Page 9

9

HAVOC

“A re you mad that I’m a better skater, or that I’m easier to like than you?”

A gasp to my side and a few murmurs tell me I might have gone too far.

I can’t hold it back anymore. This girl has been seeking me out like the target on my throat is for her and I’m tired of it. I’m not good at being backed into a corner, pushed until there’s nothing I can do but go to that terrible place inside me and reach for something cruel, a skill I both take pride in and am ashamed of.

“Everyone out.” Her nostrils flare wide with rage, not a single person bothering to challenge her request, as if she owns the fucking building. In a few seconds, the entire locker room clears out.

“What, it’s okay when you insult me, but if I finally bite back, you want it in private?” I scoff, tired of taking this girl’s shit.

She licks her lower lip, walking toward me with hard, narrowed eyes. She steps forward, I move back. Another step, I mimic again. We continue the dance until my back slams against the metal locker.

“I get it, you have a problem with me. I took your spot. I’m faster than you. I knew Asha in a way you never will, and that bothers you. But that isn’t my problem, and I’m not afraid of you, Maddox.” I exhale it all out so fast, there’s no way it’s convincing.

Maybe I am afraid of her.

She huffs out in amusement, like she doesn’t believe me either, a crooked smirk gracing her face. “Is that so, Mayhem?”She fucks up my name again, and I know it’s on purpose.

Her left hand slams the metal behind me, just inches from my face. I flinch, too startled to mask my surprise, but I’m prepared when the right hand repeats the action, locking me in place between her arms.

“You don’t scare me.” I say it more for me than her, but I don’t dare break eye contact, watching as her gaze softens and her eyebrows lift in amusement.

“Hmm,” she hums close in my ear, the hairs on the back of my neck all coming to a stand. “Say it one more time, and maybe you’ll convince yourself.”

She’s fucking with me.

Too bad I grew up with the queen of confrontation, and if Asha taught me one thing, it was how to play chicken well.

Just barely enough of a gap between us, I grab at the waist of my spandex shorts, shimmying out of the material that’s nearly damp with sweat. There’s just a slight movement of her eyelids, but she regains control, not yet daring to lose. Fingers gripping at the hem of my practice shirt, I lift the fabric up and then over my head, dropping it to the ground between us.

Her gaze betrays her, but just as quickly, she corrects her expression, laying on that mask of indifference once again. It’s only when I shimmy out of the fishnet stockings that I’m granted enough space to move by her, and with the next movement, I undo the front clasp of my sports bra.The line in her jaw hardens, like she’s clenching her teeth—hard.

“I need to shower.” Each word is sharp as I push them out through clenched teeth. “Move.”

She doesn’t. She just stands there, blue eyes staring deep into mine. If hate was a tangible thing, it would be the sword she cuts me down with right this second. I dig deep and find a backbone to lean on.

“Make a move, Maddox.” I do what I can to step forward, but there’s no space between us, so I’m just pressing my bare tits against her chest. “You afraid you might like what you see if you look down?”

Where she finds the room, I don’t know, but she somehow gets closer to me, her knee lifting up so it’s wedged right between my thighs. I can’t mask the alarm in my eyes, but I try to shake it off. The mean smirk on her face tells me she thinks she won. Her hands fall, and with them, her gaze.

She tsks disappointedly. “I can promise you that you’re not my type, Mayhem. I don’t like weakness on my women.”

She backs away, giving me the room I need to walk toward the showers, where I remove my final piece of clothing. Dropping my underwear to my feet, I turn the knob, waiting for the water to become warm before stepping inside.

I still feel the heat of her stare behind me, overwhelming and nearly suffocating, but I don’t dare check. Closing the shower curtain of my stall, I make do with a bar of soap, the only thing I managed to bring with me while my heart was too busy hammering from the adrenaline.

What the hell was that?

Never the kind to speak up, always the doormat. Always accepting the conditions of my life for what they are and leaping over every hurdle thrown my way as if it was custom built for me. Blend in. Don’t let them notice you .

Well, fuck that.

She notices me now.

The heat of the shower is enough to settle the brutal pumping of my pulse, the sound of the cascading water almost too loud to hear the skaters making their way back inside. They’re continuing on in the locker room with their after practice routines as if Maddox hadn’t kicked them out, as if there’s no sort of lingering weirdness or humiliation for me to mull over.

Maddox can try, but my own mind is my biggest enemy.

I’m already clothed and scrunching my damp waves into shape when I hear a husky voice behind me. “Hey, uh…Havoc, right?”

“Vera,” I correct before I turn around.

I stare up at piercing blue eyes and matching hair. K-Otic is already dressed in fitted jeans with classic low tops and a gray v-neck, though I can’t recall having seen them inside the locker room. Their hair is wet, framing their face instead of slicked back like I’d seen before.

“Cool.” They look me up and down with an awkwardness that triumphs my own but somehow seems entirely attractive on them, almost purposeful. Resting their forearm on the lockers and leaning over me, their voice comes out almost like a hushed sound. “I’m Kade.”

“Hi.” It bubbles out of me like an awkward laugh. I never know the right way to respond to someone introducing themselves when they already know my name. I rush out the easiest brain garbage fact to pull from my head. “You’re fast.”

“Yeah, long legs,” they acknowledge, taking it just as a statement of fact. “Wanna grab a drink?”

“That sounds great, actually.” My eyes can’t help but glance over to where Maddox trapped me before, a knot forming in my stomach.

It only takes me a few more minutes to gather my things into my bag, but Kade has no problem waiting. They open the door, and as we step out into the rink, I hear DreadPool’s voice. “I was gonna ask her out, but K beat me to it.”

I follow the sound of their voice to where they stand in front of Asha’s office, talking to someone out of sight.

“You heard K talk?” Maddox’s voice is full of surprise, and though I still can’t see her, it fills me with uneasiness.

We head toward the entrance where the two are talking about us . My body stiffens, Kade somehow sensing it and placing their hand at the middle of my back for support. I can only imagine what her face looks like, but I plan to avoid it like it’s my job.

“To her, yeah.” Just as DreadPool says it, we walk past them, Kade not bothering to spare a glance to their side as they push open the door and hold it for me.

K practically rips my duffel out of my hand, grabbing the passenger side door of their car before throwing my bag inside the trunk.

“Oh, I drove.” I point back at my car.

“You shouldn’t drive drunk.” Kade stands at my side, as if waiting for me to make a decision so they can shut the passenger side door. My bag is already firmly secured in the back of their Jeep.

I’m stammering, not a coherent response that can be translated into any meaningful sentence in my head.

“I’ll bring you back to your car in the morning,” Kade says with a chuckle, not letting me overthink and making the decision for me.

It’s somehow exactly what I need.

“Okay,” I sing, trying to mask my chronic anxiety but genuinely grateful to not be burdened with the paralysis that often comes with choices.

I’m only slightly surprised when we pull up to a red-brick townhouse just minutes from downtown. I can’t help but wonder what they do for a living to be able to afford rent so close to the heart of Slaughters.

“I need to feed my cat first. There are a few bars within walking distance,” they say, but I’m well aware.

“I know.” I present it as fact, not as superiority.

I catch a smirk from just a sliver of their face. “You’re from here, right?”

“Yup. Spent twenty-five years of my life in this place.” My fingers tuck into the fabric of my pockets awkwardly. “What about you?”

“I moved here two years ago. Didn’t really mean to.” They shrug, opening the front door to their house.

A cat nearly the size of a golden retriever greets us, their fur dramatic like a lion and a beautiful charcoal gray.

“Oh my God. I’m in love.” I drop to my knees, and the kitty doesn’t hesitate, brushing up against me and nudging me with their head.

“That’s Tolkien,” Kade introduces us, the name quite fitting for such a majestic creature.

“How did I ever live without you, sweet kitty?” I’m on the ground now, fully embracing my cat lady moment and letting a forty pound cat make biscuits on my chest.

He runs off once he hears Kade pouring food into his bowl, and I’m equal parts disappointed and relieved to not look so insanely obsessed. “Did you say you didn’t mean to move to Slaughters?” I backtrack to our earlier conversation.

Kade scratches the back of their head, scrunching their nose in thought. “It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. My aunt died and left me on her estate, and when I came to clean up and sell the house, I realized it was probably going to be my only shot at owning property in this lifetime. Slaughters’ cost of living is manageable, so I went back to Maine for my shit and made this place home.”

Had I been drinking something, I would’ve spit it out. “You moved from Maine to Slaughters? Incredible.” I laugh, shaking my head.

And then I remember that I just moved back from California to Slaughters.

“It’s not that bad here.” They shrug. “But I get it. I’d only been here a handful of times to visit my aunt. You grew up here—hometown blues and shit.”

“Something like that,” I agree, deciding for once not to trauma dump and word vomit my entire twenty-five year history with this town.

The truth is, this place is the cemetery that holds every mistake I made. This town is made from the bones of all my traumas and injuries, and they’re somehow all locked in a coffin that had once been metaphorical, but now, with Asha gone, seems far too real.

“You okay?” Kade asks, as if my face reflects how I feel.

I nod, searching for comfort in any way possible and giving the cat another head scratch as he eats from his bowl.

“I have to confess why I asked you out.” Their tone sobers as they sit on a blue suede couch.

I tilt my head in curiosity.

“I’ve been…” Kade starts fidgeting with their fingers as they avoid my gaze. “I’ve been really lost since Asha. I know you really knew her well and… I just… I don’t know. You showed up,and being close to you is kind of like being close to her again. That probably doesn’t make sense.” They finally look up, tears streaming down their eyes. “I lost my sister not even two years ago, and now Asha. It isn’t fair.”

“Kade.” It’s barely a whisper as I sit down, embracing them in a tight squeeze. K drops their head to my chest, a hearty sob exploding as they shake in my hold. “Asha was good at that.” My laugh is made from sorrow. “She could turn anyone from a stranger into family with just a cup of coffee.”

Kade’s sobbing intensifies, and I just hold them tighter, somehow able to keep it from piercing me and taking me down too.

Grief is like that.

It can be the sticky glue that holds us together as much as it can be a searing hot knife that divides.