Page 3 of The Bro-code

It doesn’t help that Murphy’s Law seems to slap me in the face the second I set foot on solid ground, in those stilettos I was talking about earlier.

“Signorina,” a very tanned Luigi, is waiting for me at the port, by the side of the usual black luxury SUV. “I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans. Unfortunately the King had to attend an important event that required him to take the royal private jet. Arrangements were made to book an alternative private flight for you, but it’s a busy time of the year for air travel and the company we use in these circumstances is overbooked. Nothing was available last minute from Nice, so it’s with my sincerest apologies that I have to inform you, the only travel I was able to secure for you today was on a commercial flight.”

The horrified way Luigi says “commercial flight” is the first thing that makes me smile in weeks.

“A commercial flight will be absolutely fine, Luigi,” I reassured Luca’s driver. “I’m used to flying in coach?—”

The older Italian man’s eyes widened in horror. “Coach? No, no, no, no. Mai (never). We were able to book your entire journey in first class, but I’m afraid there’s a scalo (stop) in Charleston, before you’ll be able to continue to Star Cove. The first class lounge will be available of course during your wait. I know this is not ideal?—”

I take the older man’s hand. “Luigi, don’t worry. Prince Luca has been incredibly generous by helping me in my time of need. A first class flight on a commercial airline is anything but a travesty.”

Luigi doesn’t look convinced, but I know I’ll be fine.

After all, what could go wrong?

The thing is, sometimes in life it’s not about the small inconveniences in themselves.

It’s about the universe giving you a sign that your life is about to go to shit.

More than that, it’s about not recognizing that sign and strutting on those stilettos, confident that you look like a million bucks, not knowing that the back of your skirt is tucked into your pants.

Just in case you were wondering, I’m being quite literal.

What does it say about the beginning of my senior year that the skirt tucked into the pants incident was just the tip of the iceberg?

RYKER

“Thanks, keep the change.”

Fuck I’m so happy to finally be leaving South Carolina, I would pay double, triple the price of this cab ride.

Sometimes in life though, just when you think you reached rock bottom, the universe gives you a sign that everything is going to be alright.

Maybe even more than alright.

But let’s begin from the fact that my college career in Hemlock Grove went exactly the opposite of how I had anticipated.

I came to Hemlock Grove College after being recruited by their scouts. They couldn’t offer me money to play hockey—the NCAA rules are clear about that—but South Carolina did everything they could to show me the “Royal treatment.”

I was one of the most sought after centers in my year when I graduated high school and when I walked into campus?

Fuck, I felt like a rockstar.

A god.

I was one of the most popular and loved people on campus.

A far cry from the way things turned out and the way I’m leaving the Deep South.

I heard somewhere that there’s a really small difference between love and hate and that couldn’t have turned out to be truer than it did.

I mean, things went swimmingly for the first two years.

I was obviously a starter on the team and we won the Frozen Four my freshman year. I scored the most goals in the entire year, not just for my conference, overall.

Things started changing when we lost in the Frozen Four finals to Yale the year after.

Nothing could prepare me however for the shit show that was last year.

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