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Disenchanted	By : msmartinez Category: Individual Celebrities > Mike Modano (Hockey) > Mike Modano (Hockey) Views: 2050 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Mike Modano. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Disenchanted
- 1
Mari studied the man who stood before her with a detached, analytical gaze, not through the eyes of a girlfriend. Mike was a fine looking man, about six foot three, with a sturdy build. He had soft chocolate brown eyes that gave an impish quality to his smile. His jaw and chin were covered with stubble most of the time, and that came from a busy NHL season that allowed him little spare time. Any excuse not to shave was a welcome one for him. He said he looked better with it, anyway. His brown-mixed-with-blond, or chatain, hair was straight. After games, his hair would stick up in places on his head. He looked almost as good in his clothes as he did out of them, like he was now.

Mike looked at Mari, puzzled. “That’s the weirdest after-sex look I’ve ever seen,” he said. He laughed and picked up his discarded shorts from the floor. Slipping them on, he gathered the rest of his clothes, and Mari’s, from the rug. He sat on the bed and handed Mari’s garments to her. “We’d better get dressed and moving. The morning skate is in an hour and a half, and I’m starving. Let’s go to that great new café downtown. They have grits. You still like grits, don’t you?” Next to hockey, there’s nothing he liked more than talking.

He and Mari could be mirror images, separated at birth, soul mates, etc., by that reasoning. Mike was the only person she’d ever known that had a mouth that rivaled her own. He wasn’t a wise-ass, he just liked to talk. And he played the game as though it was his raison d’être. Mari’s playing days ended in college, but that didn’t diminish her love for the game.

If you’d asked her what brought her and Mike together, she’d say hockey and talking.

At least, that’s what she used to say.

She sighed and rose from the large bed. She put on her clothes. Mike was already dressed and styling his hair in front of the bathroom mirror. He’d always been something of a fop. All he had to do was run a hand through the impossibly soft and full-bodied strands and they would fall into place, but he insisted upon making every hair just so.

He stepped out of the bathroom and saw Mari sitting at the edge of the bed, still with that same odd distant face. His handsome visage was clouded by concern. “Hey, Mar, what’s up? What’s with the face,” he asked.

She looked up at him, surveying the tower of masculine perfection that he was. She couldn’t mask the sorrow in her dark eyes. He’d seen it. It would only be a matter of time before he realized what was really going on.

She’d loved him so, always had. In a way, she still did. But the incongruity of it all had finally caught up with her and made her face what she never thought would surface.

“Nothin’,” she answered finally. “Just trying to wake up.”

“Okay,” Mike said with some disbelief. “If you ever decide to tell me what’s really going on in there, please let me know.”
He knew. He had to.

Mari closed her eyes, not sure of what to say next. Imagine that, her at a loss for words.

“We’re going to be late,” she threw back. “Come on.”

*

After a strained, on Mari’s part, brunch, she and Mike traveled to the Dallas Stars’ practice facility in Fort Worth for the morning skate. Work swept her away. She was eager to dive into her job as head trainer for the team. It kept those thoughts at bay, at least for a few hours. Her biggest concern now was the health and well-being of her players. She’d been blessed with the ability to detach herself from her players and look at them objectively while treating them. It helped her keep her head in injury situations, which was vital. It also gave her an excuse to be aloof to Mike.

She never wanted to feel that way about him. She’d known him for such a long time. They’d been through so much together. They were such good friends. They were perfect for each other, everyone said. It ate her alive to know what once was a burning, fiery passion for him was merely a flicker here and there.

She couldn’t really put her finger on why it had died so quickly. He was still the same, after all this time. The only significant change was his style of play on the ice, but that never affected her feelings for him in any way.

Some things about him bothered her. He was a terrible tease and a huge flirt, but after flirting briefly with a waitress or a letter carrier, he’d turn to Mari, and with those brown eyes, tell everything that was truly in his heart; he was mad for Mari.

There were only two women in his life he’d ever been serious about, Mari and Kerri, his first girlfriend. Their relationship was a long, troubled one, with many break-ups and various other valleys. They’d also had their share of good moments too. They’d been briefly engaged in 2000, but Mike broke it off. He was scared by the idea of settling down. That was the final nail in the coffin for their relationship. The two remained friends, but cool friends. Mari had nothing but respect for Kerri, and vice-versa.
Mari was a little intimated by her, though. After all, Kerri and Mike had been together off and on since they were fifteen. Mike was her first, as she was for him. That was huge, in everyone’s book. She knew that Kerri was Mike’s first love.

Sometimes she wondered if he ever compared the two women. That made her think of something he’d said to her shortly after he’d proposed to Kerri. He and Mari were on the road in Toronto, perusing the Hockey Hall of Fame. As they’d walked past an exhibit of Henri Richard, Mari had stopped and pressed her hands on the glass that contained his jersey, ignoring the many signs that warned, “Please do not touch glass.” She’d drawn in a breath and let it out quickly. “Wow, the Rocket,” she’d whispered. There was a look of true reverence in her eyes.

Mike had smiled and said, “I’m glad I have someone to see this with. Kerri tries, but she doesn’t know much about hockey. You do, though. I think it’s cool.” She’d smiled and thanked him.

At the time, she was already falling for him. She’d have done next to anything to have him. But she wasn’t sure if he felt that way about her.

Another stop on the Worry Train was Mike’s activities following the dissolved engagement. He’d sold the grand home in suburban Dallas he’d shared with Kerri and moved into the Dallas Hilton. He partied harder than usual, sharing his bed with women left and right. Mari knew these women meant less than dick to him, but it still hurt. It hurt her, made her jealous, but she knew the pain Mike felt was deeper than her own, and that made her bury her own to help him with his. She’d loved him so then, too.

After his wounds healed, he found how full Mari had made him feel, and finally saw her in the way she’d always hoped he would. The pair enjoyed a long and fulfilling relationship.

For Mari it wasn’t fulfilling, not anymore. Every morning she woke up, next to Mike, sometimes in his bed, sometimes in her own, and think that day would be the last one they’d see. Sooner or later he’d see through the thin veil she’d managed to pull over his eyes to get what she wanted.

She honestly didn’t know why he’d ever picked her, or why he chose to stay with her. She wasn’t as pretty as those other women. Not Kerri, not all those empty-headed bimbos he’d all fucked in a line. She didn’t behave the way other women did. A man who looked the way he did, who made the money that he did, who did what he did, should be with a woman. Not her. She wasn’t a woman, not by society’s standards.

He said he loved her. That’s all he thought she needed. He wasn’t interested in other women anymore. Just her. And he loved having someone to talk to about hockey after a good romp in the sack.

She met all his needs. Plain and simple.

Despite all this, she was afraid. She feared other women. She thought someone would take Mike from her. What scared her the most, is she thought Mike would readily accept. Not because he didn’t love her, but because he knew she wasn’t right for him.
She was bent over in the training room, taping a defenseman’s sore ankle, thinking these terrible thoughts. They brought tears to her eyes. She patted him on the knee and sent him away, keeping her head down. She turned away and rested her head in her hands, letting the tears flow free. She pushed the door to the room closed and leaned against it. It was as though he’d already gone, but without saying good-bye.

Goddamn, you, Mike, she said to herself. Goddamn you for being so handsome, so sexy, so perfect for me in every way. Goddamn you for making me love you! Goddamn me for loving you! Goddamn it all!

She raised her head and took a deep breath, collecting herself. She studied the sounds around her. Some of the players were in the locker room. The stereo was turned up loud. A heavy bass line thumped through the floor. She looked around the room. A tray that held her tools and instruments lay on the trainer’s table. A roll of medical tape was on a stool. She took the tray to the sink, and rinsed them off. The rest of the players congregated in the locker room and showers. She decided to emerge. The players all greeted her with smiles, pats or the occasional, “Hey.” Her eyes scanned the room for Mike. Why, she wasn’t sure.
He stepped out of the showers, a white towel swathed around his hips. His hair was dripping wet and glued to his head. He saw Mari standing in the center of the locker room, looking a little forlorn, and his eyes lit. He smiled warmly at her. He came to her. “Could you check out my shoulder,” he asked, gesturing to his left shoulder. He’d suffered an injury to it a few years back, and it had left him with an odd dent in the joint.

“Yea, sure,” she said absently. “Come on.”

They met in the trainer’s room. Mari gathered her equipment again. Mike stood, still in towel. A few water droplets that remained clung to his muscular body and made it glisten. The towel was very low-slung. Mari peeked, and could see the edge of his curly amber pubic hair. She looked away quickly, embarrassed all of a sudden. She’d been naked in front of him, he’d been the same with her. They’d been sleeping together for almost a year. Her nervousness made no sense to her.

She swallowed it, and came up behind Mike to feel his shoulder. He turned suddenly and embraced her. “There’s nothing wrong with my shoulder,” he said. “I just wanted to do it.”

“In here,” she squeaked. “But we just did this morning.”

“I want you again. Let’s do it.”

“Mike....”

“Mari.”

“Please. I’m working. Later, I promise.”

“It would be hot, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but not in here. I work here.”

He dropped the towel to the floor. “I want you, Mari,” he whispered. “I’ve been thinking about you all morning. Please let me.” He kissed her.

Mari pushed him away. “I said, no,” she said.

Mike looked hurt. “What’s going on with you,” he asked. He looked as though he was trying to be mad at her, but didn’t have it in him. He didn’t want to get mad about sex, and seem like a dick.

“Mari,” he finally said. “I know something’s bothering you. You’ve got to tell me. Maybe I can help?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not,” he asked. He had picked up the towel and put it back on.

“It’s my fault, and yours.”

“Well, if it’s my fault, I think I have a right to know,” he insisted.

Mari closed her eyes, and relented. She faced him and confessed all the ugly thoughts in her head.

Mike listened, puzzled. He looked at his girlfriend. Her short auburn hair hung over her face. He put a hand under her chin and made her look up. She bit her full lower lip. Tears streaked her cheeks, with their high cheekbones. Her lips, her cheekbones and her button nose gave her a look of perpetual youth. Finally, his eyes met hers, those big, dark eyes which had done it for him. He kissed her briefly, then removed all fear and doubt.

“Mari, what I did in the past is just that--the past,” he began. “I love you, and only you, because you’re everything I need. I love you just the way you are. Never change anything about yourself, because I’ve already fallen in love with this Mari, which I think is the best Mari. I’ve never met anyone like yoou lou like everything I do, you know so much about hockey, and you’re very good in bed.” Here she laughed. “I’m serious,” he said. “You don’t know how cool it is to get a hummer while watching NHL2Night, you really don’t. And it’s even cooler when you and I talk about hockey after. Or anything. Point is, Mari, you’re great.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Mike.” She hugged him tightly. “I needed that.”

“I think I know what else you need,” he said, eyebrow raised, with that imp smile. He again dropped his towel to the floor and, in a quick motion, sat Mari on his lap.

She laughed and said, “You just want some.”

“Only from you.”

She pulled off her T-shirt and draped it over his head. “Let’s say you put that tongue of yours to good use,” she teased.

He smiled. “She’s back.” He mock-rolled his eyes.

The End.
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Disenchanted