Last Kiss

The remainder of the week seemed to drag on. That night, I watched as the Penguins defeated the Bruins, 4-3. On Thursday, I saw the Canadiens beat the Penguins in a nasty game of 2-7. Despite the loss, that was the end of the regular season of hockey, and the Penguins were going to the playoffs.

Watching Kris and his team play hockey was the only time I allowed myself to even think about something other than school. My finals were earlier than usual this year, and I only had a little under a week before they began. Upon this realization, I submerged myself in my books, only leaving the cave of my apartment long enough to buy food and go to class.

By the time Friday rolled around, I was a complete mess.

The effects of blockading myself off from the world had definitely taken their toll. I couldn’t exactly remember the last time I had slept properly, and my diet primarily consisting of Ramen soup and energy drinks was tearing viciously away at my already tensed nerves. Little, meaningless things irked me beyond comparison. I found myself snapping at my lab partner Friday afternoon, simply because she asked me to pass her a beaker.

It was though I was on the edge of a cliff, and any sudden movement would force me to topple over into the deep abyss. I realized with a jolt that I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Part of me wanted to cancel my movie night with Kris to study more, but I missed him, and I knew he felt the same way. And after I recognized exactly how stressed out I was, I also knew I needed to take a break from school. Besides, it was only Friday. My first final wasn’t until Monday. I reasoned that I could afford a few hours of free time as long as I resolved to study all day Saturday and Sunday.

When 7PM rolled around, I reluctantly shut my textbooks and stood up, stretching my painfully stiff muscles. With a yawn, I grabbed my chem flashcards that Amanda had graciously loaned me and tucked them in my purse. I knew that I had planned on taking the evening off, but I was still hoping to sneak in a little studying while at Kris’s place. Maybe he would even quiz me. Combating my sheer exhaustion with a can of Monster, I got into my car and headed over to his apartment.

Halfway there, I realized that driving myself had been a terrible idea. My eyelids kept shutting at inopportune moments, and I drifted into the opposite lane twice before I decided to pull over. How long had it been since I last slept, I wondered? Scrunching my face in concentration, I was shocked to find that I honestly didn’t know. It could have been days, for all I knew. I was running on energy drinks and pure willpower alone. But really, all I wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep…

No, I thought, shaking my head. I can do this. A little more hesitantly, I pulled back onto the road and was proud when I arrived at Kris’s without causing any accidents. I had only been there once before—Kris had taken me there briefly last week to pick up his new skates for practice later that day. Despite this, it seemed as though the drive in my old truck was a familiar one already. Soon, I found myself standing outside his building, rubbing warmth into my arms as I waited for him to buzz me in.

The next thing I knew, I was inside the building and knocking on the door to his apartment. I hadn’t remembered taking the trip up the seven flights to Kris’s floor, but I quickly attributed that to the sleep deprivation. After a brief pause, he opened it, and there he stood.

God, had I missed him. His green t-shirt clung to his chest in all the right places and his dark washed jeans were…well, perfect. Suddenly, I realized I had been staring, and quickly averted my eyes up to his as a grin flashed across my face. I opened my mouth to say something, though I’m not sure what. Hello, perhaps. Maybe I would have told him I was excited to see him. Before I could speak, though, he interrupted.

“You’re shaking,” he said simply with a frown.

Something about the way he said it made me completely snap—this odd mixture of concern and…something else that I couldn’t quite place. It was an instantaneous and unexpected reaction. The wall that I had frantically constructed under the pretense of being strong was falling and falling and so was I…

The next thing I knew, I had collapsed into a heap of sobs at his feet.

To Kris’s benefit, he didn’t ask if I was drunk or insane. He didn’t back away or even hesitate. Instead, I felt his arms wrapping around me, and I looked up to see he had crouched to the ground and was pulling me into his lap.

I didn’t resist. Instead, I let out all of my frustration and stress, letting him cradle me and gently rock us back and forth. I wailed about how school was swallowing me whole, and how I couldn’t handle the stress of studying. I raved him how I hadn’t eaten or slept properly in days. I even told him that they only time I had taken breaks from school was to watch his games. And soon, between his reassuring whispers and gentle hands rubbing my back, my sobs became hiccups, and my red-tinged eyes stopped leaking.

Hesitantly, I looked up to meet his somehow composed, yet clearly worried expression. “I’m so sorry, Kris,” I croaked out, my voice raspy from crying.

“Sorry?” he said gently, raising one eyebrow. “Audrey, there’s nothing to be sorry about.”

I buried my face into his chest, taking a deep breath of his scent. Of course he smelled wonderful, too—a mixture of cologne and genuine guy-smell. “Kris, I just had a small mental breakdown in the foyer of your apartment. I think I’m allowed to apologize,” I mumbled without moving my face.

Miraculously, he managed to understand me, and he let out a small chuckle. “Alright then, apologize,” he said, “but know that I’m more concerned about having you feel better than anything else, so there’s really no need for it.”

Somehow, he managed to convince me that I should go to sleep instead of watching a movie and/or studying more. And after I told him about my near accidents, plural, while trying to drive, he insisted that I spend the night. I put up a mild protest, trying to tease him by saying that our relationship wasn’t ready for sex yet, but he wouldn’t budge. Unfortunately for him, neither would I.

Eventually, Kris got tired of my bullshit and picked me up in his arms, carried me to his bedroom, and deposited me on his un-made bed. And oh, how perfect his bed was. It was literally the most comfortable thing I had ever been on, and I couldn’t contain the small moan that escaped my lips as I stretched out and buried my face in the pillows. Briefly, I thought about how this bed must have cost him a small fortune. It was entirely too perfect to be anything less than made from clouds, after all.

Before I could get a hold of myself, Kris pulled his blankets up around me. “I’ll be in the guest room if you need anything,” he said quickly. “Just…sleep and relax. We’ll figure out what to do about your finals tomorrow, okay?” With that, he walked to the door and was about to exit.

“Kris,” I murmured softly, already losing myself to unconsciousness. It was remarkable how quickly exhaustion overtook me, knowing that Kris was looking out for me. Aware that he would take care of me, if only for a night, instantly made me feel more relaxed. And crying for a good 15 minutes isn’t exactly an energy-booster either.

“Yeah?” he replied, his hand hesitating on the light switch. Surely, he assumed that I was going to try to argue again.

“Tell me a story?” I managed, snuggling deeper into the pillows laced with his scent.

I could hear, rather than see, the smile on his face as he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. “About what?” he asked.

“The best day of your life,” I breathed, my eyes shutting.

Kris didn’t say anything for a long moment, and when he did, I wasn’t sure if I was entirely awake or not. For all I knew, I dreamed the whole exchange.

“The best day of my life,” he said, “was when I won the Stanley Cup back in 2009. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Winning the cup is definitely going to be the best day of any hockey player’s life.” Kris broke off for a second, and I heard the frown in his voice. “It was different for me, though. My family had been getting a lot of bad news recently, and we were long overdue for some good news. I won the cup, and I called up my mom that night because she couldn’t be there, right? And I told her: Maman, I won the cup. And for the first time in my life, she told me she was proud of me.”

Kris broke off again, and I used the silence to interject softly, “The first time?”

He chuckled for moment. “My mom isn’t very free with her praise. She’s…she’s tough. She’s a fighter. She never does anything the easy way. She refuses to appear weak, and she considers praise and love weak. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love us, me and my dad, or think the world of us. She just…has a different way of showing it.”

“She sounds lovely,” I mumbled sincerely.

Kris reached over and gently placed one hand on my forehead, running his fingers through my hair. “She means everything to me,” he admitted gently. “I’m so scared that I’m not going to win the cup this year. I want to win it again…for her.”

“You will,” I breathed quietly, fighting to stay awake.

Kris noticed my battle though, and leaned forward, pressing his lips against my forehead. “Sleep,” he commanded in a gentle voice. “We’ll talk more tomorrow, alright?”

I couldn’t bring myself to disagree, so far gone that I couldn’t even convince my body to move. As I instantaneously slipped into the darkness of sleep, I felt completely perfect, happy, and safe.

And for the first time in three months, I slept peacefully the whole way through the night.