Chapter Four

I'm lonely. Really lonely. You know those points in your life, when you just think about why you made the choice you made, and why you decided to do what you did, why you decided to step out of you're comfort zone, and you instantly kind of regret that decision but it passes as soon as it came? Yea, I'm having one of those, ugly moments.

"More, miss?" The bartender asked, while holding some more of that bottle of vodka. I looked at him, weighing my chances on ending up on his bed the next morning. I sighed. "No thanks. But- instead can I have some of those cheese sticks?" "Sure." He smiled, trying to look dazzling. Not working though. I was sipping the last of my delicious, regret and doubt numbing vodka, when this guy with familiar colorful hazel eyes tried to make small talk with me. I appreciate his friendliness, but I'm really not in the mood to talk. I would much rather be alone right now. "I saw you in the game, the other night." He told me. "Game? Oh yea. Stalking me?" I smirked at him. He chuckled. "Nah, it was just that you were right beside the penalty box. And..." "And what?" I said, knowing what he was going to say next, but not believing until he actually says it. "And, I was in that penalty box. Hi, I'm Sidney Crosby."

I blushed. My first reaction was to blush. And then, I gulped down the last of my vodka. "Excuse me, do you mind telling me how strong this vodka is because I think I'm hallucinating. Is Sidney Crosby really beside me?" I asked the Mr Not-So-Dazzling Bartender. They both laughed, I sighed. "Is there anything you need, Mr. Crosby? It's in the house" the bartender asked, probably hoping he'll say yes. I wonder if that bartender is gay. "Just because you're some fucking hockey god, doesn't mean you should be getting some damn superstar treatment." I muttered. I pulled out two five's out of my wallet and walked out. If there's anything I hate more than that asshole in New York, it was celebrities or billionaires or millionaires or anyone rich and famous that get special treatment. People are supposed to be made equal, everyone should be working hard to get what they want. It can't just be magically given to them for free. I have lost any adoration for that Sidney Crosby, clearly I judged to soon. Who would've thought that he was the same as anyone else and that he was "normal". I should have known that anyone who's anyone will always get some kind of treatment. I've always thought never judge a book by it's cover only applies when whatever you're thinking about that person is a negative opinion and thought, I never knew it actually applies to all thoughts whether it's a personal, neutral or negative thought.

"I don't think we got in the right path there." Sidney Crosby said, pointing to the restaurant sign. I just looked at him, "Yea we didn't," I plainly told him. "You know, just because you're this fucking famous asshole in Pittsburgh. Doesn't mean you should get special treatment, you know? I mean for all we know, you could be cheating you're way into the hockey league." I catched my breathe. I looked at him, he looked taken back. "Are you accusing me of something I didn't do?" He asked. "Of course you did it! I mean, who wouldn't? They just offered you anything you want in the restaurant. I bet if you asked for the whole restaurant, they would've given it you! Huh? And plus, it's on the house" I said, imitating that bartender. "For you're information, I am anything but that. I did not take them up on the offer, but I did ask for some water. And I paid." He said, and he made sure I heard the last part by pausing between each word. "Oh," I said "I didn't know. Sorry." He smiled at me and laughed. "You wanna go out for dinner or coffee?" He asked. "Excuse me?" I said, not sure if I heard him correctly.

Maybe that crush wasn't as unreachable as I thought. It really is a small world.
If the world really was small, then Pittsburgh is the size of bathroom stall in a public washroom.