Status: Currently on hiatus
Right Path, Wrong Turn
Prologue
As the game begins to wind down, she gets angsty. The final seconds count down on the arena’s huge clock, and the crowd join in loudly.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6
He’ll be in a good mood tonight with the win, and maybe an even better one because of the great games he’s had tonight.
1 goal, 1 assist and only one penalty.
She wants to stand up and clap, be so proud of him and cheer, but that would make it seem like he is hers, and that is the one thing that Deryk Engelland is not.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1
The game ends and they filter off the ice, her stomach getting butterflies as she notes him briefly look up in the stands for her as he skates off. Her hand digs into her jacket pocket, searching for her phone, and clutching her fingers around it tightly.
It will buzz any minute now, sending her a time and a location.
She waits in her seat as others around her leave. She doesn’t go to the locker room yet or anywhere near it. She knows the rules.
She needs to wait, as usual, a cordial amount of time for him to share his happiness and joy with the other one before she meets him.
Her eyes flick around the stadium impatiently. With knowing what will be waiting for her, sitting still is hard.
She watches a couple of young fan girls in a different section begin to exit, holding their crafty signs and wearing their custom t-shirts. One says, ‘Mrs Crosby’ and another, ‘I get frisky for Nisky’. A tall blonde girl holds a sign that reads, ‘When Engo’s gloves drop, so do my panties’.
She laughs to herself at their naivety.
‘You and me both kid,’ she thinks to herself.
Her phone buzzes loudly in her pocket, humming against her car keys. It pulls her out of her bored trance, and reignites her heart’s erratic beating.
'She’s gone home. Come to locker room. Wait in usual spot. Be there soon. Just having shower.'
She notices the time in the corner of the small screen on her phone. Everything just about to schedule.
This is the way it normally goes. He sends her tickets in the mail, he gives her a quick call to make sure she’s coming. On the day of the game there’s a saucy text sent on his behalf, just to reel her back in, in case she was having any second thoughts. And then after the game, he will send her a text when the coast is clear.
It’s like clockwork. Perfect, secret, immoral clock work.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6
He’ll be in a good mood tonight with the win, and maybe an even better one because of the great games he’s had tonight.
1 goal, 1 assist and only one penalty.
She wants to stand up and clap, be so proud of him and cheer, but that would make it seem like he is hers, and that is the one thing that Deryk Engelland is not.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1
The game ends and they filter off the ice, her stomach getting butterflies as she notes him briefly look up in the stands for her as he skates off. Her hand digs into her jacket pocket, searching for her phone, and clutching her fingers around it tightly.
It will buzz any minute now, sending her a time and a location.
She waits in her seat as others around her leave. She doesn’t go to the locker room yet or anywhere near it. She knows the rules.
She needs to wait, as usual, a cordial amount of time for him to share his happiness and joy with the other one before she meets him.
Her eyes flick around the stadium impatiently. With knowing what will be waiting for her, sitting still is hard.
She watches a couple of young fan girls in a different section begin to exit, holding their crafty signs and wearing their custom t-shirts. One says, ‘Mrs Crosby’ and another, ‘I get frisky for Nisky’. A tall blonde girl holds a sign that reads, ‘When Engo’s gloves drop, so do my panties’.
She laughs to herself at their naivety.
‘You and me both kid,’ she thinks to herself.
Her phone buzzes loudly in her pocket, humming against her car keys. It pulls her out of her bored trance, and reignites her heart’s erratic beating.
'She’s gone home. Come to locker room. Wait in usual spot. Be there soon. Just having shower.'
She notices the time in the corner of the small screen on her phone. Everything just about to schedule.
This is the way it normally goes. He sends her tickets in the mail, he gives her a quick call to make sure she’s coming. On the day of the game there’s a saucy text sent on his behalf, just to reel her back in, in case she was having any second thoughts. And then after the game, he will send her a text when the coast is clear.
It’s like clockwork. Perfect, secret, immoral clock work.
♠ ♠ ♠
Not sure where this is headed, it was just an idea that was hanging around in my head, nagging at me. So I started writing and TA-DA!Chapter One will be up very, very soon.
Thanks for reading.
xo :)