I Know You Don’t Love Me

This story is a stand alone story, meaning that it is, essentially a short story. I got the idea for this story the same way that I get a lot of my stories ideas. In this particular case, I got the idea from the Tony Yayo song, (featuring G-G-G-Unit of course) of the same name as the story.

If you haven’t heard the story, well here’s the low down. The story is about groupies who scream and holler for any famous guy. So I decided to tell the story of Sidney’s experience with a puck bunny who screams and hollers when Pyatt’s around and who acts the same whenever Spezza’s in town. I suggest you listen to the song if you are of legal age or your parents give you permission, since Parental Discretion is Advised for Yayo’s album.

This is my first story where I tell the entire story from Sidney’s point of view, so I hope that you like it. So take a minute and listen to the song and read the story. Then, when you’re done, post a comment to tell me what you think.

*

I watched her from across the bar. I’d seen her before. In fact, I’d seen her nearly everywhere that I had been for the past several months… ever since I had started playing hockey for the Pittsburgh Penguins in the NHL.

Everywhere the team was, she was. It began to seem as though it was inevitable because she had almost always been there and it had almost always been with a different guy. Not necessarily with, I should say, if only to be fair because that could be somewhat misleading.

A different guy was always hovering over her, paying for her food, buying her drinks and trying to convince her to leave with them to go have some extracurricular fun. She was there, dancing, flirting and teasing. She was always having a better time then half the girls there, and she drew the guys to her like honey.

For some reason that I am not sure I quite understand, she never approached me. I’m still not sure why. I know that I am an attractive guy. The mirror doesn’t lie, and if that wasn’t enough, girls tell me that I’m hot all of the time.

She was attractive too. She was petite, muscular and blonde with big blue eyes and a gorgeous smile. If what I saw her doing was accurate, she was also a total flirt. She’d bat those big blue eyes of hers, and toss her mane of long blonde hair over her shoulder and the guys would jump to impress her.

Not that they all succeeded. Although there were definitely times when they did succeed and she would leave the bar with a guy. Over the course of our acquaintance, if you could call it that, I watched her leave the bar with at least a dozen guys. She left with Mike Ryder; Jason Spezza; Mikey Richards; Zach Parise; Carlo Colliacavo; Taylor Pyatt; Eric Staal; Brad Richards; and Ricky Dipietro.

These guys only had three things in common. They are all young, attractive and rich. Though I suppose you could count her, and probably a couple of other pucks around the country, in the things they had in common after paying court to her for an evening.

So while other guys succumbed to her big blue eyes and her long blonde hair, I sat back and I watched her. Not that I was always watching her. Not every time that we were at the same place, because more often then not there were girls there, unlike her, were willing to pay me court in the hopes that I would chose them for the evening. So I wasn’t about to spend all of my time watching her when I was out.

Yet I did look both at her and for her when we did go out. There was no denying that she was beautiful. There was something almost exotic about her, and though most of my teammates thought she just another gorgeous blonde, I knew better.

Maybe it was because I watched her that I knew that she was different from the other girls who were always around us. Because when I looked at her she was different from all of the other gorgeous blonde haired, blue eyed girls in the bar. She had something that they didn’t, and one fantastic night, I found out exactly what it was.

It was New Year’s Eve, and after beating the New York Rangers 4-3, the guys and I were all going out. I had never seen her with one of the Rangers, so I knew that she would be out that night. I didn’t even look for her at supper. Instead I focused on celebrating the New Year by getting as wasted as I possibly could.

Or at least that’s how I started the night. We went for supper, I drank and we headed out to our spot to continue drinking and to ring in the New Year. That’s when I saw her, across the bar from me again, with my teammate, Marc-Andrè, draping himself over her.

She was giggling at something he said, when encouraged by the alcohol I had drank, I wandered over to where she sat at the bar, his arm around her shoulders as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“I’m Sidney Crosby.” I said, reaching out and offering her hand.

She looked at my hand as though it was poisonous. “Did I ask who you were?” She said, flipping that hair of hers over her shoulder. She glared daggers at me. “I was talking to Marc here, and the last time I checked, it was rude to interrupt.”

Bewildered, I stood there, listening to her conversation with Marc-Andrè. No girl had ever dismissed me the way that she just had. It was then that I realized that one of the things that made her exotic, one of the things that made her different from the other girls in the bar. They were girls, and she, well she was a woman.

“So Marc…” Her voice penetrated my thoughts. “Who is your friend?”

Marc-Andrè chuckled. I immediately realized that he had met her before. “Mairin this is Sidney Crosby. Sidney, Mairin Roy… we went to school together in elementary school.”

She held her hand out for me to shake, and dumbstruck, I took her hand in mine and shook it, my handshake limp. “It’s nice to meet you Sidney.” She said with a soft smile.

“It’s nice to meat you Mairin.” I replied, dumbstruck.

“Are you having a good time tonight?” She replied, her voice so low that I had to lean closer to her just to hear her.

“Not too bad.” I answered, trying to sound cool and calm.

“How could it be better?” She asked flirtatiously.

I glanced towards Marc-Andrè. To my surprise, he’d already slunk off and was over at the other end of the bar, ordering another drink. I smiled. “I’m not sure Mairin… do you think that you can make it better?”

She grinned at me, a catlike smile that promised hours of enjoyment later tonight and hopefully, early tomorrow morning as well. “I’m not sure….” She told me, softly trailing a finger down my forearm. “I think it all depends on your definition of “better”.”

I grinned. She was a great flirt. “Well if you’re game, I can definitely think of something….”

“I think the more important question is; are you game honey….” She replied with a teasing smile, as she trailed a finger down my arm.

The gesture… the feel of her skin on mine, sent a shiver down my spine. She was smoking hot. “I don’t know.” I replied, giving her the once over. “Are you going to be able to keep up with me?” I asked.

Rolling her eyes she shook her head. “Honey, I think the better question is can you keep up with me?”

“Well you seem to have worn out a lot of the guys in this league.” I told her honestly, due to the fact that I was a little irritated with her reply. “So maybe I can’t. But there is a first time for anything isn’t there?”

Most girls would have been upset that I had brought up the fact that they had fucked other guys in the league. Not her though. She was a woman, where they were just girls, and this woman… this fascinating, beautiful woman, just laughed, and trailed her finger down the inside of my arm again.

“I do have a bad habit of wearing them out by morning honey.” She teased me, leaning forward and licking her lips sensuously. “But I’ve heard good things about your stamina from Marc honey. Do you think you can wear me out for a change? Maybe then you’ll be worth keeping for more then one night.”

The words “more then one night” penetrated my drunken brain and I hesitated. I didn’t want to date her. I just wanted to get in her pants. I wanted to be between her legs. I wanted to make her scream. I didn’t want anything beyond that.

I grabbed her wrist and gripped hard in my hand. “What exactly do you want?” I demanded.

“That depends.” She replied, twisting her wrist out of my grip easily and gripping my wrist in her hand tightly. “What are you game for?”

She was just toying with me at this point. The same way that a cat toys with a mouse before it eats it. I wasn’t about to let her play with me like that. If we were going to do this thing then we would hit the bedroom as equals, or we weren’t going to hit anything at all.

Just then, I heard the strains of a familiar song starting to play in the background, and Marc was standing by the D.J. grinning at me. I grabbed her hand. “Dance with me.” I murmured, pulling her tightly into my arms, my lips brushing her hair.

“I don’t dance honey.” She replied, pulling back.

“You do tonight.” I replied, nearly lifting her onto the dance floor. “Because if you don’t, then you can go back to flirting with Marc, whose never going to leave or cheat on his girl, so you’re SOL there babe.”

She glared daggers at me again. There was so much passion in that glare. She was passionate, and I was looking forward to getting to know just how passionate she was. She folded her arms across her chest in a stubborn pose. “I told you that I don’t dance. If you want someone to dance so much, go find one of your baby groupies honey. I’m better than that.”

“How exactly are you better than that?” I demanded, as the strains of the chorus began to play loudly. “I know you don’t love me.” I said, going along with the words to the song. “I know you don’t love me. You act the same whenever Staaly’s around, I know you don’t love me, I know you don’t love me. You scream and holler whenever Mikey’s in town. I know you don’t love me, I know you don’t love me. See Mario put me up behind a hoes get down. I know you like Ricky and that dirty Italian shit, try to run game on me you punk bitch. I know you don’t love me.”

She grinned up at me. “You’re right. I don’t love you, and you don’t love me. So we’re even honey. Now when are you going to make me scream?” She demanded, reaching up and winding her fingers in my hair.

“As soon as the song’s over babe, we’re out of here.” I told her firmly. “Just don’t try to keep me, because I’m not going to want to keep you as long you keep acting the same whenever Taylor Pyatt’s around or whenever Brad Richards’ in town. I ain’t got time for a groupie ass bitch try to run game and it ain’t about shit.”

“Well then we’re even honey.” She told me, tossing her mane of incredible blonde hair over her shoulder as she pulled me down for a kiss. “Because I know you don’t love me, and you act the same whenever a fake boobed bitch is in town, I know you don’t love me, ‘cause you scream and holler whenever ass in town. I know you like bottle blondes with brown pubs, and I won’t want to keep you as long as you keep acting that way.”

Her lips slid over mine, hot, wet and demanding. I kissed her back furiously, pouring all of my anger into that kiss. Somehow, this thing between us had become a battle of wills, and we wouldn’t know who won until morning, when hopefully, both us would have won.

The End.