NHL Short Stories

thanks for nothing - shea theodore

WC: 2251

The waitress brought our menus and led us down to a leather booth in the corner of the restaurant.

"Thanks for wanting to come down again," Shea said with a smile on his pale face, his smile adding a sense of character as he had his far right incisor missing.

I gently lifted the menu off of the table top and held it lightly in my fingertips. "Of course. Had to help you celebrate the huge win," I told him, skimming through what seemed like endless different options for appetizers and main entrées.

He chuckled deeply as he did the same, then we both glanced up at each other again to lock eyes again.

"You know, you should move down to Vegas sometime. It's getting lonely down here," he suggested with a soft chuckle, setting the menu back down on the table. "Of course, if you really want. Since we've been dating for about...oh, how long has it been," he pauses, drifting his eyes away from my face and looking around at the different decorations situated behind me, "nine months?"

I giggled, making him blush the tad slightest. He would deny it, but it was still visible—at least to me. "When was the Seattle game?" I asked him, hopefully helping him remember where and how we met. We met at a bar in downtown Seattle, where I currently live, and we've been talking since then.

He shrugged, not even caring the slightest bit. "I don't remember. Rachel, I'm a defenseman. I can't remember things quite as easily," he chuckled, then the waitress came back with a notepad and blue pen, ready to take our orders.

"I'll have a number five with fries," I told her, which was a basic grilled cheeseburger. I felt bad that I wasn't getting the more luxurious meals on the menu, but I've always been a picky eater since I was born.

Shea blinked across the table from me, confused as to why I ordered such a bland meal.

He turned his head to look up at the waitress, who was patiently waiting for him to say something.

"I'll have a twenty ounce ribeye, uh, medium rare please," he said, then glanced down at the menu again, "with wings, if that's okay. I'll pay the additional seven dollars."

The waitress nodded her head. "Of course. I'll take those menus out of your way," she told us and took our menus that we handed back. She stuffed them under her shoulder, straightening her shoulders, and walked away in a robotic trance.

Shea's face of confusion came back as he rested his forearms flat on the table. "Just a cheeseburger?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged. "I'm not a fan of flavor anything. I just keep my meals plain and bland," I told him. Shea always wanted and respected honesty, so that's what I give him about ninety-nine point nine percent of the time. He doesn't need to know about the other tenth, though.

He sighed in defeat, lowering his head the slightest. He raised in back up to meet my gaze again. "I wanted to take you out on a nice dinner so I can discuss some things with you," he said, which I wasn't surprised by that statement. He's been ignoring me more often than he usually does, taken in the fact that he's been a lot more secretive around me; especially when he's on his phone. Granted I've only been here a few days out of my week in Vegas, but it's something he never really has done whenever we were together in Vegas or in Seattle, or somewhere even in between. Shea doesn't need to know that, either, however.

"Oh yeah? Like, living arrangements?" I asked him, perking up a smile.

He sighed again, his neutral, resting expression fading into a frown. "No, but, rather the opposite of that," he muttered, quiet enough that almost like you couldn't hear him even if you centimeters apart.