Rougher and Tougher

Today was the day. Future's would be made today. The best of the best would be sent to either a farm team or an national team. I was nervous to say the least, and I wished with all my heart that I could be like Hampus-- indifferent because he didn't care where he was going. However, as I gazed up at the large projector screen that held all the teams names in order, I nearly got sick. For me, today could go two ways. One, being that I was happy with my pick or the Canadiens got me in the second round and I would mentally break into pieces. I could barely look at Alex now, let alone play alongside him. I shuddered at the thoughts of him. I hated myself for what I did to him, I didn't know his exact feelings but I felt as if I broke his heart into a million pieces. The thought made me feel like even more of an asshole.

I felt a hand on my back as Hampus guided me along to our seats, three rows from the stage. I pushed Alex to the back of my brain, and focused on the anticipation of the draft ceremony. Hampus had invited me to sit with his parents as he knew my parents couldn't make it. It made me feel better knowing I wouldn't have to sit, and stand alone. Hampus's mom had grown very fond of me, apparently; not surprising as she liked everyone. She had helped me get ready for the ceremony, curling my hair to near perfection. She smiled at me as they stood up to let us into the row. We finally made it to our seats, I sat down immediately-- letting out a long sigh. The large screen said that Boston was twenty-fourth, if I was even going to be drafted by them. Hampus collapsed into his chair, clearly annoyed with his suit. He hated suits, he'd told me as I fixed his tie as he stood in his hotel room this morning. I had told him flat out to stop whining because I was trapped in a dress, which Mrs. Lindholm was so easily convinced me to wear. She reminded me so much of my own mother, it was scary. {here}

"It only lasts two hours then we can leave," I said, grasping his hand and giving him a smile. He stuck out his tongue like a kindergartner, but squeezed my hand slowly. You couldn't tell but he was super nervous. He had said once that cameras made him jumpy and paranoid. Add on the pressure of today, and boom! You had Hampus right about now. His palms were sweaty, but I didn't mind, mine were probably worse. I wanted to hug him, and tell him he would be fine but his parents were right there and I wouldn't want to give them the wrong idea.

He opened his mouth to say something but, a loud clearing of the throat cut him off as Gary Bettman stood at the podium on the left side of the large projector screen. Oilers were first, according to the screen and we all knew Nail was a sure thing for first so he'd be going to Alberta. Then it was Columbus, who no one knew about. Then the Canadiens whom would obviously take Alex. Gary Bettman smiled, and faced all the cameras from the major sports stations.

"Hello all," Gary started, his forehead gleaming from the lights. He opened his mouth again but I zoned out, and by the looks of Hampus so did he. I wasn't trying to be rude but aside from the uncomfortable clothing, it was stuffy in here and I could barely breath. He made a speech about the how difficult it was to make the final cut this year and how we were all so very talented. The crowd cheered after every paragraph.

Soon enough, the speech ended, and the picks started, "First pick goes to the Edmonton Oilers," He paused, "Nail Yakupov!" The crowd clapped, but it really wasn't a surprise. Nail descended the stairs, the same superior grin plastered on his face. I heard Hampus cuss at him in Swedish, I wasn't sure if it was because he was first or because of what I told him Nail did last night in our room. Nail jogged up the stairs to the stage, and reached the GM of the Edmonton Oilers, Steve Tambellini who held a large Oilers jersey up for Nail to put on. Which he did. They posed for a few pictures, then it was on to the next draft pick. Second was Ryan Murray, who went to Columbus.
Same process as first, jersey and pictures. Then it was on to the person I couldn't even stand to look at. His name was announced, and surprisingly he emerged from the row behind ours. I nearly threw up. He was behind me?! I swallowed hard, and watched him walk down the stairs, then mounted the stairs. He faced the crowd and his eyes landed on me. He didn't look up and away like he hadn't meant to face me, no-- he stared at me until I met his eyes. I had no idea how he picked me out of the crowd as the lights looked like they would glare the eyes. Maybe he couldn't even see me, I tried to convince myself but, there's was nothing to say as I knew that was a lie. He could see me. He was handed the Canadiens jersey, and he instantly put on a smile that I could see right through. I broke him. My self-loathing came to a new high as I inverted my eyes to the seat in front of me. I slipped my hand into Hampus's and gripped as hard as I could. He didn't say anything just stroked my hand with his thumb. I didn't know what I would do without Hampus. Something struck me as I lifted my eyes back up, today was the last day I'd see Hampus.

"Hampus," I started, grabbing his attention away from Alex, "I'm going to miss you." I ended, looking into his eyes.

He smiled a large smile, "I will miss you too." His accent framed every word, and some sort of familiarity flashed through my mind. When will I see him again? I am having more separation problems with him than my own family. I couldn't help but smile at that.

"You text me, eh?" I said, and he laughed but nodded. He squeezed my hand again, and quickly pecked me on the cheek. I smiled. I wondered, silently, if we could be more than friends but I nipped those thoughts in the bud, and banished them.

We, totally disrespectfully, whispered through the fourth and fifth picks. About how excited we were about the NHL, and how nervous. I finally got him to admit that his dad was putting a little bit of extra pressure on him to be selected for a good team. Hampus had no control over that. Soon enough, the sixth pick came around and Hampus's name rang through the theater, stunning me into silence. We both jumped up, and hugged each other. He'd been selected sixth overall in the first round. I was so excited for him. I whispered luck to him, and he turned around to hug his mom. He, then, walked out to the aisle and trotted happily down the stairs and onto the stage. When he faced the crowd he had the largest shit eating grin on his face. Anaheim had picked him up, and he looked like a kid in a candy shop as he threw on the jersey. They took pictures, and he couldn't stop smiling. I couldn't stop smiling. His parents couldn't stop smiling. I was so proud of him. When he sat back down, he hugged his mom who had started crying.

We sat in silence, waiting for my name to be called. By the twentieth name I thought maybe I wasn't going to be picked until the next round but Hampus kept me hopeful, telling me that I was the best defencemen he'd seen in a long time. I knew he was exaggerating, of course, but it made me feel good. Besides we hadn't crossed off Boston as a possibility yet, and they hadn't been announced yet. I was staring aimlessly at the black podium, clued out of the world when Hampus nudged my shoulder violently.

"Jordan! Go!" He yelled over the cheering, and I jumped up, unable to contain myself. I hadn't even heard who had picked me up, and hadn't thought to look up as I neared the stage. My stomach was doing back flips, I could feel my heart hammering against my rib cage, and I felt like throwing up but, I was excited. I smiled hysterically as I stepped onto the stage where Peter Chiarelli stood. I nearly fainted right there. The fucking Boston BRUINS?!?! Bobby Orr.....the things he said......he knew.......A thousand things were running through my head at that moment, none of them was to take the jersey and put it on. I just sat frozen with a huge shit eating grin on my face while Peter held out the jersey. I finally came to and grabbed it,

"I'm so sorry-- I didn't mean to-- It's just this is my dream--" Mr. Chiarelli nodded, with a smile that stopped my aimless rambling. I threw on the jersey, my smiled never leaving my face, as I posed for many pictures with Claude Julien and Mr. Chiarelli. As soon as I stepped off the last stair off the stage. I knew this was the rest of my life right here, in this moment, and no one-- not even Alex freaking Galchenyuk could take this away from me.

Notes

So, I know. I know this wasn't my best writing ever. And after two months-- cut me a break. Seeing as the season just started, I'm listening to the Oilers and Canucks game right now, I felt as if it was my duty to dive right back into this story.

So, in short, I'M BACK BITCHES!!



This is you:



You missed me, let's be honest. You missed me so hard. God. How did you live without this sexy beast?