Page 69 of The Quit List
Holly bites her lip tentatively as she stares up at the screen behind the bar, where the game is still playing. “Which one is he?”
The Cyclones have just scored to equalize—5-5. The camera pans over the guys bumping fists and man-hugging, and Maddie exclaims “that one!” as it zooms over Aaron’s (admittedly very handsome, but for some reason, currently very irritating) face.
“Wow,” Holly says solemnly.
“Wow, indeed,” my sister agrees. “Are you up for it?”
Holly seems to consider this. Her eyes flicker to me for a moment, and we hold each other’s gaze for a heated moment before I look away and flash her a quick thumbs up.
A thumbs up. Like some cheesy sidekick cheering her on.
Because as strangely uncomfortable as the idea of Holly dating Aaron might make me—so much so that I kinda feel like my skin is itching—I know that, for her sake, this is worth a shot. Encouraging her to go on a date with someone who’s fun but also kind, and isn’t the poster child for her initial hit list, is exactly what I should be doing right now.
“Aaron’s a great guy,” I say truthfully. “Good personality, but won’t be intimidating or too in-your-face.”
As well as the fact that he’s rich and famous and has women literally throwing their underwear at him.
“But, he is under thirty,” I can’t resist adding with a teasing grin.
She matches my grin, then turns to Maddie again. “I’ll do it. If he’s up for it, of course.”
“No way he wouldn’t be,” Maddie assures her.
“I’m gonna look him up!” Holly digs her phone out of her purse, and as her fingers fly over the screen, I pull a face at Maddie.
“What’re you doing?” I mouth.
She imitates flicking a lighter. “Lighting a fire under your ass,” she mouths back.
AKA trying to show that I’m jealous.
I love my sister, love everything about her—including what a schemer she is—and I somewhat appreciate all her devious effort to push me towards Holly. But unlike me, she has no idea how to read a situation, and she’s got this all wrong.
I’m not jealous. I’m happy for Holly.
Like I said… Aaron is a great guy.
23
HOLLY
“What in the absolute frick is going on right now?!”
Aubrey’s squawk is nicely timed as, down on the ice, a guy throws another punch and he and his opponent tumble down, elbows and fists flying.
“No idea,” I mutter as I shove a fistful of popcorn in my mouth. I try not to wince as a guy’s head bounces off the ice. “But jeez louise, this sport is violent.”
“I kinda like it.”
“Thought you were a pacifist.” I smirk. Twenty minutes at a single hockey game, sitting on a hard plastic seat and breathing in cold, metallic air tinged with the scent of stale beer and overcooked hot dogs, and Aubrey’s throwing all her values out the window, apparently.
Although, in her floor-length cream maxi dress and fluffy beige jacket, she’s hilariously out of place among the sea of crimson jerseys in the RGM arena. Like she meant to attend a rodeo to eye up some buff cowboys, but somehow ended up spectating this frozen bloodbath instead.
I, meanwhile, am sporting an Atlanta Cyclones hoodie I borrowed from Jax and am trying very hard not to focus on the fact that, like his towel, it smells just like him. The sweatshirt is about six sizes too big, so it kind of feels like I’m wrapped up in a Jax-scented blanket.
“I am a pacifist.” She puckers her lips. “Unless hot, rugged, athletic men are ice-wrestling like this. Then I’m all for a good smack of violence.”
This makes me laugh so hard, I almost choke on a popcorn kernel. Which earns me a dirty look from the fan seated next to me. Apparently, ice fights are no laughing matter and require more of a very loud heckling response towards the opposing team’s fighters.