"CJ", Jonathan pleads. "CJ, please, wait".
I turn away from him and Lindsey, walking back to the restaurant. I hear Lindsey snicker just as I open the door. "CJ, stop".
"No. We're done".
"CJ, please. Let me explain".
I ignore him and walk back to the table in the middle of the large room. Andrew, Patrick, Kayla, and Chaunette are silent as they watch me sit in my seat once again. I cross my arms over my chest, and notice their eyes still on me.
"CJ?" I turn to see Jonathan standing behind me. "You aren't letting me explain".
"We're not talking about this here. Sit down. You're causing a scene". I turn to Kayla. "Let's just say I'm staying with you tonight".
I hear Kayla say a small 'okay'. Jonathan sits across from me, and the others try to go back to their conversations. Dinner is done an hour or so later, and I drag Kayla with me. Patrick and Jonathan walk behind us. She tries to get me to talk, but I don't. I stare straight ahead and watch where I walk. I shut the elevator door before Jonathan can try to get on. "This is why I hate men so much", I huff.
"CJ, just let him explain. You know he would never do anything like that", Kayla says to me, quietly.
I turn to her in surprise. "Are you seriously taking his side on this? You weren't there. They kissed for at least five seconds. If he didn't mean to kiss his ex, then it wouldn't have lasted that long", I snap. "Why the hell was she even here? She lives out in LA, having no reason to be here in Montreal".
"Okay, fine. Don't let him explain".
"Kayla, he kissed his ex. I watched it. They were talking, then all of a sudden she shows up and kisses him outside. Why did he leave the restaurant to begin with. You saw how he left, saying he had to take a call. He knew she was out there". I break down in tears.
I opened up to him, and he smashed my heart to pieces.
~~~~~~~~~~
I stayed in Kayla's room last night, though I'm a little mad at her, too. Patrick left the room in empathy and bunked with Jonathan in my room.
Tonight is the game against the Canadiens. I tried to focus on training this morning, but I really couldn't, knowing I had to talk to the lying little di€k also known as my ex boyfriend.
"Okay", I start my training speech to the team as they finish getting dressed for the game. "The Canadiens are one of the hardest teams to train you for, and you know that. Work your hardest, and we will win by a long shot".
"She's right", my father speaks after me. "Training differently changes the outcome drastically. Changing your training and practice this morning almost doubles your chance of winning tonight's game. Let's do our absolute best. You know your line changes to keep up, and we're going to go out there and kick shawzy's ass tonight".
The team laughs and they stand up from their lockers. I leave the room and head out to the bench before the team does. I chat with Mr. Kitchen, our assistant coach for a few minutes, talking about my training strategies, then the teams come out to the ice. Andrew skates over to us, and we greet him with hugs and happy greetings.
"CJ", Andrew whisks me over to the bench door. "You're still with Jonathan, right? You can't just let that happen without explanation. He went outside to get rid of Lindsey. Nothing else happened, did it?"
"Andrew, he kissed Lindsey. That's why I'm so mad. And no, I'm not still with him. I'm mad at him, and I don't think the fact that he left without telling me he was trying to get rid of her, tells me he wanted to be out there with her".
"Shit", Andrew mutters. "That, I didn't know. I'm sorry".
Andrew skates off and the game starts. The Canadiens score on us almost instantly.
Soon, Andrew and Jonathan start center at the same time. They look like they want to kill each other, more than usual with their opponents. I watch the face off nervously, knowing something is going to happen. They play the face off okay, and Carey Price catches the puck in his glove, letting the whistle blow, and that's when things kind of go down hill.
Andrew and Jonathan start to yell at each other, and the refs start to intervene. I can who is yelling, but I can't tell what they're saying.
Refs break up the screaming fight, and each of them skate back to their teammates. One last screaming sentence comes from Andrew. "If I get my hands on you, you're fucking dead".
Jonathan huffs as he climbs over the boards and back onto the bench. I stand in my spot, afraid to look anywhere else around me.
The game continues on, and I stay quiet, in the corner of the bench. After the second period, the game goes super quick, with a lot of shots on goal. Jonathan isn't allowed on the ice the same time as Andrew, since Dad made a line change in between second and third.
We lose the game 6-2. Somberly, the team heads back into the locker room to change and head back to the hotel for a little bit of sleep, before heading to Columbus for a game tomorrow night.
As I walk to the bus to take us back, I'm pushed against the wall, two hands on either side of my head. I look up as a gasp escapes my lips.
"We're talking. Whether you like it or not".