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MAREK
Love at first sight is a ridiculous concept. It doesn’t happen in real life. Only in books and movies. It’s especially ridiculous for me because I’ve never wanted any kind of serious relationship with a woman. I once heard a song by a Canadian rock band, Trooper, called “We’re Here for a Good Time (Not a Long Time)” and after I almost died, it became my theme song. I like to keep things fun and light because we might not be here for long.
So no love at first sight for me.
Until I meet Nikki Sullivan.
I’m at the NHL All Star Game. Being chosen as an All Star is an honor, but my friends are all in the Bahamas drinking rum cocktails and slathering on SPF50. So I’m kind of a reluctant participant here, but I’m a nice guy and a good sport so I’m keeping a smile on my face as I join in the various events. The game is Saturday and right now it’s Thursday afternoon in Las Vegas.
I’m on the red carpet greeting fans as we head into the arena for the draft event. There’s a lot of screaming, and okay, yeah, some of it is for me. Music pumps around us, mingling with the hollering and shrieking of the fans. I scribble my signature on jersey after jersey as I move along the cordoned-off crowd, keeping a smile on my face.
“Can I have a selfie, please!” a girl cries at me.
I have to ignore her, dammit. I have to keep moving.
“Bobbeeee!” someone screams upon seeing Bobby Renfrew.
I keep signing.
Stuff like this can go to your head. I enjoy interacting with fans, but this is not the kind of event where you can actually talk to them.
“Keep moving!” one of the event staff orders us.
Yes, sir.
That’s when I look up and see Nikki Sullivan.
The reason I was so eager to come to this All Star game.
My mouth goes dry and my pulse shoots into tachycardia range.
I recognize her immediately. Of course I do. I follow her on Instagram, maybe to an unhealthy degree. She’s a pop singer and I like her music. And she’s hot. Just being honest.
I’ve always wanted to meet her, but couldn’t figure out how to do that other than sending her a creepy DM. So this is perfect.
She, too, is cruising along signing autographs and beaming at her fans, some of whom are nearly in tears at seeing her in person. Unlike me, she does pause for a selfie and I watch her pose with a young girl and smile.
She’s beautiful. Right now she’s wearing baggy jeans, Adidas sneakers, and a huge hockey jersey, white with the black and gold All Star logo. Not exactly the sexiest outfit but… she looks hot as fuck to me.
As she moves away from the pose, her gaze catches on mine and holds for about two seconds. And that two seconds feels like being struck by lightning. A sudden, overwhelming jolt and a surge of electrical energy through my body.
I snap back to focus on signing a last couple of jerseys before heading inside with a wave to the crowds.
It’s not much quieter inside the arena. I’m herded off to a side door from the arena lobby and down a corridor. I run into a guy I know, Wyatt Bell, who plays for the California Condors, and we exchange back slaps as we head to the dressing room.
“What a zoo,” Bell says.
“No shit.” I shake my head. “I feel lucky to still be alive.”
He laughs and we make small talk about the event.
Soon, we’re all in the arena, on the ice with our skates and our own team jerseys on, with a bunch of lights and small stages set up, TV cameras and photographers everywhere. The four captains named by the league are drafting us into teams. There are also four celebrity captains helping them—all musicians. Nikki Sullivan is one of them.
I watch her, huddled with Bell who’s also a captain, strategizing on their picks. Adorable.
Nikki is a rising pop star known for her powerful voice, vulnerable lyrics, and unique style. And apparently she knows hockey.
