10. Shane

It wasin third grade that I learned three important things. I discovered that I loved learning multiplication tables, that my friendships with girls were starting to feel different from the ones I had with boys, and, most importantly, that I had a natural talent for ice hockey. But if my mom hadn’t nurtured that raw talent and steered me on my path toward competitive hockey, I’m positive that I would have been a private detective and a damn good one.

In between demanding practices, homework, and general bonding with my teammates aka drinking until we throw up–I have managed to learn Kennedy’s class schedule without breaking any internet privacy laws.

All you have to do is pay attention.

“Hey, Kennedy,” I casually call out as she walks up the hill toward the commons building. This is her first stop on Mondays because she doesn’t have class for another hour, but I’ve learned that she likes to get a vanilla latte first.

I’m standing in a group of four girls asking me about the opening home game in what I imagine is a sad attempt to see if I’ll get them in for free. I may or may not have slept with one of them the first week I came to VCU so she’s not making saying no very easy for me.

Chatting with strangers isn’t Kennedy’s thing, but I hope she stops to at least say hello back. I promise myself that this time, I won’t stare at her like I want to sop her up with a biscuit. It’s not doing me any favors with her. I can tell she already thinks I’m some campus whore because of how girls aggressively approach me. She doesn’t trust me at all.

She raises a hand to wave and keeps walking.

Fuck.

She’s going to make me work so hard for this.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” I tell the girls.

“Bye, Shane.”

I jog up the hill to catch up with Kennedy.

”Kennedy,” I puff as I draw closer to her.

”Yeah?” she replies, barely sparing me a glance.

Her cheeks are rosy from the quick walk uphill, and she”s dressed in a matching baby blue sweatsuit. The cropped jacket accentuates her tiny waist and the bottoms hug every inch of her perfectly rounded ass. Yet even in this much-appreciated outfit, she’s miscalculated Nevada’s morning chill once again.

“Are you cold?” I ask her the question, which sounds forced even to my ears.

“That’s what you ran over here to ask me?” She looks at me, her brows scrunched up, giving me an icy once-over. “Of course I’m cold, Shane; it’s 9 am in October.”

”Good point,” I laugh, albeit somewhat awkwardly. “Here, take my jacket,” I offer, motioning to remove my Suns windbreaker.

“No, thank you,” she stops me. “I’ll be inside soon.”

We continue walking silently for a while, the only sound being the occasional rustle of palm leaves in the gentle breeze. It”s late fall, and the campus is quieter than usual. Students hurry to their classes, their breath visible in the cool air. The bright desert sun casts long shadows, offering a stark contrast to the chill of the morning.

“Did you want something else?” Kennedy finally asks, breaking the silence between us.

I turn to look at her just as we reach the entrance of the commons building. ”I just...wanted to talk.”

”About the project you’ve been MIA on?” she asks incredulously.

“Not really.”

“Wow,” she scoffs. “Then what?”

Man, this girl really doesn’t like me, but I’d be mad at myself, too, if I missed as many project meetings as I have.

”I don”t know...anything but that,” I stammer, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

She smirks slightly and nods towards the doors. “I need to get my latte first.”

The warmth enveloping us as we walk into the building starkly contrasts the frosty air outside. There’s already a line in the coffee shop, but luckily, I thought ahead and used the online app to order her drink.

“Just ask for your name,” I tell her.

“Huh?”

“I made a mobile order. Your drink should be ready.”

“You made a mobile order when?”

“Right before I said hello, and before you get any ideas, you follow a routine that I just happened to notice.”

Not the total truth but close enough.

“So you noticed that I get a latte every Monday morning?”

“Yeah, no biggie,” I try to play it off, although I know how weird it’s looking for me.

Kennedy gives me the oddest look, then walks over to the mobile line and asks for her name. Her medium-sized vanilla latte is hot and ready in a white cup with her name written in cursive.

“Thank you?” she expresses as more of a question than a statement.

“I promise you I’m not some weird stalker. I just thought I’d order it for you when I ordered my protein shake.”

Before I can give the barista my name, she hands me my peanut butter protein smoothie. “Here you go, Shane.”

“Thanks.”

“See, one less thing for you to do before class,” I explain to Kennedy, attempting to justify my actions. “I don’t know whose bright idea it was to put classes this damn early in the morning anyway.”

“Exactly,” she chuckles lightly.

That explanation seems to finally put her at ease. Thank God, because if the roles were reversed, I’d probably have already called the campus cops on myself.

“Thank you for the latte. It was…considerate.”

“You want to sit down for a minute?” I glance over at the available round table and chairs in the far corner by the exit door and hope she says yes. “Maybe over there?”

“Sure. Just for a minute.”

“Listen, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I’ve been missing in action on this whole project thing.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re being kind. It’s not fine.”

“I mean it would be a lot better if the whole group could stick to the meeting dates. It’s not fair for some people to do the work but then everyone gets the credit.”

I feel badly that I’ve disappointed her. She probably thinks I’m some dumb athlete who never does his work when that’s so far from the truth. I just haven’t figured out this whole work-life balance thing yet.

“Tell the truth.” I lean forward. “You hate my guts, don’t you? I already heard that you were trying to bail on the group and join a different one.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Finally, she smiles.

A real smile.

I would love to see her and that smile under me at some point in the near future.

I’m just saying.

A guy’s got to have goals.

“I have a big season opener coming up, and our coach has been relentless about training. The times conflict with when you all meet. I should have mentioned that in class.”

“Lorenzo is an athlete too, but he still makes the time.”

How did I know that his name was going to come up?

“Baseball season doesn’t start until February. He has all the time in the world right now.”

“I’m sure he’s doing some sort of preseason thing or at least some conditioning in the gym.”

Conditioning?

Those lightweights?

“Have you ever been to a hockey game before?” I challenge, having been slightly offended by what she’s insinuating. She must not understand just how grueling the sport is.

“Of course.”

That wasn’t the answer I was expecting.

“Of course?”

She cocks her pretty little head to the side.

“Does that surprise you?”

“It does a little.”

“Do you think hockey is only for coddled, white-bred, suburban kids? We had a community hockey rink two blocks from my house. I grew up watching the neighborhood boys play hockey my whole life. I’m very familiar with the sport.”

“That’s good to hear,” I tell her because it inspires a great idea.

“Why is that?”

“I’d rather give my tickets to someone who will appreciate them.”

“Give your tickets? I don’t follow.”

“Every player on the team gets a certain amount of complimentary tickets. I get one for away games and two for home. If we make it to the playoffs, I get four. It was part of my recruitment package when they signed me.”

“And you want to give your tickets to me?”

“If you want them,” I say very indifferently, but deep down, I desperately want her to say yes. I’ve done a piss poor job of impressing her so far but on the ice, I know I can wow her. The game is where I shine.

“Based on the buzz on campus about your upcoming season, I’d think you do better selling the tickets instead of giving them to me. I bet you’d make a killing.”

“I see your business-savvy brain is at work, but unfortunately, reselling comp tickets is not allowed. I could get into a lot of trouble.”

“So you’re a rule follower?” She grins, and I might be reading way too much into it, but I think I’m finally making some headway with her.

“Only some rules,” I tell her playfully.

“How about giving the tickets to your family?”

“I’m from New Jersey, and it’s probably going to be a rare occasion when my mom can fly across the country to catch one of my games. Flights are expensive, and we play a long season.”

“Oh, right, of course.”

“So really you’d be doing me a favor. Seeing a friendly face at the home games would be nice.”

“And you don’t have any friends you’d like to give them to?”

“I’m a freshman just like you. Other than my teammates, I haven’t made any friends yet. And it’s going to be pretty sad to look in the stands at an empty seat when some of the other guys have people come watch them play.”

“I just saw you talking with a group of people you’re supposedly not friends with.”

“Oh, them? They’re friends of the team. Fans, really.”

“It’s amazing how you have so many fans and haven’t played a game yet.”

“Some of us have been here all summer. That’s how we know each other.”

“Gotcha.”

But the look on her face tells me that she only believes half of what I’m saying.

“So you’ll come?” I crack a smile.

She appears to finally consider my offer.

“If you promise to come to the next project meeting.”

“It’s on Thursday again?”

“Just like last Thursday, Shane.”

I already know I have a conflict that day. If I’m going to be perfect on the ice, I’ve got to be consistent with my training. Sacrifices always have to be made for excellence.

“I have a better idea.”

“What could be better than meeting your class obligations on the days we all agreed to?”

“Are you going home for Thanksgiving?”

She pauses for a moment as if she isn’t exactly sure about her plans.

“Yes.”

“Pineboro is about thirty or forty minutes, depending on the traffic from Philadelphia. I propose catching up on everything I’ve missed over the break.”

“Thanksgiving break? There’s a lot of time between now and then, and while Lisa might be willing to carry your part of the load, I’m not.”

There’s something so incredibly sexy about the way she gives it to me straight. She’s completely unimpressed by me, and it makes her that more attractive.

“I’m feeling like that hate for me we discussed earlier has returned.”

“You think you can buy me a latte and give me some hockey tickets I never asked for, and we’re all good?”

Damn, this girl is hot.

She stands to leave and I need to lean over to hide the way my dick jumps to attention. The fucker has a mind of its own. Especially because of the way that Kennedy’s perfectly apple-shaped ass jiggles under the soft fabric of those sweatpants.

“I promise you that I’m not, excuse the pun, skating by,” I say, unable to hide my smile as I grasp her wrist to stop her.

“That’s pretty lame, even for you.”

She pulls her arm from my grip.

“Seriously, my contribution to the project will equal everyone else’s. I have a super tight schedule this month, but I promise I’ll use the break to catch up. I’ve had to catch up on schoolwork my whole life. I’m used to it.”

“I’m not sure what my schedule will look like once I get home. I have to split my time between two houses.”

“Why?” I ask when I notice a flicker of pain etched on her face, although I can probably guess why.

“That’s not important.”

There’s a story there, but I’m not going to push for it. She’s right. It’s not important for me to know. I’m just happy that she’s considering my idea.

“We can probably get a lot done on the flight. It’s a long one, and I’m good with research. I’ll pay for the plane wifi, and we’ll figure out the rest later. Deal?”

She stares at me for a long contemplative moment, then sighs, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but deal.”

Hell, fucking yes!

I’m in.