Let's Get Carried Away

There’s something so mysterious and alluring about the crisp, cool air of a hockey arena.

Whether it’s a small ice-rink in the middle of nowhere or a professional hockey team arena, I always feel that I’m in my own little world. Maybe it’s because the camera I always have attached to my hand makes me forget about everything surrounding me. Or maybe it’s because I find some sort of comfort in being in a place that closely connects me with the people back home.

Walking into the Rogers Area today felt slightly different then it did the day before. Normally, I watch the boys practice from the opposite side of the glass. Today though, I was trying something new; I had my mind set on taking pictures of the guys’ practice while being on the ice…with them. I thought that being up close and personal with the players would bring some sort of excitement to the photos and of course I only got clearance to do this today, based on the fact that it was an optional skate. Word got around to most of the guys, however, that I would be joining them on the ice and they adamantly refused to miss today’s practice.

“Having trouble princess?” a deep voice chuckled, followed by a tap of a hockey stick against the boards in front on me. I huffed in response and in a matter of seconds Maxim was over the boards, grabbed my left ankle and placed the skate that I had been attempting to tie for the past five minutes between his thighs. Taking the laces out of my hands, he pulled on them as hard as he could, tied them, and then let my foot harshly fall from his grasp.

“Asshole.” I shoved my other skate in his direction and he pulled on the laces even harder than he had on the other skate. The corner of his lips curved into a devious smirk as he let my foot go once more.

“Normally people would just say thank you.” I’ve been around him for nearly four months, yet his accent still made me swoon. Max is one of those guys that have the whole package. The smile, the voice, the laugh, the body; he is perfection.

“Well, thank you Max for cutting off the circulation in my foot,” I shot back sarcastically, fighting back a grin. Max dropped his stick to the ice and threw me over his shoulders.

“Max! Put me down!” He started to skate away from the bench and towards the opposite side of the rink.

“Hey Kes, grab her camera!”

Next thing I knew, I was being shoved into the penalty box and pushed toward the bench. Before I could even react, Max pulled the door closed behind him. He, along with the other players who were already on the ice, laughed at my expense. Kes immediately caught my attention though, because he had my camera in his hands, happily taking photographs of not only me, but the guys’ reactions.

“Very funny, now can you please let me out?” I brought my hand up against the glass and pounded on it. “You guys are gonna get me in trouble. It was hard enough to convince them to let me do this as it is.”

Luckily, they let me out of the box and handed over my camera. They left me alone after that and let me do my thing.

It’s crazy to think about how far I’ve come in the past couple of months. The transition into a new city and new job wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but it wasn’t that difficult either. The Canucks organization as a whole really made me feel welcome, especially the players. Every fear I had about not being accepted was completely washed away the moment I met the team. Sure, I got the most obvious questions of where I lived before I moved, where I grew up, if I liked hockey, and if I had a boyfriend back in Pittsburgh; from the single men on the team, the latter seemed to be the most sought after answer. The guys still don’t know about my past, or my reasons for moving to their city, and quite frankly I’d rather keep it that way. If moving to Vancouver was truly going to be a fresh start, I couldn’t keep delving into the past and retelling every little detail of what went wrong.

As the boys took a small break, I made my way back over to the bench and pulled my phone out of my purse to check the time. Instead of seeing my digital clock, I saw that I had a text message from my boss. Apparently he wanted to speak with me about the upcoming road trip. With a simple goodbye to the boys, I grabbed my bag and hobbled into the locker room to finally relieve the pain these skates were putting my feet through.





Kicking my shoes off near the front door, I sat my purse down on the small side table and texted back that I was, indeed, home. I had been on my feet all day at the rink and wanted nothing more than to just lie down on the couch. Just as I flopped onto the lounge couch, my phone vibrated.



Thoughts of wanting to rest were instantly forgotten as I hopped off of the couch and bounded towards the kitchen. I grabbed my laptop off of the counter and practically ran to my room. Over the past few weeks, Em and I have hardly had any time to talk. We’ve had a few in-depth conversations through e-mails here and there and kept tabs on one another via twitter. After awhile though, even the simple forms of communication through e-mails and text messages started to become emotionless and just weren’t enough. I missed my best friend terribly. Hell, I missed everyone back home. To say I was homesick my first couple of weeks here in Vancouver would be an understatement. The moment the plane landed on the tarmac, I began second guessing my decision and was so close to hopping on the first flight back home. But then I thought about what would be waiting for me if I returned, and that fear alone is what kept me from actually following through with it.

I quickly plugged in the charger and opened up Skype. Seconds within logging on, Em sent me a request to video chat. After accepting the call, the screen took forever to load. The excitement of finally seeing Em face-to-face for the first time in weeks rapidly built up within me and when the screen suddenly shifted from black to my smiling best friend, I couldn’t help but yell.

“I’ve missed you so much!” we both yelled at the same time and then fell into bits of laughter.

“How have you been?” I was the first to ask, a smile never leaving my face.

“Things have been really good lately,” she happily sighed. It was obvious that even after all of these months, the simple thought of Sidney still sent her into this dreamy, love struck state. “What about you?”

“Good. Vancouver is slowly starting to become ‘home’, y’know?”

Em nodded her head, “And the players?”

“Surprisingly welcoming. They remind me so much of the guys, it’s crazy.”

“They all miss you,” she slowly started, as if testing how I would react. Not once had we talked about the Penguins I had grown to love. It was sort of an unspoken thing between us that they weren’t to be mentioned.

“I miss ‘em too. A lot.”

“Well, maybe you could just—” Em stopped short, her eyes widening. I felt the presence of someone else in the room and pressure was suddenly put on both of my shoulders. “you must be Maxim.”

Lappy flashed Em his million dollar smile and coolly nodded his head. “That would be me.”

I turned my head a little and looked up at the hockey player who decided to crash my video call with Em. I hadn’t even heard the front door open or close. “Why don’t you go grab a chair from the kitchen?”

“Why go through all of that trouble when I can just do this?” The chair I was seated on was abruptly pulled back and I was lifted off of it for a few seconds before Max pulled me back down onto his lap.

“So fucking lazy,” Max poked my side, making me squirm a bit. “Anyways,” I dragged out and turned my attention back to Em, “I have some really good news!”

Em raised her eyebrows and motioned for me to continue. “I had a meeting with Ben Brown today and— ”

“That’s why you left early?” Max interjected.

“Yeah, and he told me—”

“This is the guy in charge of media or whatever, yes?"

“Something like that, but starting today, I’m no longer just the home game photographer, but away games too!” Her face instantly lit up and she jumped up and down in her chair.

“So this means…” she clapped her hands.

“I’ll be seeing you soon!” I squealed. I heard a cough from behind me and when I turned to Max he gave me a pointed look. I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, we’ll be seeing you soon.”

“There ya go,” he patted my thigh.

“You’re so stupid.” I elbowed Max and he started poking my sides again.

“Jesus, you two act just like you and…” At that point I stopped moving altogether and sat frozen in Max’s lap. Em caught herself before she said his name, but I knew exactly who she was referring to. “I, uh, fuck. I’m sorry Chels. I didn’t mean to…it just, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine Em,” I brushed it off, like it didn’t even phase me, but I knew by the look on Em’s face that I didn’t fool her. To be honest, I’ve kept myself busy lately to the point where Jordan hadn’t even crossed my mind, so the feelings that seemed to rush back almost felt foreign.

Maxime lightly tugged on my hair. “I’m gonna leave you two alone now. Nice to meet you Chelsea’s best friend!”

“It’s Em,” she giggled. Max leaned over my shoulder and kissed my cheek, then pushed me off of his lap and left Em and I alone to finish our conversation.

When I turned my attention back to her she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Please tell me you two are dating.”

“Nope.” Em grinned and shook her head.

“Then are you two like, you know…” My jaw dropped at what she was suggesting. Sex. She thought we were having sex.

“Oh god, no!”

“Then what the hell was that kiss for?” she cried out exasperatedly, throwing her arms up.

“It’s a French thing,” I stated matter-of-factly.

Voices coming from within Em’s house blared through my laptop speakers. The voices seemed to get louder as they got closer to Em and they were all too familiar. When Em’s face went pale, I knew my assumptions were correct. He was there.

“I’ve gotta go Chels,” she hurriedly whispered, deep chuckles I hadn’t heard in months almost drowning out her voice. “I’ll talk you later. Love you!”

Before I even had the chance to say goodbye, she was gone. The screen went black and just like that we were once again thousands of miles apart. Closing the computer screen, I stayed put in my chair and tried to gather my thoughts. Well, more like rid him from my thoughts. The sound of pots and pans clashing together in the kitchen, however, became an instant distraction.

I pulled my hair up into a bun as I walked the short distance to the kitchen. Max was in the midst of putting together some sort of dinner. The smell of the sautéed onions alone made my stomach grumble.

“I love that you’re so…domestic.” I hopped up onto an open space on the island counter. My eyes slowly scanned the back of his body, and then settled on his ass. It was so…perfect. I swear these hockey players will be the death of me.

“Like what you see?” he chuckled. Heat instantly rose to my cheeks, knowing that I had been caught.

“Shut up and keep cooking,” I retorted. He pointed his spatula at me and kept a straight face, but it was hard to take him seriously.

“So, did you tell Em?”

“About what?”

He moved the spatula in every direction. Maybe it was some sort of cooking dance I wasn’t aware of, but I had no clue what he was referring to. I stared at him, waiting for him to clue me in, until it finally dawned on me. He was talking about the house; the living arrangements. It was like I had one of those ‘ah-ha!’ moments and I slapped the palm of my hand against my forehead.

“Silly, silly Chelsea,” Max tsked and turned back to the stove. “You were supposed to tell her months ago.”

“She’s gonna flip the fuck out,” I groaned. “especially because it took me this long to tell her.”

Max put his spatula down and leaned against the counter next to the stove. “We’re living together, what’s the big deal?”

I weakly smiled. If only he knew.