“So, Guy, you look great. Did your cheekbones get more cut? Jesus. And your hockey butt, big and tight as ever.”
Guy laughed, his eyes sparkling at me as he said, “You look beautiful, Kitty.”
I flipped my hair coquettishly, but my stomach swooped. I’d always loved the way he said “beautiful.” His accent was musicto me. I hadn’t heard him say my name since the depths of the pandemic: “Kit-tee.”
“It’s been a minute, huh?” I said, acting like I was interrogating him.
“It has.”
I squinted at him. “Did youknowI was going to be here tonight?”
“I, uh . . . maybe?” he said with a wince.
“You don’t follow my comedy account,” I said, accusatory. “Your face is never in my stories and you’re not in my followers.”
“Actually, I do,” Guy said. “I have a burner account.”
My jaw dropped. “Just to stalk my comedy career?!” The crowd looked about as shocked as I felt. One girl had her hands covering her mouth. Another flapped her hands as if to saythis is the mostromantic shit I’ve ever seen.
Guy blushed and put a hand over his face.
“Are you @funnyfan96?!” I gasped. Guy blushed deeper and bent forward. “You guys, @funnyfan96 puts the sweetest comments on the sets I post. Like that I’m funny and pretty and smart and sexy. And if anyone trolls me, @funnyfan96 is all over them.” My heart pounded and my eyes watered. I couldn’t hide the quiver in my voice. “It’s you?”
Guy sat up and with a look of ultimate embarrassment, nodded. “Jesus, Guy, this is a revelation.”
I stood back, taking it all in to the hysterical laughter of the crowd. I took off my jacket and fanned myself.
“You could just, ya know, tell me you miss me.”
“I don’t want to bother you.”
I set my jaw and turned to the audience. They were gobbling this up. Who could blame them? “So to catch y’all up, Guy and I lived on the same street for a year in West Virginia, and his family and my family were besties. Then we started dating in college until he got drafted into the NHL. Okay, so why don’t you tell the lovely people here why we didn’t work out?”
Guy laughed and so did the crowd. “It just wasn’t our time,”he said. “You wanted to do this and I wanted to play hockey. Our schedules didn’t line up.”
“Guy,” I said, looking at him pointedly. “I put my life on display for laughs. You can tell them the truth. Surely there’s something about me you couldn’t live with.”
“That is the truth. I never should have let you go,” he said. Then just looking at me, he said, “You’re the one that got away.”
The “aww” that came from the crowd that time was deafening. I doubled over and staggered backward like I’d been shot, laughing because I was embarrassed and crying because it was sweet. He’d never said anything like that during our pandemic rekindling.
“Are you kidding me?!” I shouted away from the mic as I took a minute to recover. Guy’s smile was my very favorite one, the one he reserved just for me. The one that was natural and easy but so gleeful.
I stepped back to the mic stand and brushed off my clothes to compose myself. “So like, are you single?” I asked, wiping tears from my red face.
The crowd whooped in approval.
“Pretty much,” he drawled.
“Pretty much!” I turned to the crowd. “That’s NHL fuckboy speak for ‘I still fuck the fans but not one regularly.’”
Guy shrugged and the crowd laughed. He winked at me.
I tucked a strand of hair that had come loose from my ponytail behind my ear. I leaned on the mic stand, putting on exaggeratedly flirty body language. “So what are you doing later?”
He lifted his mic to his lips. “I mean, hopefully,” he started, wiggling his eyebrows and pointing to me. He was so fucking charming and funny. The crowd was in the palm of his hand.
“Okay, get outta here. Stop stealing my show. Guy Stelle, everyone!” I held his hand up and we bowed together. He gave me a big hug and another kiss on the cheek before going back to his seat.
