9. Meet The Parents
9
MEET THE PARENTS
MALLORY
These stupid Emerson fans keep looking at my ass.
It’s been a month since Ollie got suspended for beating the absolute crap out of Nick. Part of me feels slightly responsible for it. He missed a game because of me. But every time I even think about feeling guilty for it, he pinches my arm. I know that what he did was right, and truth be told, if it hadn’t been him, one of the guys would’ve done it anyway. But knowing that he was the one to defend me, it warms something deep in me. It felt… I don’t know, that he did it… not as a friend. But then again, It could just be me, because again, anyone else on the team would’ve done it, and they don’t have feelings for me.
Except Gus. He called me a few times when he found out what happened. I was supposed to find him soon after the whole Nick thing happened. We texted a bit that night. And when he came to see me the next day, he barely left my side. It was sweet. But then sweet got old really fast. Gus is amazing, and kind, but he’s been treating me like I'm made of glass, like one wrong move and I'll shatter all over again. But he’s wrong. I am capable of defending myself. Case in point: the three jackasses who keep looking in my direction every five freaking seconds.
The home game against Emerson University is in our arena today. It’s one of the most important games of the year. Whoever wins this is one step closer to competing in the frozen four. Emerson is one of the best division 1 teams. But then again, so is Covington, which is exactly how we managed to win – because we’re awesome, especially their captain, who even scored a freaking hat trick.
“Mia Cara, are you aware those gentlemen are looking your way?” Mrs. Ashby politely points out, like she isn’t aware they’ve been staring at me since we’ve been stood in this hallway, waiting for the boys to come out of the locker room.
“They’re uh, probably just mad we won and they didn’t – best to ignore them, Lanie.”
I call Ollie’s mom Lanie, short for Elena. Every time I tried to call her Mrs. Ashby, she’d just shout at me and mumble something in Italian that I don’t understand. So, I caved. I haven’t yet reached that stage with his dad though. There’s just something weird about calling him ‘Luke or Lukie’.
As horrible as it is to say though, I do prefer his mom. I guess in a messed up part of my brain, it has to do with the fact my mom left us when I was six, and I've barely heard from her since. She used to visit sometimes, but those visits became less and less frequent as I got older. She has been calling me a lot recently, but I don’t pick up. If she wants to know how I’m doing, she’ll ask dad. But I know she won’t.
Mrs Ashby and I launch into a discussion about her son’s upcoming wedding when a nervous looking Gus approaches with who I can only assume is his parents. His mom immediately grabs Mrs Ashby into a hug.
“Elena! come stai? è passato troppo tempo!”
“è tutto bellissimo! ti trovo bene.”
Gus’s mom smiles at me before turning back to her son.
“è questa la splendida signorina?”
Gus moves to my side, a faint blush staining his cheeks. He turns to me, probably noting the confusion on my face. “They’re just saying their hellos and stuff. They… uh, also said you look gorgeous tonight.”
“Because she does.” His mom adds.
“Mamma, non mettermi in imbarazzo, per favore.” His blush creeps further down his neck. A quick tap into Google tells me he’s asking her not to embarrass him. It’s not working.
“Oh hush,” she moves forward towards me, enveloping me in a very tight hug. “I’m Bianca, and this is my husband Matteo. We’ve heard such lovely things from everyone.” She winks at Gus. “Especially from my son.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Russo.” A similar shade of blush creeps up my neck.
“Oh please, Call me Bianca.”
“Good luck with that, B,” Mr Ashby appears from down the corridor with Ollie.
Ollie.
I do a double take when I see him. His wet hair is slicked back, barely covered by a backwards baseball hat. His sweatpants run low on his hips. He’s wearing a grey t–shirt with the tiny spiderman logo in the centre, which makes me smile .
“So Mallory,” Mr Russo comes up next to his wife. “How come you’re not wearing a jersey?”
Oh. That.
Every game I've gone to since freshman year, away or home, I've always worn Ollie’s jersey. It’s never been a big thing, or a big deal. He’s never had a girlfriend or a serious fling, so no girls wanted to scratch my eyes out. And Gus and I were the most casual thing to exist, so he didn’t want to glare daggers at me either. Ollie didn’t ask me every time, it’s just something that happens, something natural. He has a game, the girls show us. Courtney wears Shawn’s, Juliana wear’s Cory’s and Abi – if she comes – sometimes wears Tommy’s. And I wear Ollie’s. Every single time. Except this time. Yesterday Gus approached me with his jersey, asking me to wear it. He said he wouldn’t be upset if I didn't, but if I was going to wear one, he wanted it to be his. That’s some manipulative girl shit right there.
I didn’t know what to do. I sat on the kitchen stool for two hours, staring at the words ‘Ashby’ and ‘Russo’, trying to figure out what to do without hurting the other. If I wore Gus’ jersey, it would make a statement. People would think we're a couple, that we’re something more than what we are, which isn’t true, but I think it’s exactly what he wanted.
But then again, if I wore Ollie’s like I usually do, it would upset Gus. Something about wearing Gus’ jersey in front of Ollie just upsets my stomach. So I compromised, and instead wore my oversized zip up hoodie with the Covington grizzly logo on the back. That way I support my team and don’t upset anyone. I call that a win–win.
Both the Ashby’s and the Russo’s await my answer’s. Ollie and his parents flank my left, Gus and his flank my right. It suddenly feels very much like I'm picking sides.
“She was running late. ”
My dad comes up from behind me, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. “She was on a call with her brother for so long she was almost late. It’s a miracle she showed up before they hit the ice.”
Have I ever mentioned how much I love my dad?
Everyone is caught up in conversation when my phone dings in my pocket.
OLIVE OIL
What’s the real reason you’re not wearing a jersey?
Damn him.
ME
Because I was late.
OLIVE OIL
Try again.
My dad announces that it’s time for us to go since we have dinner reservations tonight. Ollie invited us to dinner with his parents, but he just wanted some father–daughter time. We head towards the glass doors. He holds out the door for me, and I look back at Ollie, who’s staring right at me.
ME
Because Gus asked me to wear his, and I didn’t want to.