Illicit Love

Chapter 5

"Yo, Hags! Earth to Carl!" John shouted, waving his hands frantically in front of Carl's face. Little did Carl know that he had been there for five minutes.

Finally snapping out of his haze, Carl subtly shoved his phone into his pocket before getting up to make an afternoon cup of coffee. "What can I do for you man?" he asked as he made his way toward the kitchen.

John followed him, taking a seat on one of the barstools. "Everyone wants to know what's up with you lately. You've been very distant Hags, and that doesn't make for good team chemistry." John hated that he had been the one sent on this mission. Everyone knows that Carl isn't a fan of people who shove their noses into his personal life; therefore, no one wanted this task. John wished they had nominated Zuccarello instead of him. His twelve year old face and puppy dog eyes make it hard for anyone to be mad at him. Plus, he was a hell of a lot closer to Carl than he was.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Carl mumbled. He absentmindedly fixed up his coffee, his body knowing automatically how much sugar went into it.

Already angry about being here, John decided he needed to set down the law before he got even more frustrated by his stubborn teammate. "I am going to take none of your shit today. I am not here by choice. But I am still a Rangers newbie so I was forced to do this. So you are going to sit here and tell me what is going on with you or AV is going to send you and me both to Hartford."

Carl didn't even hear the full sentence. He just heard the dreaded word, Hartford, and his heart nearly stopped beating. He refused to go back there, not after getting the taste of New York City stardom. "I still don't really know what you're talking about," he admitted sheepishly.

John tipped his head back, letting out a long, aggravated sigh. "Look at yourself. You've been off your game lately. You barely talk to any of us at practice. If you aren't required to be out of your apartment, you'll be on your couch in sweatpants. For Christ sake, the amount of coffee you drink and the bags under your eyes show you haven't been sleeping lately either!" he nearly shouted.

Carl winced at the truth of his words. His lack of sleep had been affecting his play; he hadn't gotten a point in four games. His sub-par play put him in a bitter mood after games, which caused him to not want to celebrate wins afterwards with the guys.

He hated to admit it, but the cause of this downward spiral was Gabriella. Over the course of the past week and a half, the two had spent five out of ten nights together. That alone was enough sleep deprivation, but the nights without her were spent awake as well, thinking about her.

Somewhere along the line, Carl had become infatuated with Gabriella. Her body was enough to drive any man wild, but once you got past that, you saw an intellectual, passionate, caring, witty girl. She was the type of girl that anyone would be lucky to have. But Carl knew that he couldn't have her, no matter what he did. Chris' stern warning wasn't the problem; it was the fact that he wasn't good enough for her. She was so out of his league, and he didn't deserve someone as perfect as Gabriella. And that caused him restless nights of tossing and turning, thinking of all the things he would do with her if she was his.

Carl peeled his eyes away from his mug, taking a short glance at John. "It's just some personal shit. I'm going to get it all sorted out," he lied. He couldn't tell John about their scandal. Gabriella would kill him, for they both had been sworn to secrecy.

John shook his head, knowing long before arriving that he would only be getting a decrepit answer out of the blonde. At least he wasn't fuming. "You better. AV is going to scratch you for the Sunday game."

Carl's fists gripped the granite countertop at the words. He hated being the healthy scratch, especially after he was just recently cleared to play. But, then again, the time could help him move on from Gabriella. He assumed distance would be the best remedy.

"And if you need more time to sort this out, I will relieve you of your best friend duties, as well. You don't have to come to my birthday bash if you don't want to," John smirked.

Carl told him he would need time to consider the offer. He didn't know if the extra time would help him or not. So, as he ushered John out of the apartment, he figured that's how he would spend the rest of his Friday: thinking.

As he hopped onto his plush couch, he muted the NHL network highlights, pulling out his phone to see if Gabriella had finally responded to his good luck text. She left on Wednesday for Michigan, where she would be competing tomorrow. Knowing from personal experience that he doesn't particularly like being bothered on major game days, he decided to send her a good luck text today, instead.

Gabriella hadn't responded yet, nor had she even read the message. Carl felt a pain in his chest, knowing that for the past hour, Gabriella was too busy to give him any sort of recognition. He knew he was being ridiculous; that she should be focusing on winning and not some guy back in New York. Chris was right. She does have goals she needs to focus on, and Carl knew he would only get in the way of them. He wasn’t good for her, and he knew it.

But, at the same time, these feelings haven't subsided in the slightest since that day shopping last week. Every morning after Gabriella left, Carl felt this feeling of... Loneliness. He never wanted her to leave in the morning. If he could have had it his way, they would have laid in bed all day cuddling and watching movies, laughing and joking to pass the time.

Fuck everything. Fuck feelings. Carl wished the female race didn't exist at the moment. They made life so confusing. But, at the same token, life would be so boring without them.

As Carl was having an internal argument with himself, his phone started ringing. He figured it would be another one of the other guys, calling to chastise him for his poor play lately. You could imagine his surprise when he heard a female at the other end.

"Hey Carl," Gabriella's sweet voice sang. It was music to his ears, and his heart skipped a beat knowing that in the midst of her very busy schedule, she stopped to call him. He was such a pussy.

"I didn't think I'd be hearing from you until you got home," he replied coolly, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him.

"Well I saw your text, and I figured since I had a minute, I'd give you a call."

Carl felt his cheeks get hot. He felt like he acted like a girl around Gabriella. Carl was usually the type of guy to have a new girl every weekend, but ever since he met Gabriella, he wasn't even able to look at other girls. "Have you scoped out the competition yet?" he asked, desperately wanting to change the subject.

"I'll definitely medal. There are two girls here that are crazy good, though. Hopefully I can come out on top."

"If you do, I'll let you be on top," Carl smirked, forcing himself to act like his usual man-whore self. He couldn’t let Gabriella find out about his stupid little crush.

There was a moment of silence after Gabriella's small chuckle. "Can I be honest with you?" Gabriella asked nervously.

Carl immediately picked up on her change of tone. He felt stupid for hoping that, by some miracle, she was going to admit that she had feelings for him, too. But he knew she didn't. "Of course." Nonetheless, Carl still loved that she came to him with her problems.

Gabriella took a deep breath. She hated admitting personal weakness. "I'm really upset that Chris couldn't come. I really could have used a steady support system at this competition. Having no one here... It really just sucks," she ranted.

Carl bit the inside of his cheek, knowing he really shouldn’t put his two-cents into this conversation. This was a family matter, and meddling in other people’s business was something he personally hated. But, to be fair, he did know both sides of the story, so he felt it was okay to contribute. “I know, Gab. But, you know if they were going to get John backstage that Chris had to be there. We wouldn’t have gotten those passes if your brother didn’t know the stage director. It would have ruined John’s birthday. Look, if anyone knows how much it sucks to not be able to have all your family at an event, it’s me. All of my family is in Sweden. They barely get to watch any of my games because of the time difference. They have to wait until the morning after the game to congratulate me for my play. I know it’s rough, but Chris will throw you a huge party when you come home with a win. So, yeah, Chris won’t be there. But at least part of your family will still be able to come.” There was a long silence on the other end of the line, causing Carl to fear that he said something wrong.

“No, Carl. You don’t understand. It’s not the same.” Gabriella had to keep her thoughts short, for, if she didn’t, the sobs she was holding back would overtake her.

Carl did not want to argue with her. Nor did he want to get frustrated with her. But statements like that always got him slightly tipped off. The fact that he was dealing with Gabriella didn’t change that. “So make me understand,” he snapped, although he immediately regretted the statement after hearing a half-choked sob through the other end of the phone.

“I have no one Carl! No one is here to support me, like always! Every athlete always says that they couldn’t have made it to the top without the support of their parents, so can you imagine how hard it is for me to do this all alone?” Gabriella knew the mix of her anger and depression were causing her to form incoherent thoughts, so she paused so that Carl could absorb and organize what she had spewed back at him. When he didn’t answer, she assumed he didn’t comprehend. She had to take a few deep breaths to calm herself before continuing.

“My parents don’t support me, Carl. They never have.” Her voice was low. Her tone: crushed.

Carl had never heard her like this. There's only two different tones that Gabriella ever uses: happy and bubbly, or low and seductive. Carl became speechless from this, and could only sit and listen quietly.

“For years, they begged me to quit skating, always telling me it was a waste of their time and my time. They'd always tell me I was a terrible sister. That I was too self-centered to cheer on Chris." By this point, tears were freely, yet silently streaming down her face. She had never told anyone about this, not even Chris. But for some reason, she felt like she could trust Carl. Maybe it was just the fact that she was holding this back from everyone for 10+ years, and the emotions were beginning to eat her alive.

Carl sat on his couch, mouth agape in shock. His bewilderment quickly changed into disgust towards her parents. How could anyone not support their child's dream? "Gab, I... I didn't know," he stuttered, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "I'm so sorry," and he truly was. He was sorry that she had to live her whole life with scumbag parents. No one should have to live through that. Hearing Gabriella's story made him feel like a spoiled brat. His parents had never missed a game while he was still in Sweden.

"It's just not fair!" she cried loudly, no longer able to hold back her emotions. "They never missed one if Chris' games! They haven't been to a single one of my competitions since I was twelve! Do you know what it's like to be twelve, and look up into the stands to see all of your friends' parents, but not yours? I cried after every single medal ceremony, after every tough landing that they missed. I still do for Christ's sake!"

Carl felt his heart breaking. He started tearing up just listening to her cry. He wanted nothing more than to be with her, holding her and stroking her hair until she calmed down. And it was in that moment of desperation that Carl realized he couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't do the no-feelings fucking. He needed to be able to hold her in the morning. He needed to be able to kiss a smile onto her face every day. He needed her to be his, despite whatever the consequences may be.

"And the worst part is that every competition, I still look up to the stands in hopes of seeing them there," she finally finished.

"Gab, know that I'm here for you. Know that, even though I may be in New York, I'm there with you, supporting you."

"Thank you," she replied apathetically. "I'm sorry I made you listen to me, I don't usually go off like that." Carl told her not to worry about it, that he was always here to listen to her when she needed to talk. "Thanks Carl. You're such a great friend. I'll see you Monday. Goodbye."

Carl felt deflated by her statement. He was a good friend. But you'd be wrong if you thought Carl Hagelin wasn't going to book the next flight up to Michigan to try and change that.