Chapter Sixteen
Dallas
I slam the front door of my Jeep and then grab my hockey bag from the back. I sling the strap over my shoulder to head straight to the ice rink.
“Good luck tonight, Dallas,” a feminine voice I don’t recognize greets me as I take a few steps from my car.
“If you need a good luck charm, I’ll be watching,” another flirty voice says with a wink.
I’m stopped at least ten times in the short walk to the ice rink. It’s not the first time, but each night since the interview with the reporter, more and more women show up for the games and seek me out. They show up early and stay late.
It’s gotten out of hand if I’m being honest.
Tonight is one of the biggest games of my college career so far, and I don’t need these types of distractions.
We are playing our biggest rival, and they have the best record in the league.
We have won every home game over the last two weeks.
Away games are a different story, but I’ll take the W when we can.
The parking lot already has some fans present, some tailgating, some flirting with players as we arrive.
There aren’t usually tailgaters or a welcome committee, but tonight is different.
Some games, like tonight’s rival game, come with an extra buzz and some pregame fun.
I keep my head down and head straight to the locker room.
A little later, we are warming up on the ice in front of a full house.
“I’ve got to do my warm-ups for the ladies,” Trevor croons as he hits the ice in full equipment, getting low to stretch.
A whistle hits my ears, and then a fan yells, “Dallas! Your turn!”
I drop my head, shaking it mostly to myself, as I skate to the other side of the ice.
It’s become a madhouse lately, especially since there’s speculation that my Cinderella attends every home game and never one on the road. The attention hasn’t died down, but yet, no sign of my BBUGirl.
I still have her phone, which is good and dead now since it’s an older phone, and I don’t own a phone charger that works. Even if I did, it’s locked anyway.
I also have her shoe. A pretty silver pump in size eight, which is the average shoe size for a woman. I looked it up. I guess she won’t be the only one who will fit in the heel, and I’ll never find her.
I’ve pretty much given up hope at this point.
The jumbotron lights up with fan features on the screen, most jumping up and down in excitement before switching to other things.
“Hey, uh, man,” Trevor says, skating up to me, his voice cautious.
“Yeah?”
He points his finger at the massive screen, and my head swivels in that direction.
There’s a series of text on the screen with blue and green bubbles, a string of text messages and conversations.
The crowd is snickering and snorting at the screen above, with a lot of pointing and elbowing their friends.
My eyes zoom in on the words, and that’s when my heart sinks.
I know those messages because I wrote them. Well, half of them anyway.
Do all these people know I’m SoloSurfer.
What about BBUGirl?
What’s going on?
My thoughts drift to her, which they usually do, but a little less as of late if I’m being honest. There’s another female who’s also stuck there, one of the fierce hockey-playing variety.
But BBUGirl remains my number one, my first.
A snooty female voice blares over the stadium speakers. “Cinderella met her prince the old-fashioned way! Through the written word!”
The audience laughs and jeers at that.
“The prince is our very own Dallas Dawes, but who is the very lucky Cinderella, may you ask?”
I whip my head around, looking around the stands, but it does me no good. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Is she even here?
“There’s a reason why Dallas wins every home game, because she’s here every week…
” My heart is pounding, and my palms are going sweaty.
“…serving you food and drinks! Cinderella is a peasant after all.” All heads whip over in the direction of the concession stand near the front entrance.
“Snack Bar Girl is Cinderella, also known as Ella Simmons, a wannabe student at Bristol Bay!”
Snack Bar Girl.
Ella.
BBUGirl.
My head is pounding, trying to process all the information that has been dropped on me in the last thirty seconds.
My BBUGirl is my fierce hockey-playing acquaintance, Ella?
I only had a crush on one girl after all.
Interesting.
The crowd is loud and boisterous, with most heads turned toward the snack bar. My eyes drift to her. Ella is a statue, standing straight and tall, but then spins around and rushes toward the exit, vacating the building entirely.
The crowd laughs as she disappears, but it dies down quickly so only arena noise remains.
“Ready?” Our captain pats me on the back.
I clear my throat. “Yeah,” I lie as I skate over to our bench before the game begins.
What just happened?