Page 4 of Full Body Check

“Okay, so that was a little weird, and a lot creepy,” Nikki is mumbling, seemly dazed, as she walks up behind me.

“What was?” I ask, meeting her vacant eyes in the mirror as I add a few finishing fluffs to my hair.

“Some lady just called, said she was with Freeze Hospitality, or something like that, and she wanted to confirm that I’d be using both my seats for tonight’s game.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” I laugh. “And since when are you prone to paranoia? I’m sure they’re just calling around to see if anyone can’t make it tonight so they can give the seats to someone else. It sounds like maybe somebody important came in town or something; nothing to worry about.” I give her reflection a reassuring smile.

She shrugs, an iffy smile of her own gradually building. “Just struck me as odd since they’ve never done it before, but you’re probably right. Okay then, you ready to go?”

“Yep.” I cap my lip gloss and pivot, ready to roll.

Nowher smile’s built; big and bright. “Just like that, huh? No trying to talk me into doing something else? No bitching about the cold?”

“Nope.”

“All rhetorical questions, G,” she laughs. “Knew you’d be morethan up for another game before I even suggested it. Before the last one was even over, come to think of it. Oh” — she stops at the front door, glancing back at me over her shoulder — “and just in case you were wondering, yes, I did notice the mysterious lack of twelve layers over your low-cut sweater this evening.”

I flip her off and push her out the door, ignoring her ongoing laughter as we hurry to climb into her car. No, I didn’t balk at going to a second game; what’s the big deal? And yes, I might’ve put a little extra effort into my appearance tonight, but again, why’s that noteworthy? Because Nikki’s a pain in the ass, that’s why. She just always has to say something, but I don’t mind; I became immune to her ribbing years ago.

Besides, like her, I too, am a single, grown woman… who, unlike her, hasn’t been on a decent date, or had sex, in almost three years, dammit! Eight-hundred and ninety-seven days, to be exact! So, hell yes, should the sexiest man I’ve ever seen happen to flirt with me again tonight, I fully intend to do everything in my power to encourage him to not skate away this time.

Well, he’ll probably need to skate away, because of the game and all… but if I have my way, he’ll skate right back over at some point. And maybe, if the guardian angels assigned to oversee my vagina haven’t given up hope and applied for a transfer, he’ll slap a note with his phone number against the glass. Or just break through the meager barrier and carry me away. A girl can dream.

And although Nik loves teasing me, I know she’ll back my plan one-hundred percent. “You’re slipping; you never got around to guessing my favorite player the other night.”

“I didn’t?” I feign innocence, if Nikki can dish it out, non-stop, she can certainly take some ribbing. “Oh, that’s right. I decided not to risk it because I was torn, still am, if you were lying about it being my winker, Brewer, for my sake, of course, or if it’s number fifty-two. Guess I’ll have to pay closer attention to Mr. Five-Two’s fine ass tonight to decide.”

Right on cue, she halts mid-step in our trek across the parking lot and gasps. “What? The hell you will, selfish. You only get one, and it’s not gonna be Lance Fox. He’s mine. You keep your eyes off his fine everything, Miss!”

What’s this? I’m right? Of course I am, and her reaction’s even better than I expected. Too bad I can’t prolong her suffering just a bit longer, but I can’t hold in my snicker. “You make it too easy, Nik. I pegged your pick of the litter before the first goal in the last game and I was just waiting to see if you’d spill first. You held it in a lot longer than I figured you would, or could, so good job. I’m impressed.”

“Bitch,” she grumbles, shoulder-bumping me. “Now move your ass, funnygirl. I don’t want to miss warm-ups.”

Don’t have to ask me twice — neither do I.

I should’ve known better than to get my hopes up so dangerously high — once-in-a-lifetime moments are called that for a reason —once being the key, operative word in the phrase. It’s already the first break thingy, where the announcers invite the kids out on the ice to play a few games… and nothing from my favorite Freeze player.

He didn’t so much as glance my way, all through warm-ups and the first period; and now, I’m really wishing I would’ve worn a coat, or two, because I’m freezing to damn death in this stupid sweater he hasn’t even noticed. In fact… “Hey, Nik, would you be mad if I wanted to leave early? Or now? I’m cold, and-”

“Disappointed? Pouting?” she finishes for me honestly, versus whatever other transparent excuses I was about to make. “Yeah, I would be, hella mad; but for you, not at you. Because that’s some bullshit, G. You’re a strong, independent, gorgeous woman, whose self-worth has never, nor will ever, be defined by the attention, or lack thereof, of a man! We’re staying, sister. And dammit, we’re gonna have fun. All the fun!”

All right then, guess I’m staying. And, from the sound of it, possibly marching in some sort of Women’s Movement parade later. I can only hope the march includes a radicalistic demonstration where we burn our bras, because again, I. AM. FREEZING… so any type of fire would be a nice bonus.

“Miss Everett?” We both turn our heads at the sound of her name, a smiley usher standing beside us.

“Yes?” Nik replies.

“I was asked to give you this.” He hands her a small envelope. “Enjoy the rest of the game, ladies.”

“What is it?” This earns me a sarcastic, ‘really’ look from Nikki, followed up immediately by…

“Well, I seem to have misplaced my see-through-paper-powers, so maybe I should open it, and we can find out together!” Love her, but she is the biggest smartass ever born. “I probably won a “lucky seat” drawing or something. Please, please, let it be a, meet the players, pass,” she chants as she rips it open. Once she has, I try my best to read over her shoulder, but, like the impossible brat she can’t help but be, she shifts away so I can’t see the note.

“What’s it say?” I finally shriek, out of patience after waiting way too long for her to finish reading the damn thing. She knows how to read, dammit; she’s torturing me on purpose. I make a grab for the paper, but she dodges just as quick, then whirls around to hit me with the glare of a serial killer… who luckily, has a soft spot for me.

“It says, ‘you really are a bitch.’ Seriously, Gracie, how do you even sit down with a giant, golden horseshoe up your ass?” she bites, but not hard, shoving the letter at me.

I do a quick scan of the letter, now wondering what’s got her so grouchy more so than what it actually says, but then… holy shit… it registers, and I read it again, slowly, savoring each and every word.

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