Bay Boy

Jordan and I finally stumbled out of bed at seven, when Big Bertha decided to make her presence known by growling loudly. Damn my bottomless pit of a stomach for being so needy. Jordan waltzed down to the kitchen, holding my hand, and I opened his fridge, hoping to find something I could warm up quickly. No such luck, Jordan only seemed to have Gatorade, beer, eggs and fruit. In other words, a typical hockey player fridge.
"Do you want to go out Mila?" Jordan asked, sensing my frustration with his lack of food.
I was currently wearing boxers and a t-shirt with no bra. I wasn't exactly decent.
"Give me twenty minutes?" I asked.
"Deal. I know an awesome Italian place." Jordan said.

Looking in the mirror, I realized my hair was a mess and I felt like. . .sex, if that was even a feeling. I needed a shower ASAP. I threw my hair up into a messy bun and put a shower cap over it before hopping into Jordan's large tile shower. I showered quickly, scrubbing myself clean with a bar of Dove soap. I emerged eight minutes later, feeling clean. I let my hair out if it's bun after toweling off and was surprised to find it was slightly wavy. I brushed it quickly before pulling on a pair of jeans and a cute denim top, along with my lace up boots and pea coats. I put on a quick coat of Burt's Bees before heading downstairs. Jordan took my breath away in a pair of khakis and a button up. I suddenly felt self conscious and wondered if I should change. Shit. I should've brought a skirt with me! But my current outfit was the closest to formal wear I had.
"Mila, you look amazing." Jordan said lowly, putting his arm around me. I felt a wave of relief wash over me, Jordan could generally keep me from hyperventilating.

We pulled up to the fancy restaurant and a valet took Jordan's Range Rover. We entered and the hostess greeted us, Jordan telling her we had reservations under the name Staal. She led us to an intimate table in a far corner if the restaurant, lit by candles, white flowers in the center of the white tablecloth clad table. It was sophisticated and not tacky somehow. Jordan reached for a menu and I picked mine up too, telling myself to stop looking so starry eyed and wonder struck by my surroundings. It was just a restaurant after all. A really, really nice restaurant. I glanced at the laminated beige pages of the leather bound menu. I wished we were somewhere in my comfort zone, like the Cheesecake Factory, but at the same time I loved that Jordan was trying to treat me. He could have just ordered Chinese in though, and I'd have been perfectly happy. Oof, the menu didn't have prices. Lord knew who much anything here cost, probably more than a middle class girl like me spent on food for a whole week. I finally decided on the lasagna, reasoning it wasn't crazy sophisticated and contained no exotic ingredients, unlike all the other dishes. The waiter came to take our order, and Jordan ordered a glass of wine, and I opted for water, figuring someone needed to drive home. Jordan ordered a huge dinner worthy for a king and I almost winced just imagining how much it cost. The ramen noodle, coupon clipping college girl in me was coming out.

Our food arrived shortly, and I eyed Jordan who was ogling the side order of garlic bread, having already finished his feast.
"Jordan, just have it already. You're practically having eye sex with it, it's almost making me uncomfortable."
Jordan hesitated for a second before grabbing the bread and wolfing it down. I couldn't help but laugh at his antics, he looked like a blond chipmunk with his mouth full.
"Hey! No laughing at me Mil." Jordan said, before laughing lightly himself.
I shook my head. "You're pathetic Jordan Staal, I feel terrible for your mother. I can't imagine raising four Staals."
"About my mom. . ."Jordan started, before being cut off my a young redheaded woman, her black blouse bearing enough cleavage to attract a hungry infant. She batted her eyelashes at Jordan, smiling broadly. "Hi! I'm sorry to interrupt but I'm a huge fan, could I get a picture with you?" She asked, her voice dripping sex appeal. Jordan nodded quickly, posing with her as she took out her sleek white iPhone. She handed it to me, staring at Jordan.
"Could ya take a picture doll?" She asked somewhat rudely and I saw Jordan's face contort in annoyance. I nodded and snapped away, getting four shots in, hoping at least one of them was satisfactory to her.

She left, but as she did she turned to Jordan and subtly dropped a piece of paper on his chair. "Call me!" She said, winking and flipping her hair before leaving. Jordan took the paper and kicked it under the table, looking pissed.
"I'm sorry about that Mila, fans generally leave me alone most of the time, I'm not Sid or anything." He said, sounding angry.
"Hey, it's okay Jord. They only come up to you because you're an awesome hockey player and pretty good looking, if I don't say so myself." I said, and Jordan slid his hand over mine, the warmth of it comforting me.
"You're the best Mila. Do you wanna take a walk?"
"Sure Jordy, and seriously, don't worry about it." I said, noticing Jordan still seemed a bit tense.
"I know, but it still bothers me. You shouldn't have to put up with puck bunnies, I wish they'd just respect that I'm taken."
Jordan signaled for the check and I offered to chip in but, as usual, Jordan refused to let me.

Jordan and I walked side by side, holding hands, my other hand in my coat pocket in an attempt to keep my fingers from the Pittsburgh cold. "So what I was saying earlier. . ."Jordan started.
"About your mom? Is she okay? Like, healthy and all?" I asked, concerned about Jordan's mom. I'd never met her, sure, but she was Jordan's family and I cared about Jordan and therefore, cared about her too.
"Yeah, she's fine, don't worry. Healthy as a mule. But um, I was kinda wondering if you'd consider spending Christmas up in Thunder Bay with me and my family?" Jordan said, sounding rushed and nervous.