“Yeah, like you know, to hold up during the game. It was Preston’s idea.”
She blinks at me in confusion. “So, one pic and a kiss later and you’re on a first name basis with Christian’s nemesis?”
“Apparently. He really doesn’t like Christian.”
“I wonder what caused the beef between them,” Audrey muses.
“No idea. If I had to guess, it was probably a girl, right? I doubt I’ll ever find out. I just want to enjoy my quick fifteen minutes of fame and hope it burns Christian’s bread to see me with the one guy he told me to never sleep with.”
A laugh bursts from Audrey. “Burns his bread? Really, Elle?”
“Who am I kidding, right? Christian Riley won’t care if I made out with his rival. He’s too busy trying to win the championship trophy and sleep with all the female hockey fans in the world.”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Right. For now, I’m going to need to run to the nearest store that sells posterboard, stencils, markers, and glitter. Then, if we’re lucky, Preston is going to leave us better tickets at Will Call.”
“Way to go, girl! I’m so proud of you,” Audrey says as she throws her arm around my shoulders to give me a hug.
“I’m pretty proud of myself, too. Thanks for encouraging me to go through with this crazy idea for closure.”
“Anytime,” she agrees with a smile.
“I still can’t believe you actually putthaton a sign,” Audrey says as we walk back to the arena from the salon with the biggest piece of posterboard I could find clutched in my hand.
“Is it too much?” I ask with a wince.
“No, not at all. There aren’t any bad words, so I bet you’ll even make it on camera. Christian is going to hate it!”
“Yes, he is. That’s the whole point of making it and waving it over my head.”
“Right. If you want to hurt a man, tell the world his penis is smaller than his enemy’s. I can’t imagine a more painful statement to write in glitter markers.”
“This glitter is everywhere! I may never get it all off me,” I remark as I glance down at my blue and yellow shirt that now catches the light in the setting sun like a disco ball.
“It’s cute,” Audrey says. “There’s even a little on your nose.”
“Crap.” I swipe the back of my hand across my nose and face.
“Ah, Elle, you just added, like, a dozen more sparkles.”
“Great. I’ll have to shower when I get home and scrub with a loofa to get this mess off.”
“Not to rush you or anything, but the arena is getting packed. We should probably get to our seats.”
“Seats!” I exclaim at the reminder. “I need to go to the Will Call window and see if Preston got us better tickets.”
Thankfully, the line for that window outside the arena only has two people in it. After all, most people have their tickets on their phones nowadays.
Audrey and I wait our turn, and then I tell the white-haired lady at the window, “Hi, do you have any tickets for Elle Townsend?”
“Got ID?” She looks down through the glasses on her nose at us.
“I do. Here, hold my sign,” I tell Audrey so I can free up my hands to dig out my wallet from my small, clear, arena-approved purse. I learned that lesson from the first game. Clear bags only. I had to walk my ass all the way back to the salon the first game I came to a few years ago before they would let me in.
I open my wallet and turn it to the lady at the window to show her my license under the plastic holder. “That’s me. Elle Townsend.”
With a quick glance, she says, “Here you go,” shoving a pile of something black through the small hole at the bottom of the window. “Tickets are wrapped inside as instructed.”
