Shooting Stars

Chapter 8: Simple Things With a Complex Being

{Jonathan}

It’s Saturday, April 19, at about 6:00 in the evening.

It’s been a really good week. We had our first playoff game against the Ducks on Tuesday night, which ended extremely well. We also had game two on Thursday night, which we were able to pick up an easy win, defeating the Ducks 5-1.

The fans in Chicago are beyond excited. The energy is unreal, and you can easily tell what time of the year it is.

Playoffs.

Game three is in Anaheim on Tuesday, meaning that we have to fly out on Monday.

Ally, Patrick, and I have been talking a little bit over the past week, but only small talk ever so often.

I still don’t really know Ally that well, but she has come to all of the games, and we chat a little bit here and there.

Despite barely knowing her, the way this girl makes me feel is un-explainable.

I’ve found something with people.

You could have endless memories with a person, and still not remember them very well.

But you will always remember the way they made you feel. You see, emotion is stronger and more powerful than any thought produced by the brain.

You think you know how you feel... until your brain convinces you to think otherwise.

The mind confuses the heart, and there is nothing you can do about it.

But the way Ally makes me feel, is not an emotion I’m familiar with.

Strong, happy, joyful... the spectrum is endless.

I can’t understand why she triggers such a powerful emotion, but she just does.

Having her at games, honestly does help me perform.

I’m awakened from my thoughts when I hear a loud crashing coming from upstairs.

I’m currently watching SportsCenter on the main floor. I’m sprawled out on the couch, and I probably look lazy as hell.

“OH SHIT!” I hear Kaner call from upstairs.

I roll my eyes, and smile.

Kaner will never grow up.

Suddenly, I hear loud thumping as someone makes their way down the stairs quickly.

“No Patrick, stop!” A girls squeals, half screaming-half laughing.

Ally.

I sit up, and try to look slightly less lazy, knowing that Ally is going to be at the bottom of the stairs any second now.

“You can’t force your way out of this one, Ally!” Patrick calls, as heavier thumping moves down the stairs.

He’s obviously chasing her.

Suddenly, Ally comes into view.

I swallow hard, as my eyes make contact with hers for a split second.

She’s wearing a long sleeve light blue shirt, skinny jeans, and her hair is down and bobbing as she makes her way down the stairs.

Suddenly, a very excited, happy, grinning Patrick Kane follows right behind her.

Right as Ally is about to make contact with the floor, Patrick reaches her, and throws her over his left shoulder with ease.

Ally screams, as she hits Patrick on the back, lightly, of course. He’s basically picking her up like a sack of potatoes.