Fire on Ice (Sidney Crosby Fanfic)

Feelings

The next time I drive Christina to a bar after the game she keeps on trying to convince me to come with her because she says we get to spend more time together and the rest of the group loves me. I don't know which part of I never want to come in contact with Sidney again she doesn't understand. She reluctantly gets out of my car, and for the first time, as my eyes follow her to the door of the bar, I spot Sidney in the shadows leaning against the wall. I quickly look away when our eyes meet.

For a couple minutes I have to sit there with my head tilted down and my heart beating wildly. I'm trying to calm down from this weird, sudden outburst. I don't understand why this keeps on happening. Suddenly the passenger seat door opens and someone sits in. Before I can say anything, Sidney slams the door shut. I stare at him like he's a ghost. Sidney's looking through the windshield with hard determination, like he's seeing all his thoughts on it and he's desperately trying to sort them out. I'm too awkward and confused to say anything.

He seems really rattled. Finally he sighs, and almost like he's forcing it out of his mouth he says, "I don't have a girlfriend."

I watch him carefully. He twists his body towards me, "Brianna, I'm not that guy."

"I think you're exactly that guy."

"I promise I'm not... I... the only reason why I...I'm... I like you."

That was so awkward and embarrassingly forced out that I can't doubt his sincerity. Did he just make me get hot again? I don't know what to say. I hope I'm not blushing.

"Look, I really fucking like you. When you tried to give me that jersey back and you said you don't like me that way... I just... I panicked. I've never had a-"

"You've never had a girl say no to you?" I interrupt him.

I think he wants to confirm, but has figured out that I will hold it against him. "I don't get why you're playing games with me, but it's working. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. The more you push me away the more I want you. I swear, I'm not gonna stop trying, so can you please stop playing with me already?"

"I'm not playing games with you. I never was. I'm not trying to play hard to get to make you crazy over me. That was never my intention."

He stares at me like he can't believe I actually don't like him. It makes me so mad. He's so full of himself. "I don't like you, that's all there is to it," I say, angrily aiming at his feelings.

"I'm sorry if I offended you by saying that I don't like you," he's still convinced I'm just another girl who is just waiting to be with him, "But I'm taking that back now and it's not a reason to act like this towards me anymore." I'm sure he means my rude response to his feelings for me.

Truthfully, we don't know each other well enough for me to have a personal reason to hate him this much, but I still do. And the way he is making me angrier and angrier isn't helping his case. "You are an asshole, a self centered, full of yourself asshole. Any normal person who doesn't give a damn about how famous and rich you are wouldn't have to think twice about you." When it comes out and his face turns from shades of white to red, I immediately regret saying it. I got lost in a moment of rage.

Sidney looks away from me and grabs the door handle. He stays there for a second in confusion and disbelief of what just happened. I'm pretty sure he's all out of words at being rejected. Before he gets out he spits out an, "I'm sorry I bothered you," and then he walks to his car instead of going back to the bar. I must have offended him pretty badly.

Nothing I said is wrong, but I still feel bad. I realize he got here early just so he can talk to me. At least I can give him the effort. I feel so bad that eventually I roll down the window and yell, "I'm sorry, too!" at him. It's not very emotional or sincere, but I still feel better saying it than not doing anything at all after bashing him like that. He can be an immoral bitch, but that doesn't mean I have to be one. The lateness of it might be inferring, but considering there is nothing for him to infer, I don't worry about it.

He jolts around at the sound of my voice, but he's plainly disappointed at only getting a very insensitive sorry. "Don't worry about it. I wouldn't want to see you dating an asshole, anyway."

He shocks me. That's an unexpected thing to hear from him. My heart beats for it and in my awe I stare at him wordlessly. Sidney presses his lips together and shrugs his shoulders, taking my reaction as a bad sign. He gets in his car, leaving me to wish I had said something more to him.

For a very long time, while I come in no contact with him, I keep on thinking about that night. A part of me daydreams about getting on the subject with him again. In the end he left me with the impression that I don't know him well enough and that everything I said to him was based on prejudice. But, then again, he hasn't done anything, other than say those few words to me, to make me believe he isn't a conceited asshole. I don't know. It probably doesn't matter enough to me to worry about it.