Let's Get Carried Away

“What? Is she going to cheer for him too? She can’t have it both ways.”

“It’s not even like that, Sidney!” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Of course it was kind of strange that Chelsea would out of nowhere bring this guy over after everything that had gone down the last time she was in Pittsburgh. But to each their own, and who were Sid and I to judge?

“You’re just trying to stand up for your best friend,” he shot his empty water bottle into a recycle bin, missing by a few centimeters. I laughed.

“And that is why you’re not a basketball player.”

“That and the fact that I’m not freakishly tall. Besides, how many Canadian basketball players do you know?”

“I don’t know any basketball players,” I said confused, as I watched him pick up the bottle and let it drop only when his hand was hovering directly over the bin.

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” He shot me something of a death glare when he said it, but I obviously couldn’t take it very seriously. Those eyes were just too mesmerizing.

“Don’t worry, I don’t find basketball players sexually appealing,” I taunted, shooting him a coy smile. A laugh was emitted from lips. I was just glad that we were off the Chelsea-Max subject that hadn’t left his mind all last night.

He pulled me next to him as we walked out of the arena, keeping his arm around my shoulder the entire time. Sidney was a good guy, that was an understatement, but it allowed me to understand why he was so upset about what had happened last night. They had a big game today against one of the best teams in the western division and now one of their guys might not be able to get in “the zone” all because of Chelsea. Hopefully Jordan wouldn’t let the previous night’s events interfere with his game tonight but if something were to go wrong, it wouldn’t be all that surprising.

“I’m gonna go practice my signature for tonight, want to watch me?” he invited me.

Although it may sound surprising, he did this constantly, especially before games or before he went somewhere where he was sure kids would ask for him so sign his name on stuff. “Of course. It’s not like I have anything better to do.” He thought I was being a smart ass, and I was just for the heck of it.

We sat in his office for a good twenty minutes, all of which he spent writing his name across pieces of paper. The size varied, but all in all, the signature itself remained virtually the same. There was little to no variation among the script.

“Practice yours,” he encouraged me. I raised one of my eyebrows at him. Other than him who really did this? But I decided to go along with it when he shoved a felt-tip pen and paper in my direction.



“You’re doing it all wrong,” he observed, grimacing at my writing. It wasn’t even that mad. I’ll admit, my cursive wasn’t all that great but it was legible. It’s not like you couldn’t tell whose name I have just written across the entire page.

“What’re you talking about? How can I sign my own name wrong?”

He looked at me and smiled, “here, I’ll show you how to do it right.” And with that he reached over across the desk and grabbed my paper from me. He took his pen and let the tip of it touch the page.



He looked up at me, a giant grinned plastered on his face. “That’s how you do it,” he mocked, evidently pleased with himself. His smile was absolutely stunning. His entire face was gorgeous. The way his eyes had that sparkle of joy in them was breathtaking. I returned his smile with one of my own. We sat there, staring at each other for what felt like several minutes. All was peaceful and all was worth it.

“What’re you thinking?” He finally broke the silence, capping his pen but not diverting his gaze from me.

“I’m just wondering what I ever did to deserve you.” That moment of confession made me extremely vulnerable but there was nothing to be afraid of with Sidney Crosby, and I knew that.

“Trust me, I’m the one that should be wondering that.” He made be blush and squirm in my seat, sending butterflies zooming in my stomach. “Seriously though,” he continued, “you put up with so much because of me and for me.”

“It’s not really that much…”

“But it is and I’m thankful,” he kissed me.



It had been established that Chelsea would come over before the game so that we could get ready together just like old times. I tried keeping this piece of information from Sidney but when he outright asked if she would be coming over again I couldn’t say no. “No males,” was his only response to this before he left. I knew he wasn’t ecstatic over it but there really wasn’t much he could do. I mean, it’s not like he could simply forbid me from having her over. Although, I suppose he could, seeing as how this was his house and not ours. He wasn’t the kind of guy to do something like that though.

The doorbell chimes rang throughout the house, letting me know that Chelsea was at the door. I ran down the stairs from the second level and leaped over the last four steps. I reached the door, twisted the knob and pulled it towards me, making Chelsea visible and allowing her to enter.

“It’s kind of weird being here again after, y’know.”

“I know exactly what you mean. Sid wasn’t too thrilled about you coming over.”

She placed her bag of stuff on the narrow table near the entrance, rolling her eyes. “He is such a fucking drama queen. If it wasn’t for me he would have never even met you. So the way I see it, he owes me, big time.”

“You tell him that,” I laughed. I led the way down into the foyer and into a hallway that became a set of stairs.

As soon as we walked into mine and Sidney’s room she threw herself on the messy, undone bed, exerting a groan. “Is this where the magic happens?” I couldn’t believe I didn’t see that comment coming. My cheeks burned tomato red from all the blood that had rushed up to my face. “No need to be ashamed,” she told me when I didn’t respond to her assertion. “All the videos on Youtube about Crosbitch have something to do with his stick. Either he is very well endowed or it’s all a cover up.”

“You’re stupid.” It was just like old times! One of us would make a dumb question or comment about the other and we would end up calling each other dumb names as if we were eight. “Can we stop talking about Sidney and his, uhm…”

“Dick. If you suck on it I can’t see why you can’t even say it.” I gasped at what came out of her mouth.

“Oh my god. I do not!”

“Who are you trying to kid?” She challenged.

“No one! You’re the one that’s a whore!”

“I already told you about that!” She whined.

“You’re stupid, now come on! We have to start getting ready or else we’re gonna miss the warm-ups.”

“Can I make a poster? Where’s your poster-making stuff?”

“What? I don’t have poster-making stuff. But check the office. There might be some paper and markers and god knows what else there.”

“Cool,” she quipped and dashed out of the room. She returned almost as quickly as she had left. “Where exactly is the office room?”

“Down stairs, go into the kitchen and it’s the door to the right of the refrigerator.”

She was evidently puzzled. “How many doors are there?”

“Two. One of them is the pantry.”

“Okay!” She screamed as she ran out of the room again.

I began to look through my end of the closet, trying to figure out what to wear. The decision wasn’t that hard since the arena was pretty cold and anything besides pants would be awkward, not to mention slightly cold. But I couldn’t really decide what to wear on top. By the time Chelsea had made her way back into the room I made up my mind to not dress up for tonight’s event. Instead, I pulled a baseball-style t-shirt from Sid’s end of the closet, one that I had accidentally managed to shrink the one time I did his laundry. It was still slightly loose but not enough to where it made me feel uncomfortable. To keep with the ensemble I went for a pair of sneakers and a simple black pea coat.

“Look what I made!” I turned to look at Chels. She was holding up a large poster paper. In fancy writing she had written, “How’s your stick, Sid? I hear it’s big.” It was funny but I wasn’t sure if she was serious about it.

“Are you seriously going to wave that around?” After her nod I proceeded to tell her that Sidney might just kill her after tonight.

“No he won’t. That would upset you,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And everyone knows that he would never do anything to upset his princess.”

“You’re stupid.” I went back to pulling my hair back into a high ponytail.

“You’ve called me stupid like five times today. My feelings are hurt.”

“Yeah right. I have not. Maybe like three or four. Ready to go?”

“Almost. Do you have any glitter?” What the fuck?

“Umm, I don’t know. Probably. In my office, if there is any.”

“Your office at work? What good does that do me?”

“No, my office down the hall, on the right.” She looked confused again. “Well Sidney is pretty anal about being organized. We tried sharing an office but that didn’t work out.”

“So why is his down by the kitchen?”

“Because he wanted to be closer to food.” She gave me a weird look but made her way out of the room with her poster in hand. I didn’t know what she was going to do but knowing her it would be good.



“We’re so far from the ice,” I whined as we climbed up the stairs of the arena.

“This is where we used to sit all the time!” I know, I know, I told her but I had gotten so used to being down by the ice by myself or in a suit with family members belonging to the guys. I felt so far away from everything. “We’re going back down anyway! As soon as they get on the ice.”

When the lights dimmed down to announce the beginning of warm-ups we got out of our seats. We were pretty silent on our way down the stairs until Chelsea felt the need to talk.“So can I tell you something?”

“Does it have to do with that guy?” She could tell I wasn’t pleased. My lack of inflation made that pretty damn obvious.

“Yeah,” she admitted in defeat.

I couldn’t help but prod, “Well what is it?” Her silence said it all, and the weary smile she gave me when I turned to look at her only reinforced what I believed to be true. “You lied to me, didn’t you?”

“Not really. I mean, I agreed to go on one date with him but that was it.”

I couldn’t believe it. Well actually, I could. “Chelsea!”

“I didn’t lie!”

“Yeah, you kind of did!”

“Well, whatever. Now you know. Don’t tell anyone though.”

“For what? In case it doesn’t work out?”

“No, I just- you know. The entire team doesn’t have to know.” She was of course referring to Jordan Staal. As if Sidney would risk having that sort of threat affect one of his teammates and best players. “I know you’ll tell Crosby.”

“Let me know how it goes.”

“Oh, you know I will, right after the date too. I’ll message you and we can face time, Skype, or something.” I simply laughed at the situation we were in. Boy drama, it never ended. At least it was fun.

We had made it up to the glass separating us from the players. The Penguins were on end of the rink working on some last minute shooting drills while the Canucks did the same on the other end. I hadn’t even seen the improvements Chelsea had made to her poster before she put it up against the glass. Some of the guys laughed upon noticing it and would tap on the people around them and then point to the poster. Others would tap the glass with their sticks as they passed by it. Sidney didn’t look very impressed which only made me wonder what she had done even more. I pulled on the edge of the poster, leading Chelsea to momentarily let go of it.

I choked on my own saliva from all the laughter. She had poured pink glitter all over the word “stick.” I congratulated her. “You’re so bad.”

“I know,” she smirked and went back to holding up the sign.