Rosie Labrun is a lot of things: a college student on the cusp of graduation; an intern for the Portland Pirates, a romance novel connoisseur; and the most recent addition to her resume...the girlfriend of a professional athlete.
She won't let it d...
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When I woke up this morning, the last place I expected to find myself, was sitting across the table from Kayden at IHOP, watching as he disassembles a pig with his teeth. Granted, between Rosie and I, I am far more the spontaneous one than the planner. While she enjoys knowing exactly what she's going to do and when she's going to do it; I don't mind going with the flow.
Don't get me wrong, I definitely enjoy routine. I haven't spent the last twenty-four years of my life with a regimented hockey routine for nothing. But in my personal life, I allow for more freedom. Though truthfully, most of the time I'm hoping it's the freedom that'll lead to making love in the middle of the night, rather than coming to America.
"This shit is so good!" Kayden groans, sounding like he's trying to recreate that scene from When Harry Met Sally. Of course, a man's orgasm and a woman's are very different. So while Sally may have sounded alluring and sensual to some; Kayden makes me wonder whether he's busting a nut or evacuating his bowels.
A few old-timers around us look over, shaking their heads and muttering about everything that's wrong with the youth of today. Are we still considered the youth if we're in our twenties? Probably. To them, I imagine we look like toddlers that somehow broke out of their parents arms and got a mortgage.
"Are you not eating yours?" Kayden asks, not bothering to take a break in-between bites to address me. He's never been one for social etiquette; or caring about if he's talking with his mouth full. We've roasted him on the team about it, but it still hasn't stopped us from having pieces of pasta flown across our cheeks.
I glance down at my own plate: six eggs, four pieces of toast, a stack of pancakes, hash browns, and a half-dozen pieces of bacon. Some may call it the breakfast of champions, I call it lunch. But today, I have nothing I feel like doing less than eating. Which is weird for me, considering that I need to eat like 5000 calories a day to live.
"Just waiting for Rosie." I tell him, partially lying and partially not wanting to be bothered to fill him in on the truth. The truth, you may be wondering. Rosie disappeared to the bathroom about twenty minutes ago and has yet to return.
Part of me wants to check on her and part of me worries that if I do, I'll find out that she left, long ago.
"So whipped." Kayden mutters, allowing only for a momentary pause before stuffing another forkful of pancakes, eggs, and bacon into his mouth. Sometimes I wonder if it might just be easier to do a C-section on his throat and throw everything in there in one shot. Maybe it would allow for some recovery time where we wouldn't have to hear him constantly yapping his jaw. I mean, talking.
I don't bother responding to him - whether it's because his observation is true or because a piece of bacon flew across the table and almost disabled an elderly man, I'm not sure. Raking a hand through my hair, I pull my hat off my head just to set it back down again. I look like shit today and it's not just because I was mentally preparing for a lazy Sunday.
