Eight Days of the Week

There were always going to be days like this. Days when Jon woke up pissed off. When every single thing Patrick said made him want to pull his own hair out. The problem was that these days were becoming more and more frequent as the preseason wore on.

Jon wasn't made for the off-season. He simply wasn’t used to free time. That's not to say he didn't enjoy kicking back with a few buds and brews, but it got old pretty quick. Come August, he was restless, more than ready to get back at it. This summer, of course, had been a bit more tolerable. It had all been one long Stanley Cup celebration, full of good times, free drinks, and plenty of women desperate for the attention of a champion.
With all the festivities and interviews, training camp had snuck up on the boys. Today in particular, a few of them seemed especially distracted.

“Jonny, I promise you, this new ice girl…” Patrick paused to whistle and wiggle his eyebrows suggestively. Typically Jon ignored the crude musings of his teammate, but he had had just about enough today.

“Fuck’s sake, Kaner. I don’t give a fuck right now about some slut with a shovel. Honestly, if you’re not gonna spot me, go get someone else who will.” Jonny dropped the bar onto its hooks with a loud clang before sitting up on the bench to level Patrick with a glare. Patrick’s eyes just widened. He held his hands up defensively and Jonny took that as an apology as he laid back down to finish his set. A solid minute passed in silence before Pat continued.

“All I’m saying is she’ll do just fine around here.” Jonny groaned in annoyance before sitting up.

“You say the same shit about all of them.”

“This one especially, though. I’d get on that before someone else does. You know how unpredictable Benny gets.”

“Why would I know that?” Jonny creased his brow. Pat opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Bickell.

“Dude, you have a girlfriend.” Bryan laughed from two benches down.

“Exactly why I was talking her up to Jonny.” Kane flipped his hand in Jon’s direction, who was nearing the door to the weight room. “Where ya goin’?” He was answered with a dismissive wave.

“Ehh, leave ‘im alone, Kaner. That’s the last thing on his mind right now.” Seabrook interjected. “And pass me that towel.”

-

After learning the ropes for the last three days, Penny was convinced that the excitement of working for this team would never wear off. She still grinned every time she saw the wall of player’s sticks before the tunnel.

She had just gone over a few more of the basics with Clint and was now allowed some time to look around the locker room and lounge on her own. Something about “becoming acquainted with one’s surroundings”. She was used to this sort of environment after working as an equipment assistant in high school, then for her college team. Everything here was just on a much larger scale.

Taking a quick glance around to make sure she was truly alone, Penny slowly made her way over to the sticks, looking around in awe as she did. She dragged her fingers across each one, savoring the feel of them, imagining what these sticks had done. She paused when she reached a certain group. She took extra care with one as she lifted it from its resting place and turned it over in her hand, examining every inch of it. So engrossed was Penny that she didn’t realize another person had entered the room.

Jon watched her from a distance for a moment. Then another. His brow creased—as it always seemed to—as he looked her over. She was fairly short, well built, wearing cropped jeans and a gray t-shirt. Her feet were clad in a pair of worn-looking NIKE Free Runs with yellow socks peeking out from within them. Her hair was down and rather long, but not styled as far as Jon could tell. It was blonde and wavy and he was sorry that it obscured her face from his view.

He took one and then two involuntary steps forward until he stood a mere few feet away. He glanced down curiously at what she was holding, realizing it was one of his sticks. The girl then placed the blade on the ground and began to move it as if she were stickhandling a puck. She began to mumble to herself, announcing her own plays and Jon felt the corner of his mouth twitch at this. Jon chose this moment to finally speak.

“You know, you really shouldn’t—” he began. She spun around in surprise and landed a hard slap on his hand with the blade of his stick.

“Oh my God!” her voice was shrill, panicked. Jon flipped his hand up before cradling it with his other, trying to refrain from uttering any expletives. “Oh my God. I am so sorry, I can’t even tell you…how sorry wow.” She ran both hands through her hair and held them there, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Jonny clenched his jaw and looked down at his hand, flipping it over a few times in examination. “Fuck.” He grinded his molars.

“I just fucking broke Jonathan Toews. They are going to sue me. I’ll be homeless by tomorrow, one hundred percent, yep.” He looked up at her then, surprised at her language. And she was certainly a sight to behold. Slightly tanned skin, a spattering of freckles across a small nose and prominent cheekbones, which were reddened by embarrassment, and the bluest eyes this side of the Atlantic set beneath furrowed brows. All this he took in within a second. But it took a few more before he was able to look away. He glanced back down at his hand and shook it once, twice as if he were shaking off the pain.

“It’s fine, honestly.” He cleared his throat. She looked up into his face finally. The first thing she noticed were his eyes, surely the most intense eyes she had ever seen. They were large and clear and told far too much about the person behind them. Then she noticed the sweat. Then the scars, which brought her to his mouth. Her eyes stayed there a second longer than they should have before she realized how close she had gotten to him and hastened to take a step back.

He looked back at her, trying to pick apart all the emotions that skittered across her face. Mortification was one that stuck out pretty well.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.”

“I’m really sorry,” she gulped, “this is yours.” She offered him his stick and he took it with a nod.

“Yeah, thanks.” There was an awkward beat before she spoke up.

“Alright, well if you’re sure you're ok…I really gotta go,” she went to walk away, but turned back, “Sorry again.” She gave him an apologetic smile before turning and making her way through to the lounge.

Jon stared after her for a moment before he was able to move. He looked down at his hand again, to find his knuckles were starting to bruise. He looked back to where she had left the room and shook his head.

“Fuck."

Notes

Sorry the update took so long! And sorry it's so short, I just wanted to get something out there. I wish the updates could be more regular, but it just isn't possible at this time so I'll be updating whenever I can. Hope you guys stick with me!
Thanks for reading, as always!