Rougher and Tougher

The air around me was hot and heavy as I picked up the last box from the tail gate, and slammed it closed. It was crazy to believe that my whole life in Sept Iles could be transported in two suitcases, a duffel, and a three boxes. They weren't even heavy boxes, just pictures, pencils, clothes and a few books. I obviously hadn't taken everything from my house because the furnishings were provided as I was rooming with another guy from the Providence Bruins. He had a spare room, and even though I hadn't even met the guy-- I somehow trusted him because the organization trusted him with a green-as-grass rookie from Canada who was coincidentally a girl.

I deposited the box on the hood of my truck as I quickly locked the doors on my beaten up Chevy I'd drove here. The teammate wasn't here, and I silently wondered if they'd even bother to tell me I was coming. The flat, although very nice, didn't seem....... lived in. There was food, I'd checked, there was coats, and shoes in the front foyer but, there was no hockey equipment, no dirty clothes in the laundry room, dust in some places, magazines from months ago sprawled on the coffee table.

I pulled the box off the hood, and trudged my way over to the door of the duplex. It was in a decent part of town, the management had informed me the day I left, easy distance to the university. Yeah, I'm going to university on a scholarship-- who's talented now, Hampus? I hadn't called him in a month so, I had to call soon to rub it in. Brown University had reviewed my application, and with the help of the AHL forwarding my part of tuition since they'd take it out of my paycheck later on, I was accepted.

I snapped back into realty as I realized I was standing in front of the open apartment door smiling at the fact that I was going to rub it in to my best friend that I got a post-secondary education. I set the last box on the ground, kicking off my shoes and was about to close the door when a hand, out of nowhere, held the door back, and pushed it open aggressively. My first instinct was to pull my hand back, which I did, and gripped it towards myself like a frightened little school girl.

Suddenly a guy came into the apartment with a deep frown on his face, he was glaring at me and I felt tiny all of the sudden, “Who the hell are you?” He asked, and I swallowed the fear that was building up in my throat as he towered over me.

Before I could answer anything, he ran a hand over his creased forehead, “You aren’t one of his clingy fans, are you?” He asked, seeming stressed to all hell, and I debated telling him that I wasn’t anything close to a ‘clingy fan’ but I couldn’t force the words out.

Instead of laughing it off, I glared at him, “No. I’m a player.” I stuck out my hand rather rudely, “Jordan Smyth, first round draft pick.” His eyes were struck with a look that was a cross between he knew he was screwed and petrified.

He opened his mouth, then closed it awkwardly. Finally deciding to do something instead of looking terribly guilty, “Craig Cunningham,” He took my hand, and shook it, “I’m sorry, it’s just Ryan isn’t the most—“ he searched for the right thing to say, “He fucks around a lot, and you can’t be sure.” He blew out a long breath, stuffing both his hands in his jeans pockets.

I chuckled a little, not sure of what else to do— it was just funny the way he said it, ‘he fucks around a lot’. So blunt, and straight to the point; I couldn’t help myself—I burst out laughing. He chuckled awkwardly along with me, unsure of what I was cackling about.

“Sorry, it’s just--” I tried to stop laughing, “the way you said it,” I said, and clapped him on the shoulder, balancing myself against him “most people would’ve been like ‘he doesn’t restrict himself’ or ‘he fucks a lot of girls’, not you,” He begun laughing a little, which turned into us both cackling in the foyer.

Once I regained my composure, I asked him about this Ryan guy, “Oh, Ryan Spooner is about as much of a man-whore as he is a hockey player.” Craig said, closing the open door behind him, and slipping his shoes off. “You don’t mind, do you?” He asked, and I shook my head, of course not. He could help me with the boxes.

“As long as you help with the boxes, I’m cool with it.” I said, and he made a face but, nodded. He picked up one of the heavier ones, and started up the stairs. I plucked one off the ground as well and followed him up the narrow staircase to the second level.

“I’m not much of a welcome wagon, but I guarantee I’m better than Ryan,” He joked as he pushed open the door into the room I’d already put most of my stuff in. I’d already pinned up my posters of Patrick Roy, and Gordie Howe.

He cocked his eyebrow at Patrick Roy, and I rolled my eyes at him, “I’m French, and he’s awesome.” I explained, and he nodded.

“I totally didn’t notice the accent,” He laughed sarcastically, and threw himself at the already made bed, “ohhhh, comfy!” He exclaimed, and snuggled in deeper. He just welcomed himself right in, didn’t he?

I opened the box at the foot of the bed, and took out the photo of my family, propping it up on the dresser. Two of my favorite trophies were next along with a team picture from last season.
“Baie-Comeau Drakkar?” He asked, and I nodded. He didn’t seem familiar with the QMJHL teams. He must be American.

“It’s in Northern Quebec. I’m from Sept Iles though, which is further north a bit,” I thought a little, “Three hours, maybe?” I nodded, concluding that it was indeed three hours to practice, then three back which landed me home about twelve?

“Holy—three hours?!” He exclaimed, obviously shocked. I was about to tell him that’s what it took to play higher tier hockey when you lived on a farm however, there was a loud sound downstairs. I gave Craig a ‘what the hell was that?’ look which he returned with a smile.

“I think that’s our boy.” He said, and nodded towards the door as he sat up from the queen. I followed him closely downstairs in case it was actually a burglar. Craig glanced back, and chuckled at the sight of me huddled against the wall like a chick from a horror movie.

“Ryan!” Craig yelled, and there was a commotion of things being knocked over, and then a guy stumbled towards us through the hallway to the kitchen.

“Craig?” A drowsy voice asked, “What are you doing here?” He asked, then seeing me; focused his gaze on me. He sounded drunk, and by the looks of him, he totally was. It was like three in the afternoon! What was up with this guy?

“Oh, I was in the neighborhood and stumbled across your new roommate.” He said, mentioning with his hand to me. Why was he bothering with him, he was clearly wasted.

“I’d like to stumble upon her, if you know what I mean….” He trailed off, and tried his hardest to wink at me, which just made him look mentally retarded. He was checking me out, and it was making me extremely uncomfortable.

“Jordan Smyth,” I said, giving him a nod of recognition, I was still well behind Craig and was going to definitely keep it that way.

“Don’t worry,” Craig whispered, loud enough that only I could hear, “He usually spends his nights with puck bunnies.” He said, staring into my eyes with his brown orbs. I hadn’t realize it but he was actually kind of attractive, with his tan skin, and short brown hair. He had a cute face that reminded me of a bunny. I mentally chuckled as I compared him to a bunny, how fierce?

“Whatever you say, Craig,” I said as he walked towards the kitchen with Ryan. Hopefully he’d come down soon so I could sort out some things, like if he brought any girls over here—I’d kick him out for the night.

In the seconds he’d been home, he’d managed to knock over a barstool, a coffee container, turned on the sink and opened the fridge. I rolled my eyes, as Craig led Ryan over to the living room which was attached to the kitchen, and set him down on the couch.

“Could you start some coffee?” He asked, and I nodded. I picked up the can he’d knocked over, and scooped a few spoonful’s into the machine, then got enough water for three cups, and poured it in the machine, then turned it on. When I turned back around, Craig was sitting in a barstool on the other side of the counter as me.

“I don’t want to make excuses for him but,” He paused, looking over his shoulder to see that Ryan hadn’t moved, “his girlfriend just broke up with him, and he was really in deep with her.” He said, and let out a breath, looking back at me. He smiled.

“She was a whore!” Ryan yelled, falling over onto the cough, “Fucked my best friend!” He added, and huffed out a breath. I eyed Craig, they seemed preeetty close.

“No, not me. Someone from back home, who came to visit. George? Greg?” He whispered, then rolled his eyes.

“Twelve years I knew him! Since we were eight, and he screwed her.” Ryan yelled again, apparently gone tone deaf while drunk off his ass. The coffee machine sputtered down the last of the coffee, and I pushed away from the counter, searching for mugs. I didn’t really feel like taking care of a drunk guy but, I figured I could hold this against him some day. He’d eventually get over this girl, and move on.

“That sucks.” I said as I opened a cupboard with cups. I pulled down a bruins’ logo one, and poured some dark steaming liquid into it. I didn’t bother putting anything in it, knowing that it would do the best black.

“No shit.” Ryan said, taking the cup from me as I held it out for him. After a few smoldering gulps, he seemed to sober up a little.

“Let’s watch sports centre,” He suggested, and I nodded, grabbing the clicker, then dropped into the seat next to Ryan. I heard Craig stand up, and walk over, but stand just outside my vision.

I looked up at him, and he smiled, “I know I can’t ask you to watch him but, I have a date.” He said, and I felt my heart sink. I was going to drive around, and find the rink, and do stuff tonight! I rolled my eyes, then shooed him away with my hand.

“You owe me.”

Notes

So, I haven't updated in awhile. Mostly because my computer is super slow with all these ads HockeyFanFiction puts on their website, but nonetheless-- you deserve a chapter, and I hope you like it. Now enjoy this peace offering in form of an adorable kitten. Okay? Okay.


Look at his EARS! I just wanna eat you up, yes I do! Awe.......