People these days, you know, they just don't seem to be satisfied unless they have something to talk about. The latest trend, the newest gossip--little things like that. Most likely, it will always be this way.
Awkward silences have to be filled with something, now don't they? At least, that's what my coach Dianne used to say. I guess I'll just have to take her word for it. From what I've heard, I've been the topic of a lot of people's conversations since I first started in this industry.
The bad always comes with the good, but none get read by me. Dianne and my mother forbid it. They say it will interfere with my work, that it will get to my head somehow. Cause me to not try as hard, or to work too much.

"Beauty is effortless... like art," Dianne would always say. "Try too hard and you'll only ever be a copy of someone else's masterpiece."

Bright lights, big hair--this was the world I was born into. And in a world made of glitz and glam, pageantry isn't just a hobby; it's a way of life. At just six months old I won my first pageant. At four I'd already won two state titles. By thirteen I was the youngest crowned Grand Supreme this side of the Mississippi, and by nineteen I had six Miss Teen USA titles under my rhinestone-encrusted belt. But that's just kid stuff. This year I'm really in the big leagues. This is the year I take home the Miss United States crown.

I was promised that the minute that crown was in my mother's trophy room, I could walk away from everything. Take my collective winnings and start any new life I wanted.
Twenty years of my life are riding on this one competition. No pressure, right?

"Nina, you're on in five!"

I guess that's my cue...

__________________________

While Ranger victory celebrations could have been heard probably all the way from Jersey, the visiting team locker room was dead silent. Coach Mike Yeo was pacing, and that was never a good sign. Not one of the heavily padded bodies that surrounded him dared to utter a word about what had just happened in the game, if it could even be called that.
The Minnesota Wild were slaughtered, 7-0 by the New York Rangers. Not only did they not score a single goal, but they had over sixty penalties, four fights, and one full out brawl involving seven players and a official. Needless to say, they deserved the ass-chewing they were about to get.
Finally, Coach Yeo halted in his tracks and looked up at his team.

"You..." he began furiously, addressing the team as a whole. Everyone winced as they prepared for the yelling. "YOU CALL YOURSELVES A [i]TEAM[/i]?" he thundered, throwing his arms up in fury. "I'VE SEEN TEN YEAR OLD GIRL SCOUTS WORK A PUCK BETTER THAN YOU LOT! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU ALL DOING OUT THERE?"

He rounded on a dark-haired man who was still nursing a black right eye. "Cullen!" he barked.

Matt's face turned white at being singled out, but he looked up at his coach anyways.

Yeo leaned in close and narrowed his eyes. "Are you a member of this team?" he demanded in a furious whisper. Matt would have preferred him to yell as the whispering was even more menacing.

"Yes, sir," he answered curtly.

"THEN WHY DON'T YOU TRY PASSING THE PUCK TO ONE OF YOUR TEAM MATES EVERY NOW AND THEN, HUH?"

Matt flinched back and didn't say another word. He'd played terribly, he knew that. With Koivu out for the next three weeks and Heatley out for two more, it was up to him as assistant captain to be the new leader. So far it was not going well.
The Rangers played like champions. Every player knew exactly where the others were at all times. Every play flowed perfectly. Every pass was spot on. But he knew that was no excuse for the scoreboard tonight.

"It won't happen again, coach." he finally answered quietly.

Coach Yeo huffed and crossed his arms. Seeing the dejected look on Matt's and the rest of his team's faces, he cooled off a little.
"You're damn right it won't." Exhaling heavily, he looked around the locker room. "Go back to the hotel and get some sleep. Practice is at 6 A.M. tomorrow. We are not going to have a repeat performance of this night on Sunday, gentlemen. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Coach!" the team chorused in response.

"Oh and one more thing," Yeo said loudly. His players looked back as they were getting their things. "I've just been informed that the Miss USA pageant is in town this weekend and the majority of the contestants happen to be staying at the same hotel as us. You all know the rules; there will be no fraternizing with these ladies if you know what's good for you."

Nothing more needed to be said but Coach Yeo knew this warning was falling on deaf ears. Even Stevie Wonder could see the mischievous glint in each of the eyes of the Minnesota Wild. They didn't get their team name just because of their Northern location. They had a sort of notorious reputation amongst the ladies--one they fully intended on upholding whilst in New York City.
Especially for one Matt Cullen.

______________________

Rain fell in buckets outside; hard enough to keep the windshield wipers on the cab running at full speed, and definitely hard enough for me to wish there wasn't so much distance between the entrance to the hotel building and the curb. Even with a full-on sprint, my clothes and hair were soaked long before I reached the front doors.

"Good evening, ma'am." The doorman smiled warmly. He was obviously trying not to laugh at my drowned appearance, but his eyes sparkled with laughter. "Quite a wet one we're having, aren't we?"

I blinked at him through the wet curls plastered to my face. This time the doorman could no longer remain professional and he chuckled quietly before abruptly covering his mouth with a white-gloved hand.

"Sorry, ma'am," he apologized quickly. "I'll be sure to have some extra towels sent up to your room."

"Don't worry about it, Lawrence," I smiled and shook my head, sending water droplets all over the newly polished floor of the lobby. "Sorry about the mess."

Lawrence shook his head. "Not to worry, it's no trouble at all." I smiled a thanks and was turning to leave when he spoke up again. "Oh, Ms. Arzano called down about an hour ago.

My smile was wiped at the mention of my mother.

"Yes, she said that if I, or any of the staff saw you, that we were to ask you to please go up to your suite..." Lawrence trailed off as he saw my expression grow grim. "...immediately."

"Did she sound angry?" I asked him tentatively.

Lawrence didn't answer right away, and the remorseful look on his face answered for him.
Hearing the loud [i]ding[/i] of the elevator, I looked up suddenly and saw the doors were starting to close. Not wanting to wait another ten minutes for it to come back down, I gave Lawrence a short wave and hurried across the hall.

"Wait!" I exclaimed loudly, addressing whomever might be inside. "Hold it, please!"
If mother had called down an hour ago, she was probably fuming by now. I was supposed to be back around the same time she called but traffic was backed up in all directions thanks to a hockey game at MSG. Traffic was murder.
Hopefully mother wouldn't try to commit the same.

______________________

The days events wearing heavily on him, the only thing Matt Cullen was looking forward to tonight was sleep. As he and his teammate Cal entered the elevator, they were nearly using each other for support to stand up.

Yawning, Cal scratched the back of his head and pushed the numbers 34 and 35. "Coach won't admit it, but that was a nice hit on Callahan earlier," he said and grinned at Matt. "He was limping all the way back to the locker room, did you see it?"

Matt laughed with him and nodded. "I liked what you did to Staal's teeth, too. Pretty sure the one went ten feet in the air when you hit him."

Cal smirked and kissed the knuckles on his right hand. "Thing of beauty."

Matt laughed again and leaned up against the wall of the elevator. On the opposite wall was a poster with a gigantic sparkling crown and the words [i]"WHO WILL BE NEXT?"[/i] beneath it in curly script type. "They make this a pretty big deal, don't they?" he asked Cal, motioning to the poster.

"You think?" Cal laughed loudly. "I saw a crowd of them huddled in the lobby. This is going to be the best weekend ever. Fifty hot girls in bikinis and high heels. Not to mention, their self esteems are probably lower than their IQ's. They're like sitting ducks."

"Hey, save some for the rest of the team," Matt laughed with him. "I know Backstrom had his eye on Miss Texas before we even got here."

When the bell sounded and the doors opened for the 34th floor, Cal laughed and hitched his duffel bag up on his shoulder. "Get some sleep, man," he waved to Matt. "See you in the morning."

Matt yawned and returned the wave. "Ditto."

Through their exchange of goodbyes neither of them noticed the lights of the elevator flicker ever so slightly.

__________________________

On the 35th floor of the New Yorker, I stood outside my door, silently praying that mother had possibly gone to bed early tonight. Vividly recalling the fight last week and the bruises I obtained from it, another altercation was really not what I needed right now. With trembling hands, I slid my key card through and slowly pushed the door open.

The suite was silent. Lights were out, curtains were drawn, and the only audible noise was the gentle hum of the refrigerator in the kitchenette. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and began kicking off my stilettos. After shedding my jacket and purse on the coat rack by the door, I quietly padded past the kitchen towards my room. I was just passing the living room when I heard the sharp [i]click[/i] of a light switch.

[i]Damn it.[/i]

"You're late."

I froze in my tracks and winced. I knew I couldn't have been that lucky. She'd been waiting for me. This wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Knowing better than to ignore her, I slowly turned on my heels and saw her sitting in an armchair in the corner of the living room. With a heavy breath to try to calm myself, I started into my apology.

"Listen, mom, I--"

"Shut up," she spat and swiftly rose to her feet. She crossed the space between us in only a few short strides. "When I tell you to be someplace, I expect you to be there."

"I know, mom, I'm so sorry, I--"

My apology was cut short when she brought her hand back and delivered a hard smack to the side of my face. The force of the blow caused me to stagger back and I had to hold the wall for support.

"I said, shut up!" she screeched. "Do you have [i]any[/i] idea how worried I've been about you? What if you'd been mugged, or raped, or something? I told you to be back hours ago for practice and we still have to get all of your waxing done! Don't you [i]want[/i] to even be considered for tomorrow! Ugly girls don't win Miss USA, Nina!"

I knew better than to back talk her when she got this way, but I couldn't hold it in. "I'm sorry! It wasn't my fault! The traffic was backed up all the way to--"

[b][i]SMACK[/i][/b]

This blow made my vision blur and actually sent me to the floor. I fell in a heap and let out a strangled cry. I could feel blood running down my nose and I wiped at it carefully with my sleeve. My nose wasn't broken, this time, but I wasn't going to push my luck.

"Look at me," my mother growled, towering over me in a menacing stance. Fearful of meeting her piercing gaze but too afraid of the consequences if I didn't, I lifted my head from the floor.

"I've given you a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and food to eat for twenty [i]years[/i]! This is how you show your respect? Where were you tonight? Tell me right now! Who was with you? Was it a boy?" She paused in her questioning and her eyes narrowed icily. "Yes..." she trailed off. Without warning, she bent down and grabbed a fistful of my hair.

I yelped in pain as she pulled me to my feet. Tears began leaking from the corners of my eyes without my control. At this close proximity I could almost feel the alcohol oozing off of her and taste in my mouth.

"You are not going to ruin your career just like that," she hissed at me venomously. "I have worked far too hard to get you here. Years and years of my time will not be wasted just because you want to go out and be a little whore!"

"But mom, I wasn't with--"

"Shut up!" she interrupted and threw me back.

I stumbled again but regained my footing. Unsure of what to do when I sensed her about to come at me again, instinct took over and I bolted for the front door. There was no way I was staying for any more of this beating. Not only did it really hurt but also covering the bruises took way too much time and makeup.

"NINA!" I heard her screaming as I ran.

She was at the door still but I was sprinting down the long corridor for the elevator.

"NINA, GET BACK HERE!"

Up ahead I could see the doors opening to let off someone and I pushed myself faster and faster. "HELP!" I screamed to whoever could possibly hear me. "PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP ME!"

Mother was closing the gap between us, and now she was only a few yards behind. Having a sudden idea, I slowed myself down and stuck out my right arm. Unprepared by my sudden stop, I caught her full in the face and she fell to the floor with a resounding thud. I wasn't sure if it was a feeling of horror or delight that came over me when I saw my mother hit the floor because of me, but I wasn't going to decide there in the chance she woke up again. I was going to pay dearly for this later, but I was more concerned with running for the elevator now.

__________________________

It wasn't long after the doors closed before they reopened to Matt's floor. Sighing, he grabbed his duffel bag from the floor. He was just about to step out when he heard the frantic screams of a young woman. Peering out of the doors, he saw a tall brunette sprinting at top speed right for him, and an older, heavier woman running after her.

Stunned at the less than normal hallway activity, Matt could only stand in the elevator, mouth agape. Just as the older woman was catching up to the younger, the younger woman stopped short. In a move that made even he, the pro hockey player, wince, she swung back her arm and hit the older woman right in the middle of her face, sending her straight to the floor.

Unsure whether to try to get off or close the elevator doors, Matt stayed motionless and wide-eyed in the doorway. The girl was running towards him again but looking behind herself as she did so, making sure the older woman was still on the ground. In her hurry, she didn't notice Matt standing in her way. Unprepared, she hit him with more force than he would have ever expected from a skinny, twenty-something female, and the two crashed to the floor of the elevator.

"Ungh," Matt groaned from beneath her. His vision blurred slightly and he clapped a hand to his head. "What the fuck..." he mumbled as the bell of the elevator rang and the doors closed.

There was a small gasp and the girl immediately rolled off of him.
"Oh...oh my God...are you okay? I'm s-s-so sorry, r-really, I...I didn't see you standing there..."

When Matt's vision came back into focus, he held a hand to the back of his head and looked towards the back left corner of the elevator. The girl looked a lot less intimidating than he'd originally thought. Though, she was crouched on the floor now, appearing timid and vulnerable. She had long brown curls, most likely dampened by the rain outside, and eyes a shade darker than her hair. Even in her disheveled state, she was exceptionally pretty, with perfectly straight teeth and a flawless sun-tanned complexion. Absently he wondered if she could be one of the contestants in that beauty pageant.

"Fuck," he breathed, rubbing the back of his head as he sat up. "Good hit." Upon seeing the worried look on her thin face he spoke again hastily. "No, really, it's fine. I'm really okay. Should have moved out of the way."

The gentle rumble of the elevator was the only sound heard for a moment, and seemingly unsatisfied by her previous apology, the girl spoke again. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. I should have watched where I was--"

She was immediately cut off by a loud squealing noise, one that definitely wasn't normal for elevators. While she emitted a startled shriek, Matt grabbed onto the silver railing above his head. The lights in the elevator flickered on and off and they could both feel the floor and walls jerking side to side.

"It's...oh no...it's happening again!"

The tragic attacks during 9/11 were suddenly made into vivid thoughts by her statement. Matt had a flash image of their cabin flying down the elevator shaft after having its cables severed, but he knew they weren't going down fast enough. It was slowing down. The number screen above the doors had gone out, but the lights on the buttons to the left showed they were somewhere between floors seventeen and eighteen.

"No, wait!" he exclaimed over the squealing noise. "We're slowing down, can you feel it?"

A moment later and the elevator completely stopped moving. The lights flickered a little more and they both looked up when they finally went out. With the cabin engulfed in total darkness, only the worst possible explanations of this were on Nina's mind.

"Oh my God," she cried and clutched the rail behind her. "...we're going to die."

"No," Matt's voice said sternly in the darkness. He patted on the floor in front of him, crawling the few paces between them, trying to find her in the dark. His hand brushed against her arm but he probably should not have done that. Fearing the worst, she immediately screamed out and pulled away from him, further into the corner.

"Shhhh!" Reaching out, he found her mouth and harshly covered it with his hand. "Don't panic, I'm not going to hurt you!" He pulled her tight against his chest while keeping his hand firmly over her mouth.

She was instinctively struggling against him, and he suddenly remembered what she'd done to the woman in the hallway a few floors up. He'd better talk fast. "Listen!" he ordered harshly. "It's just a power outage, now calm the fuck down! We aren't being attacked and we are [i]not[/i] going to die!" She'd stopped fighting against him at his yelling and Matt lowered his tone steadily. "Okay...I'm...I'm going to let you go now, all right? Just don't freak out again..."

Slowly he lowered his hand from her mouth and pulled his other arm back out from behind her. There was a moment of total silence, aside from a gasp of air from her, and his own ragged breathing from yelling so much. When they'd both seemingly calmed down, she took a turn to speak.

"Where are you?"

"Right here," he answered, patting the carpeted floor in between them. "Listen to my voice, I'm right here."

He could feel her shifting into a new position and then she felt her hand brush his. She was trying to find him in the dark. Softly, she touched his hand again, and took it in both of hers. One remained in the palm of his hand while the other gently patted up his arm, his shoulder, neck, until it found his right cheek. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume as she touched the side of his face, and then she immediately removed her hand, as if stunned she'd actually been touching it. But just when he thought she was about to pull her other hand away, she hit him hard across the cheek.

"WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU GET OFF MANHANDLING ME, YOU FUCKING JERK!"
She was suddenly screaming again, but this time it was out of anger and not fear. Still in shock from her first strike, Matt took a sharp intake of breath in pain but didn't move. Without warning, her fists came out of nowhere, blindly beating against any part of skin she came in contact with. "STUPID - FUCKING - [i]ASSHOLE![/i]"

Now Matt wasn't a stranger to taking beatings. Growing up playing hockey made him indifferent to injury or slight pain, but this girl wasn't some prissy little weakling. She was furious and wasn't holding back. A true New Yorker, unfortunately. Matt wasn't one to ever hit a woman, but she was pushing his tolerance.

"Goddamn it, stop!" he yelled over her loud, and increasingly colorful insults. Blindly, he put his arms out in front of him defensively. When he felt her fist come down hard on his forearm, he grabbed for it before she could pull back again. Catching her wrist by some stroke of good luck, he yanked hard and she fell forward into him. All of the sudden he felt like he was trapped in a very small space with a furious cat. Claws came out, fists were flying, and Matt was taking quite a bit of it to the face. Having enough, Matt had no choice but to force her down on the floor and pin her with his body.

"Let go of me!" she shrieked beneath him the moment her shoulders hit the floor. She repeated her command over and over, getting louder and louder. Instead of trying to argue with her, Matt just held her down by her wrists and hips and waited it out.

When he felt she'd finally calmed down again, meaning when she finally stopped screaming, Matt finally spoke again.

"Are you finished yet?" he demanded irritably. "I already told you, I'm not going to hurt you, I just wanted you to stop hitting me!"

"Well then get the fuck off of me!" she retorted harshly.

"Not until you calm down," he shot back, pushing her wrists back down when she tried to pull herself up again. "Look, I'm sorry for scaring you but you're going to have to chill the fuck out."

"I...AM...CALM."
By the tone in her voice Matt could tell she was clenching her teeth together to keep it level. She had stopped moving beneath him but he was still unconvinced that she wasn't going to hit him anymore.

He waited a full minute, and then another just for safe measure. "Okay..." he said slowly and steadily began loosening his grip on her. "We're going to try this one more time. And I would really love for you to not hit me again. I already said I was sorry for having to hold you down but you gave me no choice."
She said nothing but he could only imagine the begrudging look on her face about being talked down to like that. "I'm going to let you go now. Please don't do anything stupid."

The moment she was free he heard her shuffle off to the opposite side of the elevator in a huff. If she was sitting anything like he was, she was probably leaning in a corner with her arms over her chest proudly. But she would be way more irritable of course. How anyone could be so angry so fast was beyond him, but perhaps being that they were total strangers trapped inside an elevator had something to do with it. And admittedly, he probably shouldn't have tried to hold her down.

Once the initial surprise of being suddenly trapped inside an elevator had some time to set in, Matt started to gradually get used to it. A half hour had gone by, he supposed, in which time he'd been convincing himself that sooner or later the power would be eventually turned back on and the lift would start moving again. Unfortunately for him though, a half hour goes by awfully slowly when in total darkness--especially when his only form of company was dead silent and hated his guts. But surprisingly enough, she was the first to finally say something.

__________________

"How long before someone realizes we're still in here?"
I asked aloud. Not that I was particularly excited to be talking to the jerk who had earlier manhandled me, but I was kinda lacking options.

"I dunno," he answered. The quiet rustle of clothes made me picture him shrugging. "This is an old building, isn't it? I bet they have outages all the time. It shouldn't be too much longer..."

The way he trailed off led me to infer that he didn't believe a word he just said.
Fantastic.

"So..." the man (I still had yet to learn his name) started up again. "What was the deal with you K.O-ing the old broad up there earlier? She steal your lipstick or something?"

I actually laughed at his offhand joke and shook my head no. Realizing that he obviously couldn't see this, I started to answer him. "I can't believe I actually hit my own mother..." This was completely true, I was still in disbelief about it. "It was in self defense, though!" I added hastily. "She was drunk...again...and I can't afford to lose tomorrow just because of a mark on my face."

"Lose...?"

"The pageant," I answered automatically.

I heard a soft chuckle from the man and he spoke up, “Oh, you’re one of [i]those[/i] girls. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, if I could win prizes just for looking pretty that doesn’t sound like that bad of a deal.”

“It’s so much more than just looking pretty.” I didn’t mean that statement to come out so defensive, but I suppose it had to. “You have to walk the way they want you to, have the right posture, the right attitude—you could probably never understand that kind of pressure. To have millions of eyes on you and still be expected to give it your all. You can’t afford to choke…”

The man emitted a bitter sort of laugh, more to himself, I guessed. “Oh, trust me, I know that kind of pressure…” I was going to ask what he meant when he started again. “Try having to give it your all while all eyes of the NHL are on you.”

“Trade you my heels for your skates,” I laughed, earning one from him as well. “Mother would really love that.”

“You don’t strike me as the kind of girl that tolerates being told what to do. Have you always wanted to parade on stages for judges or what?”

I thought about that for a minute and chose my words carefully when I answered. “I guess I never knew anything else…pageantry is just my life. I’m good at it, I guess. I’ve been my mother’s project since she lost her crown back in ’82. I suppose you could say I was born for this…”

I didn't know why I was explaining myself to this stranger, and in an elevator of all places, but I guess it was just something to do. I did feel bad for hitting him earlier, realizing that he was only trying to help me, so I guessed I owed him some sort of explanation. But there was one thing I probably should get first.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't ramble like that. I don't even know your name and you probably don't care to hear about--"

"Matt," he interrupted.

Half lost in thought about what I was about to say, I didn't really understand him. "Sorry, what?"

I heard him chuckle and shift on his seat on the floor. "My name's Matt," he said. "And I'm holding out a hand right now."

I was surprised by his sudden politeness but still I found myself tentatively reaching a hand out in the darkness for his. It took me a brief moment, but finally I clumsily brushed the back of his hand and then grasped it. His skin was rough, like it had been badly beaten over the years, but his touch was warm and almost gentle. Maybe it was the gravity of the situation or maybe it was just my lack of sex that caused the warm tickling sensation to form in the pit of my stomach. Either way, it was probably a good idea for me to stop touching him.

“Nina,” I returned politely. “My name is Nina Arzano.”

“It’s not every day I get knocked on my ass by a beauty queen,” Matt laughed while still shaking my hand slowly. “It’s nice to meet you, Nina.”

The tone of his voice and the way he said my name was fanning the fire pooling in my stomach. [i]Get a hold of yourself, Nina. It’s just a guy.[/i] “I-uh, I really am sorry about that--”

“Don’t worry about it, I had it coming,” he said reassuringly. “Let’s just call it… a draw.”

I could feel him shift his position and sensed that he had moved closer to me. From what I remember while the lights were still on, I was now barely a foot away from the very definition of “tall dark and handsome”, and he was still touching me. Something clicked in my head and forced me to pull back away from him when all my body wanted to do was jump him.

“So this pageant stuff…” he trailed off while still shaking my hand. “It must not leave a lot of time for boyfriends and stuff, right?”

“Ah…well, no…”

That was an understatement. It had been almost a year since I had anyone even remotely close to being called a boyfriend in my life, so you can imagine how my sexual frustration was holding out. Especially with a very attractive male in my presence right now.

“I…I should stay over here,” I said shakily, attempting to pull my hand from his grip. “And I don’t mean to be rude, but you should move back over there.”

He laughed, a deep sexy chuckle that made me blush. Nevertheless, he released my hand. I let out a slow breath, attempting to calm myself down, but it was made nearly impossible when I felt his hand on me again. Lightly, he traced the tips of his fingers over the back of my hand, up my arm, and finally to the base of my neck.

“W-what are you doing?” I stammered, back against the side of the elevator and no place to go.

While the trail of his fingers left my skin burning in their wake, he laughed again. “I’m seeing you,” he answered, as if my question had been obvious. He traced his fingers up the side of my neck, over my cheek, and across my bottom lip.

At the time I couldn’t decide, but this was either the single most intimate experience of my life, or the scariest. He was [i]seeing[/i] me? What kind of a line was that? More importantly, why was I still letting him touch me? But while my brain was screaming hit him again, my body ached for more.

Abruptly coming to my senses, I reached up and yanked his hand away from my face. “Stop,” I commanded. Or at least, I thought I did. I guess it came out as more of a moan.

My heart was racing now, and it nearly shot out of my chest when I felt his other hand reach up to cup the side of my face.
“Don’t hit me.”
His voice was low and husky and his breath was hot on my lips.

It was a few seconds before my brain registered what he meant, but by the time it had it was already too late.

There’s a certain exhilarating feeling that comes with being kissed by a handsome stranger. It’s elating—like that first drop of a roller coaster. First there’s a pang of fear and then a sharp shot of adrenaline. Vision goes cloudy, hands start shaking, and you can’t remember which way is up or down—if he’s a good kisser, that is. Suddenly you find yourself forgetting all sense of reason. Rationality is pushed aside, and for that one moment, it’s like nothing else in the world matters.

When Matt slowly pulled away, my body instinctually leaned forward into him and I felt him smile against my lips. I was very glad indeed that the lights were still out because I was sure my face was tomato red by now. He placed one hand on my shoulder but kept his other where it had been at the side of my face.

“Why did you do that?”

The question fell from my lips in an almost dreamlike tone. Probably because my mind was caught somewhere between imagining how Matt might look naked and what it would be like to have sex on an elevator.

“Why not?”

For some reason I couldn’t think of a rational answer to that question. Not at that time anyways. I was having an even harder time not kissing him back. After a minute I just gave up. Sometimes when you can’t think of anything to say in a situation, the best thing is really to just say nothing and go with your gut.

______________________________

Polite applause echoed like the sound of steady rain inside the enormous auditorium. I sat, hands folded neatly in my lap and legs crossed at the ankles, with the two other remaining contestants at center stage. This was the final questioning round. Miss Texas, North Dakota, and myself had to answer just one more question before the judges deliberated on who would become the next Miss United States.

“Miss New York,” Harriet Kinder piped in her bubbly southern accent. “For your final question, the judges and I would like you to reflect back upon your life. Over all of your years in pageantry, and as a role model for young women everywhere, what would you say was the single most exciting or rewarding moment in your life?”

This wasn’t the first time I had received a question like this. In other pageants, like the one that won me Miss New York, judges want the sappiest answer possible. One that’s going to make little old ladies’ eyes tear up and girls everywhere want to be just like us when they grow up. They want something along the lines of, “Getting the opportunity to help starving children in Africa,” or “Having the honor to represent my state and meet all of you wonderful people, of course.”

Those kinds of responses, they’re the ones that win pageants. But they aren’t the kinds that get remembered. No one remembers what last year’s winner said when they crowned her. They just remember Miss Florida puking all over the stage because she was so nervous.

Now I had a choice to make. Should I say something to make me win, or give them all something to remember me by? People are going to talk either way, like I said earlier.
Might was well make their gossip juicy.

Rising to my feet, I gripped the microphone and grinned my famous heart-stopping smile.
“Well, Ms. Kinder…” I started slowly, letting my eyes find every camera and microphone in the front row. “The most exciting and rewarding moment in my life…”

Something I wasn’t expecting to see, or rather someone, caught my eye as I was doing this. A tall, dark haired man was smirking at me from the front row, and even from several feet away I saw him wink.

“…was fucking a total stranger in an elevator last night.”

Eat your heart out, America.