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violet

“You asked for Santa free, so here we are.”

“Um, I’m not having lunch with the entire hockey team.”

“You’re only having lunch with me.”

“Where? How?”

“We can eat outside by the pool.”

“You have a pool?”

“It’s Vegas. Everyone has a pool,” he says casually. “But yeah, we have an amazing outdoor space.”

“And you have all of this because you play hockey?” I say snidely.

I didn’t mean to say it like that, but the words just flew out of my mouth. While I’m grateful to have the academic scholarship given to me, it comes with so many strings attached, including the scrutiny of my father. These guys, on the other hand, have everything handed to them on a silver platter. A phenomenal house with a pool in undergrad and all they have to do is play a game that they’d probably play for free? It’s borderline ridiculous.

“Because we win hockey games,” he corrects me. “There’s a difference.”

Neo walks through the unlocked ornate wood door of the house and I follow him inside. It looks a lot different than it did when I was here for the party. In the light of day, I see that it looks like any other neatly kept home in the area. Each room is tastefully furnished, smells faintly of lemon polish, and there are awards and team pictures neatly framed on the walls.

A middle-aged woman with a round stomach and cheeks to match greets us in the living room as she wipes her damp hands on a tea towel affixed to the apron around her waist.

“?Buenas!”

“Hola, Lucia.” Neo greets her in a respectful tone I’ve never heard him use before. “This is my friend Violet. We thought we’d have a little lunch outside today.”

“Es perfecto, carino. Os prepararé pollo y verduras a la parrilla.”

“Gracias, that would be great.”

“What did she say?” I whisper as she walks back into the kitchen.

“She’s going to grill some chicken and vegetables for us. It’ll be the fastest thing. Plus, I eat clean during the season.”

“You speak Spanish?”

“I understand most of it, but can’t really answer back. I have to answer in English.”

“How did you learn?”

“The maternal side of my mom’s family is from Puerto Rico and most of them refused to speak to us kids in English, so I was forced to figure out what they were saying.”

“Oh, wow, that’s cool.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so at the time, but now I realize it was the best thing they could have done.”

“And is Lucia always here?”

“She doesn’t live here, but since she’s our house manager, she’s here a lot. She makes sure the lights stay on and we don’t wreck the place. VCU alumni spent a lot of money on this house, so employing her was part of the deal.”

“I bet she sees a lot,” I say.

“Not sure what you mean,” he deadpans, and suddenly I’m unsure of what I meant as a joke.

“I just mean…I’m sure things get wild around here sometimes.”

“Are you talking about the other night?”

“Well,” I look anxiously down at my hands. “That was kind of wild. For a minute there, it didn’t look like Bender was going to get out of there alive.”

“How do you know his name?” Neo’s forehead crinkles.

“He introduced himself before everything went south.”

“He introduced himself to you.” Neo echoes what I said, his voice lowering an octave.

“Yes.”

“Well, the thing that happened between me and him was not a normal occurrence. This is not a frat house. This is the ice house.”

“And?”

“And there’s a difference.”

Uh, okay, I think to myself. Remembering that Kennedy told me the exact opposite thing about them. They’re not called the ice mafia because they’re nice boys who help old ladies across the street.

Neo dumps his gear on the floor and pulls his hoodie over his head to reveal a plain black tank top underneath. I notice the edges of a significantly large tattoo, which appears to be the mane of a male lion in the middle of his well-defined chest and I only snap out of staring at it once he asks me a question.

“So what do you think of Valencia City?”

Before I can answer, we walk out onto the most beautiful patio area I think I’ve ever seen. There’s lots of expensive-looking dark brown rattan seating with plush cream-colored cushions, a complete outdoor kitchen with stovetop, sink, dark granite countertops and huge potted cacti plants to anchor the space. But the best part of being out here is the view of the Nevada mountains.

Something about it is so peaceful and serene that suddenly I think about my mom. She’d love this view. Traveling to new places with beautiful scenery was always something she pasted on her annual vision board, yet she was never able to find the time or, more likely, the money to make her goals happen.

“I haven’t seen much of the city yet, and it’s hotter than I’m used to, but so far I like Nevada.”

“Do you miss the snow? You’re from Philadelphia, right?”

“I haven’t lived here long enough to miss anything, but no, I don’t think I’ll miss the snow.”

He takes a seat at the end of the couch and I follow his lead, sitting at the other end.

“You live with your dad, right?”

“Not exactly, but how do you know about my father?”

“I don’t remember,” he says, which I find improbable. Neo seems like the type who remembers everything and everyone. “Maybe Prez mentioned that he lives here.”

“Are you and Kennedy close?”

“I’d call us friends, and that’s saying something because I don’t have many of those and neither does she.”

“I find you not having many friends hard to believe on this campus. People talk to you all the time and there are posters of you everywhere. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Real friends and fans of the game are not the same thing.”

I watch as his hand flexes, the one resting on his thigh, and remember him doing the same thing when I asked him about Shane.

“Are you going home to Philly or to your Dad’s for Christmas?” he asks, moving the subject back to me.

“I doubt it.”

He adjusts his rather colossal frame on the couch before he asks another question. “Do you have someone special back home? Someone you’re seeing?”

I consider the question. The truth of the matter is, my fading relationship with Elijah doesn’t seem that special at all, especially because of the distance between us, both geographically and emotionally. It hurts to even think it, but I’m not sure Elijah would even care that I was here alone with Neo toady. He’d probably just ask me was the food good.

But I don’t say any of that.

“Yes.”

“Is it serious?”

“As serious as it can be with someone who lives across the country.”

“Can I ask you something else?”

“You’ve been asking me questions since I got here,” I reply. “Why stop now?”

That makes him chuckle, which is super sexy to watch. Neo has a panty melting smile when he dares to reveal it.

“Why don’t you like Christmas?”

“I never said I didn’t like it.”

“You have a visceral reaction to it,” he says.

“What do you mean, I have a visceral reaction? We’ve known each other for all of two minutes. How could you assume to know that about me?”

“I’m an athlete who pays close attention to body language. I don’t need to know you intimately to notice that your nose flares and your body tenses when someone mentions it. It’s like Santa Claus did you dirty one year and you’re holding it against him.”

I emit a small laugh because Neo is funny, and I’m not even sure he’s trying to be.

“It used to be my favorite holiday.”

“Who ruined it? Some dude I gotta beat up later?”

“No,” my voice softens. I take a deep breath and just say the words. “My mother died suddenly last year on Christmas Eve.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” he offers what feels like a sincere apology.

“It’s fine. You couldn’t have known.”

“Is that why you transferred here to VCU?”

“I had to come live with my father, who lives about thirty minutes away from campus.”

“But you’re a legal adult, right?”

“Of course, but like most students, I have zero financial independence.”

“I see. Well, maybe one day you’ll like it again.”

“Like it?”

“Christmas.”

“Maybe,” I reply, but I seriously doubt it. Christmas will always remind me of the most painful time in my life. A time when my vibrant, colorful life permanent shifted to gray. There’s nothing that can change that unless someone invents a time traveling machine and I can get my mother to a hospital in time.

Lucia ends up cooking us a delicious southwestern seasoned lunch of grilled chicken and veggies along with some of her famous virgin prickly pear virgin margaritas, and it’s the best thing I’ve eaten since I moved to this damn desert.

“I hope Lucia gets paid well,” I tell Neo because I highly doubt that the woman gets paid a fair wage. These privileged-ass hockey boys have it so good.

“That sounds like an accusation instead of an actual question.” His face tightens. “You think the big, bad hockey boys are taking advantage of our sweet, five foot tall house manager?”

“This is America.” I shrug my shoulders. “And do I believe that it’s very possible this big, bad university is underpaying a domestic worker? You bet I do.”

“Huh.” He studies me for a lengthy period as he deliberately chews a fork full of food. “Very interesting.”

And in this moment, I’m not too sure if Neo wants to fight me or fuck me, although the latter might be wishful thinking on my part.