Chapter 7 #2
“Yeah, I got that from the outfit,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “But what does that mean exactly?”
She takes a breath. “You know the movie Iced Out? The one done by Evermore Productions?”
I nod. Everyone knows that movie.
“Well, that's what I do. I dress up as her and attend children's birthday parties. I sing, I dance, I talk about my pet snow fox named Nibbles, and I make little girls believe in magic for a couple of hours.”
Children's birthday parties.
A snow fox named Nibbles.
Making little girls believe in magic.
She's not dancing at Behind Closed Doors. She's not doing anything remotely close to what I'd been torturing myself imagining for the past twenty minutes.
She's Princess Blanca.
“Well, that's fucking adorable.”
Her head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise.
Right. Princess. No swearing.
“Sorry, Princess Blanca. That's fricking adorable.”
She shrugs, deflecting like she always does. “It pays the bills. Three hundred and fifty for this one, which is why I really couldn't afford to miss it.”
“Three hundred—Holy sh—” I catch myself. “I mean, wow. You make more in an hour than I do in a week of skating lessons.”
“Yes, well, performing at these things and keeping the magic alive is harder than it looks.”
“I bet it is.”
This girl. Every time I think I’ve got a handle on who she is, she throws in something I’d never expect.
She applies her lipstick, and I watch her, wondering what it would feel like to kiss her.
Get it together, Hendricks!
I shake my head and clear my throat before adjusting myself in my seat.
“So, what time does this finish?”
“Finish?”
“Yeah, I’m taking you back to campus after.”
She hesitates, and I can see the internal debate playing out on her face. “No, it's fine. I'll just…”
She trails off, and I know she's going to say she'll take the bus.
Carrying all that tulle and glitter on public transportation… yeah, not happening.
“Like I said, I don’t have any plans,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “I can hang out, maybe grab some food.” I point my thumb to the chicken joint behind me. “Then I’ll drive you back. I’m here. Let me help you.”
Her lips purse, and I can feel her softening. “I promise not to flirt with you… much.”
Another pause. She's weighing her options: take the bus with that giant costume, or sit in my truck for half an hour.
“Fine,” she finally says. “But only because it's convenient.”
“Of course.” I fight back a smile. She can't just accept help. She has to qualify it.
“And you have to wait in the car.”
“What? I don't get to see Princess Blanca in action?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But I want to hear about Nibbles the snow fox!”
“You have more than enough time to watch Iced Out on your phone while I’m in there. You can learn all about Mr. Nibbles there.”
I chuckle as she grabs her bag and reaches for the door handle. “Sounds like I’ve got my afternoon planned then.”
She opens the door, pauses, and then says without looking at me, “Thank you. For the ride…and for not laughing at my job.”
“Why would I laugh?” I say, and I need her to hear this. Really hear it. “You're literally making kids happy for a living. That's… It's pretty awesome, actually, and anyone who says differently is selling something.”
The reference makes her smile, and when she glances over her shoulder, her eyes are soft and vulnerable like she’s letting me see past all the walls she keeps up.
For a moment, neither of us speak.
My chest tightens. This girl—this infuriating, complicated, beautiful girl—has been carrying around the weight of people judging her, and here I am, just one more person she expected to disappoint her.
“I'll be done in two hours,” she says quickly, breaking the moment. “If you're not here, I'll understand.”
“I'll be here.” It's not a question. It's a promise.
She steps out of the truck, and I can't help myself. I say, “Break a leg, Princess Blanca! Say hi to Nibbles for me!”
She doesn't turn around, but I see her shoulders shake—with laughter, maybe, or just exasperation at my existence.
I watch her walk toward the venue, this tiny figure drowning in an enormous blue dress, glitter trailing behind her like fairy dust.
Once she disappears through the doors, I lean back and blow out a breath, happy that I could help her. It’s not going to completely make up for the fountain incident, but it’s a start.
What do I do for two hours? I could go to the chicken joint next to Behind Closed Doors, but I’m not hungry.
“I guess I’m watching Iced Out,” I say to myself as I pull out my phone. It’s then I see my phone’s blowing up from that stupid group chat.
Erik: Erik here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of the Covey Crushers.
Erik: Did you know, our very own Mr. Stanley Cup left with his fountain fashionista this afternoon after a very flirty study session?
Cade: I didn’t realize this was a team gossip channel. If that’s the case, then we need to close it down.
Erik: But it’s for team bonding. Isn’t this what team bonding is?
I roll my eyes because of course Erik would take this opportunity to gossip about me.
Erik: Now, the only question we have left is where is that titan of the ice?
Scotty: None of your business.
Erik: Really? Because the locator app has you down as at Behind Closed Doors.
Dash: I thought we deleted that stupid app?
Cade: What’s he doing there? Is he meeting someone?
Erik: Maybe the Waterlogged Temptress has another job there…
Cade: She doesn’t. I’d know.
Brooks: And how exactly would you know?
Cade: Trust me, bro. I’d know.
Erik: Well, if he’s not there… then maybe something else is going down…hopefully him.
I exit out of the chat, and uninstall the location app. Giving Erik that kind of knowledge is just asking for it. Don’t get me wrong… I like Erik. He’s a fun guy, but he’s just obsessed with meddling in other people’s business.
Drumming my fingers against the steering wheel, I stare at the glowing entrance of the hotel. Laura specifically told me to stay in the car, and I agreed.
I meant it at the time.
But would it hurt to sit in there?
It’s an upscale place, and I bet it would have a nice little bar in it playing some sports.
I could just… sit in there.
Quietly.
It’s not like I’d be intruding. The most I’d see is a passing glance of Laura, and even then I doubt I’d see anything.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm out of the truck and walking toward the hotel's entrance. The lobby is sleek and modern, with a sign directing guests to “Princess Emma's Royal Birthday Celebration” in the Lakeside Ballroom.
Surely the bar would be close to the ballroom. Tucking my hands in my pockets, I head that way.
When I see the large ballroom doors, I can hear the Iced Out theme tune blasting out and children laughing.
I have no doubts that’s where Laura is right now.
My hands clench in my pockets because all I can think about is how good she looked in that dress, and how much I wanted to kiss the lipstick off her lips.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t…but what would be the harm in just a quick glance to see what she’s doing?
I edge toward the ballroom doors, thankful that one side is partially open, and poke my head through. To my disappointment, I can’t see what’s going on because there are too many parents in the way.
My hand is resting on the door, and I contemplate pushing it open and pretending I’m a dad or brother of one of the kids just so I can see her… but I’d rather not get arrested.
A man clears his throat behind me. “Can I help you?”
Shit.
This does not look good.
I force out my TV smile and turn to see a guy in a Carolina Catfish baseball cap watching me with narrowed eyes.
Can’t say I blame him. Judging by the shirt he’s wearing—Princess Emma’s Dad: I didn’t choose the Princess life…It chose me—I’m guessing he’s the birthday girl’s father, and I’m just some weirdo peeping in.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Do you work here?”
“No.” I clear my throat. Maybe I should’ve taken Laura’s advice. Pointing my thumb to the ballroom, I say, “I just came to check on Princess Blanca. She’s my…”
Study partner…
Reluctant passenger…
Fountain fumble…
“Girlfriend.” I inwardly cringe, knowing full well she’s going to kill me for this.
“Your girlfriend?” He raises a brow before pointing at me. “Hold up, do I know you?”
“Uh, I don’t think so, sir.”
The smile on his face grows. “No. I know you. You’re Scotty Hendricks, right? I’m not much of a hockey fan, but my wife loves Hendricks Unchecked. She’s always talking about your dimples.”
“Yeah, that’s me. Tell your wife thanks. My mom says the dimples are the only reason anyone keeps me around.”
“Do you want to go in there?” He gestures to the ballroom. “You want to watch her?”
More than anything on this planet.
I tip on my toes, trying not to sound so eager.
“I’d love to, but are you sure?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. You might end up being bombarded by a few of the dads…and the moms, but at least you’d be able to see your girl perform. She’s incredible.”
“She is.”
He opens the door, and I step inside. It’s definitely crossing a line, and I’m sure Laura will be furious if she catches me here, but I need to see her. Not just because I’m curious about this Princess Blanca version of her—though I am—but because I want to see her in her element.
It’s like someone cracked open a snow globe in here.
Silver and blue are draped from wall to wall while fake snow covers the ground and tables.
I slip past parents and a gift station until I spot a small stage with a throne-like chair waiting at the end.
About twenty little girls in glittery dresses sit in a semicircle, and at the center of it all is Laura, or rather, Princess Blanca.