Behind The Looks [Jonathan Toews Fan Fiction]

Chapter 12

April 5, 2013

Some people may be continuing to sleep because it is five in the morning. While others, like myself, is making an omelet because I just couldn’t sleep. I have – no lie – have been awake for more than twenty-four hours. Since the game last night, I’ve been thinking about Adam’s step–sister; like what else is new?

            After making what looked like a… partly good omelet, I set the plate down on the table and started to shove my fork into the omelet. Whilst eating, I started at the red sweater that lied on the couch. Patrick made a deal with me to not take it to bed with me because he just thought that was so weird… and I agree. I wouldn’t do that, I’m not a creep.

            Ten minutes later, after eating my omelet, I took a shower and changed into some casual clothes. I wasn’t planning on doing anything today. I checked my clock and noticed that it was now six in the morning. I still had a whole day ahead of me. I walked back into the living room and took a seat on the couch, but not near the sweater… I felt as if it invaded some sort of nonexistence privacy. After watching hockey highlights for half an hour, there was a lurid knock on the door.

            With confusion, I got up to check who it was. I opened the door slightly and noticed it was Adam. I knew I was safe and opened the door all the way. “Adam, what are you–?” I usually tend to finish my questions but this time I couldn’t because of one factor: he punched me in the face.

            I fell to the ground from the sudden and solid punch against my jaw. I pushed the throbbing feeling that surrounded the now red mark on my face to yell, “What the hell?”

            “Who the hell do you think you are screwing around with my step–sister?” he yelled back.

            “What are you talking about, Adam?” I inquired.

            He took a couple steps closer to me. I slid back a few feet while I attempted to stand up on my feet. “Don’t play innocent! You two are screwing. Just admit it!”

            “I never will because it never happened!” I hollered.

            He pointed over to the red sweater on top of the couch. “Then why the hell is her sweater there if you two aren’t fucking?” he asked.

            “I would never do that with her anyways, you’re my friend. We’ve been friends since we were kids, why would I do that over your step–sister?” I asked.

            “Jonathan,” he took enough steps to stand in front of me. “You’re such a fucking liar,” he said through gritted teeth before he punched me in the gut.

            “Adam, how long have we been friends?” I asked while clasping my shirt’s fabric.

            “Since… third grade. When Mark Sullivan tried to put glue in my hair, you punched him in the face and got suspended from school for a week,” he explained.

            “Exactly,” I said. There was confusion on his face. “We’ve been friends for seventeen years. You just don’t give up friendship over a nonrelated girl. You just don’t that with a friend,” I told him.

            He looked down at me with his hazel eyes. “Smart words, wrong mouth. I wasn’t born yesterday, Toews. Travis told me everything about what you told him in March.”

            “Then why didn’t you confront me sooner?” I asked. At last, Adam was dumbfounded; he had no answer for me. “Now if you don’t mind, could you please leave? I need to finish watching Sportsnet,” I told him.

            “Jonathan, never see her again,” he threatened.

            I shook my head and said, “No. Why should I?”

            Adam’s hands clasped around the clothing on my shoulders. “Because she is my sister–.”

            “Step–sister,” I corrected.

            “She is still family and I love her. I told her that I would protect her whenever she could be in danger. And Jonathan, I don’t see you as danger… I see you as a threat. I know your ways, you have a girlfriend. Even for you, Jonathan, that is low,” he voiced.

            “I broke–up with her,” I told him.

            He loosened his grip on my shirt and looked at me in the eyes. “It still doesn’t make me any less sure of you.” Adam let go of my shirt and looked at me, still, the anger in his eyes didn’t leave. “Just be careful, Jonathan.” With that, he left.

            “So are you going to make me an omelet, Jonathan?” Patrick questioned from the hallway.

            I continued to stare at the door, letting the words sink in to my mind. “Sure.”