Page 11

Chapter 10

Kitty

“Um, excuse me. Whose sweatshirt is that?”

Violet and I met in the dining hall for breakfast before class on Thursday. Violet was my favorite roommate. We were lucky to be in a suite of singles at Alden. Of the four girls, Violet and I clicked the most. Her features were striking: piercing blue eyes, perfect full dark brows, olive skin, and gleaming chestnut hair. We first connected over our youthful shared love of One Direction and our disdain over certain slang terms. We could be found in each other’s presence often.

I was a little low on sleep since Guy and I had stayed up so late talking.

“You can read. Whose name is on the back?” Guy had sent me home in his Alden hockey sweatshirt with STELLE 23 printed on the back. I noticed more people staring at me than usual in the dining hall.

Violet lowered her voice. “You fucked Guy Stelle last night? That’s why you didn’t come home?”

I laughed. “We didn’t fuck. He’s my oldest friend here. He helped me with my math and then it was late, so I stayed over.”

“You’re telling me you shared a bed with the infamous G-Spot?!”

I popped a bite of bagel in my mouth. “Is that what they call him here? Pretty clever nickname. His last name means ‘spot’ and his first name starts with a G.”

“And I’m pretty sure he’s a talented lover, French and everything,” Violet said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“French-Canadian,” I corrected. “And isn’t that stereotyping?”

Violet ignored my question. “So wait, how is he your oldest friend? You didn’t live in Quebec. You’re West Virginia, through and through.”

I explained our family entanglements, leaving out how his mom died and made us promise to try to fall in love. Guy and I hadn’t even talked about that directly, ever. Who knew if he wanted to stick to it or not?

“Of course, I know he’s hot, but we’ve always just been this weird kinda flirty, kinda family, kinda made-out-a-few-times relationship. He was the one who took care of me after the failed wet t-shirt contest.”

“Um, you failed to mention that part of it,” Violet said.

“Pardon me. I was a little embarrassed that I’d barfed all over myself, told him he was the love of my life, and asked him to make love to me.”

Violet’s jaw fell open. I went on.

“And then we cuddled in his bed the next day. But like, not romantically? I don’t know. We’re weird together. We’re just friends, I think. He could make moves if he wanted to.”

A moment from the night before flashed through my mind: the way he looked at me after he tickled me in his bed. And then held my hand when we talked about the lovers of Pompeii.

“You’re out of your mind, Kitty Cat,” Violet marveled. “I don’t know what weird brother-sister shit you do in West Virginia—”

“Hey!” I objected, tossing a chunk of bagel at her. She knew West Virginia jokes were a sore spot for me and loved poking the bear. “If you can behave, I’ll take you with me to his game tomorrow night. He gave me two seats.”

* * *

Later that evening, I got a text from Guy.

GUY-GUY FRENCHIE

Get ur math turned in?

Yeah thx

Got any more to do?

Not til next week

Wanna come over and watch a show?

It’s 11 pm Frenchie. R u booty calling me?

No

U just want ur sweatshirt back?

If ur not coming over wear it to the game tomorrow

U just want me to wear ur name

Omg

Y r u making this so hard

That’s what she said :p

I need more than good tickets to wear it

M and M?

Now he’s getting it

I sat in the library on Friday between classes,

when I got a text from him again.

GUY-GUY FRENCHIE

Where r u

Library

What floor

3

Ten minutes later, Guy appeared in front of me with a sly smirk. He slapped a bag of M&M’s down on the table in front of me.

“There, you brat. Now will you wear it?”

“Well, hello to you, too.”

“I met your demand. You have to meet mine.”

“You have to be quiet in here, Guy,” I teased.

He ripped open the pack of M&Ms, shoved a handful in his mouth, and threw one at me. “I’ll see you tonight.”

* * *

Violet promised to be good, so that night, we took our seats at the hockey arena. Guy had given us seats right on the ice. On a normal day, that would be fine, but I wasn’t feeling great. My periods were devastatingly bad, the killer combo of painful, long, and heavy. Sometimes the pain was so bad I threw up. This was day two, usually my worst day. I’d taken medicine, but sometimes that didn’t cut it. This was one of those times. Thankfully, my bloating was hidden by Guy’s giant sweatshirt, which I paired with some loose jeans and a winter hat.

We watched both teams take the ice to warm up. It didn’t take long to find Guy. He stopped by our seats in a flash of sprayed ice and pounded on the glass, as if I wasn’t already looking at him.

“HI, KITTY BIRD. YOU LOOK NICE,” he yelled through the glass.

I giggled, tired, and waved back. “Hi, Guy-Guy. Thank you.”

He must have noticed my drawn expression because he pulled off his helmet.

“What’s wrong?” he mouthed.

I shook my head and waved him off. He stuck out his lower lip, then blew me a kiss before putting his helmet back on and moving on.

“See what I mean? We’re weird together.”

“That was insanely cute,” Violet said. “He likes you.”

“I don’t know. That’s just how we are. I’m getting popcorn and a soda. You want anything?”

Watching Guy play again was borderline enchanting. He was in the first line, not surprising. I’d forgotten the fluid grace with which he moved, and he’d gotten more aggressive since I saw him last. Watching him check a guy into the boards somehow got my blood moving, and for a while, I almost forgot my period misery. He really was professional grade.

His skating had gotten faster and smoother, his legs more powerful. I was happy for him that he’d gotten to go back to Quebec. Otherwise, he might have missed out on the chance to play at a higher level and get drafted. Though he’d loved his coach back home, West Virginia didn’t have the resources to keep up with someone of his skill level. It’s not hockey country.

In the second period, Guy stole the puck from one of Princeton’s forwards, driving down the ice toward the goal. He netted it from way deep, lighting the lamp and setting off the crowd. I didn’t notice that I was on my feet screaming too until he skated to where his teammates stood by our seats. He celebrated with his teammates, but before skating back to the bench for high-fives, he shot a wink and a “love you” over his shoulder to me.

“Did he just say that he loves you?!” Violet squealed.

“Yeah, we do that,” I said, straining to be heard over the crowd.

“Okay, yeah, you two are weird.”

Alden beat Princeton 3-1, with Guy getting an assist to go with his goal. We waited for him after the game for what felt like an eternity. Guy and his teammates trickled out of the locker room. His hair was still damp and tousled. I had to admit, he looked like a friggin’ dreamboat. Plus, there was that whole suit rule, so he and every one of his teammates were also dressed up in their finest.

His smile was wide as he approached me. “Great job, Frenchie,” I said, reaching up to hug him. He pecked my cheek, as he sometimes did, his stubble scraping my jaw. He pulled me off my feet, being so much taller than me and wanting to give me a real hug. After he put me down, I stepped back and flashed my hand to Violet.

“This is my roommate, Violet.”

“Great to meet you. Thanks so much for coming!” Guy said. “You two want to come to the after party? It’s at the hockey house. You’d be guests of honor.”

“Hell yeah,” Violet said, but I hesitated.

“I don’t think I can,” I said slowly.

“What?” Guy and Violet both snapped their heads toward me.

“Why, Birdy?” Guy followed up.

“I just . . . I don’t feel very good.”

Guy pressed the back of his hand to my forehead, looking worried. “You don’t feel hot.”

The god-awful smell of his hands overtook me. “Guy, hockey hands!”

“You missed them,” he teased, shoving them more in my face. I faked a gag, but it wasn’t all that fake. “For real, why are you sick?”

“It’s nothing. I just need to sleep it off, I think. Violet can go in my place, though, and take a friend.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome to come,” Guy said to Violet, still not taking his eyes off me. “Want me to take you home, Birdy?”

“No, Violet can get me there,” I said. “Really, it’s nothing.”

“Well, thanks for coming, even though you didn’t feel good. You need anything?” Guy offered, pulling me to him again.

“No thanks.”

And with a concerned look over his shoulder, he let us go.