In Sequence | H.S.

23.

TW: Mention of drug use.

Harry.

Frilly coffee taints my taste buds as I take a sip of the iced vanilla latte I got for Madelyn. I took a detour on the way into the arena this morning, not because I felt like rewarding the red devil for the encore of her disappearing act, but because I woke up with the sunrise, and nobody would be here to unlock the arena yet. My only option was to pace outside of the cafe across the street until the zamboni driver showed up for his morning run.

Madelyn probably wouldn't be too far behind him. She likes reading through our charts and setting up her office before any of us arrive for our sessions so she's prepared. I, on the other hand, like the element of surprise, and nothing sounds more appealing than scaring the fucking shit out of her when she turns on the lights to her office and finds me sitting with my feet on her desk. She probably doesn't even expect me to be batting my eyes open at this hour, let alone dressed, caffeinated, and in her office ready to pick a fight at 7 AM.

Can't fuck around with the snooze button when you have a knee that will damn near paralyze you without recreational medication.

Half the lights in the hallways were still off as the custodial staff was still doing their morning rounds. It was eerily quiet, even at this hour. I expected it to be peaceful, but I didn't expect it to be silent. This place was never silent. It was home to the echoes of the cheering fans and the clattering of hockey sticks to pucks.

But this morning, it was just me and a few of the essential employees. Keys jingled down the long hallway as a custodian passed by, switching one another set of overhead lights, and the ice rattled in the plastic cup I was holding. Other than that, pure silence tries to calm my boiling thoughts. I haven't really figured out how I'm going to get into her office yet, but it shouldn't be too hard to coax a custodian into unlocking the door for me.

"Call me when you wake up." I mimicked the closing line of her stupid ass note under my breath as I clutched the note tightly in my fist, accompanied by a small brown sack with a bagel in it. I've never gotten the opportunity to make her breakfast after she's spent the night, so this will have to suffice.

Not that she even stayed the night.

Fuck, what am I doing? Why did I get her this shit? Maybe as an apology, maybe as a way to be petty.

My body is fuming with anger but that still didn't stop me from spewing out her go-to order like a whipped little bitch. The barista looked at me like I had insulted her in the process, and now that I think about it, maybe I had in my quick demands meant to deflect from my frustration with Madelyn and my growing frustrations with myself. A grunt breaks my thoughts, sending my eyes darting down the hallway. Guess I'm not as alone as I thought I was. My brows knit together as I glance down at my watch.

7:04 am.

I've fucked my fair share of puck sluts in this wing of the arena, I'm not stranger to the risk of getting caught, but fuck, it's too early to be fucking someone down here, even for me.

Another grunt lingers shamelessly into the hallway, echoing off of the cement bricks. The noise repeats, combating every harsh step I take. The noise gets louder as I pass by the locker room, but that's not the source of the sound. Heavy pants push their way out into the hallway, and I set my sight on Madelyn's office. The note in my hand crinkles in my tight grasp, pitiful words getting strangled off of the page. Redness creeps up the back of my neck and I can feel the tips of my ears getting hot as my pace quickens down the hallway.

She doesn't start sessions until eight, so who the fuck is she with?

Her schedule is shamelessly embedded in the back of my brain. Not for any reason, I just like knowing when she's available so I can torment her.