Chapter Nine
Ella
“BBUGirl?” a deep, masculine voice asks behind my shoulder.
I let out a large breath and internally shake off the nerves.
This is it.
As I turn, I ask, “SoloSurfer?”
I glance up, and then up some more, until my eyes collide with his familiar deep brown ones.
“Dallas Dawes?” My voice is shaky and hesitant.
How could the destined captain of the hockey team be my SoloSurfer?
“Uh, yeah.” He pauses as he rubs his hands over his dress pants. “I guess my costume gives me away.”
Dallas Dawes is sporting a long-sleeved, cream jacket with high collars and high shoulder pads with black dress pants.
He looks extremely regal as Prince Charming.
“And you are…Cinderella.”
I’m not sure why, but I feel a little silly being Cinderella to his Prince Charming, especially since I’m no princess.
“I take it you were expecting someone else?” he asks me after a beat of silence.
“Yeah, kind of,” I explain. No need to sugarcoat the truth, right? “No offense, but you don’t need to meet and message women from chat rooms. Girls throw themselves at you daily.”
“Yeah,” he admits, “but that’s surface stuff. Is it so wrong that I want a connection?”
“Well, no,” I stumble. Aren’t we all looking to connect and belong? I can’t fault a guy for that.
The noise inside the hockey house increases by a large degree. The music blares, and there is plenty of hooting and hollering to follow.
“Take a walk with me?” Dallas asks, his eyes pleading with me.
“On the balcony?” I question. “Kind of hard to do.”
“There are steps on the other side. I was thinking we could stroll along the beach.”
Did I mention that the hockey house was five houses down from the beach?
I gulp. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
I lift the silk fabric of my gown as I near the stairwell. Dallas offers his hand, and we descend the steps together, one hand hoisting my dress and the other steady with Dallas.
His palm is warm within mine, and I try to ignore the tingling shooting through me.
“Thank you.” I nod once we arrive at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes glance down to our locked hands, gazing for a few seconds before breaking his hand free from mine.
He rubs his hands on his pants again, rubbing his palm along his thigh.
I feel the loss of heat immediately, wishing in some way we were still connected, but I tamp down that thought real quick.
He’s Dallas Dawes, and I’m just…me.
We stroll down the sidewalk, wordlessly, until we arrive at a seawall and the entrance of the beach.
“Shall we?” Dallas gestures to the sand, and I simply nod in response.
I bend down and unclasp the latch to my heels, slipping them off and then dipping my bare feet into the cool sand. I shiver as the wind picks up, blowing my hair astray and getting goosebumps across my skin. It’s even colder down along the waves than on the balcony.
“Here,” Prince Charming says, stripping off his royal tunic and wrapping the extra-large jacket over my shoulders.
“Thanks,” I say with a small blush, pulling the jacket tight against me. “But what about you?” I ask.
“Don’t worry about me. Plus, I should have realized it would be colder down here.”
The waves crash along the shore, providing a soothing backdrop.
I smile down at my bare toes as we stroll step-by-step.
“I want to know everything about you,” he exclaims.
“Everything? That sounds like a lot.” My hands are shaky, and there’s a knot in my stomach.
“How about a game of twenty questions?”
“Twenty? How about ten?” I offer instead. “And I get to ask ten questions of you as well.”
“I’ll take it,” he says with a grin.
He taps his finger to his chin, and after a minute, he asks, “So, you are a student at Bristol Bay?”
“Yes,” I chuckle. “That’s your first question.
We met in a Bristol Bay student chat, and we—” are in the same class.
I’m about to say it, but cut myself off before I realize my mistake.
I know who he is, but he has no idea that I’m snack bar girl or the loner girl in the back of his biology class.
I’m nothing like the girls I often find him with.
“And we chat all the time about school stuff.”
When I say school stuff, I kind of mean hockey and our love of the game. I didn’t realize that he was a hockey player himself, as I figured we were both just rabid fans. I’m kind of embarrassed now about some of the things I’ve said to him before.
“I can’t believe you wasted your first question on that!”
“I was just checking! Plus, I have nine more!” he protests.
“Okay, make it a good one then.”
“Will do.” He pauses and then asks, “Were you disappointed when you found out it was me? You know as SoloSurfer?”
I take a minute to think about it and then answer honestly. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Oh.” His eyes perk up. “You clearly knew who I was. Have we met before?”
“Yes.”
“And I was a jerk to you.” It comes out more as a statement than a question.
I mull over this question. Has Dallas Dawes ever been a jerk to me? Some of his other teammates and friends have, for sure, but Dallas has never been cruel.
“No.” I pause, drawing my toe in the sand. “We haven’t interacted much.”
That’s the truth. I’ve just crushed on him from afar, like every other student at Bristol Bay University, and probably others, too.
“Okay.” He nods. “Good.”
“Have you ever been a jerk to anyone?” I ask my first question.
“I’d like to think I haven’t, but you never know.” We are quiet for a moment, and then he speaks again. “Okay. Next Question. If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
“Hm.” I tap my chin. “Probably a burger and fries. How about you?”
“Probably the same. Add some bacon and all the toppings on there, too.”
“That sounds divine actually.”
“Right? What else sounds divine to you?” he asks with his eyes locked onto mine.
“Ice cream. Always.”
“Favorite flavor?”
“Chocolate chip cookie dough.” I could eat it for breakfast if I could. “What about you?” I ask in return.
“Vanilla.”
“Vanilla!” I say in mock outrage. “With all the different flavor possibilities?”
“I’m a classic guy, what can I say?”
I hum with quiet acceptance.
The beach is quiet with only the random person here and there. The only light blasts from the lighthouse up the bay, with the occasional house lights on from nearby houses.
We take our time strolling along the beach and talking.
“Do you think we could make this work?” he asks, his face sincere.
“Dallas, I don’t know…” I trail off. “We are just so different.”
“Different, how?”
“You are all out of questions.” I shrug.
“I’m pretty sure I have one more,” he argues.
“Fine. One more.”
“Can I?” His fingers trail the bottom of my powder blue eye mask.
I swallow, then nod once.
My hands start to sweat as his fingers trend upward to lift the mask, but then—
Donnngggg.
The fog signal from the lighthouse down the shore sounds off, indicating that the clock struck midnight. I step back, and Dallas’ fingers drop down to his side.
“Everything okay?” he asks, but I’m already grabbing my shoes and slipping them back on my feet without clasping them. I tug off his jacket and toss it to him, then pull up my dress as I run backward on the sand, still facing him.
“I had a lovely time!” I yell as I run farther from him as fast as I can in the sunken sand.
His steps pick up, trying to match my speed, but luckily I’m still ahead.
“I must go!” How do I tell him that it’s not him, it’s me?
“Do you have a curfew or something?” His tone is perplexed.
“Something like that!”
“Wait, I need a bonus question,” he doesn’t wait for my response as he asks, “You’re an actual adult, right? You’re at least eighteen?”
I stumble over my feet as I hear his strained voice. “Of course!” I scream, hoping he’ll hear me through the waves and the distance.
“Okay, that’s good,” I barely hear his response. “How do I find you again?” His voice is louder now.
I don’t know.
Instead of answering, though, I finally hit the pavement, turn the corner, and run.