Page 84 of Rewind It Back

More hands are raised by reporters, but thankfully our media manager cuts in. “Thanks, everyone. That’s all the time Rio has for tonight.”

I’m up and out of my seat, grabbing my water off the table and hightailing it out of the media room as quickly as possible. Don’t get me wrong, I typically don’t mind when reporters call on me and want my take on the game, but tonight is theonenight I’m home.

Tonight is theonenight I have any hope of seeing Hallie.

It’s been five days since our almost-kiss, and I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. Haven’t really been able to get her off my mind in about fifteen years, but it’s been all-consuming the past few weeks. Her living in Chicago is like a bad drug, knowing in my head I should stay away, but needing that hit of seeing her. The more time I spend with her, the more time I need.

Back in the locker room, I find it completely empty. With only one night in town, the guys were quick to get home to their friends or families while I was finishing up postgame interviews.

Typically, when we’re playing in Chicago, I leave the arena in comfortable clothes, knowing I’m headed straight home. Tonight though, I change back into my pregame suit, grab my wallet and keys from my locker stall, and practically jog to my truck.

The bar is only a few blocks away and when I get there, I surprisingly find an empty space left in the lot. Hallie’s shitty Nissan Altima isn’t here, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s not working.

We’ve been texting here and there since I left on Monday. If she was getting ahold of me, it was with house-related things. If I was reaching out first, it was because I was wondering how her day was going or what she was doing.

On Tuesday, while I was in Tampa, the first snow had fallen in Chicago, and she casually mentioned that she took a rideshare into the city for work, in case her car decided to give her issues again. She very well could have done the same thing tonight, and if not, and she’s at home, I’ll go there instead.

Because I want to see her.

As much as I shouldn’t, as much as I want to write her off and hold on to old grudges, the truth is, I just want to see her. Now that I’ve admitted to both of us how much I’ve missed her, there’s no use in pretending that I don’t.

The bar is crowded for a Thursday, but it’s not nearly as busy as it was the last time I was here. There are plenty of Raptors’ jerseys, with fans grabbing a drink after the game. On my way to the bar, I get stopped more than I’d like, so I sign a couple autographs, smile for a few pictures, all while trying to get a glimpse past the crowd to see who’s working tonight.

I haven’t spotted her yet, so I weave my way through the bodies and high-top tables, finally making it to an empty stool tucked under the far corner of the bar top.

Ken Doll is taking orders, and another girl is working the well. There’s no Hallie, though.

I’m standing from my seat to go find her at home when the side door swings open. Hallie steps through, arms full of multiple different bottles of liquor from what must be the storage space.

My chest does this annoying tightening thing that it’s only done when I was a teenager, and the nerves instantly ramp up. They’re excited nerves though, not the uncomfortable or scared ones.

It’s no secret that I haven’t exactly been smooth in my attempts to meet someone else in hopes of convincing myself that Halliewasn’tmy person. I’m shit at talking to most women outside of the safety of the friend zone.

But I’ve never been anyone but myself with Hallie. Smooth, awkward, it didn’t matter. That’s part of the beauty of us growing up together, I guess. We’ve always known exactly who the other is. There was no need to try to be someone we weren’t.

Hallie doesn’t see me immediately. Her eyes are locked on the labels of the bottles, organizing the new ones behind the already opened ones, lining them up to be used next. She’s concentrating on the final whiskey bottle when someone shouts my name loud enough for the entire bar to hear.

“Rio DeLuca!” some big, drunk dude hollers, stomping over and throwing his arm around me. “Huge fan!”

Hallie whips around, quickly scanning the bar before her eyes finally land on me.

I wear my most innocent smile when she finds me.

I’ve got this giant guy hanging on me, telling me how big of a fan he is, but I’ve got all my attention locked on her.

“Do you come here a lot?” he asks me.

I’m still looking right at her. “I have a feeling I’ll be here quite a bit going forward.”

She rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and looks away, but I see that smile fighting to break through.

“Man,” the big dude says. “I’ve got to get a picture. My buddies aren’t going to believe I saw you.” He holds out his phone and takes a selfie of us before I can agree or disagree. “Okay, I’m going to leave you alone and make sure no one bothers you for the rest of the night.”

He moves a couple of feet away, at the same time pushing a few other patrons too, leaving me with my own private corner of the bar.

My focus is still lasered in on Hallie’s back as she returns to organizing the bottles. Painted-on black jeans stretch over her ass before flaring out over her thighs, stopping just above the ankle where a shiny gold anklet lays. She’s got this funky, brightly colored sweater on, and her short hair is half pulled up in a bun.

“Are you ignoring me?” I ask.

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