7. Seven
SEVEN
H arley
“You cannot fucking wear that,” Alicia says harshly.
I turn away from the mirror, facing her. “Look, I’m only doing this to get underneath Jax’s skin. Plus, it’s the only jersey I own.”
I am wearing a pair of black skin tight jeans, a long-sleeved white t-shirt, and a jersey with a giant red knight helmet on the front. Across my shoulders is the name Sanchez, along with a large number twelve on the back.
“It’s fitting anyways. My mother set me up on a date with him next Saturday night,” I grumble.
“She what?” Alicia’s fury is bleeding through her tone.
“Apparently his family has a great social circle. Meaning his family comes from money. And since he comes from money, he’s a good fit for me. Because I can’t be trusted to pick out my own future husband or something.” Every word that spills from my lips is flat and irritated.
“That’s…” she trails off, her brows bunching together.
“My mother. That’s my mother.” I sigh heavily. “Okay, enough talk about my zucchini of a mother. Can we go?”
Alicia’s face contorts with confusion. “Zucchini?”
I roll my eyes. “Are we going to this stupid thing or not? I would much rather strip out of this dumb hockey jersey and stay in my room reading.”
“Would you be reading a textbook? Or a book, book?”
“A textbook of course,” I respond instantly.
“You are a poor, poor deprived soul. Harley, sweetie, have you ever heard of smut?” Alicia pins me with a stare.
“Umm. Yes,” I murmur, feeling my cheeks flush.
“I’ll give you a book to read. You’ll like it. It’s really long, making it like three books in one.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, and I think I hear her mumble something about hockey and the words ‘why choose’.
My brows pull together and even though she is now actively trying to look anywhere but at me, I ask, “That was a harem innuendo. Wasn’t it?”
“More like a reverse harem one,” she mumbles, examining her nails.
“Oh my god!” I smack her.
Alicia cackles, throwing her head back with her laugh. “Come on, let’s go piss off the big unruly hockey player.”
“Hockey jockey,” I correct, pointing my finger in her direction while slinging my purse over my shoulder.
Alicia and I walk to the arena across campus. She rambles on about the rivalry between the Wolves and the Knights. How over the last few years it’s gotten significantly worse. According to her, Jax and Leroy Sanchez both end up doing time in the penalty box due to dirty body checks and starting fights.
We step inside the arena, immediately falling into the lines for the concession stands. The entire entryway smells heavily of buttery popcorn. I inhale the mouth-watering smell through my nose and close my eyes briefly.
Alicia steps up to the register, pulling her wallet from her purse. “We will take two diet cokes and two large popcorn buckets. Extra layered butter there, Brent. Please and thank you,” she chirps, smiling at him and handing him a twenty-dollar bill.
“I can pay for mine,” I tell her trying to dig my wallet out.
“Don’t even think about pulling your wallet out, Harley. I will beat you with it and not bat an eye.” The tone she uses to deliver her threat makes me remove my hand from my purse.
She declared us best friends and sisters. That doesn’t mean she won’t tackle me to the ground like a linebacker stopping the quarterback from throwing a touchdown pass.
With a wide smile, Alicia hands me my soda and massive bucket of popcorn. I eye the popcorn, excitement building deep within me.
“Are you going to judge me for eating this entire bucket of popcorn to myself?” I ask.
“Are you going to judge me when I do that and eat the free refill?”
“Nope,” I tell her happily. I grin at her and say, “Popcorn is my kryptonite.”
Wagging her eyebrows at me, she teases, “Wait until you see Jax on the ice. Then he will be your kryptonite.”