Page 107 of Sweet Venom
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the way he completely ignored me.
It was the first time I’ve truly felt that I actually spent months sleeping.
The world moved on, and so did he. Which is good. Right?
I slam the journal closed, frowning. Why the hell would I be this bothered by that encounter?
The look in his eye.
The way he seemed mad?
I’m the one who’s supposed to be mad, especially after the attempted murder thing. Well, I don’t know about that, really. I never believed Julian a hundred percent, because I feel like if Jude wanted to kill me, he’d make it personal.
I also like to think he wouldn’t hurt Mario like that.
But then again, my name was on his damn list, so…
I open my journal again and scribble a few other notes about the strange erotic dreams I’ve been having since that encounter and how a part of me wants them to come true even if the other part is ashamed I’m even having these thoughts.
The man in my dreams has a name, but I don’t write it.
I can’t make it real.
After I finish scribbling down everything muddying my brain, I pause upon seeing rivulets of water sliding down the bedroom window.
I check the time and frown. The Vipers’ game Dahlia went to see is ending soon, and she didn’t take an umbrella, no matter how many times I’ve told her to.
With a sigh, I put the journal on the nightstand and put on a hoodie and jeans, choosing to forgo the glasses because they’d fog up.
Armed with two umbrellas, I take a taxi to Vipers Arena.
I arrive when the masses are exiting the arena. Crowds of people head to their cars or run in the rain. Some have umbrellas, but most of them hide by the building overlooking the parking lot.
But apparently, the Vipers won, considering all the excited commentary.
“Callahan was a beast.”
“I swear I get so fucking excited whenever he checks someone.”
“And the way he fights? Fucking awesome!”
Callahan this and Callahan that.
Yes, some others praise Preston and Kane, but most people seem to have a boner for Jude. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand hockey, because why is a notoriously violent player everyone’s favorite?
It takes me a while to slip through all the fans and stand on an empty corner, holding one of the umbrellas over my head. I text Dahlia.
Me
You forgot your umbrella, Dahl. It’s raining. I’min the arena’s parking lot near Kane’s car. Come pick it up.
Dahlia
Aw, thanks, Vi. You didn’t have to.
Of course I did. I don’t want you to catch a cold.
On my way.
