Sequel: Picking Up the Pieces ›
Bringing the Devil Out of Me
One
I dashed down the street, my thoughts racing as I checked my watch frantically once again. 4:30 PM. Dammit! I thought, I'm always late! My heart pounded as I dashed towards the address written on the business card I clutched in my sweaty hand. Suddenly someone stepped out of a building to my left and I slammed straight into them before tumbling to the ground.
"I am so sorry!" I cried, bolting right back to my feet.
"Don't sweat it. Are you okay?" the guy who I ran into said with a cheeky smile. I felt my face flush slightly as I took in his altogether gorgeous face. He had a sharp nose, full lips, big, white teeth, curly brown hair and the most beautiful hazel eyes I had ever seen.
"I...I'm fine. Late, but fine," I managed to choke out. He frowned suddenly, and took my wrist in his hand.
"Your hand is bleeding," he said, holding up my palm so that I could see it. Sure enough, there was a shallow, jagged cut where I had used my hand to break the fall.
"I'll live. I've been through worse," I chuckled.
"You were running pretty fast...are you late for something important?" he asked. I studied his face briefly, and that nagging feeling that I should know his name filled my chest.
"Yes, I'm late for a job interview," I sighed, checking my watch again. 4:34.
"Where are you headed?" he asked. I handed him the business card and he studied it for a moment before handing it back to me.
"I'll come with you. I know some people there so I think I can pull some strings and have them forgive you for being late," he chuckled before walking off. I scurried to catch up with him. He was very tall, a good few inches taller than me anyway. We quickly found our way to the towering building where I was to be interviewed and several people began to whisper as we walked up to the main desk.
"Hi," I said, "I'm here for an interview,"
"Miss...Parker is it?" the secretary asked. She was a young woman, probably only in her early 30's, but her attitude revealed a much more irritable, older interior person.
"Yes, that's right," I said.
"You're late," she growled.
"That's my fault ma'am. I know George very well, so is it alright if I go up with Miss Parker?" the man asked, leaning on the counter. He flashed her a grin that brought some pink to her cheeks and she nodded. We immediately headed over to some elevators to the right.
"It seems like you know where you're going," I said to the man as the elevator doors shut in front of us.
"You know, for someone who is here for a sports writer interview, you aren't very good at recognizing athletes are you?" he chuckled. I raised an eyebrow as the doors opened once more. We stepped out into the busy reporting room and I immediately heard a very happy voice boom out over the din of phones ringing and typing.
"Sidney! How are you boy?" a very wizened man, probably in his late 50's cried from across the room. Oh my God...that's Sidney Crosby! I realized, staring at the man to my right.
"I am so sorry!" I cried, bolting right back to my feet.
"Don't sweat it. Are you okay?" the guy who I ran into said with a cheeky smile. I felt my face flush slightly as I took in his altogether gorgeous face. He had a sharp nose, full lips, big, white teeth, curly brown hair and the most beautiful hazel eyes I had ever seen.
"I...I'm fine. Late, but fine," I managed to choke out. He frowned suddenly, and took my wrist in his hand.
"Your hand is bleeding," he said, holding up my palm so that I could see it. Sure enough, there was a shallow, jagged cut where I had used my hand to break the fall.
"I'll live. I've been through worse," I chuckled.
"You were running pretty fast...are you late for something important?" he asked. I studied his face briefly, and that nagging feeling that I should know his name filled my chest.
"Yes, I'm late for a job interview," I sighed, checking my watch again. 4:34.
"Where are you headed?" he asked. I handed him the business card and he studied it for a moment before handing it back to me.
"I'll come with you. I know some people there so I think I can pull some strings and have them forgive you for being late," he chuckled before walking off. I scurried to catch up with him. He was very tall, a good few inches taller than me anyway. We quickly found our way to the towering building where I was to be interviewed and several people began to whisper as we walked up to the main desk.
"Hi," I said, "I'm here for an interview,"
"Miss...Parker is it?" the secretary asked. She was a young woman, probably only in her early 30's, but her attitude revealed a much more irritable, older interior person.
"Yes, that's right," I said.
"You're late," she growled.
"That's my fault ma'am. I know George very well, so is it alright if I go up with Miss Parker?" the man asked, leaning on the counter. He flashed her a grin that brought some pink to her cheeks and she nodded. We immediately headed over to some elevators to the right.
"It seems like you know where you're going," I said to the man as the elevator doors shut in front of us.
"You know, for someone who is here for a sports writer interview, you aren't very good at recognizing athletes are you?" he chuckled. I raised an eyebrow as the doors opened once more. We stepped out into the busy reporting room and I immediately heard a very happy voice boom out over the din of phones ringing and typing.
"Sidney! How are you boy?" a very wizened man, probably in his late 50's cried from across the room. Oh my God...that's Sidney Crosby! I realized, staring at the man to my right.