The Road to the Cup ~ Wattys 2015

Rules

The boys lost the game against Columbus. They left the arena infuriated, and I listened to them complaining the entire way home. "I can't believe we didn't fucking score!" Beau said, slamming his fist against the seat in front of him.

"I know, and it was Columbus! Columbus! The fucking Blue Jackets!" Robert replied.

"No score," Geno muttered.

Fleury, who was sitting beside Geno, became very upset. "It wouldn't have ended like that if Johnston had put me in!"

I whipped around at this, not wanting to be blamed for the loss when I wasn't even on the ice. Marc saw the look in my eyes and backtracked, holding his hands in front of him in a defensive position, "I didn't mean to offend you, Erin. I know you had nothing to do with it. I would never insult such a pretty lady," he smiled playfully, trying to diffuse the tension.

I rolled my eyes and turned around, flopping back into my seat next to Crosby. He was currently muttering under his breath and I caught the phrases "fucking kill" and "French-Canadian flirt." Sidney was already pissed. After watching him miss shot after shot and having none of the calls in our favor, I understood why he was mad. I wish he wouldn't be so hard on himself, but I didn't say anything because I was afraid he'd yell at me. I shouldn't care if he did, but I liked him. A lot. And even if he didn't like me in the same way that I liked him, I didn't want to get hurt.  I knew that if he yelled at me, even if he didn't mean a single word, it would hurt, and I wouldn't be able to look at him the same way again. So, I kept my mouth shut, and eventually, I closed my eyes and fell asleep, which undoubtably would be a decision I'd soon regret.

Someone was shaking my shoulder. That wasn't supposed to be happening. I must have overslept my alarm; I would be late for warm-ups for the Quarter-Finals! Oh, sweet Jesus, coach was gonna kill me! "Fuck," I muttered as my eyes snapped open and I sat up. Well, I was already sitting up. I was on a bus. I wasn't late for the Quarter-Finals, I was an assistant coach in the NHL! I looked over to see Sidney Crosby laughing at me, "Morning, beautiful."

My heart stuttered. Did he just call me beautiful? I must be hearing things. "M-morning," I yawned and then continued, "Are we back already?"

"Almost. I figured you'd want to be awake before the other guys were. I kept them from taking pictures of you last night after you fell asleep on me," he informed me.

"I did what?"

"You fell asleep with your head on my shoulder. It was really quite cute," he offered me a lopsided smile.

"No one got pictures?"

"No one but me. I sent them to you," Sidney said.

"Oh, thanks," I replied. I stood up to go wake the guys. Sidney didn't move and I stared at him, waiting to see if he would move. He motioned for me to climb over him, a smirk playing on the corners of his lips. I sighed and went to step over him, but tripped somehow and fell onto him, my face in the aisle. He wrapped his hands around my waist and flipped me over. "Oof!" I said, now sitting in his lap. I looked up into his eyes. His expression was searching as he scanned my features, looking for something. I bit my lip and tried to ignore my racing heart. His gaze flicked down to my lips and he sucked in a breath. In the seconds that followed, he leaned down and kissed me. His lips were warm, and a little rough, as they molded to mine. I was taken by surprise, and without my consent, my hands moved up to his hair and I kissed him back.

A moment later I pulled back, "Fuck," I whispered.

"That good?" He smirked, our foreheads pressed together.

"Yes- I mean no! I, we-"

"We can't. Right. I'm sorry," he helped me up and we turned away from each other. He started grabbing his stuff and I went to wake up the guys.