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Nearly Witches	By : YonakaNiji Category: Individual Celebrities > Athlete/Sports Misc Views: 764 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do I do NOT know Marty St. Louis, Vincent Lecavalier, or the Tampa Bay Lightning. I have no affiliation with the franchise whatsoever. I make absolutely no profit from this story, and is strictly a work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Prologue
- 2-Trade Mistakes
- 1
- 2
Author's Notes: This is definitely a new approach of stories for me. I'm normally all about the build-up to having good sex, and then the story is over. However, I feel like, how do I describe this...? IN LOVE with this story, and it needs to be told right, from beginning to end. Melody is MY character. And YES, it does seem rather ... Marty/Melodi-ish in the beginning, but we'll find out why as the story progresses. So, without further ado . . .

III
I wiped the sweat from my brow, exausted from the night's practice, the cool ice on my back just chill enough to relax my overworked limbs. Her laugh was audible over the rest of the commotion around me as she approached me. She said nothing, just sat next to me and tucked her knees under her chin.
"That was intense," I said, lolling my head to the left to look at my best friend. She giggled, placing her hand in mine and smiling. She whispered, "The entire team thinks we're dating, you know."
It was my turn to laugh. "We might as well. We'd make the most adorable couple you know."
She gave me a crooked look as she shook her head and sighed. "Too bad you've sworn off vagina. I'd totally hit this." With that she tapped me on my thigh, just centimeters away from my crotch. I couldn't help the jump that came with my awkward reaction and Melodi laughed again.
"Not funny," I said, but I was smiling nonetheless as I sat up and made it back to my skates, pulling her up with me. "C'mon, Melodi, let's go home."
She nodded and walked while I skated as her escort off of the ice. We were still holding hands.

III
"We're here, Marty." Clarence, the Tampa Bay Lightning bus driver called from the other end of the vehicle.
I didn't want to move from the nook I had created for the ride over. I turned the music up in my headphones and pretended I hadn't heard him, or the screaming fans that were looming just beyond these metal barriers. I didn't want to sign another autograph. I didn't want to do another interview. I cringed inwardly of having to spend another night of pleasing adoring fans that knew nothing but my name and talent.
A hand on my shoulder alerted me that I had to return to reality. "Hey, we're you asleep?" Clarence asked.
I shook my head. "No, I'm coming." I replied politely. My headphones, playing some Linkin Park, were turned off and wrapped around my little white iPod.
"Matt is already waiting for you. They're ready to roll whenever you are."
I wanted to tell him to go fuck this interview and to take me home. Instead I stood from my seat, popping my cramped joints and straightend my crumpled olive green thermal. "Thanks, I'll be out in a minute." With that the blonde took his leave. I ran a hand through my carefully styled hair, satisfied with the stiff spikes that presented themselves.
My steps seemed unsteady, the passageway narrowing more with each attempted to escape it's confines. I could feel myself trying to speed up only to have my feet be dragged down from under me. Then, there were lights, bright, florescent, flashing lights.

I had stepped into my life again.

The automated smile and appreciation commands flipped on in my central brain and before I knew it was I shaking hands, thanking for coming out to support me and the team, and talking about my career as a forward and alternate captain for the Tampa Bay Lightning.
As I was told, Matt was already waiting inside for me holding up a pair of big puffy-looking headphones, and wearing an excited smile on his fake lips.

"I'm so excited that you could come out tonight and give the fans some love." Matt said as he shook my hand quickly. "Thanks for that!"

"Oh thank you for having me." I said quietly. The lights were really bright in the restaurant, I was squinting just to see the man who was sitting two feet across the table from me. "It's always a pleasure to come and see the fans and get off the ice for a little bit."

"And they are very excited to be here to see you." Matt mentioned, and said fans went wild! I have them a modest smile and waved delicately. It was admittedly unbelievable how many people were here, and I know that somewhere more lurked in the expanse of the globe.

Matt continued to talk to me about the game, covering everything from our Stanley Cup win in 2004 to the upcoming game against the Canadians for an hour. I didn't fail to notice that the lights never seized in being bright.

"I appreciate you coming out, Marty." Matt said as a closing statement. I felt a sigh of relief rush through me. "I can't wait to see the game tomorrow night. Make it a good one!" he was demanding.
I laughed a bit unenthusiastically at this. "I'll try." I said goodnight to the radio listeners and shook hands with all of the important people before I went back into the raging madness of worshipers.
I tried to withdraw myself a little while I was entertaining them. After all, they were there to see me, not my brooding. I took a seat behind the black, blue, and silver banner inlaid table and started signing my life, and little fragments of my soul in permanent marker. I'd smile for pictures and thank everyone graciously with modesty.
The next picture I took was nothing like what I had seen all night. Not a ticket, nor a stick or puck, nor even a promo picture of me, but of a younger me in a tuxedo and a beautiful young lady with jet black hair that waved like the ocean and emerald green eyes that I would swear were real gems in am equally green halter dress that hugged every bit of her to perfection and a sash that read, "Prom Queen, 2002". It was the same picture I had hanging in my house.
"You can make it out to Melodi, or you can just make out with me. I'm fine with either."
Her voice was like a miracle that shines through the darkest of times. Before I knew it I was scooping her into my arms, logical thought lost and fans forgotten, and squeezing her as though my life depended on it.
"I got your e-mail," She choked out, "And I just had to see you."
I couldn't manage words, but she got the message, I missed you. I need you. I love you.
The sound of outraged fans finally reached me and I let her go reluctantly, terrified she was only an apparition.
"You're busy." She stated, and I wanted to be playful and call her Captain Obvious, but I refrained. "I'll meet you at your house. I'll make dinner."
Just like that she was gone, fearlessly braving the angry mob of fangirls that scowled at her and murmured things under their breaths, Bitch, Whore, Lucky Little Slut. I laughed to myself at their antics, thinking that I was really the lucky one.

III
When I returned to my Tampa, Florida home after midnight I could still smell the remnants of a home-cooked dinner that was left out on the counter next to the already washed dishes, covered. Melodi had indeed prepared me a meal, but my chef was nowhere to be found, just a note. "I hope you still like my chicken and yellow rice. If you don't, well, more for me!" I assumed she was already asleep.
I heated up the dinner plate and ate at the counter top. I absolutely loved her cooking, and I made that evident, clearing that plate within minutes. I washed the plate and put it with her already clean ones before heading upstairs to my room.
As I had expected, Melodi was indeed asleep, and she was in my bed. I chuckled, deciding to snap a quick picture of her curled up with my pillows and the blankets haphazardly strewn over her body with my phone, for blackmail purposes of course. After I turned on the heat to chase out the chill of February I slid in with her, removing my thermal and jeans, leaving me in my boxers and a t-shirt. I tucked my arm around her and kissed her forehead.
Tomorrow we could talk. Tonight, I just wanted I warm body next to me.
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Nearly Witches