If Riley hadn’t been nervous for her interview just a short week and half ago, she didn’t know what the feelings she felt now were called; now that she was sitting in a small desk, in a small cubical, over looking the Boston skyline.

She had gotten the phone call the day after her interview, and although she was hung-over when the phone rang at 8 A.M. the next morning, she couldn’t help but jump out of her bed and dance around her room, before curling back into bed until noon.

Now as she sat at her desk typing away at the computer that sat in front of her, she felt like an actual adult. Naturally she felt like she belonged in an office. Although many complain about being stuck inside for eight plus hours a day, Riley couldn’t help but enjoy it, after all she worked in the Garden, the heart and soul of Boston.
Riley seemed to find herself lost in her thoughts, as she typed away on the computer in front of her the ring of her desk phone, snapped her out of that trance.

“Hello, Riley White,” She said proudly.

The lady on the other line seemed to be relieved that she had answered after the first ring.
“Oh Riley, do you think you could run up to the press box for me? I forgot to set up a player press meeting for after the game.”

Riley hung up the phone after answering a quick “No problem,” and finding out the details of whom she needed to speak to and where in the building she needed to go.

Being so new to the building, Riley still wasn’t accustomed to the layout of the huge arena. Four times she had found herself three different levels of the building and once on the complete opposite end of where she actually needed to be.
After a fifth time of stepping in the elevator and pressing the button she had hoped would bring her to her destination, Riley sighed as the door swung opened and to no avail she was on the wrong floor again.
Riley stepped out of small compartment and slumped her back against the cold concrete wall, she pulled her knees up to her chest and slumped her head into her hands, running her fingers through her hair.

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbled under her breath.

If she hadn’t been a screw up before, she was one now. She could’ve just ruined the most perfect thing that had happened to her in a long time, just by doing something as stupid as getting lost.

“Uhm…” Riley pulled her head out of her hands and looked up from where she was sitting.

Standing in front of her clad in hockey pads and skates, standing a lot taller from where she was sitting was a boy looking no younger than twenty- two.

He stretched his arm awkwardly behind his neck running his fingers through his hair, as Riley just continued to sit and stare her check turning a light pink.

“Are you alright?” The boy asked.

Riley got to her feet, smoothed out her skirt with her fingers, and found the words to speak.

“Yeah, just a little lost. I’m just looking for the press box.”

The boy sucked in some air, puffing out his cheeks, and then blew it back out again.

“It’s on the third floor, when you get there take a right out of the elevators, and then it’s the first left.”

Riley sighed a breath of relief; finally someone had answered her prayers.

“Thank you, so much!” Riley beamed.

She turned her back towards the boy and pressed the button to enter the elevator, it dinged immediately and she welcomed herself in the small confined space.

“You’re welcome! See you around,” the boy called after her.

Riley smirked as the doors closed, and lifted her eyes to meet his.

“See you around,” she called back.