Chapter Thirteen
"Hey Sid!" I call down the hall. "Are you sure you don't want to come to dinner with us?" I feel bad leaving him here alone.
"No, no… go, have a good time. You don't need me moping and bringing you down," He comes out of his office and limps down the hall towards me. I can tell from the tone in his voice that he is in pain… and that he is wallowing in his own self pity. The first day he was home he tried to act like it wasn't bothering him. The second day was a bit more telling but now he is past acting and now you can see the real Sidney. It's not pretty. He's annoying as hell and if I thought it would work - and make him instantly better - I would cut off my own damn foot and give it to him.
"You won't!" I insist but it's a total lie. He totally would. "Seriously, though… what are you going to do tonight?"
"I dunno… but don't worry, I'll be fine."
"Do you want me to make you something to eat before I go?" I don't even give him an option, as I head towards the kitchen. I know he will say no, but I also know that he can't cook a bloody thing and he'll just sit here and eat bread with peanut butter and that's not a good enough meal.
"You really don't need to…"
"I'm ignoring you," I smile sweetly and head into the kitchen.
Sid just smiles. He's such a cutie when he's not a miserable ass.
"Is there something you want? Chicken or fish…"
"Fish would be great. Does a prairie girl know how to cook fish?"
"SHUT UP! I can cook anything!" I laugh. Troy has forbid me from cooking lobster for the same reasons. East coast people are very particular about their seafood.
"I'm just kidding. I appreciate it, I really do…" He plops himself onto a stool at the island and watches as I dig out a couple of ingredients from the fridge. I quickly begin prepping a piece of salmon in a parchment pouch, so Sid can pop it in the oven whenever he gets hungry. I throw in some veggies, some lemon slices and dill, a pad of butter and voila! Dinner is done. Some microwavable rice and you've got yourself a meal. Even someone who has never had to cook for themselves in their lives could handle this one. Maybe Sid paid enough attention that he could make it himself. I doubt it.
"All you have to do is put this in the oven, maybe four hundred for like twenty minutes, when you are ready to eat," I instruct him.
"You put butter in it…" Sid looks at me blankly.
"Yeah… it's called cooking…" I respond with a laugh but he continues to stare, blinking those long eye lashes of his at me.
"I can't have butter," He shakes his head.
"But butter equals flavour… it's just a little butter, it won't kill you…" I shrug. A thank-you would have been better…
"I can't have butter…" He just repeats and stares at me. The blank expression on his face is frustrating the shit out of me. I can guarantee him that he eats butter every time he goes out for dinner! Every restaurant worth its menu uses butter! It's how they make things taste good! If I didn't use butter, it would taste like cardboard and then he would complain that I can't cook seafood. I can't win.
As he continues to stare at me, I feel my blood boiling. I want to scream soooo many things right now. Instead I take the high road and ignore him, picking the prepared meal up and placing it on a shelf in the fridge. "If you don't eat it tonight, I'll eat it tomorrow." I slam the fridge door shut a little harder then I anticipated. I turn back around to clean up my prep area and notice Sid's expression has at least changed. Apparently he is shocked that he's not the only one in the room that can be miserable. I know, real shocker, right?
"I didn't mean to insult you but I have a strict diet…" Sid tries to apologize but I don't want to hear it right now.
"Whatever…" I wipe down the counter and turn away from him.
"I'll eat it, I'm just saying…" He insists.
"I'm gonna go get ready to go…" I cut him off. This conversation is going nowhere good and I don't want to be in a crazy grumpy mood tonight. Jason is always telling me stories about Sid being a bit of a diva and me being upset with him will only encourage it. I just want to have a nice dinner.
-.-
I watch her walk down the path and slide into Jason's front seat. I want to throw my crutch through his front window. He is such a fucking ass, I can't believe she is going anywhere with him. I turn around and head back to the living room and throw myself down on the couch. This is probably the first time I have been home alone. It's for sure the first time I have been home alone in the winter. I don't think I've been home in the winter, except for, like, two days at Christmas since I was, like, fourteen maybe?
I can do this.
People stay home alone all the time. What do they do? Channel surf. I reach over and grab the remote, turning the TV on and beginning my descent. I have what seems like 2,000 channels, I must be able to find something to watch. Naturally I stop on sports highlights and feel my blood boil as they talk about how Ovi is passing me in points while I am injured. Nice of them to add salt to the wound.
TV off.
Maybe I can't do this.
I reach over and grab my phone and quickly dial Andy's phone number. He'll be home. Maybe he wants to go out. Then I don't have to sit here and realize how sad I am.
"Hey man, how's it hangin?" Andy picks up the phone before I even hear it ring on my end.
"Not to bad, not to bad." I nod as if he can see me.
"What's up?"
"I was just wondering what you were up to? I'm kinda bored," I admit.
"Hahaha… I always wondered what would happen if you couldn't play hockey…"
"Yeah well, it's not pretty…" Great. Now even my best friend is laughing at me.
"Well, me and some buddies were going to head to The Dome, if you wanted to tag along."
"The Dome? That's kinda flashy… I don't know if I should…"
"Dude, you seriously need to relax! Come have a good time, have a couple drinks, dance with some skank, maybe take her home, let her suck your dick… that's what guys your age are doing, ya know?"
"I know… I just…" I can't help but worry. If a picture got out or… God, I worry too much. I am just going to have a drink with friends - it's not the end of the world. There is no way in hell I would bring a girl home. "Okay, I'm in."
"Great! You can pick me up!"
"Sure, whatever. What time?" I'm not suppose to drive with this thing on my foot but Bree isn't here to give me crap, so I guess no one will know.
"Like an hour?"
"I'll be there." Andy says goodbye and I hang up the phone. Maybe this is what I need. Just a good night out with the guys. I guess I'll have to shower… ugh.
-.-
This is definitely not what I needed. Is this seriously what guys my age find fun? The music is crazy loud and pounding and the flashing lights are obnoxious. I have had so many drunk girls grind themselves into me, throw their arms around me or spill their drink on my shoe I want to scream. I bet I could. I bet no one would hear me over the music.
"Dude relax! Don't be such a fucking prude!" Andy screams but I can barely hear him.
"I'm not a prude!" Maybe I am.
"Prove it!"
"Fuck off!" He knows I hate being challenged, but this one isn't going to work.
"You just need to meet some of our new friends," Andy yells into my ear.
"WHAT?"
"COME ON," He grabs me by the shoulder and drags me towards where some of his buddies are standing with a group of very scantily clad young ladies. I am not even sure that what the girl in the middle is wearing counts as clothing. I think I have face cloths bigger. If my sister ever tried to leave the house in that, my dad with staple her to the living room couch.
"Hey ladies, have you met my friend Sid?" Andy wraps his arm around my shoulders.
"Oh my God, you're that guy!" The girl wearing the face cloth shrieks. Wow really? That guy hey? Way to pay attention. Someone, maybe, should have told her not to drink the bleach after she was finished putting it in her hair.
"Sid is the best hockey player in the world!" Andy helps her out. I just smile and take another sip of my beer. I hate getting introduced like that. I don't want to be with a girl who only wants me because I play hockey. I mean I guess I shouldn't worry about that because none of these girls are exactly my type.
"Wow! I've heard hockey players have really good… stamina…" She smiles and her eyes fall below my waist. I thought guys were the only ones that checked out the goods.
"Aww… you're going to make Sid blush," another girl chimes in. At least she is wearing a bit more clothing.
"He needs to take his mind of his injury, maybe you ladies could help him out?" Andy smiles a giant, bastard smile and the girls all giggle.
-.-
I feel so dirty. I can't believe I did that. I look over at the girl lying face down on my bed and my stomach turns. The lights in the club really do mess with one's vision… or maybe it was the beer. She is really unattractive. Now what do I do? I wish I had paid attention to Max or Jordy when they went on about all the ways they got the girl out of their bed in the morning but I never thought I would need it.
I feel her stir and start to panic. Do I pretend that I am still asleep and hope she leaves on her own? How will she get out? She probably doesn't even know where we are to call a cab… Do I greet her with a 'good morning'? That seems to intimate. I don't want her to get the wrong idea. Fuck. Oh I know…
I sit up and swing my legs out the side of the bed. I reach down and scratch my foot. It's sticky, as someone spilt beer on it last night. Probably more then one person, come to think of it and I'll have to wash it or something… well that's annoying.
I feel a hand creep up my back and snap back to the problem at hand. Be cold Sid. Be cold.
"Hey," I offer as I look back at the girl who is now looking up at me. I wish I could remember her name.
"Hey yourself," She purrs. Cold Sid. Cold.
"So do you want me to call you a cab? Or do you have a friend who could pick you up?" I ask and feel her hand snap back. I think that worked. I think she got the point. She rolls over and reaches for her discarded shirt lying on the floor beside the bed.
"A cab would be great, thanks," She says quietly. Now I feel bad but I know that I shouldn't. She should have known what she was in for when she came here.
"You could have a shower or something, while you wait," I suggest, reaching for my phone to call a cab company.
"Wanna join me?" She asks suggestively, looking over her shoulder.
"No thanks," I pull my boxers up over my ass and head out of the bedroom. I could really use a coffee but I really hope Bree isn't in the kitchen making it. That would add a whole other element of uncomfortable.
She had texted me last night that she wouldn't be coming home, so not to stay up waiting for her but I have no idea what time she would get home. Reading that probably didn't encourage the best decision making on my part. I think up until that point I actually had some self control. I blame Bree.
Fortunately, she isn't in the kitchen and there don't seem to be signs of her anywhere. Which also means no coffee. I'll have to find the coffee filters. I have no idea where they are. I begin opening cupboard doors and peering inside. There is a lot of food in these cupboards that I can't have. Cinnamon Toast Crunch, strawberry Pop Tarts. Oh my God, when was the last time I had a Pop Tart? I'm sure one wouldn't hurt…
I pop one sweet delectable strawberry Tart into the toaster and continue the search for coffee filters, opening door after door. Where did I get all this stuff? It must be Bree's. I am pretty sure I don't own a red KitchenAid hand blender. I baked a cake once in junior high cooking class but it certainly wasn't edible. I shrug and move on to the next cupboard.
"That's a pretty swanky shower you've got in there…" The girl comes into the kitchen, her hair wet but not exactly clean looking. It looks like she just rinsed off more then anything.
"Yeah, its pretty good… the water pressure isn't always the best but better then nothing, I guess," I hate making small talk. Almost as much as I hate the awkward silence.
"Is something burning?" She asks, looking around the kitchen.
"SHIT!" I hurry to the toaster and release the lever. Sure enough, the damn thing is black and reeks. Now I remember why I don't eat them. "Bloody Pop Tart… wasn't meant to be…" I pick it out of the toaster carefully and chuck it into the garbage can.
It's funny. This girl is laughing at my incompetency and it's annoying the piss out of me. If Bree were here, she would be laughing at me too but it wouldn't bother me. This girl needs to leave – now.
"I think your cab is probably here," I spit out bluntly and head to the front door to look out the window. Perfect timing as the hired car makes its way slowly down the driveway. "Yup, he's here…"
"Great," she nods with an exasperated sigh.
She slips on her heels, which may have been a good decision when she was getting dressed last night but she's probably regretting the open toe now, as she has to walk down the long, snow-covered path to the cab.
I open the door for her and debate in my head if I should offer her some money for the cab. I am afraid it will look like I am paying her for her services and decide against it. That's the last thing I need getting out right now. Her thinking I am an asshole is much better. She steps towards the door just as another cab pulls up the lane. I freeze in my place as I recognize Bree's head in the back and can already see the confused expression on her face. Great. Perfect timing. I see the girl tilt her head and watch as the second cab comes to a stop and Bree climbs out.
"What? Do you have girls on rotation?" She asks me with her hand on her hip. I can imagine how this looks.
"No she's –" What do I say? She's nobody? Not true. She's sleeping with someone else? Too mean. She's everything to me? Too honest. "She's just my assistant." That certainly didn't feel right.
"Oh… okay," The girl smiles, as if that was a good enough answer for her. It wasn't for me.
"So, will you call me?" She asks as she wraps her hands around my neck.
I turn my attention away from Bree who is walking towards us, in a much more practical shoe choice, and look into the expectant eyes glued to my face. The mascara stains under her eyes and the caked foundation that didn't wipe off on my pillow, or in her so-called shower, are even more evident in this light. I reach up and grab the girl's arms, untying them from my neck. "No, probably not…" I shake my head.
"You're an asshole," She hisses at me and a part of me is pretty shocked she didn't slap me or something.
"I'm just being honest." I try to justify.
"Agh! Hockey players! No more!" She screams as she stomps down the stairs and towards the cab that was waiting for her. I imagine that isn't the first time that girl has sworn off hockey players – or the last. It's a common situation in this town.
Bree is paused, standing at the end of the side walk watching everything. She looks up at me with a raised eyebrow and lets out a little chuckle before heading up the walk towards me, after what's her name practically pushes her out of the way to get by.
"WHAT?" I snap.
"Nothing…" She just shrugs and adjusts her purse on her shoulder.
"You don't get to judge me!" I hiss at her as she climbs the front stairs. I can see the look in her eyes. It's killing me. I really wish she had come home a couple minutes later.
"I wasn't judging you…" She shakes her head but doesn't take her eyes off me. How come she was out all night but her skin looks fresh and clean? Oh yeah, maybe because some sleaze bag guy didn't pick her up in some dirty nightclub.
"I saw the look in your eyes!"
"Whatever you saw, you imagined… maybe you're judging you," She slides past me and into the house. Fuck, I hate that she is right.