Whenever You Need Somebody

~ a series of dabbles ~

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I carefully tapped on the display glass, pointing to the perfect little pineapple upside-down cakes that were casually wedged between a batch of brownies and some chocolate chip cookies.

"I'll take two of these, please," I told Mariah as I beamed with a smile.

Today was game day, and I was about to partake in my usual superstition.

"You think it will happen this time?" She asked me as she grabbed two boxes from underneath the counter.

"I've got my fingers crossed!" Before she could even ring up my order, I pulled a five dollar bill out of my pants pocket and slid it over the shiny metal counter.

"I have a good feeling that today is the day," I told her as I grabbed two forks from the cup that was always perched by the register.

She boxed up the cakes and handed them to me, "You've come in here every day since preseason started. It's been six months. What makes you think today is any different?"

I tapped my chin, "I've just got a lot of hope, is all." My southern accent was a little thick today, but Mariah didn't seem to mind. The first time she heard it, she said it was music to her ears.

I grabbed the two boxes and headed over to my usual seat by the window, right under the neon Pittsburgh Penguins sign. Ever since I moved to Pittsburgh over the summer, I found myself falling more in love with the city. It seemed like everyone here was a Penguins fan. I sighed as I placed the boxes on the table. I had been so hopeful when talking to Mariah, but the walk from the register to the table had drained all of my excitement.

I looked over at my reflection in the glass, and I furrowed my brows. The wind had blown my hair all over the place. I quickly got up and headed to the bathroom in the back, before anyone else saw me looking like Medusa. After I smoothed down my hair, I looked at myself closely in the small mirror. There were small bags under my eyes, my lips were a little pouted, and my cheeks were rosy red. My blue eyes seem dulled, rather than sparkling.

Is this how my depression showed? Did I always look this tired and worn out? I sighed once again. I just need someone by my side, to make things easier.

As I reached to unlock the knob, I heard the chime of the store's front door. I could hear Mariah's joyous tone and the scrape of a chair against the tile. I shrugged it off, not thinking anything of it.

As I opened the door, I saw someone sitting in the chair across from mine.

"What the..." I stalked over to the table and was immediately caught off guard. The man that was sitting at my table was no ordinary man. He was, instead, the most extraordinary man.

"Oh my god. You're... Holy shit. There's no way. Wow! This is crazy! You know how many months I've been waiting for this moment? Do you like pineapple upside-down cakes? Um, wow. I'm so rude. I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Serena. It's so nice to finally meet you!" I awkwardly smiled at the hockey player, and stuck my hand out for him to shake.

"I'm so sorry I'm awkward. I can't help it when I'm nervous.." My southern accent came out thicker than a sheet of steele. I blushed at the sound of my voice, and I quickly sat down before I said anything else. I looked over at the man across from me. He was so cute in person, and his awkward half-smile made my heart skip a beat. He didn't know what to say. I think I had shocked him a little bit.

"I guess I should explain. Just stop me if you think I'm talking too much. I moved here before hockey season started. I'm a big Penguins fan, but I'm sure you guessed that," I motioned down to my replica jersey, "Anyways, I started a tradition. More of a superstition, really. Every game day, I buy two cakes. If it's an away game, I take the cakes home and watch the game. If it's a home game, I sit at this table and wait. Hoping that you will come in."

He put his finger up to silence me. There was a moment of hesitation before he started talking.

"You do this every game?"

I nodded.

"What do you do with the cakes that don't get eaten?"

I cocked my head, "I give them to the little kids that live in the house on the corner by my apartment. They absolutely love the pastries from here, but their family can't really afford them."

It was in that moment that a realization struck me.

I was sitting at the same table as Sidney Crosby. Sid the Kid. The famous number 87. One of the best hockey players in the world. Here he was, sitting across from me in a small pastry shop, listening to me ramble on. We were about three feet away from each other, but it felt like we were ten thousand miles apart. When it donned on me that he was someone entirely out of my league, I kind of wanted to slap myself.

With my average looks and average everything else, how could I have even imagined a chance with him? I anxiously tapped my heels on the floor. I suddenly felt the urge to apologize to him.

"I'm so sorry. I feel so stupid for doing this. I just talked your ear off, and now I'm sitting here awkwardly. You don't have to sit here if you don't want to. I can't imagine what Mariah said to you, in order to make you sit here. This is so foolish of me." I looked at Sidney's face for a split second before casting my eyes down.

"She told me that there was a very hopeful, and pretty, young lady who was waiting at this table for me. To be honest, I thought it was a little weird. But after hearing you explain your tradition, I think it's actually kind of sweet that you do that."

Even though Mariah had retreated to the kitchen, I shot a glare in that direction.

When I turned back to Sidney, he had that cute innocent smile plastered on his face. It made my heart melt, as sappy as that sounded.

"I don't know about the pretty part, but I can agree with the hopeful part. I grew up in Texas, and became a hockey fan when I was a freshman in high school. You became my favorite player almost instantly. I graduated from college last year, and I decided to pursue my dreams here in Pittsburgh. That's at least what I tell people. I really came to Pittsburgh for the sole reason of going to every home game. I've heard people talk about seeing the players around the city, and I've been hoping that I get lucky one of these days."

Sidney kind of chuckled, and I wasn't sure why.

"What's so funny?" I nervously asked him.

"Your accent."

I blushed profusely, "My accent? Oh, god, no. Please don't talk about that! It's embarrassing!"

He smiled that adorable smile once again.

"You know, I always wondered why you don't sound like a stereotypical Canadian," I told him as I stared into his deep brown eyes.