[b]Carey’s Point of View [/b]
When I got back to the room I was sharing with PK, I tossed my jacket and tie on my dresser and fell face first onto my bed.
“Hey man, where were you last night?” PK asked.
“With Sarah.” I mumbled into my pillow.
“You heard me.”
He frowned. “Well, what were you doing.”
I lifted my head enough to give him an exhausted look. “What do you [i]think[/i] we were doing, Subban?”
A huge grin broke out on his face. “No way.”
I buried my face in my pillow again.
“Why are you so miserable? She’s hot, and something tells me she was great.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“She thinks I just fucked her and that I don’t want anything else.”
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything! She just thinks it!”
PK sighed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Sorry man. You should shower.”
“Do I smell that bad?”
“You smell like vodka, pussy and latex.”
I looked up and stared at him. “How the fuck can you smell all that on me?”
He tapped his nose. “Super sniffer.”
I rolled my eyes and went into the bathroom. He probably couldn’t smell all that, he just wanted to make a point. Still, after I turned on the shower I self consciously sniffed my shirt.
At least I knew Sarah hadn’t lied to me. She really did have a lot of work to do. While we were sitting in the airport lounge, she had her laptop open and was talking into a headset. I could tell from her tone that it was business.
I pulled out my phone and sent her a text.
[i]Still friends?? [/i]
I watched as she reached for her phone, still talking. She quickly typed a reply and put the phone back down. I read my message.
[b]Of course :P I’m busy as you can see (stop being a stalker, I noticed you staring) so I’ll talk to you in Montreal.[/b]
[i]You’re too pretty not to watch[/i]
As soon as I sent it, I felt like the corniest bastard in the world.
[b]Idiot, go date a supermodel like the rest of your teammates. :) [/b]
Sarah was super busy over the next few days. It seemed like even when she didn’t have work she had something she had to get done. The only members of the team who actually sat down to talk with her were the ones who had problems they needed help with – of the PR and personal types.
One day Pyatt and I were walking by the small work out room when we saw Sarah inside, running on a treadmill in one of those work out shirts that tennis players seem to wear a lot and tiny little shorts.
For someone who smoked, she sure could run pretty well.
“You’ve never seen her in there?” Pyatt asked. “Almost every night Sarah runs.”
I shrugged. “I work out at home so I rarely go in.”
We kept walking.
“Do you know what she’s working on?”
I looked at him strangely. “What?”
“Well I mean, some of the guys are saying she’s really busy because she’s working on something big. I think they’re worried they’re getting sold off.”
I frowned. “well, how would I know.”
“You guys seem pretty tight. And PK said you slept with her so – “
I choked. “PK said what?”
“Come on, Price, we were all waiting for it to happen.”
“I haven’t really talked to her lately.” I admitted with a sigh. “She hasn’t told me what she’s working on. Tell the guys I don’t think anyone’s getting sold in the middle of regular season.”
“And on the personal side of things…?”
I rolled my eyes. He was probably dying for an excuse to ask me about Sarah on the “personal side”.
“Nothing. We aren’t seeing each other in any romantic way.”
“Ask her, then tell me what she says. Because I really have no idea.”