My eyes followed his form as he skated. The sound of his blades on the ice and his stick on the puck were the only sounds, and they echoed loud in the large building. I sat a few rows back from the glass, watching calmly as he shot puck after puck at the empty net, grunting with each try.
 
He didn’t stop. Actually, I didn’t know if he could. He was so focused, yet so distracted. Every move he did looked routine and practiced, like he had done it a million times. He looked like a c.d. that got scratched and now it was just repeated the same word over and over. It was sad to watch.
 
I looked closer and realized that his jersey had a mark on the top corner, right where his “C” was. I squinted. A black sharpie had drawn a big, fat X through his “C”. I bit my lip and decided I had sat in silence, watching, too long.
 
“Are you supposed to be skating?” I blurted out, before I could help it. He turned towards me, looking like he had been slapped.
 
“Excuse me?” he said loudly, his voice sounding shaky, scared. I stood up and walked down a few rows to stand directly in behind the glass.
 
“Sorry. I… I just mean, I thought you were hurt,” I explained, catching the scowl on his face as I said this.
 
“I am,” he said, jaw clenched. I blinked at his anger.
 
“I know you are, that’s why I’m asking, why are you skating?”
 
“Because I want to? Because I can do what I want? There’s  a million reasons and all million you couldn’t understand if you tried.” He said bitterly, looking back to the empty net he had been shooting at. “Who are you, anyway?”
 
I had been hoping to avoid this question.
 
“Reporter.”
 
His eyes widened, I could see. His scowl deepened and his nostrils flared as he glared at me, now that I had given him a logical reason to be angry. I’m not ashamed to say, I was terrified.
 
“Scum like you really shouldn’t be allowed in here,” he ground out. I swallowed to cure my dry mouth.
 
“I know, I’m not on duty right now. I just came to sit. I didn’t know you would be here,” I said, but he still looked annoyed so I continued to ramble on. “I come in here a lot to just calm down, you know? I don’t know why, but it’s really peaceful here. You know, when no one is here. Not that you’re annoying me. Actually, I found watching you shoot pucks very enjoyable. I mean- ugh.”
 
I stared at him, biting my lip and bracing myself for him to yell at me more. He surprised me by laughing.
 
“Wow, you’re crazy,” he said with an infectious smile. I smiled hesitantly. He sighed. “Hey, look, I should be heading home anyway, so you can stay put and I’ll leave, sound good?”
 
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I mean, I actually have to get to my next job, so…. Alright, bye,” I responded awkwardly, like only I can, and turned on my heel, grabbing my bag and practically sprinting up the steps. I could hear chuckles echoing behind me and it made me blush and smile at the same time.
 
-------------------------
 
“You asked him if he was supposed to be skating? You asked Sidney Crosby, God of hockey, if he was supposed to be skating?! Oh Elliot, you’re crazy!”
 
I chewed on my lip, focusing my coworker, Allison’s, words. “You think?”
 
“Don’t tell Marcus, he’ll chew you up and spit you out if he discovers you made yourself look like an idiot in front of his hero,” she advised. I rolled my eyes.
 
“Just focus on cleaning your toilet, yeah?” I gave my own advice. She laughed good-naturedly.
  
“Well this is just perfect, you’ve met Sidney Crosby and now you’ll get married and have babies and have the most amazing life ever!” she sighed dreamily. I snorted. She looked over at me. “How can you stand to scrub these toilets like some low-life when you’ve been in the presence of a God?!”
 
I laughed. “You know what, Allison? I really don’t know. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he yelled at me, laughed at me, and called me crazy. Oh, and none of those things are happening. It’s nice to know you can still dream though, even as you scrub disgusting toilets.”
 
She smiled, standing up from kneeling in front of the toilet. “I have to dream enough for both of us, Lord knows you don’t dream enough for yourself.”
 
I watched her walk out, wondering if she was right.
 
-----------------
 
“Look, Sid, you know we would never-”
 
“Save it,” Sidney sneered, looking murderous. James groaned.
 
“Dude, I figured you, of all people, would know not to believe in rumors.”
 
Sidney picked up his crumpled jersey and shoved it in his teammates face. “Then explain this! Explain why this was here when I walked in this morning!”
 
James gulped as he stared at the offending X crossed through the precious letter on his Captain’s jersey. He shook his head, not knowing what to say. “I… I’m sorry, Sid. I don’t know…”
 
Sidney sighed at the worried look on James’ face, shaking his head in defeat. “Never mind. Sorry I jumped down your throat. Things are just…. hard right now.”
 
“The reporters are coming in now, Sid, okay?”
 
Sidney nodded at his coach and settled himself in front of his locker to get ready. The reporters flowed in; a swarm of people that immediately quieted the rowdy locker room. As usual, most of them flocked towards Sidney. One girl hanging back caught his eye before he could help it.
 
It was the crazy girl.
 
He didn’t have time to stop and stare at her as he was immediately bombarded with questions. He tried his best to answer them politely, hoping no one could tell how frustrated he was with all the questions about his injury and timetable and hopes and fears and every little thing you could think of. Finally, they dispersed, going around to other players and getting their commentary. He sighed, half relief, half just plain tired.
 
“So, on a scale of 1-Lady Gaga, how crazy do you think I am?” Sidney heard a small voice ask, looking up to see a microphone shoved in his face by a blushing girl, who was chewing her lip. He couldn’t help it, he laughed.
 
“Hmm, you’re up there. Maybe a Charlie Sheen?” he teased. Her face was comically offended.
 
“That crazy, eh? Oh well, it’s what I was going for anyway. So, there,” she said childishly. He smiled impishly. She smiled back. “But really, I’m sorry for yesterday. I talk a lot and blurt out stuff when I’m nervous and I feel like I might have offended you by some of the stuff I said.”
 
“Nah, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t in a good mood yesterday, wasn’t your fault,” he shrugged it off. She stared at him, studying him.
 
“Look, I probably shouldn’t say anything, but I noticed the, uh, interesting addition to the letter on your jersey yesterday…”
 
He looked pointedly at her tape recorder and she shook her head furiously. “Oh, this isn’t an interview. I just…. I just, wondered.”
 
“You and me both,” he mumbled, not even knowing why he was sharing this with a reporter of all people. She sat down next to him and he instinctively scooted away, surprised.
 
“Well, you know, the media has already caught wind of the captaincy debacle. It’s hard not to make some inferences about the marker on your jersey,” she explained. He tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the annoyance off his face.
 
“Look, I appreciate your concern, but my life is my life and just because you came into it, all crazy and weird, it doesn’t mean you’re allowed to stay in it and act like we know each other, because we don’t,” he snapped. She blinked, standing up quickly, as if burned.
 
“I don’t expect to be your friend or anything like that, I just… was curious.”
 
“Yeah, well, aren’t all you reporters?” he sneered, then gestured to the other reporters as they filed out. “Looks like it’s time for you to go, crazy girl.”
 
She chewed on her lip, assessing his grimacing face, making his heart sink at the hurt look in her eyes. He didn’t want to feel bad for the shady reporter, though, so he looked away.
 
“You’re absolutely right. My sincerest apologies, Mr. Crosby,” she said stiffly, walked away from the guilt-stricken Sidney.
 
It was at that precise moment that Sidney realized, he had experienced a whole range of emotions in front of this girl and you know what? He didn’t even know her damn name.
 
He figured he’d just stick with crazy girl, for now though.