Wasted

You know what I haven’t done in a long time? A personal entry. I’m usually pretty good about keeping things pretty sports related with my own personal tidbits sprinkled in for freshness. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever done a solely, non-sports blog post. Guess there’s a first time for everything, huh?

If you’re totally against this sort of thing, then feel free to ignore this entry. But I need to vent.

Don’t you hate when a person is bipolar? And I’m not talking about the actual medicinal and psychological definition here. No, I’m talking about being two faced. But maybe that’s an extreme word for it. But you catch my drift.

Don’t send me mixed signals. Don’t be flaky. And don’t, I repeat don’t, lead me on. I don’t care if neither of us ever planned on acting on our feelings unless someone else made the first move; it’s not cool no matter the circumstances.

And don’t ever criticize me for caring about you!

(Catch the movie reference? Probably not.)

You say whatever you want about me, I don’t care, but when you start critiquing the fact that I’m trying to look out for you, oh buddy, you got another thing coming.

It’s one thing if you don’t agree. That’s totally cool, go ahead and tell me why. But have something to back it up with other than something like, ‘Well what was I supposed to do?’ You could have done a lot of things and one of them could have been not bringing her!

Oops, that last bit wasn’t very professional. Fuck, I don’t care. I feel quite a bit better now. Thanks guys, I love you all.

Stay classy and sassy, never trashy!
XO- Steph

Current music- I Knew You Were Trouble by Taylor Swift (because she gets it, okay?)



“Thanks for stepping in, Steph,” Jerry patted my shoulder as he walked past us behind the bar one night over a week after the charity event. “I appreciate it.”

“No worries,” I assured him as I dried out the last few glasses with a towel. In February, Thursdays were supposed to be my off night, but we’d been short staffed in the bar that night and I’d offered to come in for some extra cash. “Not like I had much else to do.” I sure as hell wasn’t going to watch the Hawks game.

They’d left for a road trip the day after the charity dinner and had only gotten in the previous night. I’d gotten a text from Brandon when they’d landed, but I hadn’t responded, among other messages from Pat and Andrew too. I felt a little bad about shunning most of my friends on the team just because of one dick move by Jon, but not bad enough to risk coming into contact with him again. Venting on the blog that morning had felt good, even if I would probably delete it eventually.

“You good here?” Andy, the other bar tender for that night, asked. “I’m gonna go clock out.”

“Sure,” I nodded. “I’ll take care of everything else here.”

I locked up the last of the liquor cabinets and went into the back to get my things. Pulling my beanie on over my long hair, I sighed at my reflection. Even if I was mad at the captain, I was still showing my Blackhawks pride that night as they played at the UC, shown by my red, Indian head emblazoned shirt. With my purse in hand, I clocked myself out and headed out to my car.

As I neared it, I caught the outline of a figure sitting on the hood. My hand instantly went to my bag to grab my cell phone. Where was my pepper spray?

Slowly, I continued walking, only to breathe an angry sigh of relief. It was only Jon.

Fuck it was only Jon. I’d rather take a mugger than him right now.

“What do you want?” I asked as I approached him.

“Can I have a minute?” he sounded hopeful and I tried to keep my eyes away from the well-tailored suit he wore.

“Nope,” I shook my head as I unlocked my car and went to slide into the driver’s seat.

“Steph,” Jon held my wrist gentle enough that I could get away but tight enough that I knew he wanted me to stay right where I was. “Please.”

I kept my eyes completely on his face and I turned around slowly. His voice matched his eyes; they were pleading with me. His warm breath showed in the air. His mouth hung open just a little bit and he still leaned against my car.

“Fine,” I kept my voice quiet. “Just make it quick.”

“I read what you wrote,” Jon began. “I deserved every bit of it and I think you should have included my name.” Apparently, that was his attempt at lightening the mood. It didn’t work. “Right, uh, I want to say I’m sorry. I’d had too much to drink and I was bitter about… everything. But that was no excuse and I should have acted better.” He seemed to think that would suffice.

“You forgot the part where you got pissy with me for going with a friend of mine and a teammate of yours.”

“I was jealous!” his voice raised several decibels. “Okay? I wanted you to go with me! But I wasted my time and missed my chance.”

“You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take,” I quoted.

Jon threw his hands up in the air and groaned. He slapped them down against his face and took a few deep breaths. “Fuck it.”

“Fuck wh-,” but I didn’t get to finish.

In the middle of the employee parking lot, Jon brought his lips down to mine in one swift movement. I put some force against his chest at first because I was so shocked. But then, I realized that I actually didn’t care.

For a first kiss, it was pretty spectacular. I was positive that the city of Chicago was setting off fireworks all around us it was that electrifying. The moment he pulled away, it died, save for the buzzing sensation of my lips.

“I’m not wasting any more time,” his voice was low and a whisper and for once, I really didn’t want to be anywhere else. “I’m done waiting for the right sign or the right moment.”

“Good,” I stood up on my tip toes to reach an arm around his neck. “Because you suck at waiting.”