twisted // tyler seguin

fifty three

(TYLER'S POV)

I've seen Savannah act different under various problems, but the way she acted recently was beyond me.

She was quiet, which was nothing unusual, but she was too quiet. One word answers were all she had to offer, and I guess they were too long to speak because she never made eye contact with me while she said them. It was weird- the loud, boisterous, beautiful Savannah that I'd known was being held hostage by some depressed, 22 year old hottie.

She laid around the house lazily, legs hanging over the couch, sweater bunched up to reveal her toned stomach, arms weaved together above her head, face laying on her forearms at the kitchen counter- all signs of passive sadness expressed by her lazy body language.

What triggered this huge cloud of melancholy to hang over her? I only have one clue, and as much as it pains me to say this- Savannah was probably upset that Julia was getting married. Julia also pinned her with the term 'Maid in honor', which probably didn't help in the least.

What also baffled me was that she showed a bit of interest in marriage herself, minutes after her sister left bearing the big news. It was the complete, polar opposite a couple of weeks ago back in Jersey, when she chastised me for even mentioning tying the knot. It was confusing- did she want to get married or not?

Who knew, because I sure didn't and she probably doesn't either. The last thing I wanted to do was pressure her into something she wasn't fully sure about. It would lead to traces of doubt which could explode into something greater. Whenever Savannah was ready to talk about marriage was when I would bring it up again.

It really hurt to see her so upset and quiet and I couldn't do anything about it. I asked her repeatedly what the problem was, and all I got was "Nothing", "I'm fine", and the universal favorite- "I'm just tired". How could I pry the issue out of her when she was making it seem like there wasn't one at all? I found myself saying 'I love you' to her more than I usually did, and I got the same typical passive response- 'Love you too'.

Conversations were few and far in between, and if they did come we were stumbling across our words. If our platonic level wasn't up to par, why would our sex life be? I kept my hands off of her unless it was to rub her hair messily when I came in. I couldn't tell you the last time I gave her a passionate hug, and she actually returned it. These were the things that were nitpicking at my head.

Hugs, kisses, conversations, they were gone. They didn't exist anymore, and I felt more distant from Sav than ever. She was my girlfriend, the one who I should be able to come home to after a long day at practice, and she would be home, waiting for me with a huge smile on her gorgeous face. She would plant a million kisses on my cheek, and I would return them. I had this once, and I no longer knew where it was, or where it went.

Was it my fault? It felt like it. But how could it be? It wasn't my fault that Julia was getting married. Or was that even the problem in the first place? There were a load of questions that I wanted- no, needed answers to, and Savannah just wasn't providing them. That, or she didn't want to provide them in the first place.

And so time passed, and we approached the threshold of where the summer heat and the September breeze coexists in one day, which meant the nearing of training camp. Savannah began her classes at UNT, and I was at the rink more often. The offseason did me no good but stress, so it felt good to hear the echoing sound of pucks on the stick, and the chopping sound of ice being carved underneath of my skates. It was the only thing honestly, that gave me the real sense of security.

Walking into the practice rink after being away for so long brought back a rush of memories- driving Savannah there, getting her tested, meeting her after practice. If only I'd knew that taking care of Savannah when she had a concussion was nothing compared to how I would be taking care of her now.