Page 23 of Shane
Neo is our unofficial team captain. He has a dominant, no-nonsense personality when it comes to the game.
But sometimes that shit is annoying.
I don't reply but let his words roll over me like the heat from the shower. He’s only reminding me of my biggest fear, that when our team wreaks havoc in college hockey this season, I could be the weak link in the equation if I don’t stay focused.
“You know what, forget what I said,” Neo’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You always step up, Shane. I’m not worried about that. I’m just reminding you not to forgetwhyyou’re here.”
“I won’t.”
How can I?
Hockey is all I think about.
Except for when I’m thinking about her.
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 teammatesakadrinking 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.