Looking Up

April 2013

Rose laughed at her phone, reading the text from Jon. They had been texting with each other a lot since that night in March and Rose enjoyed talking to him. Getting to know the real Jon was eye opening and not at all like the guy she had met at the masquerade ball. She knew what Lennon had told her about him was true but seeing was believing and this was never the guy she would have expected getting to know.

They had gone out together a couple of times and she had been to two of his games but they hadn't had a conversation about what they were doing and it nagged at the back of her mind. She needed advice and there was only one person she wanted that from.

"Hey, Rose. What's up?" Her sister Daisy answered the phone.

"I need help, Daze. I met this guy and he was a jerk. A hot jerk but no way was I giving him what he wanted."

"Good for you, Ro."

"Yeah, about that. I didn't think I'd see him again but then I did, eight months later. And he's not the guy I thought he was. He's sweet and funny and charming and nice. He's incredible."

"What's the problem then? He sounds perfect."

"We've been talking for a month now and we've gone out a couple times and I've gone to some of his games but we haven't talked about us, what this is."

"Back up a second. Games? He's an athlete?"

"Mmhmm."

"A football player?"

"A Blackhawk."

"A hockey player? You're joking, right? You hate hockey."

"It turns out I didn't give it a fair chance; I kind of even like it."

"You like the guy," Daisy stated matter of factly. "So who is he?"

"Jonathan Toews."

"The captain?! You're dating the captain of the Chicago Blackhawks?!"

"Maybe? I don't know. What do I do?" Rose wailed.

"Just ask him."

"Ask him what?"

"What his intentions are. Are you together, are you mutually exclusive, is he banging anyone on the side."

"You think he is?"

"He's a hockey player; anythings possible when you're a young, hot millionaire."

"Jon isn't like that."

"You just told he was a jerk when you met him."

"Yeah, but that's not the real him. That's an act, to keep people at bay. The real Jon is so much better than that."

"It sounds like you've already made up your mind about him. Now you just need to talk to him."

"That sounds scary."

"Maybe," Daisy laughed lightly. "But usually what comes after the talk is pretty spectacular."



Jon glanced at his watch. Five minutes past one. Lennon was late. Lennon was never late. That made him worry. She was back in Chicago and staying with Pat, planning to stay through playoffs. He had invited Rose to dinner that night at his place and Lennon promised to help him prepare for it that afternoon.

After another five minutes passed, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to start calling her when a cab slid to a stop at the curb and Lennon emerged with a smile.

"Sorry I'm late," she started as she closed the door and joined Jon on the sidewalk. "I just had the craziest lunch of all time."

She threaded her arm through Jon's and let him lead. "You plus crazy doesn't surprise me anymore. Tell me the story," he replied.

"Well I was minding my own business at lunch, enjoying the best bowl of fettuccini Alfredo Chicago has to offer when who should sit down at my table but none other than that tan, blond Adonis of a hockey player, Jeff Carter."

Jon pulled a face, his features pinched. "Jeff Carter is a manwhore."

"If I had a dick and looked liked that, I'd go all over town dickmatizing chicks too."

"You sound like Kaner."

"Whatever. Kaner wishes he was as hot as Carter."

"So he hit on you?"

"Yeah he did; talk about an ego boost." Jon rolled his eyes and Lennon laughed as she steered him into a flower shop. "I didn't flirt back with him if that's what you're worried about."

"Thank god."

"I flirted with Richards though. Exchanged numbers with him."

Jon stopped. "Mike Richards?"

"Yeah. How many Richards you think are hanging out with Jeff Carter?"

"But you don't date hockey players."

"I don't date your teammates. I don't have anything against the rest of the league."

"Mike was my teammate once; doesn't that count?"

"I think that's a bit of a stretch. Anyway, we just exchanged numbers. I'm sure nothing will come of it."

As the words left her mouth, her phone dinged and she reached for it. Jon peered down to read the display.

Mike Richards
New Text Message

"Yeah, seems like nothing to me," he smirked.

"Shut up; you're just jealous it's not you."

"I'm not your type; my hair isn't dark enough. You like dark hair and dark eyes, like Dan."

She blushed. "I don't have a type."

"Keep telling yourself that, Len. You forget I've met a few of your boyfriends. Dan is your type, plus he likes the same music as you, unlike that one dude. What was his name? Rip?"

"Trip. And Trip was very nice I'll have you know."

"Maybe, but you had nothing in common."

"You're an expert in relationships now, Mr. I like to bring home two bit skanks?"

"You'd be surprised what I know. And I haven't brought home a girl in a month. Now what does Richards want?"

"Today is not about me Jonathan Toews; today we are working on you. What do you mean there hasn't been a girl since last month?"

"I mean I haven't been with anyone since that luncheon."

"Since you met Rose again."

"Since I met Rose again."

"Really?"

"Yes really. I like her."

"You like like her?"

"Yes, Lennon, I like like her. Which is why you are here to help me. I need to apologize for the masquerade."

"You haven't said you're sorry yet?"

"I have but I want to prove it."



Jon nervously wiped his palms on the front of his jeans outside Rose's house that evening, taking a deep breath before heading towards her door.

"Shit," he muttered, halfway up the driveway and doubling back to his car. He opened the passenger door and lifted the bouquet of flowers from the seat. He made the walk back up the driveway and rang the doorbell, wiping his palms again.

"Hi, Jon," Rose answered the door brightly.

He smiled back as she opened the door, letting him inside. "Hey. These are for you." He he held the flowers out to her.

"These are beautiful; thank you," she responded as she took a breath of their fragrant aroma. "Give me a second so I can put these in water." He nodded as Rose showed him into the living room. Jon looked around the room, noticing a collection of framed photos on the wall and walked closer to look at them. As he studied them, he didn't hear Rose come back into the room.

"Those are my brothers," Rose said, interrupting Jon's thoughts.

"They're big."

Rose laughed. "Not any bigger than you; they're all around six three."

"That one outweighs by at least fifty pounds," he pointed.

"That's Ash; he's the firefighter."

"Is that your sister?"

"Yep, that's Daisy. We're really close; she's the person I turn to when I need advice. Who gives you advice?"

"Lennon," he answered truthfully. "Or my mom."

"That's sweet," Rose smiled. "Are you ready to go? Since you insisted in picking me up even though I could've driven to your place."

"What kind of date would I be if I didn't pick you up though?"

"Did your mom tell you that?"

"Maybe."

Rose picked up her purse and keys and opened the door. "Come on," she giggled.

They made small talk on the drive back to Jon's, talking about his last few games and the event she was currently working on. He pulled into the parking garage of his building twenty minutes later and hurried around to open Rose's door.

They took the elevator to his floor and he unlocked his door, letting her in first, closing the door behind them. "Wow," Rose breathed out. "Jon, this is incredible."

"It's home," he shrugged.

"It's amazing."

"Let me get you a glass of wine," he offered. She nodded and followed him to the kitchen. He pointed at a chair. "Have a seat."

Rose sat as Jon pulled out and opened a bottle of wine, pouring her a glass and then one for himself. "You're really going to cook for me?" She asked.

"I invited you over for dinner, didn't I? It'd be pretty shitty of me just to ply you with good wine."

"It's very good wine. Can I help?"

"Something tells me if I tell you no that you'll help anyways."

"That is true."

Jon laughed. "Do you want to make the salad?"