G’morning, world, I think to myself as I sit up on the bed, two minutes before the alarm goes off. I stretch, lifting my arms up in the air, and then swing my legs off of the bed. I usually don’t wake in such a good mood, but I guess it’s not every day that someone fucks me in the Nailers’ locker room, is it?

Last night was so amazing. After the game ended, I could barely wait to go back to Danny’s place… And I wanted it so much that we ended up not even leaving the stadium. I don’t know what he’s doing to me, but I feel a change taking place. I mean, I used to be such a nice girl, and now I’m impersonating press officers so that I can get fucked in a locker room? Carpe diem, I guess.

I grab my cellphone as I drag myself to the kitchen, and I smile as I notice that Danny already texted me a few minutes ago. Good morning, babe, his text reads, heading to the gym now. I fire back a quick text, feeling like a complete teenager, and then sit at the kitchen table.

“Jesus, someone’s cheery today,” Becca says, and I almost jump out of my seat. I didn’t even notice her when I walked in. She’s in her pajamas, her hair a disheveled mess, eating cereal so slowly she looks like she’s still asleep.

“I am cheery,” I reply, probably sounding happier than I should. Becca has been complaining these past few weeks about how she can’t find a real man, and I guess that the fact that I’m dating Danny Manning isn’t really helping. Still, she’s my friend, and she’s happy for me all the same.

“Well, spill it out, happy-face,” she says, sitting down at the table by my side and leaning into me with narrowed eyes, looking like a cop ready for a deposition. “Where did you do it?”

“The locker room,” I confess, biting on my lower lip as I wait for her predictable reaction.

“The Nailers’ locker room?” Her eyes widen at that and, when she processes what I’ve just told her, she lets out a bright clear laugh. “He nailed you in the Nailers’ locker room.”

“Yeah, yeah… That’s funny,” I protest her bad joke, but I join her laugh all the same. It’s been months since I’ve woken up in such a good mood.

“You want to know what’s funny?” she asks me, a mischievous grin on her face.

“What?” I ask as she gets up and walks to the counter, grabbing the folded newspaper she was reading when I got here.

“This is funny,” she laughs, throwing the New York Daily Journal right in front of me. In bold black letters there are only two words, FAIR CATCH, and down below there’s a blurred photograph of Danny and I leaving the Nailers’ stadium in his Aston Martin. “Oh my God.”

“That’s right, babe. You’re a star now.”

Still barely believing it that I’m the NY Daily Journal’s cover, I turn the pages until I find the article. I read it in one sitting, and then I reread it for good measure.

“They’re treating you like a princess,” Becca states with a chuckle, and it’s the truth. They refer to me as the woman behind Manning’s recent success and as the mysterious (and charmingly beautiful) woman that snagged the city’s most eligible bachelor.

“Oh, God. Is this really happening? Please tell me that this isn’t a dream.”

“It isn’t a dream,” she says flatly, placing a plate full of toast right in front of me. “Eat up, princess. Or else you’ll be the mysterious woman that lost her internship at Price Coopers.”

“Right,” I nod, stuffing a piece of toast inside my mouth as I reread the article for the third time in a row. I finish breakfast as fast as I can, and then I take a quick shower before putting on a black professional dress and discrete make-up.

“See you later, babe,” I wave at Becca, getting out of the door in a hurry. I’m not late—yet—but I always like getting to the office a few minutes early to set up everything for the day. I’m the newest intern at Price Cooper, but I think I’m dazzling the upper management; there have even been a few hints that they might hire me as soon as I have my Law diploma. Yup, life has never been this good.

As I make my way to the subway, I can’t help but stop in front of a newsstand. That headline, FAIR CATCH, jumps at me from everywhere, and it seems like every single person in New York is carrying a copy of that paper.

“Look, isn’t she…?” I hear someone say to my left, a woman pointing at me and whispering at her boyfriend. I show her an easy smile, and she seems taken back, her smile showing on her lips with a delay. It’s almost as if she’s star struck.

“Make sure he keeps playing like that!” Her boyfriend, a guy with an overturned Nailers’ cap on his head, tells me excitedly.

“Will do,” I tell them, still smiling, and then I keep on my way. I’ve never really been the kind of person that pays any attention to her surroundings, but now I feel like a sonar, pinging everything around me. Men turn their heads to watch me pass by, narrowing their eyes as if they recognize me from somewhere, and women whisper between themselves as I walk past them.

Everyone who recognizes me throws me a smile and a nod, and it doesn’t take long for me to feel like I’m living inside a musical. Soon enough birds will be perched on my shoulders, and people will stop working to bust some moves. And I’ll sing, I’ll sing like the happiest girl in the world because that’s exactly how I feel right now.

Ah, life’s good!