Who Wouldn't Want To Be Me

Practice was great; we didn’t work too hard, as we’d have a fairly quick skate tomorrow just before lunch. True to my usual routine I was stretching while all of the guys showered, and then showered extremely quickly after they’d exited the locker room.

“Jesus Bates, and we thought Geno was the one always making us late,” Aaron Asham teased me as I walked out to join the rest of them, my hair still wet and the tips freezing.

“Oh shut up; do you see Geno yet?” I asked, and we then realized Geno was still later than I was. That caused the entire group – Dan included – to burst into laughter. I was usually on time, but this whole showering and room-sharing thing was throwing me for a loop. When Geno showed up only a few minutes later, sheepishly admitting he’d gotten himself lost we all went back to the hotel.

I changed in the bathroom quickly, throwing on a nicer pair of jeans and a button up shirt and when I walked out of the room instantly jumped back behind the door. Jordan was halfway through changing, and had just been pulling on his jeans when I’d opened the door.

“Shit,” I’d whispered. It’s not like I’d never seen Jordan shirtless before, but I’d never noticed the way his muscles rippled as he moved, or the way his forearms tensed and showed his musculature as he gripped the material. This was getting ridiculous; I’d been without a boyfriend without incident for three years, why I was suddenly going all mushy I had no idea.

“Bates? You ready to go? Marc will be here right away,” I took a deep breath before walking out.

“Yeah, what about you princess?” I asked, a smirk on my face as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh ha ha ha, you took just as long as I did,” he shot back, grabbing his coat as I reached for mine too. As if on cue someone knocked on the door, and we opened it to see Marc in his coat standing there.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“I thought we were meeting you in the lobby?” Jordan asked, puzzled by his brother’s change of plans. Marc wasn’t the type to change plans unless it was absolutely necessary.

“I was going to, except there are a ton of Penguins fans crowding the lobby hoping to see you guys. So I figured going out the back door was best,” he shrugged, and we both nodded. I’d only experienced running into a mob of fans once; and it wasn’t good. Just fans I could handle; I loved signing jerseys and pictures and taking pictures with fans, but then there were the pucks. At first they’d all ignored me – probably because a lot of them were taller than me – but after the first two games they treated me the same as everybody else, and it was scary. To have girls pushing themselves at you and trying to get you to take them home was enough to make me vomit in my mouth, and just about enough to make me blab my secret so they’d stay away from me. Seeing as they’re at the hotel Jordan and I had no trouble guessing which kind of fans were in the lobby.

We snuck out the back and walked down half a block to Marc’s car; a black, nondescript Cadillac. It was the kind of car we’d seen a lot in New York, it was fancy, obviously expensive, but didn’t stand out.

I got in the back seat, figuring Jordan and Marc would want to talk some more on the way to Marc’s place, and before I knew it we were pulling up outside a huge, beautiful apartment building.

“I’d have thought you two had bought a house by now,” Jordan said as Marc parked his car and we all got out.

“We’re looking; the only problem is finding something decently close to the rink that isn’t crammed and tiny and that has a yard is difficult. This is why I don’t like Manhattan,” he sighed.

“Why do you have to have a yard?” Jordan asked, making his older brother roll his eyes.

“Well we’re gonna need one when we have kids; it’s not fair to make them sit in the house all of the time. God we would have killed each other if we wouldn’t have been able to play outside,”

“We almost still did kill each other when we were playing outside,” Jordan reminded him, and they laughed as we made our way to the elevators. Marc’s apartment was on the eighteenth floor, and I was surprised that when we got off of the elevator there were only two apartments on the entire floor.

“Penthouse,” Jordan explained, as if it were no big deal. Marc unlocked the door, taking his coat off in the process. We walked into the foyer, the walls painted dark, rich colors and matching well with the dark wood in the trim and the small table. Everything about the place said good taste but it wasn’t overdone.

“Linds! I’m home!” he called, and soon Lindsay came into view. She was a little taller than me, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. There was a little bit of flour on her cheek, but she was really pretty. The kitchen had the same feel; a dark red on the walls with a brown trim again, black granite countertops and some kind of dark wood for the cupboards and the table. As high-end as it looked the kitchen was homey; there was mail on one corner of the table, a few pots and pans in the sink, sticky notes on the fridge and some other messages, pads of papers and assorted cards by the phone.

“Hey honey,” she smiled as soon as she’d seen him, and they kissed quickly as Marc took off his shoes and hung up his coat, before taking our coats as well.

“Hi Jordan, always nice to see you,” she said, giving him a hug.

“You too! Looking as good as ever,” he grinned, making his sister-in-law blush a little while Marc rolled his eyes.

“Lindsay, this is Cameron Bates. Cam, this is my lovely wife Lindsay,” I offered my hand for her to shake, which she did, before pulling me into a quick hug.

“So you’re Jordan’s other half over in Pittsburgh!” she giggled, and both Jordan and I stood there, shocked at her words.

“W-what?”

“His best friend? Partner in crime?” she offered, and we both relaxed then, realizing her words just hadn’t come across as what she’d meant. Marc burst out laughing, and soon even Lindsay was trying to hide a giggle as we both tried to cover up our embarrassment.

“Wow, you thought she meant…? Jesus you two, you crack me up,” Marc said, putting his arm around Lindsay’s shoulders.

“Sorry, I’ve never heard someone refer to a best friend as an ‘other half’, excuse me for taking it the wrong way,” Jordan rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He wasn’t at all impressed by Marc’s harmless teasing, which surprised me. TK and him always joked around about stupid things and it had never so much as fazed him before, so why he took such offense to this I wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry Jordan, that’s not what I meant at all,” Lindsay apologized, and Jordan softened up towards his sister-in-law. She seemed to be a really sweet girl, and obviously she was important to Jordan because he nodded.

“Okay, I guess I can forgive you,” he sighed, and she flung herself at him to give him a hug.

“Thanks Jordy,” she said, giving him a mega-watt smile before pressing a familial kiss to his cheek.

“Welcome Linds.”

“Why don’t we find softer seats?” Marc suggested, and Lindsay nodded, ushering me into their living room. I was awestruck; the room was all in warm brown tones, the furniture all matching in an almost mismatched way, with the cushions different browns than the furniture, yet it all tied together somehow.

“Wow, this place is amazing,” I said, sitting down on the couch next to Jordan.

“Thank you; we decorated it ourselves last year,” Lindsay said, making Marc scoff.

“We? All I did was do as I was told; which was basically painting everything high up, Linds did the rest,” he insisted, making her laugh.

“Why does that not surprise me? If Marc had decorated it would all be one color or it’d be red, white and blue like his hockey jersey so he knew they'd go together,” Jordan smirked, and Marc threw a pillow at him.

“Oh he’s not that bad,” Lindsay said, leaning against her husband. His arm wrapped around her without him even having to think about it and held her hand. She looked up at him and smiled, and soon the soft smile was on his face too, something that told me they were enjoying something to themselves.

“You’re expecting, aren’t you?” Jordan asked just moments later, and both of their faces turned a little pink. I noticed then the way Marc’s hand had softly rested on her stomach, the protective way he’d wrapped himself around her.

“Yeah, we just found out a couple of weeks ago; and my second trimester started last week,” Lindsay confirmed, and I watched Jordan’s face light up before he let out a whoop.

“I KNEW IT! I TOTALLY KNEW IT! OH MY GOD!”

“Calm down there tiger, we haven’t told anybody else yet! We’re gonna tell mom and dad next week when they come down to watch our game, and then phone Jared. We’ll tell Eric when he comes up to play us late next week,” Marc said, and Jordan leaped across the living room to hug his brother and expecting sister-in-law.

“Oh my God, congratulations!” I said, and Marc beamed at me.

“Thanks Cam,”

“I’ll keep it on the down-low too, I promise,” I winked, making them both laugh.

“Didn’t doubt it for a minute!” Lindsay grinned. We sat around talking for a little bit, before Lindsay got up to get something for all of us to drink.

“I’d suggest we have a drink to celebrate, but Lindsay can’t have alcohol, right?” Marc nodded, and Jordan sat back trying to think of a way to celebrate before suddenly a grin was on both brother’s faces. I was sitting on the couch by myself, as Jordan had moved to sit by Marc when Lindsay had got up.

“Happy Birthday!” I turned to see Lindsay carrying in a large cake, complete with icing and candles.

“Aww thanks Lindsay!” I said, as she put it down in front of me, urging the two Staals to sing happy birthday, although I’d assured her that it wasn’t necessary. I closed my eyes to make a wish, before blowing out the candles.

“There! Now we can have some dessert; I bought ice cream and strawberries to put on your cake,” Lindsay gushed, bringing them out with the bowls. Marc and Jordan both let out a groan, confusing me.

“You know eating cake is bad enough! I can’t have ice cream too!” Marc whined, and Jordan nodded.

“Yeah, Linds that’s not fair!” he seconded. Contrary to what I’d thought would happen, Lindsay just shrugged.

“Well then I guess Cam and I will just have ice cream and you boys can eat yours plain,” she told them, and Marc’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped a little.

“What? Honey,” he whined, before she laughed.

“Oh relax Marc, you aren’t going to die by having a little bit of ice cream on your cake; neither will you Jordan,” she scolded them, dishing up the bowls without them saying anything.
“Thanks Lindsay, this is the best cake I think I’ve ever had,” I said, savoring a bite of the angel food cake. It was amazing, and I was suspecting she’d made it from scratch rather than from a mix.

“Thanks; it’s my mom’s recipe, she always made them from scratch. A cake mix was like a bad word in our house growing up,” she told me, and I nodded.

“That’s fantastic, and it definitely tastes homemade,”

“Yeah, Cam would know; he can cook,” Jordan piped up, and Marc and Lindsay looked at me in surprise.

“Really?” Marc asked, looking suspicious.

“Yeah, I mean I’m not spectacular or anything, but my mom was always away working and dad couldn’t cook to save his life so I learned,” I shrugged, wanting to play it off as no big deal. Soon Lindsay was chatting away at me about baking and cooking and that sort of thing, and Jordan and Marc started their own conversation, seeing as they couldn’t follow along.

“You’ll have to send me some recipes sometime Cam, I’d love to see some of your recipes,” she said, and I nodded.

“For sure, and you’ll have to send me this; I want to try it out, it was so good,” I said, and the next thing I knew she’d put a second piece in my bowl.

“Oh no, I really shouldn’t—” I argued, but she was already scooping ice cream on it.

“It won’t hurt you,” she said, and after a moment of internal debate I dug in, the cake even better the second time around. By the time any of us thought to take a look it was quarter after one in the morning.

“Shit! I’m sorry, your coach will be mad that I’ve kept you out so late,” Marc worried as we hurried into our coats and shoes.

“No, no it’s okay; don’t worry about it Marc,” Jordan and I assured him.

“Bye guys! Good luck tomorrow night!” Lindsay said, giving us each a hug and kissing Marc goodbye before we were out of the apartment and then heading to his car.

Marc sped the whole way back to our hotel, although we’d assured him the few minutes he was saving weren’t worth the trouble he’d get if he were caught for speeding. Had he been a regular Joe it wouldn’t have been as bad – the ticket would be big but manageable. If he got caught speeding now every newspaper in New York would have it on the front page tomorrow morning.

“Thanks Marc; see you tomorrow,” Jordan waved as we stood outside the car for a moment to say our goodbyes.

“Yeah, for sure! Happy Birthday again Cam,”

“Thanks Marc; for having us out and everything,”

“Not a problem! Next time I come to Pittsburgh I want to see your cooking skills first hand!” he grinned.

“I can make that happen,” I nodded, and moments later his black car was down the street, and we hurried to get inside where it was warm.

“Your brother’s cool,” I told him as we walked down the hall towards our hotel room, “And Lindsay’s amazing.”

“I know; they’re like a match made in heaven or something. I don’t know what Marc would do without her,” when we were in the door I quickly changed in the bathroom before crawling into my bed, throwing my clothes in the general direction of my bag.

“Wake up call for nine thirty?” Jordan asked, the phone in hand.

“Yup,”