Page 4

violet

I’m shivering in a frigid hockey rink filled with a sea of rowdy spectators dressed in gold and black Valencia City University colors and contrasting red Santa hats. As members of the opposing hockey team hustle across the ice, VCU students are chanting some sort of anti-cheer at them, which grows louder with every iteration.

While it’s unclear to me exactly what they’re saying, it honestly doesn’t matter. I’m only here because I agreed to attend the town’s annual Santa Fest with Kennedy, which tradition evidently requires attending this game, although I never said I’d pay attention. Trust someone like Kennedy Bing to drag me into the chaotic frenzy of a hockey exhibition game when I’ve got reading to do.

I check my phone to see if Elijah has finally responded to my text from two hours ago, only to be disappointed to find that he hasn’t, so I get back to my book.

“Are you actually reading while the Suns are playing?” Kennedy huffs beside me, her gorgeous almond eyes wide with disbelief.

“Absolutely,” I say, not an ounce of regret in my voice. “You know the deal. I’ve got a scholarship and I can’t fuck it up.”

I have to stick to the plan.

While the school has been generous in offering me a full ride, the terms are that I complete my degree in four years with at least a 3.0 grade point average every semester.

“It’s Christmas break, girl. We haven’t even started spring semester yet.”

“But I already know what classes I’m taking this semester. I literally have taken two of them before.”

Credits that VCU refuses to honor.

“So, you’re reading ahead?”

“Yep.”

“In classes you’ve already taken?”

“That’s right.”

“When you’re supposed to be, you know, getting acclimated to your new environment?” she asks in her careful voice. The kind of voice you use with a child or someone who you suspect of being mentally unstable.

“Yes, Kennedy,” I hiss out of the side of my mouth, annoyed with why she thinks watching dudes slide around the ice is a relaxing night for me.

“Why?” she asks in a voice that sounds perplexed.

“So I can focus on the classes that are actually going to be challenging for me. The ones that matter.”

Reading ahead has always helped me get a handle on my executive functioning disorder. The more time I give myself to learn a subject has always been productive for me.

“Uh-huh,” she says, looking confused by my line of reasoning. Probably just as confused as I am with her dragging me to this weird festival.

It’s called Santa Fest, yet it’s a million degrees outside as we sit in this ridiculously cold ice rink. How they keep it this cold is a mystery to me. And Kennedy said we’re watching an exhibition match to celebrate the festival and not a real hockey game but the way they’re playing, I can’t tell the difference.

“You do realize they have textbooks online, don’t you? You didn’t have to bring a whole ass hardback book to the game. You could have just used your phone or something if you were even going to do it all.”

“Am I embarrassing you or something?” I ask in an uncomfortable voice, but my inquiry is cut short when two girls sitting behind us suddenly bump into my head as they rise to their feet to cheer.

“Woohoo!”

When they do, my head jerks forward, momentarily hyper extending my neck.

Ouch.

“Go, number seventeen!”

“Why don’t you cheer for somebody else? He’s mine.”

“You can’t call dibs on him like that!”

“Can I have your babies, Neo?”

“Damn, he’s fine.”

“And doing all the work for the team, as usual.”

“I’ve got some work he can do right between these thighs.” Then the two of them cackle with laughter like two horny witches.

“Um, excuse me, but you two just hit my friend in the head,” Kennedy pivots her head to say, but before either of them can respond a deafening roar erupts from the crowd, and two guys crash into the glass right in front of us, partially shattering it.

“Holy hell!” Kennedy exclaims.

Instinctively, I lean over to cover her, like a mother would shield her child when she suddenly pushes on the break of a car, until I feel pain. I lift my hand to my chin, feeling a sting where a small shard of glass has made contact.

“Give us a minute to check on everyone, Sun Nation,” the announcer says in an oddly pleasant voice over the rink’s loudspeaker, as if something catastrophic didn’t just happen. “In the meantime, the refreshment stands are open, and DJ Kris is going to spin some tunes for your holiday enjoyment.”

One of the VCU players, who seems vaguely familiar to Kennedy, climbs over into the stands towards us immediately.

“Are you okay?” he asks us both, genuine concern etched in his face.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I mutter.

Kennedy and the player share a loaded silence, and for a moment I think something might explode between them, like one of their heads.

“Kennedy,” the player greets her by name, also giving her a brief head nod of acknowledgment.

She responds with a deafening silence, which seems to make the hockey guy grin even harder behind his clear face shield.

“It’s nice to see you too,” he says in response to her silence.

She defiantly places a hand on her hips, staring daggers at him. It’s obvious to anyone paying attention that these two have some sort of history. Sparks are definitely flying.

He emits a brief chuckle before turning his attention back to me. “So, um, were you reading a book just now?”

Every student in our section of the stands is now focused on the verbal exchange between the hockey player, Kennedy and me–the weirdo with the enormous book and bits of glass in her lap.

Great.

It only gets worse when another player skates over, his jersey bearing the Number 17 . I quickly recognize the number. It’s because of him I’m going to need a hot compress on the back of my neck tonight.

This is the one they call Neo.

I glance at him and immediately feel uneasy.

He’s massive, towering and wide. Bigger than the first guy.

An embodiment of physical intimidation.

Tufts of dirty blonde hair peeks from under his helmet, serving as a compliment to his cold blue eyes and crooked nose. He’s absolutely not my type, but when I hear my heartbeat thud loudly in my ears, my inside voice whispers anxiously in the back of my mind as he approaches.

Don’t be weird, Violet.

“Can we move this along, Shane?” he demands in a voice that’s commanding and lacks any compassion. “We’ve got a game to win once they clean this up.”

“Just checking on the bookworm here,” the player called Shane replies with a grin, glancing towards me.

Neo surveys me like I’m a nuisance, an obstacle delaying the continuance of his oh-so-important game.

“It’s tempered glass,” he says with obvious disdain. “She’s fine.”

Hey, I didn’t ask any of you to skate over here; I think to myself. What a jackass.

“Uh, no, she’s not fine,” Kennedy disputes, handing me a clean tissue out of her designer leather purse. “Here, your chin is bleeding.”

“Yeah, man, she definitely took some glass to the face,” the Shane guy says in defense of me.

Neo’s eyes suddenly lock onto mine and I feel trapped. They’re intense, like an approaching tropical storm. But it’s not their intensity that unnerves me—it’s the arrogance they ooze.

I curse silently at myself as he languidly rakes his eyes along my seated body, lingering at my breasts, and then finally landing at the book resting on my thighs–an examination which reeks of judgment.

My body has a visceral reaction to his study of me, quivering in some sort of unclear emotion–I guess fear. Then the book accidentally slips off my lap and underneath the seat in front of me.

“Good to see you, Prez,” the blonde giant practically grunts at Kennedy while his bottomless blue eyes stay affixed on me.

“Same,” she offers without a smile of any kind. “But dude, this is an exhibition game, not a real one. Your midfielder almost took my girl’s eye out,” Kennedy scolds him, but why does he call her Prez?

An audible gasp comes from someone sitting around us. My guess is that there aren’t many people in this town who chastise members of the hockey team like this and apparently Kennedy has carte blanche to?

“Who’s this?” the giant asks her, clearly referring to me as if I’m not sitting right in front of his egotistic ass.

“This is Violet, my roommate, and she’s not looking for any new friends, Neo.”

Kennedy must not be reading the room. This guy definitely doesn’t want me as a friend and the feeling is absolutely mutual.

“You have a shitty holiday disposition,” Neo says to Kennedy, still closely watching me.

“What else is new?” Shane scoffs.

“Are we done here?” Kennedy says to them both. “Violet and I want to enjoy the rest of the festival.”

“Come to the kickback tonight and bring the bibliophile,” Shane says.

Why in the ever loving fuck is everyone talking about me like I’m not sitting right here?

Because you let them, Violet.

“Bibliophile?” Kennedy parrots back in a mocking tone. “Are we using our big words today, Shane?”

“Everything I use is big, Kee-Kee.” He grins and I swear I can feel Kennedy’s rage growing in the atmosphere. It’s palpable.

“Don’t call me that,” she warns him as he dismisses her with a casual laugh.

“If you can tear yourself away from whatever that is,” Neo suddenly says to me in the deepest voice I’ve ever heard, pointing to the book in Kennedy’s hands with the end of his hockey stick. “You should come too.”

I hear someone mutter who the fuck is she under their breath and it’s possible Neo heard it too because his eyes flicker up and behind me with a hardness that’s frightening. Suddenly, everyone around us is quiet.

“Win the game and we’ll be there,” Kennedy challenges them both.

“You want us to win, huh? I thought you just said it’s just an exhibition game and to take it easy on them?” Shane counters playfully.

“I told you to win the game, not lacerate half the spectators.”

“So dramatic.” Shane rolls his eyes.

“Are they actually going to continue playing?” I blurt out loud, confused on why they would continue the game when part of the protective glass around the rink is compromised. “What if they run into the glass again?”

“They’ve never suspended a Santa Fest exhibition game in the history of it being played. It’ll be fine. The stadium staff will just move everyone in this section to different seats. I’ll make sure they give you good ones.” Shane smiles.

“Oh, okay,” I comment, not really knowing what else to say in response.

“Just win the damn thing,” Kennedy tells them again.

“Already done,” Neo says with conviction. “And then we’ll see you both tonight.”

“Good luck,” Kennedy responds, rolling her eyes.

“See you later, Violet,” Neo says, my name rolling effortlessly off his tongue as if we’ve known each other for a lifetime.

Then I finally exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding as the two of them skate away.