Tomboy

Zach Ate More Tainted Muffins: There’s a lot not right with me, but that’s what makes me fun.

Now that was the truth.

Zach: See you at the game.

Zach Ate More Tainted Muffins: Yes. Jeesh.

He put his phone down on the island and turned back around to face the stove. The water was boiling away, but the idea of finding the lone box of pasta and throwing it in there so he could eat alone didn’t hold any appeal anymore. That easy loos

eness was in his muscles again.

“Fuck this.”

He switched off the stove and grabbed his phone.

Zach: Changed my mind about going to Petrov’s house.

Stuckey: Leaving in five. Grab you on my way.

…

The next night, Fallon decided it was a good thing she and Tess had seats at the very top of the Ice Knights’ arena’s second level. Really, that was as close as she needed to get to him. The man was invading her thoughts on an all-too-frequent basis as it was.

Tonight was just free tickets to see the Ice Knights—the only kind of tickets she could afford. It wasn’t like she actually wanted to see him anyway. She was here for the team.

She and Tess settled down in their seats with their plastic stadium cups of beer, which just about covered the cost of a ticket—hello jacked-up price tag—but it wasn’t like they’d be here in person again, so they might as well do it up right. The Thunder were a physical team with a hot new rookie scoring phenom that no one seemed to be able to touch. It was gonna be a rough-and-tumble game, with odds that didn’t look good for the Knights.

“Excuse me,” an usher said from the end of the row, looking right at Fallon. “There’s been a bit of a mix-up.”

Before she could say anything, her bestie jumped in.

“Are we in the wrong seats?” Tess asked, already picking up her purse from where it was hanging from the armrest. “I’m sorry, I’ve never been to a game before, and I must have misread the tickets. I did that once at Comic-Con and ended up missing my in-person visit with Patrick Stewart.” She let out an unhappy sigh. “Very. Disappointing.”

The usher gave her a bewildered smile, not an unusual reaction when it came to a first-timer’s exposure to Tess’s embarrassed verbal vomit.

“It was on our end,” he said. “We actually gave you the wrong tickets at the will-call window. I’m so sorry about that.”

That was officially weird. Her name had been printed on the outside of the white envelope in block letters. If the guy hadn’t been wearing an official usher’s jacket with photo ID clipped to it, she would have been more suspicious. As it was, she checked her natural inclinations and stood up, patting the kangaroo pocket of her Ice Knights sweatshirt to make sure her phone was still there.

“No worries,” she said.

The area around his eyes crinkled as he gave her a relieved smile. “If you’ll follow me.”

She and Tess did, walking out into the arena’s concourse that wrapped around the seating area. They went past the cinnamon pretzel place, passed by the hot dog vendor, and peeked in the exclusive season ticket holder bar as they walked by it. Instead of going up, the usher led them down a set of stairs and through another door that was guarded by an usher checking tickets, who didn’t give them a second look. When they walked back out into the seating area, they were on the first level.

The air was cooler down here closer to the ice as the usher led the way down the stairs and past the regular seats to the ones with thicker padding and the Ice Knights logo on them. Her pulse picked up with each step, and it got harder to hold her beer steady as realization dawned. When the usher finally stopped by two empty seats in the front, right next to the glass, the only thing going through her head was Oh my fucking God! These weren’t just good seats, they were once-in-a-lifetime seats for a fanatical-if-broke Ice Knights fan like her.

Eyes wide enough to fall out of her head, she turned to Tess, needing to share the OMG of the moment with someone. A casual observer, if that, Tess just smiled sweetly at the usher as if this was just a cool thing that happened.

“This can’t be right,” Fallon said, her belly all jumbly with excitement.

The usher handed her and Tess two brand-new tickets that listed their new seats. “We couldn’t have our own Lady Luck sitting way up there. Coach Peppers insisted.”

Some of the people sitting around them looked up at the nickname and gave her curious glances that made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up. This was very much not her jam.

“Thanks,” she said, trying her best to pretend that the usher and Tess were the only ones there.

He tipped an invisible hat and disappeared back up the stairs like a fairy god-usher who’d just turned a pumpkin into the best seats in the house.