I first wrote and submitted this story on-line back at the beginning of the Stanley Cup Playoffs in 2009. Since then, I've revised and tweaked it into this version.
It's the same story though, with the same 'mystery' man (see if you can figure out who it is!) Once again, I know nothing about what hockey players do in their down time or how they are in real life. This is all make believe.
Happy Reading!
M. ;)
***
Winter snow flying meant Amelia fled south. She usually headed right for the southern tip of Florida, but since the winter had started so mildly this year, she decided to take her time, touring along the East Coast. She started by flying from her hometown of Winnipeg to Fredericton, in New Brunswick. She joined a bus tour there that would take her down through Maine and straight on to New York. From there she'd probably travel by train south to Washington D.C. The weather along the coast could be just as vicious as Winnipeg's at times but it didn't seem to happen as quickly.
Somehow, she didn't mind the weather so much when she was traveling, seeing the sites and writing wherever and whenever she chose to. Her sole companion on these southern trips was her laptop and she was content.
So what if she'd had to leave her husband of five years in order to find contentment? Even if that 'contentment' wasn't quite what she thought she'd be feeling at nearly thirty years of age. She definitely hadn't thought she'd be alone while feeling it. Being alone wasn't really a concern either. She just enjoyed the time she had to herself; time to write, to read and just to be quiet at times.
Then there were times when her libido would rear it's head and make it absolutely impossible to think of anything else. Times like those, she wished she was in her hometown where she had at least had a couple men she could call to help with her... needs.
For now, it was a dull sensation in the back of her mind as she watched the landscape of Maine rush past outside the bus window. In a short while she'd be into New Hampshire. She was tossing around the idea of just catching a flight straight to New York from there. At least in that big city she could distract herself from her sudden thoughts of loneliness.
Is it even loneliness?
she wondered and sighed, turning her face away from the rainy landscape outside the bus.
Maybe I'm just tired of traveling.
She often thought about just settling down in one of the many places she loved to visit. Somewhere far enough away from Winnipeg that she wouldn't be constantly reminded of her failed marriage. Then she became frustrated that she still let that episode in her life dictate so much of what she did now.
"Stop it, Amelia," she muttered to herself.
She pushed it out of her mind and tried not to let it cloud the trip she was on now. The eighty-three year old woman next to her jerked in her sleep and started snoring against Amelia's shoulder. Grimacing, Amelia edged herself away from the older woman and sighed, trying to get comfortable.
***
It was a hard game. By the time it ended, he never wanted to see or touch his skates again. Then as soon as he walked away from the arena, he longed to get back on the ice and figure out what he'd done wrong and how to improve it.
The entire time he was away from the ice he thought about the ice. The entire time he was on the ice, he thought about the game and how to win. The other guys on the team razzed him about how his mind was constantly on hockey, especially when he woke up on the bus or on the plane shouting something about passing or shooting the puck.
He didn't care what anyone thought. He
lived
hockey and it was OK.
Except for the times he was feeling lusty.
He cringed as they sat in waiting area of the airport and glanced around to see if anyone was looking in his direction. His cheeks flushed and he berated himself silently for even thinking something like that. Men like him didn't think of sex in terms like 'lusty.' Besides the guys harassing him about him talking in his sleep, they also harassed him about his constant reading. What they didn't know was that he read books and magazines in an endless effort to keep his mind from wandering aimlessly. It would lead him to think about women.
He couldn't afford those kinds of distractions. Not when this was the year. This was the year the team was going to make it to the playoffs and the finals. In less than ten months, he'd be hoisting the Stanley Cup over his head as the fans screamed in excitement.
Maybe he was selfish to think of it that way, but he honestly didn't care. He shifted in the tiny uncomfortable airport seat and adjusted the magazine in his hand. At the moment he wasn't reading but it kept his mind occupied. He seemed to need it since his mind was currently wandering off on lusty thoughts.
He kicked himself mentally and slapped the magazine down on his lip with a frustrated sigh. The player sitting across from him glanced up and quirked an eyebrow at him.
"You all right Sean?" he asked with a smirk.
"I'm fine," Sean replied, not meeting the other man's eyes.
Chuckling, his teammate shifted in his seat. "At least you didn't yell at me to pass you the puck," he commented, turning his attention back to the newspaper he was holding.
"Bite me, Flower," Sean snapped and stood up.
He needed to go for a walk. Yes, that would help. A walk around the strangely quiet airport would clear his mind.
Oh wow, she's cute,
he thought after a minute as he passed by a petite brunette. He slowed his pace and turned casually to watch as she strolled by. Then he spotted the child running after her, crying for his mother.
As Sean looked on, the woman turned and held a hand out, a patient smile on her face, as the child hurried to catch up. Thumb in mouth, the boy clutched her hand and trailed after her as she continued through the airport.
Sighing, Sean shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and turned to keep strolling. He spotted more good-looking women, some alone, some with husbands or boyfriends and while he felt that familiar twinge, he didn't feel drawn to them. It always seemed to be this way. He'd feel the physical urges and seek out a woman only to feel like something was always missing. He'd enjoy himself, that was certain, and the women were generally pleased to be with a professional hockey player. However, after the first few hook-ups of that sort, he didn't find it so enthralling as he once had.
He hated to admit it to himself, mostly because it was such a cliche, but he truly wanted to find someone who didn't think of him as a hockey player first. He also knew what a contradiction that was, since his entire life revolved around the game.
Maybe that's why,
he thought.
I've been focusing so much on the game so that I don't have to think about women.
Then he thought,
Great, something else for the guys to give me a hard time about.
With a heavy sigh, he turned and started to make his way back to the waiting area outside the team's departure gate.
***
New York was windy and kind of cloudy but Amelia was content to sit in the Starbucks and watching the people walk by on the street outside. She smiled as a particularly ornery teenager argued with her mother over something. The teenager effectively ended the conversation by walking away and the mother shook her head, throwing her hands up in the air before striding after the girl.
Shaking her own head, Amelia lifted her mug and sipped her latte. Then she breathed deeply, trying to refocus her attention on the computer screen before her. The words blurred and she sighed before reaching up to close the laptop. Then she just sat back in her seat and resigned herself to some serious people watching. Sometimes all it took was a little distraction to get her head back into whatever story she was working on.
Occasionally, the distractions proved to be too much. Like the tall, dark-haired, incredibly built man who walked into the coffee shop.
Yes,
she thought, unaware that she was holding her breath.
