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violet

This was not the smartest idea I’ve ever had.

Spending the night in a small apartment with the hottest guy on campus is going to be sexual torture.

The only thing keeping me in check is that I’m pretty sure this is exactly how I was conceived, and it serves as a sober reminder of what not to do.

I suck in my stomach a few inches as Neo walks the perimeter of the living room, picking up the few figurines and photos that Kennedy has on display.

I’m wound up tighter than a drum and am not sure how I’m going to get through the rest of this evening if he keeps looking like… this.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask.

“I’m actually hungry again.”

“Yeah?”

“I eat a lot during the season. Hockey is a very physically demanding sport.”

Why does that perfectly normal explanation sound so extremely dirty coming out of his mouth?

I check the kitchen cabinets to see what we have.

“I didn’t get a chance to grab any groceries since moving in, so I’m not sure I have much unless you want a cheese omelet.”

“Maybe we order something,” he suggests. “Whatever you want from a delivery service?”

“I’m not really that hungry, so it doesn’t matter to me. What’s good to order out here?”

“You can’t get any bad Mexican food but never order a cheesesteak out here. You’ll be highly disappointed.”

“I’m not a big Mexican food eater, but get whatever you want.”

“You don’t like tacos?”

“I can take them or leave them.”

“Burritos?” he asks incredulously.

“Same.”

“Wings it is then.”

Neo takes a seat on our small dark gray tufted couch, which takes up the majority of the space in our living room, and I sit on the floor with my back against it. We decide to scour Netflix for a movie we can both enjoy and find that it’s harder than we thought.

“There’s a ton of crappy ass Christmas movies on here,” he says. “But I say we watch one. It doesn’t look like we have much of a choice.”

“They wouldn’t even show us those movies if they didn’t think your algorithm wanted them.”

“You think I watch corny Christmas movies in my spare time?”

“The algorithm doesn’t lie,” I laugh.

“Fine, you want to switch to your account?”

“I don’t have one.”

“You don’t watch television?” he asks with a hint of disbelief.

“I rather read.”

“But you know all about the mysterious algorithm?”

“Again, I read. Artificial intelligence is in the news almost every day.”

“Are you a business major, or maybe tech?”

“Economics.”

“I hated that class in high school. What will you do with that degree?”

“Law school.”

“That makes sense.” He doesn’t seem to be too impressed. “But why do you want to be a lawyer?”

Oddly enough, nobody has ever asked me that, not even my academic counselor. Whenever I tell anyone my career goals, they simply look as if they’re impressed and congratulate me. It’s the polite thing to do, but I think we’ve already established that Neo isn’t worried about being polite.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

“But why?”

“For truth and justice,” I say in a clipped tone, annoyed by all his questions that are making me uncomfortable. “Why do you want to play hockey for a living?”

“Because it’s a good living.”

“And that’s it?”

“Ten million dollars is a good reason to do anything.”

“But that’s your why? That’s why you get up every single day and train, eat clean, consume no alcohol, and go to bed by eleven?” I challenge.

“How do you know what time I go to bed?” He grins sinfully. “Have you been asking around about me?”

“Absolutely not. It was a lucky guess,” I say, but that’s kind of a lie. I haven’t asked anyone about him, but it only takes a few seconds to conduct an internet search on one Neo Major and see his entire life encapsulated on a web page.

“You sure?” He teases, licking the right-hand corner of his mouth.

“I’m sure.” My eyes dart away.

“I play hockey because I love it, but my determination to be the best is fueled by something bigger.”

I return my eyes back to his.

“Exactly…your why.”

“Yes, my why, as you describe it is my brother.”

“You want to succeed in honor of him?”

“My brother was going into the NHL right after he graduated high school. He was a big fucking deal in the hockey world. A prodigy really.”

Hmm, I think I was a little lazy with my research. I’m going back on the computer as soon as he leaves tomorrow. Obviously, I missed a huge section about Neo’s personal life. Suddenly, a lot of things are starting to make sense about who he is and what drives him. He’s not just some brooding, beautiful thing to stare at. There are layers to him.

“I’m so sorry about your brother,” I tell him again. “It always infuriates me that people get behind the wheel when they’ve been drinking or getting high. It’s so selfish.”

“Yeah,” he replies, his eyes fiercely trained on me, and I feel butterflies in all the wrong places. “Thanks for saying that.”

“Why don’t we just search for something old and familiar and watch that,” I suggest nervously.

“Yeah, because in a minute I’m putting on a hockey game.”

“And I’m ready to pull out a book,” I laugh.

“Okay, there’s no need for such drastic measures. Maybe instead of TV, why don’t we play a game while we wait for the wings?”

“You don’t really seem like the game type,” I say while walking into my bedroom to change into the baggiest sweats I can find without being too hot inside my own house.

“What are you talking about?” he scoffs. “I play a game called hockey every day.”

“Not that kind of game. I mean a social one,” I say loud enough so he can hear me from the other room.

“I can be social. Let’s exchange numbers,” he demands, and I catch myself smiling at the request.

This is bad, Violet.

Don’t do it.

“Okay,” is my answer as I stare with disappointment at myself in the mirror.

After locking his phone number in, I ask him, “So what kind of game do you want to play? I’m down for Scrabble.”

“No scrabble. Let’s play a get to know you game.”

“We’ve been getting to know each other all day.”

“You didn’t even know I was from Ohio, so it’s safe to say that you don’t know much about me. Most people know where I’m from, Grinch.”

“Hey, I didn’t give you permission to call me that. I’m not a grinch. I’m just grieving.”

“Giving out nicknames is my super power and it’s my prerogative to call you by whatever name I want. I don’t need your permission. ”

“That’s not actually how that works. If that’s the case, maybe I’ll just call you jackass?”

“Damn, is that what people call me behind my back?” he says, and I can hear his raucous laughter all the way from here. I just wish the sound didn’t warm my chest the way it does.

“To be fair, I know nothing about you because we’ve just met,” I say. “And more importantly, I’m not one of your hockey groupies.”

“Groupies are girls who follow the band, Violet. Puck bunnies is the term to use when you’re talking about hockey whores.”

“In the name of every feminist who came before me, you shouldn’t call them that,” I say as I return to the living room in my oversized blush pink sweats and my bare feet.

“I didn’t invent the term.” He contends as he rakes his piercing blue eyes down my body.

Why have I done everything I can to cover myself in fabric yet in front of him I still feel totally exposed?

“But you’re perpetuating it.”

“I could think of worse names to call them,” he mutters. “Some of them do very indecent things, quite regularly, with several members of the team.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to slut shame anyone.”

“Have you been asking about me, Violet?” he taunts. “Nice sweats, by the way.”

“I didn’t have to ask anyone about what I already know, and even if you are a man whore, that’s your business. All I’m saying is you’re not in any position to call anyone names.”

“Prez calls them puck bunnies too,” he counters, raising his arms up for emphasis.

“I never heard her say it, but by the way, what’s the deal with you three?”

“What three are you referring to?”

It’s pretty clear he’s pretending to not know who or what I’m talking about, but I’ll play his game.

“Kennedy obviously loves hockey, and may enjoy watching the team play, but the few times I’ve seen her around you and Shane, it feels as if she doesn’t like either of you guys that much at all. You three have a weird energy.”

“Fucking Shane again,” he protests, then immediately checks his phone after it dings. “The driver is approaching with our order.”

I grab some plates and extra napkins for us from the counter. Although I’m not particularly hungry, but that’s forever been my damn weakness. I can always eat a few wings, another slice of pizza or a handful of gummy bears no matter what I’ve already eaten.

“Just how well do you know Prez?” Neo asks, watching me move through the kitchen, because unfortunately even in baggy sweatpants my butt still jiggles.

“We went to high school together.”

“Were you two close?”

“We didn’t know each other well. Why do you ask?”

“Prez doesn’t get along with most people, especially girls. I was surprised to hear that she was letting someone move in here. If you weren’t friends, how did she even know that you were transferring to VCU or that you needed a place to stay?”

Suddenly I feel like I’m the one on the hot seat.

“I’m from a tight-knit neighborhood and people talk. Everyone knew about my mom’s passing, which means everyone knew that I was forced into moving out here.”

“Forced?” His lips press tightly together.

“My mom lived check to check like most folks, and I couldn’t afford to stay in our house, pay bills and go to school on my own. That’s why I came out here to live with my father.”

“But you didn’t want to?”

“My parents were never together and I don’t really know him. He was never in my life. It’s just hard, you know?”

“So he made you move out here?”

“I think he could have helped me keep the house and maybe stay in the college I already started at back home, but I suppose that would have required too much work and financial assistance on his part.”

“So you didn’t really have a choice.”

“Exactly,” I say somberly. “You never answered my question about you and Kennedy.”

“I didn’t realize there was a question.”

“Why does she give you guys such shit?”

“She gives it to Shane, not me.”

“Why?”

His eyes narrow. “Have you asked her?”

“I thought I did, but I don’t know that she really gave me a straight answer.”

“So you’re trying to get the information out of me after plying me with hot wings?”

“How am I plying you with wings that you bought?” I postulate. “The bottom line is I don’t like secrets.”

“That’s obvious, but there’s no big secret being kept from you. Shane and Kennedy just have a complicated history.”

“What’s so complicated about it? Did they used to date or something?”

The food definitely looks edible as I plate the wings, then place them on the coffee table along with the included sauces and celery sticks.

“That’s not really my business to tell.” He grabs a wing and the way he inhales it is almost pornographic. “Talk to Prez.”

“Fine,” I huff. “Well, can you at least tell me why you call her Prez, or is that a secret, too?”

“It’s a joke. It means that she’s president of the Ice Mafia fan club. Queen of the puck bunnies.”

“An honor that I imagine makes her skin crawl.”

“The joke only works because Kennedy is the antithesis of a puck bunny.”

“Right,” I agree.

“Although there’s nothing wrong with a woman wanting a hockey player between her thighs,” he says in a husky voice. “Nothing wrong with that shit at all.”