blares, and the teams clear the floor as the fans begin to stand. Olivia appears, dropping into her seat before her eyes lock on me, and her mouth opens.
I shake my head. “Don’t even try and tell me this isn’t bad luck.”
“How’d someone spill a drink on you again?”
“Well, you see, there was this woman who cursed me…”
She shakes her head. “Were you standing up?”
“Would it make a difference?”
“I’m just trying to understand how—”
“Sir?” An employee wearing a red polo shirt and black pants approaches us. “I saw your accident and noticed you have crutches. We have some handicap spots we’d like to move you to, so you have some extra space, and someone can assist you if need be. If you’ll follow me, I can take you to them. Also, we got you a new shirt and a sweatshirt.” She shoves a bag at me, and Olivia stares, waiting for me to declare she’s right. “Do you need help?” the employee asks when we take too long to respond.
“No, I’m good.” I reach for my crutches, and Olivia takes the bag and the one her coat is still inside of, and we follow the employee up the stairs, away from our close seats behind the net with a killer view of the game.
“You know, I appreciate you doing this,” I say, coming to a stop. “But, our seats were really good, and I know I’m on crutches, but I won’t tell anyone you guys didn’t offer me a handicap spot.”
The woman grins. “Trust me. You’ll like these seats.”
Olivia shrugs, her lips puckered as she tries to smile. “If they suck, we’ll sneak back,” she whispers.
That promise is the only reason I move forward.
We go all the way back to the entrance, back to the hall where there’s a long line at the concession and merchandise stands. Olivia shifts the bags when the noisemakers my fellow New Jerseyite gave us start to fall. I hate crutches most during these moments because there’s little in the way I can do for helping, and it makes me feel like such a schmuck.
We follow the employee for several minutes, she and Olivia making small talk about the game and the weather until she points toward an entrance that makes my heart stall as I read the word “courtside.”
The employee flashes her badge and says something to the guy who’s standing guard at the entrance, her eyes laughing when she looks at me and reads my surprise. “I told you, you’d like these seats.”
We pass through a tunnel and don’t stop until we’re so close I can see the team’s bench seats. She pauses at the edge, indicating for us to take the two seats closest to the aisle. “Enjoy the rest of the game,” she says.
Olivia turns to face me, her eyes comically wide as she waits for the employee to pass out of sight before pumping her fists into the air. “This is insane! Do you see how close we are?” She pivots, staring at the black, padded chairs with actual space between us and the row in front of us. “Oh my goodness, forget smelling their sweat, you’re going to be sweat on, now.” She swivels again, taking it in as her hands rest on her cheeks.
“You take the aisle seat. You’ll be able to high-five them when they come out.” She tucks her bag under her seat and then digs through the second bag that the employee gave us. She pulls out a large white tee and shakes it out before ripping off the tags.
I set my crutches down and pull my tee off with a quick jerk. My back still feels damp, and the air blowing makes my skin feel chilled as the scent of beer lessens without the shirt. Olivia’s gaze travels down my abs and then back up before she blinks too fast and cuts her attention to the court where they’re doing a free throw contest. I take the shirt from her hand and tug it on, noticing her gaze chasing the bottom hem of the shirt.
I sit down, stretching my legs as far as I can. “So, what exactly are we calling this?”
She blinks too fast again as she twists and takes the seat next to me. “Calling what?”
“Was the beer bad luck, or was it good luck?”
“Oh,” she does that subtle shake of her head again.
“What did you think I was talking about?”
“Nothing,” she says too fast. “I was just soaking up the fact