Orlando

Val’s POV

Up above, in the sky, birds flew by, chirping at one another, as they zoomed back and forth, high above my head. The sky was a deep blue color, with few clouds. I knew that a cold front had just swept through and it had left a nice wind chill in the air. It wasn’t chilly, but it was pleasant and nice. And I was glad at not having to deal with the humidity.

I walked down one of the pathways, finding myself in front of the Student Union building. I walked around and onto a paved circular road, that encircled the heart of the campus. All around me, college students walked about. Some were on bikes or skateboards, while others were on their phones or talking to their friends. I saw a bunch of females walk by, giggling and blushing and giving off tiny girlish noises, like they were shy or starstruck by me. And there were one or two girls who gave me a dirty look, as they walked by. One rolled her eyes and muttered to herself.

I wandered toward a vast grassy yard that led to some place called “CFE Arena.” Immediately, I thought hockey. I flashed a clueless smile, as I thought about the American Airlines Center in Dallas. I missed playing hockey and skating on the ice with my boys, but I also wanted to enjoy this final week I had. And I really wanted to make it to Disney World.

I clutched my hockey stick and the pamphlet in my hands and stepped onto the grass. A giant, gusty swirl of wind blew at me, rustling the trees that lined the grass edges. Ahead, two men were throwing a frisbee back and forth. They were laughing and cussing at one another. I heard one of them say, “Oh come on, you can do better than that Jon!” Which came with a response of: “Fuck you!” in a fit of chuckles.

I wasn’t much of a cusser, though I admit, at times, I had the mouth of a sailor. I cursed in Russian though. But I never used the word “fuck”, not even in Russian. The breeze died down into silence and I was able to hear sounds from every which way.

To my right, two females were discussing a shopping trip. And on my left a man was strumming on his guitar, trying to impress a trio of girls who giggled. I looked down at the nicely trimmed grass, under my feet and saw the blade of the stick cut through the green.

Before I could make my next move, I felt the stick being knocked from my hands. It tottered silently on the grass, before coming to a stop. I felt millions of hands on me and I saw that a hoard of females had found me. They were all the stereotypical, single rich girls, who vied for attention and the chance to get a boyfriend. They whined in high pitched voices that drove me insane. They were pulling me back and forth by either of my arms, like a game of tug-o-war.

“Quit it, I saw him first!” one of them screamed.

“Nah, uh! I did!” another retorted, with a sharp yank.

“No, I did!” the first growled.

“You’re going to rip him in half, you bitch!” the third one snapped.

“You’re hurting him too!”

“Let go he’s mine!”

And on and on.

I was somewhat new to being fought over by women. Sure I was liked by females, but most of them were after my linemate. (Do I really have to name him, I think we know who it is!) I had witnessed the mass craziness of all the teenage girls swooning my new friend and teammate, but I had never had it happen to me. But I knew it was a good thing, so I was okay with it.

Until the action ramped up and they abused my kindness.

The crazy women pushed me backward toward the Starbucks’ on-campus and pinned me against the wall. One of them began to make out with me, a bewildered, easy-going hockey player, kissing me on the lips.

She was yanked backward by her golden blonde hair, as a blue haired woman took her place and began to basically lick my face, sloppily making out. Her hands rubbed up and down my front, running wildly and madly on top of my loose shirt. I tried to get her off, but the third girl, one with snowy white hair in a nice little bob took her spot, shoving the second female away.

This one nuzzled against my face, seemingly wiping the slobber from the other women off of my face with her hair. While she nuzzled me like a dog, the other two came back and leaned against me. After a few more minutes, the nuzzler lady placed one of her hands on me, below the waist, inappropriately. That did it! I wanted them all off!

“Получите! (Get off!)” I attempted to try and shove her away, but the other two had a hold of my arms. I struggled to get free, as they violated my privacy. One thing was for certain, O wasn’t like Tyler Seguin at all. I didn’t like this.

“I don’t speak Russian, Pretty Boy!” she cooed, before someone’s angry snarl cut in.

“Leave the Dallas Star to us!” a man’s voice growled.

The nuzzler gave me another squeeze to my privates, before glancing at the man who’d spoken. I saw a tall man with a baseball bat. He was hitting it against his palm, threateningly. He looked like a smaller Zac Rinaldo-Zdeno Chara mix and he was scary looking. He stepped forward shoving the rich girl to the side, rather roughly and rudely.

My shiny blue eyes stared upward at the man, as he came to stand directly before me. Honestly, I was freaking out, unsure what to do. I didn’t want to attack anyone, because I wasn’t like that. Also I didn’t want to appear as a bad guy. I was just there visiting on vacation; I hadn’t done anything wrong.

The man tossed the bat to the side, to one of his buddies, who caught it. He then teached out with his hand and grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt and pulled me close. I could smell his awful breath, like beans mixed with garbage. “What are you doing in Florida?”

“Vacation. Disney World.” I was panicking. I may have been a Dallas Stars forward, but my heart was beating rigorously in my chest. I remained limp and unmoving. Maybe my ability to give in might throw off the hostility. Maybe if I showed him how easy-going and non-threatening I was...

“Well, you're quite a way from Disney.”

“I got lost!”

“Sure you did!”

He shoved me, the tough hockey player, back against the wall. I hit my head against the concrete, but luckily it wasn’t that hard.

Suddenly the trio of girls and the crew around me grew, as more people joined in. Some even threw things at me, shouting, “Dallas Star in Florida!” It seemed like I had no fans here, but people knew me. I took it that there were hockey fans in Orlando, Florida, and some who would kill me, in fact. After a little bit, I began to feel sharp pains sprinting up my arms, back and body in general. The attack was hurting me.

“Пожалуйста, не надо! Позвольте мне перейти! Пожалуйста! Вы будете жить у меня!! (Please, stop it! Let me go! Please! You’re hurting me!)”

I was tackled to the ground, where I managed to get my arms free and cower in a ball, screaming in Russian. But they kept on me, continuing a killer assault. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure about coming to this college campus.