Page 25 of Mistletoe Face Off
Very stupid. Very, very stupid.
This might cost me the article. Or worse, my job.
With nerves making my hands tremble, I pick up my phone once more and force myself to scan for more salacious headlines. It doesn't take long.
Naughty List Material? Harrison Clarke's Christmas Clash Caught on Camera.
It’s an Ice-Cold Christmas: Defenseman's Heated Exchange Melts Team Festivities.
Mistletoe Mishap! Harrison Clarke's Holly Jolly Argument with Reporter.
The last one is at least clever. All the articles are accompanied by photos of Harrison in his Santa costume, clearly recognizable without his wig, beard, and fake nose—a fake nose!—and me with my hands on my hips, glaring at him as though my eyes were lasers that could cut him down to size.
This is a disaster! Not only did I not get the interview my boss wanted me to get with Harrison, but I've inserted myself into the heart of the story in a thoroughly unprofessional way.
“You look like you've just read your own death notice,” my colleague and friend, Selena Washington comments.
I look across my desk at her. “Have you seen these?” I turn my phone around so she can see exactly what I'm talking about.
“Girl,everyonehas seen those,” she replies with a light laugh, as though this is funny when it really is not. “My favorite is this one.”
It's her turn to show me her screen. Reluctantly, I read the headline.
Ho-Ho-Whoa! NHL Star's Santa Showdown Steals the Show.It’s accompanied by footage of us glaring at one another as the team coach tries to interfere.
Oh, good grief.
“Promise me you won’t read what they’re saying on social media.”
“Why?”
“Let's just say most of the people commenting are Blizzard fans, and specifically Harrison Clarke fans. They're on his side.”
I push out another breath. “This just gets better and better.”
“So, what gives? Why were you arguing with the star defenseman for the Blizzard in the first place? Did he put you on the Naughty List?” Selena asks, her eyes bright, and I shake my head at her.
“If anyone should go on the Naughty List it should be Harrison Clarke.”
Her eyes widen. “Why? What did he do? I always thought he was one of the good guys on that team.”
“It's not that terrible,” I admit, because really, it isn't that terrible. It's more embarrassing than anything else. Embarrassing that I admitted to having a crush on the very person I had a crush on.
Do I sound like I'm in middle school?
Yup. But it still stings.
“What was it?” she asks.
I look around the busy office. People are on the phone, talking with one another, and busy working at their computers. “He didn't tell me who he was when he was dressed as Santa last week at the Hawksworth Community Center and I, well, I kinda admitted to having had a crush on him when we were in high school.”
“You were in high school with Harrison Clarke?”
“Not the point.”
“Think like a journalist, girl. That's totally the point. Slippery Stephen wants you to get an angle on the guy. That your angle.”
I chew on my lip. “I guess? But the thing is, I might have known him back then, but there is no big story. He was just the new kid sophomore year that everybody thought was cute.”