Four.

Well jmard, looks like it's just me and you. :) At least someone is reading though, right? Idk, this story... it has me interested in writing again. It doesn't seemed forced for the first time in a LONG time.

Rae's POV

I trudge upstairs and jump into the shower, rinsing off quickly, knowing I don't have a lot of time. As I'm turning off the water I hear the bathroom door open and then close, and I know that Sid's waiting on me. I reach for my towel, wrapping my hair up into it before stepping out of the shower. I see him standing there, arms crossed against his chest as he leans on the counter. He gives me the once over, looking me up and down before approaching me, almost like he has to. He unwraps my hair, making it fall down around my shoulders before taking the towel and starting to dry me off. He gets all the way down to my toes before he brings the towel back up before draping it over my shoulders and then uses the edges of the towel to bring me to him.

I collide with his body, but don't have a chance of falling; his strong arms are more than enough support for me. He looks down at me quizzically and it's at this point that I almost ask him to say whatever is on my mind, but I don't have the chance to before he lightly presses his lips to mine.

"Let's have a good day," he whispers against my lips while leaning down and giving my butt an aggressively firm grab, making me squeal in return.

"I'm more concerned with having a good night," I purr suggestively, toying with him for a moment before strutting out of the bathroom to go put clothes on.

Whenever I get into my closet and start grabbing clothes is when the anxiety comes over me. There is just something about sitting next to him, trying to be the doting wife that sets off the feeling of nausea. And do not mistake me, it has nothing to do with sitting next to him, I love him and prefer to spend most of my time with him. It's the fact that we're being watched, that we're the center of attention that gets to me.

And yes, this is definitely something I took into consideration when I married him, and I know it's something that I'm always going to have to deal with. Even after he's retired, his face is still going to be well know. And I've tried so hard to try and adjust, to try and sit next to him and smile, but it is so much harder than anyone could imagine; especially knowing they all want him and maybe even have dreams about him at nothing while loathing my form.

Quickly slipping on my shoes I run a brush through my hair before applying light make up and head downstairs to find Sid waiting.

Before I know it, we're pulling up next to Jordan's escalade. I start to get out of the car and it's no sooner than when Sid gets out of his side, cap pulled low and glasses on, that the first teenage girl has spotted him and is squealing from across the road. Sid comes around the car, grabbing my hand in his and pulls me close.

"Just like it's you a me," he whispers, telling me to ignore anyone else we see today before tipping my chin up and giving me the lightest peck on the lips, all that is normally allowed in public, but still making my heart beat double time, just like it always has.

"I'm heading home, just run this down and have him sign it and go ahead and file it," Larry calls as he heads out of the door.

I sigh, suddenly wondering if I work for Sidney Crosby or the Pittsburgh Penguins. As I gather the paperwork I can't help but feel sorry for him. He's got contracts to sign here, events to attend there; the poor guy definitely couldn't have time for himself. I should know, because I would say that at least 15% of his time is spend with me signing his life away for whatever "precaution" his agent is trying to take for him. And I understand it, I do; he's worth a lot of money. But never in my life did I think that it would mean that EVERY part of his life had to be documented. Hell, I'm surprised they don't document his input and output levels at the rate he's going.

And since he's spent quite a bit of time with me worrying about all his legal problems, I've gotten to know him a little bit, but not on a personal level of course. And I don't mean to sound aggravated; if anyone should be pissed about doing so much paperwork it should be him. He never signed up for this, and on the other hand this is my job, BUT he is quite a bit to handle.

And I suppose the only reason I should be aggravated is because I'm more aware of him than I should be of any client or person I work with. But there is just something about him, about the way he carries himself that has me running in the other direction. I try to keep things strictly professional, but I find my mind wandering sometimes. And when I mean aware of him, I mean physically aware. It seems almost humanly impossible to me that an 18 year old can possess the body of a Greek God, but the more times I see him the more often I'm found finding comparisons between the two.

I head on down to the training room, knowing I'll find him there. He's always there so much longer than anyone else that it doesn't surprise me at all to find him the only one in there, slaving away on a bike. He sees me approaching and smirks to himself before climbing off. 'Crap, does he know I appreciate his efforts?' I think to myself.

"Hey Sid, just have a couple more papers for you to sign," I say while entering the room. He nods his head in understanding before taking his shirt off and wiping the sweat off his forehead with it. While he's taking it off I get a good chance to look over his sculpted abdomen and I know I shouldn't stare any longer, so instead I head over to the closest table and turn my back toward him. "Last ones of the day, I promise," I call over my shoulder, trying to get my focus where it needs to be.

"What are they for?" he asks, catching me off guard. Most of the time, players just sign on the dotted line as told; after all, we are here to advise them. But even more than him going out of his way to ask, he seems genuinely curious. I turn around, only to find his broad chest right in front of my face, making me stagger backwards from his proximity. I try to shake it off, but his closeness has me all kinds of flustered. I take a deep breath, trying to get my wits about me.

"This one is for your new commercial," I start while pointing to the document on the left, trying not to enjoy the way his body is almost hovering over mine. Surely he doesn't know what he's doing to me? "And this one is for Dick's Sporting Goods, just assuring them that you will be there on the 11th to sign some autographs in the store."

"What, do people not take someone for their word anymore?" he chuckles before flashing me his 100 watt of a smile and then picking up the pen to sign.

"No, I'm afraid not," I reply, trying to fill the silence between us.

"You would think they could trust a "Good ol' Canadian Boy," he returns, his face turning up in disgust at the nickname he had been coined with a long time ago. I gather the papers, pinning them to my side before turning around again and almost wondering if he'd moved even closer to me. All I know is that at this distance, I can't help but look at those luscious, bubble gum pink lips of his.

And then, things start to take on a dream like state. The next thing I know, he's bending down towards me and tentatively pressing his lips to mine. I can hear my brain screaming back somewhere in my level of consciousness that this is wrong, that we can't be doing this, but at the same time it's as if his lips are coated with crack and I'm the biggest drug addict there is and I just can't get enough. I press my lips harder against his, increasing the electric current flowing from him to me. He moves closer to me, pressing me back against the table until we hear the opening of doors and both scurry away from one another. I catch my breath quickly before trying to get my shit together as Mario walks through the door.

"Sid, there you are," he greets while lumbering toward us. "Austin's game starts in an hour. Good morning, Rae," he adds while tipping his head down toward me.

"Good morning yourself, Mario," I return while starting toward the door. "Thanks for signing these, Sid," I continue while gesturing to the papers before turning on my heels and almost sprinting toward the door. What the HELL was that?

I remember the very first time Sid made my heart flutter, and as his big bear paw of a hand grasps mine tightly as we walk toward the restaurant I think to myself that I feel the same way now even after 3 years of marriage and as I look up at him and smile, I can only hope that that never changes.