Cardiac Arrest

Chapter Eleven: The Game

Wow, that was amazing. What am I saying, this is crazy. I just met him. Maybe Adrienne was right about going too fast. But it's just a harmless date, right? Besides, I won't see him till next Saturday, and I'll barely even see him then. I'll just be taking pictures. So yeah, guess I won't talk to him. Whatever.

*Timehop to Wednesday*

I sat in front of my tv in my apartment in my Andrew Shaw jersey, since he was my favorite player. Well, maybe Patrick was now. But I don't have his jersey, so this will have to do. It was the end of the second period and the boys were down 3-2 with goals from Toews and Bicks. I was hoping and praying it wouldn't go to overtime, let alone a shootout. The 3rd period began and dragged along until about 10 minutes in, when Hoss scored with assists from Duncs and Seabs! 3-3! Please don't go to OT.

Just as I thought we were going to the dreaded overtime, with ten seconds left, Kaner sniped a beauty from the slot. 4-3!! 4-3!!! Hawks win!!! I was so proud!! I saw Patrick point to a camera in the corner as he skated by to celebrate with his linemates and I almost threw up my butt. Holy shit! He really did score for me!

I jumped around and celebrated the win alone for awhile before going to bed. It was almost eleven.

Wow, this is crazy. I can't believe it. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed and heard my cell phone ring fron my bedroom. It must be Adrienne. I went over to check while still brushing my teeth. Patrick?! I quickly rinsed out the toothpaste and answered.

"P-Patrick? Uh, why are you calling me?!"

"Blakely! I wanted to make sure you saw that game-winning goal, all for you," he said.

"Yeah, uh, I did. Don't you have interviews or something? And aren't you exhausted?" I questioned.

"Geez, trying to get rid of me so soon? And no, if you had watched the post game interview you would've seen that I already did. You call yourself a hockey fan, ha! Puckslut!"

"I am not! I'm just tired!"

"You're not the one who just played a hockey game," he joked.

"Oh, alright bigshot, why don't you get some rest, big game Saturday."

"Yeah, in 3 days! I wanna talk to you."

"Uh, I'm going to bed, I'm exhausted. You're crazy. Bye, PKane," I slurred.

"Fine, you win this time. See ya soon, JFK."

Sometimes I feel like a lot of our conversations sound a little too friendly. Although I guess that's technically what we are. We've only gone on one actual date. Plus, I'm just a photographer. He's a professional hockey player, he's got it all. Shit, I really overthink stuff.