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Equilibrium	By : meow Category: Individual Celebrities > Taylor Pyatt Views: 937 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Taylor Pyatt. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
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Chapter 6

"Green or black?"

"I don't know… green," Mo said distractedly, barely looking up from the bed. "I thought we were gonna hang out tonight."

"We are." I studied the tops.

"Having me pick out your clothes is not hanging out."

"Darn, so I guess painting each other's toes nails is out of the question…"

"You're not even listening to me. Green," he repeated more forcefully. "It brings out your eyes. I can't believe you're ditching me."

"You should have told me earlier that you were free. I assumed that you and Kes were going to the Wolverines' game or something. It's not every day that we're in Michigan, you know."

"I know. But the game's sold out," he admitted.

"Aha!" I pointed my finger down at him. "I was your back up plan."

"Hey, you're not a bad back up plan." He sat up.

"Gee, thanks. But you're out of luck."

"Cut me some slack, Sam. It's not like you can't spare a night with Pyatt. You two are always doing something together. I didn't even see you the whole day yesterday."

"Fine, fine. Look, I'll sit with you on the plane tomorrow, okay?" I cooed as if I were talking to a toddler. "You'll just need to find something else to do tonight. Isn't the game on TV?" I reached over and patted him on the head comfortingly.

"Don't patronize me, missy. I don't get what the big deal is. You guys were just going to what? Go to a movie? Dinner? What if… what if I tagged along?" he suggested casually, bouncing lighting on the bed.

"What? No." I looked at him.

"Come on, it wouldn't be that bad. We get along well enough. The guy's a bit quiet, but we can do the whole male bonding thing. It'll be good for team chemistry. Besides, it's not like it's a date or anything."

I took a breath. "And what if it was?" I'd been carrying around a bit more guilt on my shoulders with every little white lie to Mo over the weeks.

"Tell me you're joking." He stopped bouncing.

"I'm not." There, he knew.

"Oh," he frowned, "So what is this? The first date?" He gestured to the growing pool of clothes by my feet. His question seemed to echo through the suddenly huge room.

"No. Well, yes. First formal one," I bit my lower lip nervously. I hated that I placed so much value on what Mo thought more than just about anyone else. Even despite his protective streak, having his support meant more to me that I was willing to admit.

"And you were planning to clue me in…?"

"After we eloped on the weekend," I replied calmly, reaching down to go through my suitcase again. "This is exactly why I don't tell you things like this, Mo," I sighed, "Which one?" I held up a dark denim jean in one hand and a short black skirt in the other.

"Pants," he said automatically.

I rolled my eyes and threw the skirt at him.

"Your dad left me specific instructions, Samantha. How does this count as clothing, exactly?" Mo hung the skirt from the tip of his forefinger. I grabbed it back from him and I tossed them into the open suitcase.

"Oh, don't you go all `Samantha' on me. And I'm not a VCR. Dad said to `look out for me' as if a team full of married men and guys with girlfriends would just eat me up." Mo held up a finger in an attempt to throw in the name of a certain Finnish ex-team mate, but I hurried on. "And he told you that four years ago!" I took the green halter-top and the jeans to the washroom.

"Four years don't make a difference," he said loudly.

"Of course they do," I shouted back.

"There's nothing wrong with being independent, Sam."

"Right. There isn't, but there's a difference between being independent and being a complete loner."

Mo lay back down across the bed. His brow scrunched up in thought as he tossed a stray hair tie into the air absentmindedly. It fell on his chest and was instantly forgotten when he caught sight of me as I stepped out of the washroom minutes later.

"What's wrong now?" He'd gone quiet on me, as if he were in a daze. "What?" I rubbed my bare arms insecurely. "Should I go with the black?"

"Yes. I mean, no. You look nice," he said a bit flustered as he sat up. "Here," he grabbed the hair tie off the bed and offered it to me.

"Thanks," I tossed it aside onto a side table and picked up my brush and ran it through my thick dark hair, trying to ignore the unfamiliar awkwardness.

"You're not-"

"I'm wearing my hair down," I cut him off. "Time for a change."

He looked unconvinced.

"Py likes it down," I said admitted, looking at him. After a moment, I cleared my throat and slipped on a pair of earrings.

"Do you really think I prevent you from having a social life?" He came around so he was standing beside me.

"No, of course not," I said gently. "It's just… God, even Mike knows about you!" I took out my knee-high boots and put them on.

"Mike?" Mo blinked in confusion.

"Mike. You know, the cutie from John's office? Never mind," I shook my head when he gave me a blank stare. I grabbed my purse. Wallet, check. Mints, check. Cell phone on silent, check.

"No wait, give me a moment," Mo held up his hand. "`Mike, the cutie from John's office'…" he tried to look serious as he rubbed his chin. "Nope, sorry, doesn't ring a bell. I must have been too busy checking out Fin."

"Fin, eh? Good taste, Mo," I said impressed, "Have you seen his butt?" I whistled.

"Okay, okay, you win. This conversation is getting weird."

"You're the one who started it. Could you just-"

Thankfully a knock on the door stopped our childish antics.

"Behave," I half-pleaded to Mo before opening the door.

"Hey there, gorgeous." Pyatt greeted me in dark blazer with a navy blue shirt, the first few buttons of which were unfastened. I grinned up at him, more than pleased with what I saw.

"Hey there, yourself." Mo gagged from behind me.

"Mo," Py looked over my head and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. "You're not watching the game, man? From what I hear coming out of Kes' room, the Buckeyes are whooping your Wolverines."

"No way! When I left, they were tied at half time," Mo cried in disbelief.

I didn't even bother getting upset at the news that Mo had only bothered to drop by my room during the half time and then had proceeded to lay a guilt trip on me.

"Let me just grab my coat," I said sheepishly.

Mo brushed past me, but stopped. "Wait. I'm supposed to say something. Oh right, keep your hands to yourself and have her back by midnight," he said trying to look stern.

"Ignore him," I contradicted, offering Py an apologetic smile as I steered Mo out the door. "You've got bigger things to worry about than me for once or have you forgotten that bet you made with Kes? And do me a favour, Mo?"

"What?"

"Don't, and I mean don't, wait up."

************************************************************************

"Jesse is finishing his Master Sociology next semester, I think. He was always the academic one out of the three of us. Don't get me wrong, he's a solid on the ice, but his passion has always been in the classroom first and foremost," Pyatt clarified before digging into his lamb chop.

I had to really give the guy credit. Py had found a beautiful little rustic Italian restaurant deep in the heart of Detroit. What it lacked in size, it made up in atmosphere. Warm hues of red splashed across the walls and a romantic tune filled the dining room. It was breathtaking.

"And you? Not a fan of school?"

"See that depends. Books? No, not really. Girls," he let out a sly grin, "I've always been a fan of girls."

"Oh, I'm sure it was mutual," I said evenly, as I lifted a glass of red wine to my lips.

"Was?" he challenged. "A shame. I must be losing my touch."

That couldn't have been a bigger lie. He had a growing legion of female fans – and a few male ones, too – in Vancouver (and in Buffalo as well, I'm sure). Many of who flocked to his autograph session earlier in the month, giddy at meeting the attractive forward in person.

"You sure know how to deflate a man's ego, Sam."

"Aww. Does your head hurt?" He played along and gave the slightest nod. "Well, then. Let me kiss it better." I reached across the table and pressed my lips on his temple.

"That's not the head I was thinking of," Py said after I sat back down. He let out a wolfish grin that made me squirm wonderfully under his gaze.

"Such innuendo. And on the first date, no less. What kind of woman do you take me for, Pyatt?" I said in a sultry voice.

"Taylor," he corrected on impulse as if he had been wanting to do so for a while.

"Taylor." His name tingled on my lips.
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Equilibrium