Charmed Life

Grappling around in my bag, my fingers came back empty. Glancing into my locker, I saw that it was sparse save for my worn out copy of The Secret Garden. I was already late, since my Microbiology professor decided to give out a pop quiz at the end of class today, so losing my nametag wasn’t exactly ideal.

Whatever. Maybe Josh wouldn’t notice my lack of a nametag.

I pulled my regulation black tank top down over my jeans and grabbed my pad and pen, heading out into the main dining area.

“Where’s your nametag, Alayna?” My manager, Josh, had the uncanny ability to be everywhere at once. And he always noticed the smallest details. Like my missing nametag. It was really annoying.

“I couldn’t find it,” I admitted. I’d looked everywhere, but the stupid thing was lost.

Josh sighed. “I’ll go make you a new one.”

I beamed. “Thanks!” Sighing with relief, I headed to my section of The Grille, a popular bar and restaurant close to Carnegie Mellon and the Console Energy Center, which meant that between college students and sports fans, it was always busy.

I greeted my guests and took their orders as our hostess, Amanda, brought them over to my section. I was on my way to the kitchen to place an order when Amanda walked by, heading to the hostess stand.

“Hottie alert,” she raised her eyebrows suggestively and I glanced over my shoulder. Noah Herbert. Grad student and love of my life, was waiting by the door, surrounded by his equally hot friends.

I smiled as I walked on, excited that something was going to go right today. Noah flirted with me every time he came in. Today, I knew, would be no different. He and his friends were all dressed in Pens Jerseys.

Guess there was a game tonight.

Three hours later, The Grille was packed as fans surrounded the multiple TVs. There was screaming and booing, but I was busy serving food and drinks.

“An assist from Malkin… and Neal scores! The Real Deal saved it for overtime!” I heard a collective roar of cheers and clinks of glasses and glanced at the TV. Its showed a close up of a player, skating around in celebration as his teammates swarmed him. There was a number 18 on his jersey, and then his face filled the screen.

I froze.

No. No. Absolutely not. I almost dropped the tray I was carrying full of chili cheese fries and jalapeno poppers.

I did NOT break into a professional hockey player’s house.

I couldn’t have.

But there was no denying it, though, that was him, all right.

Since starting here a month ago, I’d heard all their names hundreds of times. Malkin, Crosby, Neal, Letang. Some guy whose name reminded me of a McDonald’s milkshake. Flurry, I think. But I never had faces to pair them with the names. A girl like me could only worry about work and school, and that’s what I did. Hockey was nowhere near my priority list.

Until now.

Oh my god.

He was so close to me. The Console Energy Center was right there. But if he was IN the game, then he was nowhere near me…. I was safe.

Right?

“Lanie!” I whipped my head around. Ben, the cute bartender, was shouting impatiently at me. “Drinks up!”

I snapped back to reality and sighed. Nights like this, I’d have to stay late and probably not get home till one or later.

James Neal could kiss my ass. I had bigger problems to worry about.

Around midnight on a normal night, the crowd would start to die down. On weekends and game days, they got bigger and rowdier as the fans from the Energy Center came out for drinks after the game. A win like tonight, and I’d be here till two in the morning. If I was lucky.

“It’s your lucky night, Alayna,” Amanda whispered conspiratorially, smirking towards the entrance. “I’ll put ‘em in your section.” She winked and walked away as I glanced behind me.

My mouth literally dropped to the floor.

Was this for real?

It was HIM! Only he was here, and not on TV. And he had a bunch of big, burly, good-looking guys with him.

Ohmygod. They were going to gang rape me for breaking and entering into Neal’s house.

I panicked, heartbeat speeding up. “Amanda, no --”

But I was interrupted when a collective cheer rose as everyone applauded and clapped the guys on the backs. Taking advantage of the commotion, I ran to the bar, where Ben was busy shaking up drinks for some scantily clad girls. I looked around wildly. For what, I had no idea.

His eyes somehow found mine through the crowd, and I felt a tinkling shiver run up my back.

From fear, most likely.

Frantically, I did the only thing I could think of, and dropped to my knees behind the bar.

“Woah, Lanie,” Ben chuckled nervously, looking at the patrons sitting at the bar as they laughed at me. “What are… uh, what are you doing down there?”

“Lost my nametag,” I laughed, the sound too high. How did he find me? Did he come here to find me, or was he just out for a drink? Either way, he was here, and he knew where I worked now.

Crap.

And here I thought my night was going rather well. What the hell do I do?

The bar was a curved wooden structure, with a swinging door on either side. I’d have to crawl all the way from the one I’d use to enter to the other one, where I could make a run for it into the kitchen.

Why did I always end up on the floor where James Neal was concern? And all this running. Jeez. I was not the exercising kind of girl, and this was getting old. My heart couldn’t take much more of this.

But I definitely did not want to get arrested. Or gang raped. Whatever. James Neal couldn’t find me.

I began my journey across the floor behind the bar, groaning as the knees of my jeans became soaked in all the sticky sweet alcohol that missed the glass and ended on the ground. Ben stepped back, frowning down at me.

“Lanie,” he hissed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Running for my life,” I mumbled up at him, still maneuvering around all the dropped olives and candied cherries.

“Hey there! Great game tonight, can I get you a drink?” Ben said to some unknown customer as I continued my trek.

“No, I’m good.”

Shit. I knew that voice. I remembered that accent. Oh god. I crawled faster, hands and feet shuffling.

“I think you dropped this.” Said the same voice.

I stopped, and glanced up into James Neal’s frowning face.