Stop Standing There

"My dad called." As the words passed through my lips, they sounded foreign even to me. I felt slightly overwhelmed again at the thought of the conversation, but not as much as I had at the time. I was more ticked off now than anything else.

"That's awesome!" my cousin exclaimed as I sat down at the kitchen table. My brows knit together at her statement and I frowned.

"Not really..." It was Skylar's turn to give me a confused look. I continued, "Sky, he hasn't called me in like, a month."

"So he's busy," she shrugged.

My mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. I looked away from her, feeling frustration building in my chest. Wasn't she supposed to be on my side?

"Dude, he's a businessman. What do you expect from him?"

I turned back to face her with a jerk. "I expect him to have time for his family!" I exclaimed. My fists had curled into frustrated balls on top of the table.

Skylar simply shrugged. "Your dad's always been the best dad ever. I don't know why it's a big deal that he forgot to call you for a while."

I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. "You don't know anything."

Skylar crossed her arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know why you have this big idea of how we're the perfect family."

Skylar's jaw clenched. "Compared to mine, everyones family is perfect."

"My family is just like yours!" I cried, standing up. "You're not the only one who didn't have real parents, Skylar."

My cousin kept silent, her eyes falling to the floor. I screeched my chair back, grabbing my keys and heading out the front door.

***

I plugged my iPod into the team iHome, turning on I Want it That Way by the Backstreet Boys. It was a song I had loved, as cheesy as it was, since it first came out. I had driven to the rink and I was now alone. I knew singing along would take my mind off of the fight with my cousin.

I began to shake my hips in a back and forth motion, using the hockey stick in my hand as a microphone. I sang along with the lyrics, using one of my arms to sweep in front of me as though I was pointing to a crowd.

"I never wanna hear you say, I want it that way..."

I spun around, sliding the 'microphone' with me. I closed my eyes and spun in a few circles, dramatizing the singing and dancing as I went along. I was mid-spin when I heard a muffledlaugh. My heart near stopped, my eyes shooting open and my mouth falling open in a gasp. Max stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, and a huge grin on his face. He began to laugh and I felt my face grow hot, from my neck up to the tips of my ears. I turned my back to him, hurrying over to the bin where the sticks were held, and fitting the 'microphone stick' in beside the others. I then clutched onto the side of the bin, leaning forward, not looking at him, and praying that he would leave.

"Sarah," I heard Max say from the doorway, laughter still clear in his accent-laced tone.

I turned to face him, releasing myself from the side of the bin and crossing my arms over my chest. "What do you want, Max?"

His grin didn't fade one bit, and I raised my eyebrows, not impressed at all. "That was funny," he stated. I rolled my eyes and he continued, "The, uh, dancing, I mean." He then proceeded to use his hands to show a somewhat dancing motion, before laughing again. I tapped my foot, looking down at the floor. "No, really," he spoke again, taking a step forward. "You 'ave a nice voice." My eyes drifted up to meet his. I watched as his smile turned genuine instead of mocking, and I felt my facade soften a bit.

"Thanks, I guess."

"You ever think of 'aving a career in singing instead of cleaning up after 'ockey players?" he questioned. He was standing across from me now, and he crossed his arms to mimick my position. His brown eyes gazed down at me, his head tilted to the side as he waited for my answer, and I felt incredibly small. His 6'2'' frame towered over me, and his humongous arm muscles were clearly defined by the way he was standing.

I shook my head. "No."

"Why not?"

"It just never came up, I guess." I looked down at the floor.

Pause. "You okay?" I shrugged, sitting down on the wooden bench that lined the entire room under the stalls. Max hesitated before joining me, sitting a few inches away. "Is it the same 'ting that was bothering you the other day?" His voice was gentle, and I broke. A tear slid from my eye.

"Yeah," I admitted. "Well, sort of." I inhaled a deep breath, watching my feet. "I just really need a friend right now," I whispered.

Max wasted no time in replying, "Well if that's what you need, that's what I'll be."

A feeling - an emotion, something I couldn't place, although I knew it wasn't necessarily bad - shot through me then, and I shivered. I didn't know what to say in response, and so I simply looked up to meet his concerned eyes. "Thank you," I said meekly.

Max nodded, holding my gaze. He slowly, tentatively, lifted his arms and spread them out, a questioning yet serious look on his face. It took a split second before I caved. Max's warmth, and smell enveloped me in an embrace - little did I know how much I would come to depend on the comfort I found in his arms.