PART SEVEN

Nerves caused my stomach to clench when I heard Sidney knocking on my door at ten after seven. I checked myself one last time before I answered—I had to admit, I looked good. My blonde, layered hair was perfectly straight and I was wearing just enough makeup to accentuate my blue eyes and fair complexion. My navy cocktail dress looked amazing, too. I ran my hands down my dress and opened my door with a huge smile.

“Hi,” Sid greeted, handing me a single red rose.

“Hi,” I replied. “You look great.” Sid was wearing a black pinstriped suit with a crisp white shirt underneath. The collar of his shirt needed fixing; I raised my hand to smooth it, but quickly withdrew it.

“You, too.” Sid hooked his arm through mine and led me to the elevator and then out of the building.

My palms were sweaty as I fastened my seatbelt. “So, where are we going?” I asked as Sid turned the key in the ignition.

“McDonalds.”

I inhaled sharply. “Aren’t we a little…overdressed?”

Sid hit the brakes and stared at me incredulously. “I’m not taking you to McDonald’s. God, how hopeless do you think I am?”

I grinned with relief. “Pretty hopeless,” I replied truthfully. “I mean, you can’t even dress yourself,” I teased and reached over and smoothed his collar. It had been annoying me since he’d showed up.

“Thanks,” Sid said with a sheepish grin. “We’re going to an Italian place in the Strip District. I’ve never tried it before so hopefully it doesn’t suck.”

It didn’t suck. Actually, the food could have been absolutely horrible and I wouldn’t have noticed—I was so entranced by Sidney I couldn’t taste my pasta. We had both been fairly awkward and nervous at the beginning of dinner, but soon we had eased into a natural conversation. He told me all about his hockey career, staring with his stint with Tim Horton’s PeeWee team. I bored him with details of my life, although he was amused when I told him I was the most penalized player on my team my first year of Secondary.

There was a slight lull in conversation, so I asked when the next home game was.

“Next Wednesday. Against the Devils.”

“Hopefully I’ll be able to come. I wanted to be there for the Montreal game but I needed to get my apartment organized, so I just watched the game on television.”

“Oh. So you saw it.” Sid’s expression darkened slightly and he stabbed his scampi.

“Yeah. It was a good game,” I replied awkwardly.

“Let’s not talk about it,” he said firmly. He paused and his dark mood seemed to have passed. “You start work on Monday.”

I nodded. “I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be. You’re going to be the most beautiful, intelligent girl in the office. In the entire building.”

I grinned. “Nice line.”

Sid smiled and looked to the side. “A little too much, huh?”

“Just a little.”

Before we knew it, it was ten o’clock. “Oh man,” Sid looked at his watch and then glanced at me with a reluctant expression. “We’d better head out…I have to be up early tomorrow. We’re leaving for Toronto.”

We climbed back into his Range Rover and Sid took me back to my apartment building. “I’ll walk you up,” he said, opening the car door for me. He hesitated for a second and then reached for my hand. I noticed it was as clammy as mine and smiled.

“Thanks, Sid. I had a really great time,” I said as we arrived at my apartment door.

“Me, too.”

I paused for a moment and then leaned in and gently brushed his left cheek with my lips. “I’ll see you soon?” I half-asked.

Sid brightened. “I’ll call you.”

“Good luck in Toronto.”

“Thanks.” He gave my hand a light squeeze and walked to the elevator. I closed my apartment door behind me and leaned up against it. My heart was beating so hard I was afraid it would burst through my chest, and then I would die before I actually kissed Sidney Crosby.

***

When I awoke Saturday morning, I was still giddy. My mind kept reviewing the date over and over. I had had an amazing time—I didn’t feel like I had to put on an act. I was completely at ease with Sid, but somehow nervous around him at the same time. Maybe not nervous, more like expectant. For the first time in my life, I wanted to share my life with someone. But not just anyone…with Sidney Crosby.

I passed the day by shopping, and returned to my apartment to make a quick dinner and settle in to watch the game. The Pens won six to four, and as I watched the team congratulate each other after the final buzzer I couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret that I wasn’t there. I imagined Sid, Colby, Marc-André, and a handful of other guys crammed into a hotel room, celebrating their win.

I flipped open my cell phone and scrolled to Sid’s number. “Congrats!” I texted him, and then pressed the Send button after debating about whether or not I should add “I miss you” to the end. I decided not too, not wanting to seem too eager.

About half an hour later, my phone beeped. I opened it and read the text message from Sidney: “Thanks! Wish you were here to celebrate with us.”

I smiled and cuddled into my bed. Yeah…I had it bad.