Monday, June 27, 2011

Just Friends - Max Talbot

So, a fellow hockey friend and I have been messaging one another on facebook and she put this frickin' idea in my head... Because she's the devil, and wants to torture me by making me think about Max. This is what spawns from 'harmless' chatter*


She stumbled down the sidewalk, her heels clicking unevenly as she swayed with each step. The music from the club was getting softer and softer, the bass thumping less and less in her head as she made her way toward the house she knew so well.
There was a part of her that knew this was a bad idea… that she should've stayed indoors with the rest of her friends. But that other side, the side that had little horns and a tail, that side was telling her that come Hell or high water… Max Talbot was going to get an earful of what she had to say.
Turning left, she walked a few more paces and stared at the building opposite where she was. Squinting, she noticed his bedroom light was on. She pulled out her phone and sent a mass message to the girls, letting them to let them know of her plans, now that they couldn't stop her. Then she silenced her ringer and dropped the device back in her bag.
"Iss now or ne-*hiccup*-ever," she said with a giggle. Then she turned her head both ways dramatically, making sure no headlights were coming to injure her and she crossed the street. She tripped up the flat sidewalk and almost fell into his door. Righting herself, she brought her hand up to the wooden frame.
She heard the quick footfalls of someone running down the staircase and a muffled curse. Thinking maybe she should knock again, she lifted her fist and was about to hit the door once more when it flew open inward. The momentum she'd been putting into the knock threw her forward and she let out a small shriek as she fell into the arms of a scruffy-looking man.
"Shannon?! What are you doing he--"
"You have been a very nau-*hiccup*… a very naugh-*hiccup*… you're bad."

Sunday, June 26, 2011

For Stephanie, because she always wanted this*

The glaring red numbers said 3:02 in the darkness of the bedroom. He saw her there, lying on his side of the mattress, curled around a pillow. Her hair shone in the moonlight, the blonde color glowing almost like gold.
He dropped his bag quietly in the corner and kicked off his shoes and socks. The jacket was next, falling on the floor as he walked slowly toward her. He practically ripped the tie from his neck, the pressure of it earlier feeling like it would strangle him. He threw it toward the hamper, probably missing the basket, but his eyes were focused on the body in the bed.
As he stared at her, sleeping so peacefully, he was torn between waking her and letting loose his frustrations, or falling asleep and waiting until morning. She sighed and it looked like she had burrowed into the pillow. With a small, very small, smile, he unbuttoned his short and shrugged it off, undid his pants and let them fall, and then pulled his undershirt off. Now in just a pair of cotton boxer briefs, he stretched one more time, cracking many of his bones and feeling his sore muscles pull.

Friday, June 24, 2011

S.E.X. -- Richards/Stoll for Flyerfly*

I know she's hurt and confused right now, but we were talking, and hopefully this will help her out, and soothe her tortured soul*
The club was hot. Not as in the filled-with-unnaturally -hot-women or music-totally-bumpin’ hot. It was temperature hot; had to be at least fifteen to twenty degrees warmer than the temperature outside, and he was pretty sure that it had hit triple digits even though it was now night.
Where is this guy? He said meet him here.
Suddenly he was there, standing right in front of him. A hand clapped him on the shoulder and a drink was thrust into his hand.
“Hey man, great you showed up! A couple of the others are in the VIP already, wanna go head up there? It’s quieter!”
Mike nodded and the wound their way through the sea of bodies, up the stairs, and to an area that was roped off and, as promised, slightly quieter.
“So, what do you think of L.A. so far?”
“Only saw the arena and my hotel room. But both of those were nice,” he said with a smile.
“Well, me and the boys will show you how to do it up right out here. No worries man!”
“Thanks Jarrett.”
Stoll grinned and walked over to the private bar. Turning around, Mike leaned against the railing and stared down at the crowd. He took a hearty swallow of his drink and as the glass came down he spotted her dancing close to one set of speakers. He watched her hips sway to the music, her hair falling down her back in waves. She had on a short, black skirt and a shimmery, backless shirt. He hadn’t seen the front yet, but from this view alone he was hooked.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Come In With the Rain

I’ve been trying to write different stories, work in some ideas… nothing was really working. Then I thought, why not write a little something to vent some frustrations and maybe clear your head?!
So… this is a one shot to show how Lexie got her man!
You may remember Lexie from my first story, A Lucky Shot, and how she was with a certain defenseman of the Penguins*
I hope you enjoy it!!
I’ll leave my window open,
‘Cus I’m too tired at night to call out your name.
Just know I’m right here hopin’,
That you’ll come in with the rain.
I’ve watched you so long,
Screamed your name,
I don’t know what else I can say.
But I’ll leave my window open,
‘Cus I’m too tired at night for all these games.
Just know I’m right here hopin’,
That you’ll come in with the rain.
Come In With The Rain – Taylor Swift
June 22, 2009
The sun was bright, the rays bursting through Lexie’s bedroom windows and lighting the entire room. Squinting at her night stand, the red numbers of her clock read 8:27. Why am I awake?!
She hadn’t gone to bed until almost four o’clock in the morning, and that was only because she and her friends had completely ran out of alcohol. Twisting over so she didn’t need to see the glaring numbers anymore, her eyes focused on a photo on the opposite stand. She was standing between two men. One was dead now, killed the previous year in a motorcycle accident. And the other one… she stared at the summer photo.
Kris Letang had been everything she’d ever wanted. She’d grown up with him some, watched him play hockey with her brother, and spent time with the two of them during off seasons. And right after Luc died… he’d come home, during the Stanley Cup Final, to attend the funeral.