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“What are you talking about?” he scoffs. “I play a game called hockey every day.”
“Not that kind of game. I mean a social one,” I say loud enough so he can hear me from the other room.
“I can be social. Let’s exchange numbers,” he demands, and I catch myself smiling at the request.
This is bad, Violet.
Don’t do it.
“Okay,” is my answer as I stare with disappointment at myself in the mirror.
After locking his phone number in, I ask him, “So what kind of game do you want to play? I’m down for Scrabble.”
“No scrabble. Let’s play aget to know yougame.”
“We’ve been getting to know each other all day.”
“You didn’t even know I was from Ohio, so it’s safe to say that you don’t know much about me. Most people know where I’m from, Grinch.”
“Hey, I didn’t give you permission to call me that. I’m not a grinch. I’m just grieving.”
“Giving out nicknames is my super power and it’s my prerogative to call you by whatever name I want. I don’t need your permission. ”
“That’s not actually how that works. If that’s the case, maybe I’ll just call you jackass?”
“Damn, is that what people call me behind my back?” he says, and I can hear his raucous laughter all the way from here. I just wish the sound didn’t warm my chest the way it does.
“To be fair, I know nothing about you because we’ve just met,” I say. “And more importantly, I’m not one of your hockey groupies.”
“Groupies are girls who follow the band, Violet. Puck bunnies is the term to use when you’re talking about hockey whores.”
“In the name of every feminist who came before me, you shouldn’t call them that,” I say as I return to the living room in my oversized blush pink sweats and my bare feet.
“I didn’t invent the term.” He contends as he rakes his piercing blue eyes down my body.
Why have I done everything I can to cover myself in fabric yet in front of him I still feel totally exposed?
“But you’re perpetuating it.”
“I could think of worse names to call them,” he mutters. “Some of them do very indecent things, quite regularly, with several members of the team.”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to slut shame anyone.”
“Have you been asking about me, Violet?” he taunts. “Nice sweats, by the way.”
“I didn’t have to ask anyone about what I already know, and even if you are a man whore, that’s your business. All I’m saying is you’re not in any position to call anyone names.”
“Prez calls them puck bunnies too,” he counters, raising his arms up for emphasis.
“I never heard her say it, but by the way, what’s the deal with you three?”
“What three are you referring to?”
It’s pretty clear he’s pretending to not know who or what I’m talking about, but I’ll play his game.
“Kennedy obviously loves hockey, and may enjoy watching the team play, but the few times I’ve seen her around you and Shane, it feels as if she doesn’t like either of you guys that much at all. You three have a weird energy.”
“Fucking Shane again,” he protests, then immediately checks his phone after it dings. “The driver is approaching with our order.”
