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From an innocent girl whose heart I likely broke.
They cause me physical pain, so much so that I just give her a slight nod and walk away.
I’m almost inside the stadium when I hear my name called again, this time by a male voice. It sounds familiar, but I can’t place my finger on who it is.
When I see the man who called out to me, I’m still trying to remember how I know him. He’s round-faced, bundled up from head to toe to withstand the cold February weather, and has a hand raised above the crowd as he tries desperately to reach the fence.
“Andrew! Andrew!” he says, running out of breath. “Remember me?”
He reaches out a hand, and I shake it with enthusiasm.
“I think I do, man, but I can’t remember from where,” I say, being sincere.
We look at each other, smiling for a moment too long. For the love of me, I don’t recognize him, and he doesn’t seem in a hurry to let me know who he is.
“It’s me, dude!” he finally tells me. “Dan Mitchell from high school!”
And then, in an instant, I recognize him. He’s put on some weight and looks like he’s already in his thirties, but underneath, he’s still my best bud from high school.
“Dan!” I bring him in for a hug over the fence.
Adrenaline courses through me. What if his sister is here?
“How have you been, man?”
“Ah, you know… went to business school, came back, and opened a shop with my dad,” he smiles, awkward and simple. “We’re doing okay.”
I smile back at him, but my excitement is interrupted by one of the security guards.
“You’re requested inside, Mr. Connoly,” the burly one with a constant frown says.
I look from the guards to Dan and make a spur of the moment decision.
“I want him to come with us.” Dan’s eyes light up. Reaching for the edge of the fence, I signal the guards. “Guys, help me out here.”
The guards appear confused but come over anyway. Together we help Dan step over, and I have never seen a man this happy, or a crowd this angry anywhere.
I guide Dan by the shoulders as we get inside, and I look around for a familiar face.
“Who are you looking for?” Dan asks with a raised eyebrow.
“My agent. He was supposed to be here already. I know nothing about this stadium,” I frown.
“Blah, blah, blah. What are you complaining about?” Speaking of the devil, here comes my agent Terry and his typical bad moods.
“There you are.” I leave Dan’s side and approach Terry.
Terry Fellows has been my agent since the beginning, and he offered to take care of my finances for a small fee. I was so overwhelmed that I let him, but I can’t complain. He took all my earnings from the first two seasons, handed it to an investments manager, and as a result, turned me into a billionaire.
“Let’s get you in the press room with the rest of the team. Who’s your friend?” Terry asks in rapid fire.
“My best friend from high school, Dan Mitchell.” I hug and shake the guy once again, happy to see him.
“Oh great!” Terry smiles a very inauthentic smile. “Come with us, and I’ll seat you with the press to watch the interview.”
The three of us take a left turn and head up a set of stairs, ending in the press conference room.
Terry is about to go seat Dan when I tell my friend, “Don’t you leave here without me; you owe me a beer!”
