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Being caught in that moment could turn into a media frenzy in no time, especially as the head of a national sports team. The thought that Lacey has gotten so under my skin, making me willing to take such risks, makes me pause.
Vanessa’s words, warning against exploiting a “vulnerable young woman,” hit hard.
Yet, nothing dims the afterglow of Lacey’s encouraging smile and her “Knock 'em dead,” feeling like a pep talk right before the big game.
I clear my throat, adjust the mic, and with a mix of bravado and Lacey’s infectious belief in me, I begin.
“Folks,” my voice steady, “thanks for investing your time – and money – tonight for our fine-shelled friends. And remember, it’s not just about saving a turtle... it’s about making sure they’re stylish while we do it.” Laughter fills the room, sweeping away any hesitation with the tide of goodwill.
“You know,” I continue, spotting Lacey in the crowd before the lights blur her out, “I used to think a turtle was just a slow-moving shell carrier. But tonight, thanks to your passionate efforts, I realize they're like... well, superheroes in half-shells. And like our shelled friends, we too can make a big impact, slow and steady.”
I realize I’m about to get more sentimental than anyone expects at a turtle gala. "I'm here not just because I look great in a suit or because I love animals with neckwear. I'm here because, like these fantastic creatures, we've all had to carry heavy burdens. Yet, it's the support of our own ecosystem that lightens that load. Feeling small and slow-moving is easy, but with the right team, we can achieve incredible things."
I pause, soaking in the room's energy. "So let's keep fighting for our shelled friends and remember to support each other through life's journey. Who knows? Maybe one day we'll all wear superhero capes made from recycled plastic bottles. Thanks for being part of this shell-shocking experience.”
And there it is.
With Lacey’s image in my mind, finding the right words isn’t hard.
She’s not just why I’m here; she makes these words feel genuine and significant. She believes in the power of small changes, and in just weeks, she's changed my life.
The crowd erupts in cheers, and stepping away from the podium, I'm surprisingly pleased. I enjoyed that, more than I thought possible.
Before I can join the crowd, organizers introduce me to a turtle named Harold. Holding the little guy, giving the speech suddenly makes more sense. Harold is cool and unfazed, much like myself. But my zen moment with Harold is interrupted when I meet Talia Roy, the genius behind tonight's event and Lacey's friend.
“Talia, this is incredible. Thanks for pulling off an event that’ll have people talking for years. And for letting me meet Harold,” I say, scratching Harold's head.
Talia smiles warmly. “It takes a village, Aidan. And a few good turtles,” she replies, her eyes twinkling with a spark I recognize – the same one I see in Lacey. No wonder they're close friends.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch my buddy and co-owner, Marcus, eyeing Talia a bit too obviously. My right-hand man, the brains of our dynamic trio, seems to have momentarily confused staring with casual observation. His gaze is fixed on Talia as if she’s the last slice of pizza at a third-grade party.
I nudge him with an elbow that's seen its fair share of collisions during our old baseball days. "Easy there, tiger. You're about two seconds away from needing a bib."
Marcus blinks, snapping out of it, and straightens up. "Ah, just admiring the event setup," he mutters, sneaking another glance at Talia. I shake my head, chuckling. The two had teamed up to boost the media coverage for tonight's gala, and Marcus is clearly smitten—not just with the collaboration, but with Talia herself.
I've never seen him this hooked, not even when we nabbed our first sports championship. That boy usually has a poker face like a billboard.
Mental note: Grill him about this later.
“Well, I should probably go find Lacey and—” I begin, only for Talia to gently touch my shoulder, her expression soft yet apologetic.
“She left a bit ago, Aidan. Sorry.”
Left? Without a word?
I nod, forcing a tight smile. "Thanks, Talia. We'll catch up soon."
I turn away, my mind already racing. My stomach tightens as I weave through the crowd, my eyes scanning the sea of faces for Lacey.
Amid the laughter and clinking glasses, I bump into Ryan and Vanessa, deep in a debate over exotic cheeses—or something equally strange.
"Hey. You guys seen Lacey?" I interrupt.
Vanessa gives me a look over the rim of her glass. "She might be in one of the other rooms... or perhaps the terrace. Or the restroom?" She swings her glass in an arc. "God knows how many hidden spots this place has."
Ryan shrugs, as clueless as I am but less concerned.
I excuse myself, probably grimacing more than smiling. A few minutes and several inquiries later, someone points me in the right direction.
