We've all heard of Auston Matthews. He's the rookie that everyone who considers themselves a sports fan is talking about. It seems as though anyone would do anything to get close to him. That is anyone except for Alaska Owens.
Alaska is a fiery P...
I could tell the suite was incredible before we got all the way through the door. Everything was modern and luxurious with crisp edges and bright whites that contrasted with the dark wood accents. We took the first five minutes of our stay to explore the room, or more accurately rooms, plural.
The living room opened up to a full kitchen which was stocked with a mini-bar and other small amenities. The bedroom was down the hall and had to be the size of the living room and kitchen combined. A king sized bed, topped with rich white sheets, takes up the majority of the space. However, there still manages to be enough room for two dressers, a large-screened TV, and an assortment of tasteful decorations.
The item that sealed the deal for us was located on the other side of the large French doors in the bedroom. As soon as Auston and I laid eyes on the shimmering stretch of water, we bolted out the doors.
Auston was the first to feel the water, crouching down and dipping his hand in the water. He turned back to me with a smile on his face, clearly pleased with what our trivia prize entailed. I stride over to the edge of the pool, stopping a few feet away from Auston.
"How's the water?" I ask, expecting it to be chilly just like the chilly Toronto air. He dips his hand back in the water, scrunching his eyebrows together, making it seem like he was actually determining the temperature.
"According to my sources, it is a toasty 83 degrees," he replies with a lopsided grin, unable to keep a straight face. I can't help but grin at his response, partly because of the way he answered and partly because of how warm the water is.
Trusting that Auston's built-in thermometer was working, I slide off my coat and kick off my heels, tossing them on a nearby lounge chair. Auston quirks a brow at me, but he should know where this is going.
The next item to go is my jeans, leaving me in a long sleeve t-shirt and my black panties. Figuring that there's no going back now, I slip my t-shirt over my head and toss it on top of the pile of clothes. Goosebumps immediately scatter across my body as a breeze sweeps across the pool deck.
It's only now that I take in the incredible view of Toronto available to us at the moment. The night stricken skyline serves as a backdrop for a million different lights. The only thing more amazing than the sheer sight of it is knowing that there are a million different lives that are associated with the lights. All those people going about their separate lives within the confines of a single city. People whose only vast similarity is that they're simply that - people.
From up here, everyone gets along. You can't see the crime or the lies or the hate. You can only see the light, both literally and metaphorically.
From up here, everyone is respectful and kind. They move in harmony, travelling down the streets, leaving behind them only the occasional stream of light.
From up here, differences aren't highlighted. Even though it is well known that every person is different, the differences are not so much highlighted or forgotten, but rather integrated to build one amazing scene.
For a minute I wish that it could always be like this, quiet and simple, however, then I remember that hate and discrepancies are inevitable. It's human nature to be somewhat selfish. The only thing I can hope for is that all of us can collectively choose what's best for everyone, ignoring our own selfish desires to support and help one another. I know for a fact that we will never agree on everything, but I hope the one thing we can agree on is that everyone deserves the right to life, love, and happiness.
My legs carry me to the edge of the pool as I lose my way in my own thoughts. I lower myself to sit on the edge, leaving my legs to plunge into the warm water. A warm feeling rushes over the lower half of my body while my heart swells with a feeling I haven't felt in a long time.
AUSTON
I must be dreaming. I already tried pinching myself, yet I'm still here standing a mere seven feet away from the most beautiful girl I've seen in my 19 years. Actually, screw the 'beautiful' crap. She's so much more than beautiful. Fuck, she's everything I wish I was: smart, witty, caring, etc.
You know, my mom tells me that the most special girls are the most empowered. If she's right, Alaska's pretty damn special. My mom also told me to find someone who can take care of herself and others, while staying themselves; someone who has no problem with being independent. She says that the smartest girls will always outweigh the prettiest girls, but never overlook the pretty girls.
My mom says that the perfect girl won't actually be perfect. She, like everyone else, will have moments of doubt, anger, and sadness. She won't always be able to do it alone and she definitely won't always agree with you. She'll cry and she'll make mistakes. She'll yell and she'll try to fix things beyond her control. She'll curse and she'll have bad days, days where she thinks nothing can go right and she's to blame.
However, it's what she does to on the good days that matter. According to my mom, the perfectly imperfect girl will light up the room with her smile and make you laugh. She'll empower others and stand up for those who cannot do it themselves. She'll blow through her to-do list and still have the energy to keep going if need be. She'll drop everything to help someone and she'll put others' needs before her own. She'll trust you with decisions and prove that she deserves your trust as well.
I smile and let out a chuckle to myself, realizing just how right my mom was. Because if everything she said is true, I am standing a mere seven feet away from the perfect girl.
Another dumbfounded chuckle rattles through my chest as I gaze at this perfect girl through blurry eyes. I try to tell myself to man up and stop making this emotional, but I can't help it. So with my mother's words resonating through my skull, I snap a picture of the perfect girl not to pointlessly post or share, but rather to serve as proof that she ever existed. The perfectly imperfect girl.
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Damn it, Laska, you got me good. Maybe's it's time I told you.
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Author
I'm on my period and super emotional because of it, so that's 100% the reason why this chapter is mushy and cutesy as shit. Like, I started bawling when I was writing the "my mom says" part and I literally don't know why. I listened to my sad/lovey playlist so that doesn't help. I guess I'm just a menstruating mess.
I also vented a ton with Alaska's "from up here" jazz. Because in case you hadn't noticed people, the world is a shitty place right now.
Sorry it's so much shorter than the rest, but I have two reasons. One, I didn't want to ruin the mood. And two, I'm going to try doing shorter, more frequent updates.
Also, I'm really sorry if this is a bad chapter. I'm not used to writing sappy stuff my apologies if it's comically cheesy. Sassy Emily will be back towards the end of my cycle lmao.
Happy Monday! Go out and win the week, people! I'm absolutely confident you guys will do great with whatever you're doing :)
