I nod again and head for my stall, ripping off my gloves, my helmet, my jersey, desperate to check on Charlotte. I grab my cell from the top shelf with shaking hands.
I’m mentally composing a text, promising to vanquish her enemies with all the resources at my disposal, when I see it…
There’s already a message waiting for me.
From her.
Charlotte: Hey, just wanted to let you know that I’m fine. I’m at Kilian’s, the sports bar down the street. I popped in to buy one of their T-shirts for the drive home and stayed to watch the game. You’re killing it, by the way, but you look ragey. If that has anything to do with me, I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry or upset or whatever on my account. I’m fine. And I really don’t want to be the reason you get in more trouble.
Nix: I’m not going to get in trouble. Don’t worry about me. I’m worried about you. What the hell happened? You looked upset.
Charlotte: It’s a long story, and now isn’t the time. Just suffice it to say that I wish I had stayed in the WAG box to fight the mean girls instead of making a run for it. If I had, I wouldn’t have ended up drenched in beer or trending on NOLA Twitter…
Nix: What?!
Charlotte: Yeah. Don’t look at #beertits. It will only make you more ragey. But I’m fine. I promise. I have embraced my new fame. Or infamy. Or…whatever. It helps that the bartenders here have been really sweet. They gave me the employee discount on my “Guinness, Gumbo, and Goals” T-shirt and have been serving me free whiskey sours to ease my pain. There is goodness in the world, after all.
Nix: There is. But I’m not thrilled to hear some of the women were mean. What about Elly and Makena? Why didn’t they have your back?
Charlotte: They weren’t there. Makena had a food truck emergency. A raccoon got in and tossed the place before giving birth on the counter.
Nix: Oh my God. That sounds…
Am I an unenlightened dude bro if I admit that sounds disgusting?
Charlotte: LOL. No! I agree. Food service locations and live animal birth should not mix. Ever. But yeah, that’s why I walked into a mean girl trap like a lamb to slaughter. Apparently, those girls are known for being sneaky-awful. Makena swore she would have warned me about them, but she didn’t think they would be there. They were supposed to be in Cancun modeling bikinis or something, but I guess it got postponed.
Nix: Huh. So, Torrance’s girlfriend?
Charlotte: I don’t want to name names. Just let’s say I won’t be setting foot in the WAG box again without my crew. I’m not built for that solo thug life.
Nix: I’m so sorry. I was hoping you’d have a great night out with your friends.
Charlotte: It’s fine! Seriously. Most of the #beertits pictures are actually fairly flattering. It could be way worse. I could be accidentally half-naked in public and fugly at the same time.
Nix: You could never be fugly. You’re prettier than a movie star and Belle put together.
Charlotte: LOL. Liar. But you’re sweet, and I appreciate it.
Nix: I’m not a liar. You’re beautiful, and I’d love to take you out for pizza and no beer whatsoever after the game. If you’re up for it.
Charlotte: I’m up for it. Meet you in the family area as planned? Pretty sure I’ll be flying high on whiskey sour courage and ready to face down the Mean Girl Posse by then.
Nix: You’re a hero.
Charlotte: I know. We don’t all wear capes. Some of us wear cheesy Irish bar T-shirts. Though the voodoo doll on this one is pretty cute. He looks fierce, adorable, and drunk…all at the same time.
Nix: I can’t wait to see it. And you.
Charlotte: Me, too. Now go play some more fantastic hockey. And I’ll go brag about my hot hockey boyfriend who texted to comfort me in my hour of #beertits need to my new bartender friends.
I stare at the last text, a smile creeping across my face.
Hot hockey boyfriend.
Not “fake boyfriend.”
Justboyfriend.
