My Hockey heartthrob

The first thing Elena Hart noticed that Monday morning was the rain. It hammered against the windows of the newsroom, turning the city beyond the glass into a blur of grey buildings, moving umbrellas, and headlights. She had been staring at the same paragraph on her laptop for nearly ten minutes without writing a single word. Her editor's voice suddenly cut through the noise. “Elena.” She looked up. Marcus stood beside her desk, a folder tucked beneath one arm and a coffee cup in the other. “You're coming with me.” Elena frowned. “Am I in trouble?” “Not yet.” “That sounds threatening.” “It should.” A few people nearby laughed. Elena saved her unfinished article and followed him toward his office. The moment she stepped inside, she noticed the folder on his desk. Her name was written across the front. ELENA HART — CHAMPIONSHIP COVERAGE She stared at it. “No.” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You haven't even heard what it is.” “I know that expression.” “What expression?” “The expression you make when you're about to give me an assignment that will destroy my sleep schedule.” “Good. Then we're communicating.” Elena dropped into the chair opposite him. Marcus opened the folder. “The Ravens made the championship.” She blinked. Everyone in the city knew the Ravens. The city's professional hockey team had spent the last several seasons hovering between greatness and disaster. This year, however, something had changed. They were winning. And apparently, their captain was the reason. Marcus slid a photograph across the desk. Elena looked down. Her breath caught. For several seconds, the newsroom disappeared. The rain disappeared. Even Marcus disappeared. There was only the photograph. A hockey player stood on the ice, helmet tucked beneath one arm, sweat darkening the collar of his jersey. His expression was serious, almost unreadable. Adrian Cross. Five years. Five years since she'd seen him. Five years since he'd walked out of her life without giving her the explanation she'd spent years convincing herself she didn't need. And now his face was staring back at her from a newspaper photograph. “Elena?” She pushed the photograph back. “I can't do this assignment.” Marcus leaned back. “Why?” “Personal reasons.” “You're a journalist.” “Yes.” “Which means?” “I know how to interview people.” “Excellent. Then interview him.” Her jaw tightened. “You don't understand.” “I understand that you're the best sports writer in this office.” “Marcus—” “And I understand that the championship is the biggest story we've had all year.” She looked at the folder again. At Adrian's photograph. At the name beneath it. ADRIAN CROSS — CAPTAIN Her fingers curled against her palm. Five years ago, she had known Adrian as the boy who made promises. Now the entire city knew him as a star. Maybe that was the difference five years could make. Marcus pushed the folder toward her. “Your first interview is Wednesday.” Elena didn't touch it. “With him?” “With the captain.” She finally picked up the folder. “Fine.” Marcus smiled. “That's my girl.” She stood. But as she reached the door, he added quietly, “One more thing.” Elena turned. “Don't let him know you're nervous.” Her heart gave one hard beat. “I won't be.” She walked out before he could see the lie on her face. Because Elena wasn't nervous. She was terrified. Not of interviewing Adrian Cross. But of discovering that after five years... she still cared.