They have a fucking Stanley Cup winner in the locker room, putting them on his TV show.
None of them really see me, do they? I’m just a fucking glorified mascot. Make room Crushie. I'm coming for your job.
Shaking my head, I dress as quickly as possible, grab my bag, and slip out while they're distracted.
The area around the arena is quiet now, and I can see my breath with the temperature drop. I get into my truck and ignore my phone ringing. A few texts come through, and I just know they're from my teammates and my dad. I just…can't.
I start the truck and have every intention of heading back to my dorm, but I find myself driving toward Laura'sneighborhood instead.
I don't have her number. She's made it very clear she's not ready to give it to me, but right now, I need to talk to someone who sees me as just Scotty. Not Scotty Hendricks, son of hockey legend. Not Mr. Stanley Cup. Just… me.
This is stupid. I'm being stupid.
She's probably not even home, but I keep driving, straight to her.
I’m at her house.
The lights are on, but I’ve been sitting in my car staring at the house for the better part of twenty minutes. This felt like a good idea when I was trying to run away from my father, but now that I’m here, I feel like a stalker.
She acts like there’s nothing going on between us. She hasn’t shown up to my game. She didn’t kiss me on the porch, yet I still feel myself being pulled into her orbit.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
My phone’s been ringing, but I haven’t attempted to answer, knowing it’s not my father. No. He has his own ringtone, which makes it easy to ignore everyone else.
Welp, I better get the fuck out of the truck if I don’t want her to call the cops on me.
I open the door, hop out of my truck, and head down the walkway. The wood groans under my weight as I step toward the door. I lean over and look through the window, but I can't really see much through the lacy curtain.
Should I do this? Should I bother her?
Knock. Knock.
I guess my fist decides for me.
I hear someone say, “Coming,” on the other side, and I take a step back.
Shit. What the hell am I doing?
Proving I'm a fucking stalker, that's what.
I take a few steps back and turn, hoping I can disappear into the night before anyone sees me.
“Scotty?” Her voice makes me stop. “What are you doing here?”
My shoulders slump, and I turn back around.
She’s here.
Suddenly nothing else matters.
With no makeup, her hair’s down and a little wild as her body is wrapped in a cardigan and silky blue pajamas. As always, she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and she doesn't have to try.
“Would you believe me if I said I was out looking for a princess? Realized I only know one, so it kind of narrowed down the search.” I smile, but I can feel how forced it is.
She looks back into the house before stepping onto the porch. “Is everything okay?”
I can smell her perfume, and my hands itch to touch her. To haul her into my arms and hold on to something real. To feel the same way I felt the first time we touched.
