Page 17 of Crush
Before Shea could even give an answer to that fan, time froze for me and I was engulfed in a flood of memories: I remembered those painful preteen and early teen years, when all I wanted to do was fit in and hang out with my older brothers. They were in high school, and so funny and interesting—I just wanted to be around them! I remembered all those evenings we spent hanging out in the den, watching the hockey game, their favorite sport.
And I remembered that no matter how much I wanted to fit in with them, I knew I'd never be worthy. I remembered the sting of their teasing.“Haha, Brynn, you don't know a thing about hockey. You can't even name three players on the Brawlers, can you? Can you?! Go ahead, try! Let's hear it if you lo~ove hockey as much as you claim you do!”
I'd try, but sure enough, I couldn't. No, I didn'treallycare about hockey—I just wanted to be around my cool older brothers! Why didn't they understand that? Why'd they have to make me feel bad for looking up to them? Why'd they make me have to go through this whole charade of liking hockey?
And then I remembered something else: their excitement when a fresh-faced rookie joined the Brawlers. He was a young, hulking defenseman that my brothers lovingly referred to as “a horse.” Big, fast, strong and mean. They were sure that he'd lead the Brawlers to glory.
His name, of course, was Shea Ellis.
And since I copied my brothers, Shea became my favorite player, too. But while my brothers idolized Shea for his hockey prowess, I liked him for another reason entirely.
I thought he was cute.Socute. He was my first crush, actually.
Back in those innocent days, something about having a crush feltwrong.So my crush was my dirty little secret. Of course, my brothers figured it out in a hurry—and that became another reason to tease me, another piece of evidence that I wasn't arealhockey fan.
I denied it all, of course.
I denied it, even as I taped Shea's poster to my wall, painted my lips with lipstick I stole from my mom, and covered Shea's cute face with bright red smooches.
And now here, back in the real world? I was sitting right across from him. Shea Ellis. My first crush—from baby-faced rookie, to handsome hockey hunk all set to retire—and here he was, interviewingmeto be the nanny of his kids. It was so absurd, so unreal! In moments like those, you realize how magical life can be, and how fast it all moves.
Time resumed from its standstill.
The fan jumped into action without waiting to get permission from Shea to take the selfie. “It'll only take a second, Shea, thanks a lot.” The fan put his arms around the hockey player's shoulders and invaded Shea's personal space, cheek-to-cheek, his outstretched arm now holding the phone across the table and invadingmypersonal space.
The grimace on Shea's face told me that he didn't appreciate the situation but accepted it as one that came with his fame.
ButIdidn't have to accept it. Nor did I like it very much when the fan's knuckles brushed against the side of my head as he tried to find the perfect angle, as if I didn't exist.
I snatched the phone away from the fan before he could snap the picture.
“Hey, what the hell, lady?” the fan barked. “Gimme back my phone!”
“Excuse me,” I said, shutting off the camera, “but we were having a private talk before you interrupted. And you never even got Shea's permission for a picture.”
“But it'll only take a second!”
“No,” Shea said firmly. “She's right. It's not a good time. No selfie.”
I gave the fan his phone back.
“Wow,” the fan huffed. “Never knew you were such a dick, Shea. You just lost a huge fan.”
We watched as the fan scurried away, out the door and across the street.
“Unbelievable,” I said. “Do fans approach you in public like that a lot?”
“Here and there. Usually, they're polite about it, but every once in a while you get a guy like that.” Shea's eyes glittered at me, and he leaned forward over the table. “But you just laid down the law on that guy, Brynn. I liked that.”
I gave a confident smile and moved in for the kill. “Anyway, Shea, before that guy interrupted, you were telling me that I'm not a good fit for the job.”
He chuckled. “I was?”
“You sure were.”
“Look. I won't lie. My kids are a handful, and I'm a little worried that you've only got experience with young children. But if you think you're up for it, I'll at least give you a shot.”
“I'm up for it.”
