Page 10 of Neo

“It’s nice to see you too,” he says in response to her silence.

She defiantly places a hand on her hips, staring daggers at him. It’s obvious to anyone paying attention that these two have some sort of history. Sparks are definitely flying.

He emits a brief chuckle before turning his attention back to me. “So, um, were you reading a book just now?”

Every student in our section of the stands is now focused on the verbal exchange between the hockey player, Kennedy and me–the weirdo with the enormous book and bits of glass in her lap.

Great.

It only gets worse when another player skates over, his jersey bearing theNumber 17. I quickly recognize the number. It’s because of him I’m going to need a hot compress on the back of my neck tonight.

This is the one they call Neo.

I glance at him and immediately feel uneasy.

He’s massive, towering and wide. Bigger than the first guy.

An embodiment of physical intimidation.

Tufts of dirty blonde hair peeks from under his helmet, serving as a compliment to his cold blue eyes and crooked nose. He’s absolutely not my type, but when I hear my heartbeat thud loudly in my ears, my inside voice whispers anxiously in the back of my mind as he approaches.

Don’t be weird, Violet.

“Can we move this along, Shane?” he demands in a voice that’s commanding and lacks any compassion. “We’ve got a game to win once they clean this up.”

“Just checking on the bookworm here,” the player called Shane replies with a grin, glancing towards me.

Neo surveys me like I’m a nuisance, an obstacle delaying the continuance of his oh-so-important game.

“It’s tempered glass,” he says with obvious disdain. “She’s fine.”

Hey, I didn’t ask any of you to skate over here;I think to myself. What a jackass.

“Uh, no, she’s not fine,” Kennedy disputes, handing me a clean tissue out of her designer leather purse. “Here, your chin is bleeding.”

“Yeah, man, she definitely took some glass to the face,” the Shane guy says in defense of me.

Neo’s eyes suddenly lock onto mine and I feel trapped. They’re intense, like an approaching tropical storm. But it’s not their intensity that unnerves me—it’s the arrogance they ooze.

I curse silently at myself as he languidly rakes his eyes along my seated body, lingering at my breasts, and then finally landing at the book resting on my thighs–an examination which reeks of judgment.

My body has a visceral reaction to his study of me, quivering in some sort of unclear emotion–I guess fear. Then the book accidentally slips off my lap and underneath the seat in front of me.

“Good to see you, Prez,” the blonde giant practically grunts at Kennedy while his bottomless blue eyes stay affixed on me.

“Same,” she offers without a smile of any kind. “But dude, this is an exhibition game, not a real one. Your midfielder almost took my girl’s eye out,” Kennedy scolds him, but why does he call her Prez?

An audible gasp comes from someone sitting around us. My guess is that there aren’t many people in this town who chastise members of the hockey team like this and apparently Kennedy has carte blanche to?

“Who’s this?” the giant asks her, clearly referring to me as if I’m not sitting right in front of his egotistic ass.

“This is Violet, my roommate, and she’s not looking for any new friends, Neo.”

Kennedy must not be reading the room. This guy definitely doesn’t want me as a friend and the feeling is absolutely mutual.

“You have a shitty holiday disposition,” Neo says to Kennedy, still closely watching me.

“What else is new?” Shane scoffs.

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