Chapter 4 Miss Monday #2
“I’m fine. Just help me grab all of this stuff before something gets lost.” We both bend down and frantically begin collecting my belongings.
The crowd is huge, and people are coming and going in every direction.
It feels incredibly overwhelming as I try to dodge being stepped on and account for all of my things.
“You know this wouldn’t have happened if Raph had gotten us in with the rest of the WAGS,” my sister shouts, making her way towards my keys.
“Point made,” I bite out, grabbing a tube of lipstick from the floor.
“Here you go,” I hear a feminine voice say behind me. Still crouched down, I look over my shoulder to find the young Stella holding my purse.
“Thank you,” I say, grabbing my bag and placing my things inside.
“You dropped these too,” young Stella says, handing me the pack of trading cards.
She moves to pick up the cutout of Everett. “Let me help you with that,” I offer.
We work together to stand it up. I must’ve damaged it when I was pushed into it because the right arm is now cracked near the shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, running my hand over the damage. “If I need to pay for this I can. Can I give you my number or something?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she says, smiling again. “These things are easily fixed. Enjoy the game.”
“Are you sure?”
She nods and turns away, continuing to greet entering spectators.
Linking arms with my sister, I attempt to shake the sense that I’ve met this Stella before, but that seems impossible.
Right?
Right.
We maze through the crowd, only stopping to grab a bag of peanut M&Ms and a beer for Andi and popcorn and a water for me.
“Wow, these are great,” my sister chimes, moving past a few fans already seated in our row.
They are great seats. Center ice. Right behind the glass.
The perfect view of the game and every player.
Both teams are lined up, waiting for the National Anthem to be performed, and I breathe out a small sigh of relief that I made it before the start of the game.
My eyes survey the players in red first, and I immediately find Everett.
For a split second, my heart stops and my breath catches.
He has the same hair and beard from the photo.
I remember him being tall, but in his skates he’s even taller.
His bulky uniform and pads leave a lot to the imagination, but I know I wouldn’t have to think too hard to picture what he looks like under all of it—perfectly sculpted body, slutty thigh tattoo that made me weak, and a small trail of hair leading straight to his…
“Where’s Raph?” my sister asks, interrupting the thoughts I know I shouldn’t be having.
“He’s number seven,” I say, gesturing absently toward the line of players wearing purple and black.
Raph is just shy of six feet—a fact he absolutely hates. He has light skin, dark hair and eyes, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a beard. He’s handsome, but sometimes it feels like that’s all he is.
“And what’s Everett’s number?”
“Eleven.”
Andi begins to laugh, popping a few peanut M&Ms into her mouth. “Tonight’s going to be interesting isn’t it?”
“Just because I know his number doesn’t mean anything.”
“Sure it doesn’t,” she deadpans, shaking her head. “Oh, look it’s you!” My sister points to a large screen where a photo from the “Waltz Of The Snowflakes” scene is displayed advertising The Nutcracker.
“I didn’t know they had an ad here,” I say.
“So, now that you’ve been moved up to Sugar Plum, are you going to have to do both roles?”
“No. My understudy will take over for me, and I’ll take over for Marie.”
“That’s so exciting! How are you feeling about the switch?”
“Nervous, but really excited. I’ve wanted this role since I can remember, so the fact that I finally got it, and I get to perform it in the Christmas show, feels unreal. I just hope I do it justice.”
“You will.” She smiles and pops a couple more pieces of candy into her mouth.
The announcer comes over the loud speaker and introduces the performer who will be singing the National Anthem tonight, and cheers roll through the arena. We stand, and my feet ache as the singer belts out each line of the song, holding a few of the notes longer than she should.
I really should’ve opted for a more sensible shoe.
When it’s over, the crowd erupts and a hype video with loud music begins to play from the jumbotron. Everyone around us stays standing, but I fall back into my seat and my sister does the same.
“So, what trading cards did you get?” Andi asks, sipping her beer. Crossing her legs, she leans back in the chair, eyeing the card packet I’m still holding.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” I begin as I tear it open. “That interaction was so weird. My cab driver on the way here had the same pink hair, violet eyes, and was also named Stella. What are the chances I meet two people with that description on the same night?”
“Impossible. I think you’re exhausted from long dancing days, and your mind is playing tricks on you. Her eyes were definitely blue, and I don’t think her name was Stella.”
Pulling three cards from the packet, I flip the first one over.
Andi covers her mouth so that the sip of beer she just took doesn’t spray all over the glass in front of us.
“You got Everett. I’m dead.” The photo on the card is a picture of younger Everett, back when I knew him and he played for the Crowns the first time.
What are the fucking chances?
Taking a deep breath, I flip over the next trading card. Everett again, but this time he’s wearing his Texas jersey.
Is this a joke?
“Wait, I thought the whole point of these cards was that you got Crowns players. Why did you get a Texas Stallions player?”
“It’s Everett,” I say softly. “That’s why he and I stopped hooking up, remember? He got traded to Texas.”
“Oh, my god!” Her pitch rises. “Who’s on the third one?”
Flipping it over, I already know who it’s going to be before I see the picture. It’s the man I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the moment we got to our seats. Everett Nuttall. Number eleven. Forward and captain for the New York Crowns.
“Seriously?” She gasps. “What are the odds that you would get your former fuck buddy on all three cards? We should play the lottery or something tonight. I mean, that’s insane.”
“I told you there was something weird about the Stella girl. Maybe she’s a witch.”
Andi leans forward, placing the back of her hand on my forehead and then each of my cheeks. “Do you feel okay? You aren’t warm, but you sound crazy. A witch?”
“How else would you explain me getting three Everett Nuttall cards?”
“I think it’s just a coincidence and you’re letting your imagination get the best of you.” She laughs, sitting back in her chair again. “I told you the card girl wasn’t named Stella. Her eyes were blue, not purple. Are you sure you aren’t feeling sick?”
“I’m fine.” Tucking the three cards into my purse, I turn to face the rink.
My eyes shift back and forth between Raph and Everett as the players skate around the ice and line up for the game to begin.
The crowd roars as Everett and the Rat Kings’ forward meet at center ice.
The referee blows his whistle and drops the puck.
Everett wins the draw, pulling the puck back towards another red jersey.
The players glide over the ice, moving the puck between them and dodging the other team. Everett regains possession and manages to knock the puck toward another player before Raph comes out of nowhere, barreling them both into the glass in front of us.
In front of me.
“That was boarding!” the man next to me yells, throwing his fists against the glass, but the referee seems oblivious to what just happened. More shouts echo through the stadium as fans become angry that no call was made.
My eyes stay locked on the men in front of me.
Raph turns and throws me a wink before shoving Everett back into the boards and skating towards the play.
Everett pauses for a split second. His hazel eyes find mine.
My lips part slightly, and I bring my hand up in a small wave, and then he’s gone. Skating like mad and fighting to win.
“I imagine that means Raph knows about you and Everett’s history?” Andi asks, grimacing.
“Yeah,” I say, dropping my hand. “They played together on the Crowns for a season before Everett left.”
Raph knows exactly what he’s doing, and my stomach turns at the realization that while I’ve been worried about what would happen if Everett and I saw each other, I should’ve been worrying about Raph interacting with him instead.