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“I just need to go in here really quick,” I say, intending to push through the turnstile entryway. It doesn’t budge.
“You need a ticket, ma’am, and the game’s over.”
“Please, I need to get in. I’m trying to find someone?—”
“Hey, is that her?”
“I think it is!”
People start taking notice of me and my one-sided struggle with the clerk. Unfortunately for me, I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I am now a very recognized face in the hockey world, and I am in fact at a place where damn near every Bulls fan in the city has congregated.
Before I can breathe two more words, I become swamped by people. Fans, reporters, a whole forest of cell phones shoved in my face. Camera flashes blind my eyes and words coalesce into a storm of noise around me as people hurl questions like bullets.
Oh, shit. I didn’t prepare for this. My heart rate skyrockets as I’m swarmed, banged around between people. Everyone wants to get a quote, wants to say they met the girl that hooked Reese Dalton. It’s overwhelming and scary. Some of these people actually look angry. Like I’m not just a no-name nanny who slept with her boss, but a homewrecking hussy who slept with their man.
I suppose, if someone fantasizes hard enough, that’s exactly what I did. Plenty of women in Texas and outside of it probably want Reese, bad.
“Hey!”
A loud voice booms over the crowd. We all turn, and I see someone who looks vaguely familiar pushing through the crowd. He towers over the rest, and his Bulls jersey is the real deal. Stained with sweat and blood, not store-bought.
The stunned herd parts to let him through. Before anyone can figure out what to do, he takes me by the arm, and drags me out of the crowd. He’s impressive, pushing through the mass of bodies. He might also be a bit intimidating given his size, which is why I’m sure we’re not followed when he vaults us over the turnstile.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” I stammer, “but please let me go. I need to?—”
“You’re Olivia, right? Reese’s girl? I’m his friend, Dante,” the guy introduces quickly. “Listen, Reese is still here. I told him to wait for me when I saw you. Don’t ask questions. Just keep up.”
I can’t do much else but obey, considering the grip this guy has. But as I catch glimpses of his face, I do recall seeing him in the lineup at the press conference. He’s one of the few people from the team that Reese actually has pictures of hanging up in his house. A picture of the two of them in uniform on the refrigerator, hair and beards slicked with sweat.
It only occurs to me about three minutes into our trek through the stadium that he called me “Reese’s girl.”
I barely register where we’re going until we’re in a mostly empty garage lot that seems to be toward the back of the stadium. And not too far from where we are…
Is Reese.
He leans against the side of his car, thumbing through his phone. I wonder if there’s already news that I showed up blasting through social media, but if there is, it doesn’t look like he’s aware.
“Yo, Reese!”
Dante’s voice carries a deep echo in the lot. Reese rolls his eyes, but doesn’t look up. “Took you long enough, asshole. What do you want?—”
That’s when he looks up.
That’s when he sees me.
Reese’s eyes widen and his face opens into a grin. Before Dante can even bring me over himself, we break out into a sprint toward each other. We collide, two forces attracted to each other and impossible to separate.
His hands find my hips, gripping. He holds me so tight I think I might burst. And when he kisses me, everything in the world feels right again.
“I’ll just excuse myself,” Dante comments dryly. “Reese, text me when you’re free. You got a lot of updating to do! Just a reminder I’m your best friend.”
Reese waves Dante away, and I laugh giddily. This doesn’t feel real—or maybe it feels too real. Life in 3D, all coming at me so fast I can barely keep up.
Reese grins, rubbing his nose against mine. “You came here. For me?” he asks, like he’s almost not sure if that’s the truth.
“Of course I did. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Reese.”
He pulls back to look at me. “I love you, Olivia.” And unlike hearing it through the TV, it sounds clearer, more real, to have him say this to my face.
