Chapter Twelve
Ella
“This is crazy!” I yell over to Faye and Cami as I scoop some popcorn up and shove it into a box. The ice arena doesn’t employ Cami, but she jumped behind the snack bar to help Faye and me once she saw how long the line was before the game. It hasn’t let up yet.
We’re only five minutes into the Harbor Seals’ home game, and the arena is packed.
This rink is smaller than the one they typically played at, you know, before the fire, but there are many more fans than usual. They normally only pack the stands for the playoffs, but not always.
Hockey is popular, sure, but it’s harder to get students to a cold arena off campus, especially when the shuttles don’t run this way.
“What is going on?” I ask again when the line finally quits halfway into the first period.
“You don’t know?” Cami asks.
“No,” I shake my head.
“Dallas Dawes stated after the last game that he missed his Cinderella, and he needs her in the stands to help him play better. That’s why this place is packed with single and eager females to cheer him on.”
I freeze in place as soon as Dallas Dawes’ name leaves her lips.
Wait.
What?
He’s missing his Cinderella?
He’s missing me?
After Halloween, I’ve been drowning in work. Some of it is self-inflicted because I’ve missed Dallas more than I’d like to admit. So, I’ve been keeping myself extra busy, especially in my textbooks. I also no longer have my phone to keep me distracted either.
Anytime the hockey players have had practice or games the past couple of weeks, I’ve always volunteered in the back kitchen or cleaning, where I’m visible at the snack bar as little as possible.
Not that I think he’d recognize me anyway, but because I can’t look at him without feeling depressed and a little bit cowardly. I should probably just tell him it’s me and get the rejection over with, but for some reason, I just want to be Dallas’ girl a little longer.
I didn’t realize his game was suffering because of that.
That’s the last thing I want.
I glance around the arena and zone in on the fans.
Huh.
The stands are packed with beautiful girls, most wearing homemade versions of Dallas’ jersey or other Harbor Seals gear. My stomach churns thinking that someone else will be Dallas’ person other than me, but that’s my destiny if I don’t speak up.
“Is he playing better?” Faye asks Cami, but I think the question is solely for my benefit.
I admitted to Faye, after I spent a little too much time with cleaning chemicals, that Dallas was my prince charming.
“Nah.” Cami shakes her head. “His Cinderella must not be here,” she adds, clueless that she’s talking about me.
I’m obviously here tonight, but I haven’t been able to watch him play since he revealed his identity.
“They need to bench Dallas,” a fan grumbles as he passes by.
“Ouch,” I mumble under my breath. I feel for him right now, but there’s nothing I can do, even if I watch the game instead of work.
Faye is staring at me intently.
“What?” I ask, lifting my hand in the air. Her eyebrows raise.
“What?” Cami asks as she bounces her eyes between us.
“Are you going to do something about this?”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I admit as Faye continues to stare at me.
“Anyone planning to clue me in?” Cami asks with her hands braced on her hips.
I let out a sigh. I know Faye won’t say anything if I don’t, but it feels weird leaving her out.
“I may be Cinderella,” I say as Cami gasps on cue.
“What?!” she exclaims.
“You know my mystery messaging guy?” I shrug, letting her fill in the gaps.
She gasps. “No!”
“Yes!”
“And they met on Halloween, and she lost her shoe dressed as Cinderella!” Faye pipes in.
“No!” Cami squeals.
“And he was dressed as Prince Charming,” Faye decides to add.
I cradle my face in my arms, trying to limit my embarrassment.
“What are the odds!” Cami says.
“Very slim,” I mumble underneath my arm cocoon.
The two of them continue to gossip and laugh at my expense until the period ends, and we get inundated once again with hungry fans.
When there are only five minutes left in the game, Faye nudges my shoulder. “Why don’t you watch the last few minutes?”
“It’s okay. I’m fine here.” I hug my arms over my chest.
“Humor me,” she says, as she nods towards the stands. “Let’s see how he does with eyes on him.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
On cue, the crowd collectively groans, and I glance up to the big screen where there’s a replay of Dallas tripping over thin air and collapsing on the ground. Shit. Maybe I should watch, but before I make a final decision, he’s skating off the ice, head hung low.
Fans start to exit in large packs, many female ones too, despite there being some time left on the clock.
* * *
I’m one of the few people left at the rink, mainly just Harry and Faye flirting near the pro shop, refusing to leave before I do. All the fans, players, and coaches are long gone.
With a black trash bag in hand, I saunter into the men’s locker room for a final check.
I trip over my feet when my gaze lands on those familiar chestnut-brown eyes. Dallas is sitting on the bench, his broad shoulders hunched over, still half-dressed in his equipment.
“I’m sorry,” I squeak out. “I thought everyone had left by now.”
“Did everyone leave?” His eyes are wide and hopeful.
“Yeah. It’s empty here.”
“Outside, too?”
“Oh. I don’t know…” I trail off, because I have no idea. “Do you want me to check?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He sinks his head into his hands. “Can I stay here?”
“Sorry, no,” I hesitate before bending down to sit beside him.
The scent of sweat and gear is strong, but I ignore it, or try to.
“Sorry, I should’ve…” He waves to himself, maybe referencing his odor. Is he a mind reader?
“I don’t mind.” It’s the truth. I’ve lived in ice rinks since birth, and the scent is second nature to me now. Plus, it’s not him that smells but merely the room itself.
Dallas’ head turns in the opposite direction as he packs up his gear, which gives me the perfect opportunity to admire his face. His jawline is chiseled and sharp, with the perfect amount of stubble that can’t hide his current frown.
However, it’s his eyes that I can’t take my sight off of. They are dark and sunken with shadows under them. It’s in deep contrast to the typical carefree Dallas Dawes with his bright eyes and general sparkle.
My heart hurts for him a little.
“Need to talk?” When he doesn’t immediately answer, I spit out, “Or skate?”
Skating is always my go-to when life gets me down.
“Won’t we get in trouble?” he asks.
“Nah.” I wave my hand in front of my face.
Plus, I have it on good authority that Vienna is predisposed and nowhere near the rink tonight. I’m free for a couple of hours at least.
“Do you even know how to skate?” he asks, as he eyes me up and down with skepticism.
Is he trying to piss me off? I’ve probably been skating longer than him.
I rise from the bench and place my hands on my hips. “I know how to do more than serve soda and popcorn,” I argue.
“Alright. Alright.” Dallas says with hands up in the air in mock surrender. “Didn’t know if you’d have stuff to do so.”
Is that really the reason?
“I can scrounge something up,” I say, a little lighter this time.
I keep everything I have here throughout the rink, and if I didn’t, Harry would give me something from the pro shop in a heartbeat. “Want me to add hockey gear?” I ask him. “We can practice some drills or play one-on-one?”
His eyes quirk up at my last offer. “Yeah, gear if you play. Let’s see what you got.”
I turn to exit the locker room when Dallas asks, “What did you say your name was again?”
“Ella,” I choke out. Why does my voice sound so weird? I’m having trouble staying chill around him.
“Dallas,” he says, and before he lifts his hand in its entirety, I march out in search of my gear. I will lose all thought if I touch this man right now. I have no idea how I’ll manage to skate with him.