I pop the puck into the air with the blade of my stick, passing it to Knox. He catches it on his, letting it sit for a moment, before sending it flying across the room to Steele.
Erik sits in the corner, his head bent as he works on… something.
Fuck if I know.
We’re all two beers in and getting restless.
It’s been a hell of a week. Practice every night has been kicking my ass more than usual, and Coach has repeatedly yelled at us to get our heads in the game. He blew his whistle tonight until he was purple, then finally ordered us to run two miles in the gym and get the fuck out of his sight.
Besides that, I’ve been watching Violet.
She walks to school with Willow Reed. Sometimes they drive if the weather is particularly poor. On occasion, Violet takes her time and pauses often to rub down her thigh or massage her calf. If it’s cold enough, she walks with a limp. Just slight enough for me to notice.
I hate that I want to watch her.
I’ve mapped out her schedule. The psychotic Monday and Wednesday classes. I switched into two of her classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She seems to not have anything on Friday. Not that I can suss out. But it doesn’t stop her from going to campus with Willow and taking a seat in the library.
Her friends didn’t abandon her after the video.
It was taken down too soon, I think. I didn’t admit to anyone that I was the one who posted it. As far as Knox knows, I shared it with someone who took it too far. And for his sake, I pretend to feel guilty about it.
There was a little argument between Jack and her. Jack didn’t bear the brunt of it—far from it. As these things go, he got accolades from his teammates. His anger isn’t justified, but it satiates the desire to grind Violet further into the mud. For a moment.
The school has moved on to the next big thing. A freshman caught kissing one of the residence hall directors, I guess. Erik briefly mentioned it yesterday. The director was fired, and the girl withdrew from school.
Fine .
I need to take it a step further. Or five steps further.
Violet cares about Willow. She cares about school… barely. Enough to graduate. She cared about dance, but that’s gone.
I could press on that wound. Make it bleed.
The puck comes sailing back at my face, and I snatch it before it can give me a black eye. Miles laughs at my glower.
“What’s up with Paris?” Erik suddenly asks. “She’s been blowing up your phone, Devereux.”
I already know what’s up with Paris. Small-minded girl with big dreams of marrying rich.
Miles scoffs. “She’s already talking about marrying the senator’s son.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Yeah?”
That’s me, obviously, although she hasn’t mentioned anything about marriage. I hope she goes down on one knee… or maybe two. Although when I think of a blonde on her knees in front of me, it isn’t Paris who I picture.
That’s how I know I’m in trouble.
“Didn’t take you for a guy to settle down, Devereux,” Erik says from his corner.
I glance at him. “I’ll tell them exactly how it is. It’s not my fault girls don’t believe me when I say I only fuck.”
Knox snickers. “Good luck shaking Paris. She’s a leech.”
I shrug and lean back. “That’s what makes her good at head.”
“Like Violet?”
I crane around and glare at Erik. “What?”
He smiles. “She’s gives good blow jobs. Surely you saw the video? I might just ask her, myself. If the rumors are true.”
This is what I wanted . But the thought of Erik putting his hands on her—or worse, talking to her? No fucking way.
I don’t realize I’ve shot out of my seat until Miles steps in front of me. He’s a few inches shorter than me, which doesn’t help cut off my line of vision from Erik. Who, unerringly, seems unperturbed by me.
Maybe that’s what bothers me about him. Why we don’t get along. Steele, Knox, Miles. Hell, even Jacob—the last of the starting lineup—seem to understand me without saying much. They have an aggression in them, too, that comes from somewhere deep. It’s not out all the time. Mine brims under the surface constantly, but they’ve figured out ways to keep it hidden.
Erik just glides through life like he doesn’t give a shit. And then he says something like that , and I want to tear his fucking eyes out.
Miles tugs my hockey stick out of my grip. He has to jerk it, because I have a death grip on the thing. And the puck in my other hand. I imagine smashing it into the side of Erik’s face over and over again…
“Take a walk,” Miles suggests.
Knox sighs and sets his stick aside. “Come on, Devereux. I’ll buy you a beer at Haven. And Erik? Stay the fuck away.”
Erik chuckles under his breath, but I’m already turning away. I shouldn’t have had such a visceral reaction to him talking about Violet Reece like that. Deep down, I’m mulling over what to do about it.
Turning the school against her is just a step. But I need to make her Public Enemy Number One, not the girl everyone wants to fuck. Right now, all the guys at school are picturing her blowing them , and that’s fucking infuriating.
Again, I see her with the blood on her head, trapped in that car. I can’t get that image out of my mind. It floats in front of me when I sleep, just flashes that interrupt regular dreams. Reminding me of what we did to each other.
I sigh and follow Knox outside. A few guys on the hockey team share a house. Fortunately, Erik’s room is in the basement. Knox, Steele, Miles, and I have the upstairs bedrooms. Jacob used to live with them until I came along, but he decided to live with others. Maybe to give me a spot, maybe because being around these assholes twenty-four seven can be annoying as fuck.
But it does help us play better. After only a few months, I’m able to read my teammates better than any Brickell team. Crown Point fosters a sort of brotherhood—and I have to imagine the dance coach tries to do the same with her girls.
How would I break us apart?
“You have a scheming face.” Knox nudges me. “You gonna talk out loud or are we going to walk in silence to the bar?”
“Violet and I are acquainted.”
“Shocker.” He raises his eyebrow. “Steele mentioned you got weird when he introduced you on Friday.”
I snort. “It’s a long story.”
Knox shrugs. “We can walk slower.”
“You’re a jackass.”
“I could be worse.” He grins. “Coach is going to kick our ass this week if you’re distracted. Which you are, so don’t try to give me some bullshit answer.”
Bonding. That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? Guys I can’t charm. Who see through my shit. And he does. So do the other guys. Including Erik, unfortunately.
“How loved is she?”
He tilts his head. “At school? Probably less now that she’s not on the dance team. But she’s got the whole sympathy going for her now. It wasn’t exactly quiet that she was on hiatus for a semester.”
I grunt.
“You want her miserable?”
“I want her alone.”
His eyes go dark. “Well, good fucking luck getting between her and Willow. They’re glued together. Have been since high school. Maybe middle school, I don’t fucking know. Reed and Reece—alphabetically, they’ll almost always be together.”
Huh. I knew they were close, but that makes a lot more sense. I look at him. “Maybe my problem isn’t that they’re close. It’s just that Willow and Violet are too focused on each other.”
He nods along to my words. “True enough.”
“So… we need to give Willow a distraction.” I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. I don’t normally do this. I operate alone. At Brickell, I didn’t have a lot of friends. I had a team that grudgingly admitted I was better than them. But here, I actually feel like I’m making the team better, and vice versa. That’s largely due to Knox and Steele welcoming me into the fold.
They might not if they knew who I was before—but that makes me all the more determined to push him toward Willow. Give him someone to focus on instead of me and Violet.
“I can do that,” he eventually says. “But how about we make it a bet?”
Things just got more interesting.
I grin. “First to fall wins?”
He extends his hand, and I slap my palm into his. Violet’s affection isn’t my goal. I don’t want her to love me. I don’t want her to like me. But it’ll keep Knox busy. He’s a competitive son of a bitch.
Love is overrated. I want to torment her until she breaks.
