ridiculous. This man is gorgeous. No, not gorgeous. Sexy. Sidney Crosby is an extremely sexy man. Holy shit, do I have a crush on this guy?