Shooting Stars

Chapter 9: A Stroll to a Little Corner Store

{Ally}

It was like talking to someone who made you feel like you were infinite.

It was like being with someone who made you swear you were flying.

It was like feeling like nothing could ever bring you down, and you would feel joyful for the rest of your life.

That is what talking to Jonathan Toews was like.

That’s what spending your night laughing, conversing, and baking cookies with Jonathan was like.

Last night doesn’t seem like reality. It seems like I was crossing dimensions from the boring life that I’m used to living into a dream universe where everything is different.

Everything is better.

Everything is beautiful.

And I could honestly get used to living in that world, with that boy.

Jonathan Toews.

I’m afraid to fall in love. I don’t want to get hurt again. I can’t risk losing all security I’ve built up, just to bash myself all over again.

I can’t let it happen.

And I can convince my mind to not be stupid, and not fall in love when I’m not around Jonathan.

But when I am, all hope is lost. He’s too enchanting.

I brush through my hair, and change into a pair of jeans and a Blackhawks long sleeve shirt.

It’s Sunday, April 20, at about 11:30 in the morning.

I know the boys have practice from 4:30 to 6:30, so I have decided that I’m going to go out this afternoon.

I’m going to go shopping today. Or at least, window shopping. I’m not one to waste money on too many things, so I might not be buying too much.

I make my way downstairs to find Patrick and Jonathan both lying on two different couches, watching hockey highlights.

“Oh shit man, the Rangers are fucked! Lundqvist totally screwed them over last night.” Patrick laughs, shaking his head.

“Dude, I know.” Jonathan agrees, nodding his head.

His eyes are locked on the TV, and I can only see the side of his face from here.

“Hey boys,” I smile, as I make my way over to the kitchen.

“Morning Ally. That was quite the sleep in.” Patrick laughs.

To be honest, I was awake at 9:00 this morning, but I didn’t feel like getting up.

I have a horrible habit of lying around for an extra two hours once I’ve woken up.

Oops.

“Yeah I know, I was tired.” I lie. 

“How are you up so early, Patrick? You must be hungover as hell.” I chuckle as I get the bread out of the pantry.

“No not really. I didn’t really drink that much last night, to be honest.” He shrugs, still watching the highlights.

“What time did you get in?” I ask.

“Like 4:30.” He explains.

I shake my head. That’s Patrick for you. He’s such a party animal.

“How was your guys’ night?” Patrick asks.

I freeze. I don’t know how to answer this. 

If I say it was amazing (which it was), Jonathan might think I’m desperate for him. What if he didn’t think last night was that great?