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“I leave you alone for a few days and the world has gone to complete shit.”
“Hey, I get that you’re going through some things at home with your father and Shane, but please try not to project all of that onto this situation—if you can even call this a situation.”
“Oh, trust me, it’s definitely a damn situation.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Are you still high off of that punch? He almost killed someone at the frat house tonight, and now I understand why–it’s because of you. Girl, you’re marked. Nobody with a ten-foot pole is going to touch you, much less talk to you now. He made that very clear in front of everyone. You belong to him.”
“What those Gammas did to me and probably countless other girls is a criminal act. I can understand why Neo reacted like that. He was appalled, and I appreciated somebody having my back tonight.”
“You’re not understanding. Neo doesn’t just walk around town with spare Christmas trees in between his balls, which means he called someone, probably a puck bunny, to buy that tree and bring it to our house.”
“A puck bunny?” The thought nauseates me.
“You’re marked, but not exclusively marked. You’re not…special to him.”
“That’s kind of mean to say, Kennedy.”
“I’m sorry, but he’s slept with almost all of those girls. It’s probably a rite of passage for them. The girls serving us the drinks at the kickback the other night are longtime puck bunnies. They take pride in the fact that they’ve slept with all of the upperclassmen on the team, especially if they can bag one or more of the triad.”
“The triad?” I find myself whispering.
“Neo, Shane and Bass.” She emphasizes their names. “And let me be clear, Violet, leaving you that tree was strange as fuck, even for him. But Neo Major never does anything without a well thought out, strategic reason, which is usually to his benefit. I don’t know what he wants with you, but it can’t be good.”
“Aren’t you two friends?” I ask. “Why do you think so poorly of him? Why are you saying these things?”
This conversation has really upset me considering the fact that I’ve already slept with Neo…repeatedly.
“This is not personal. You’re my roommate and now someone I would consider my friend. I’m a hockey fan who happened to have gotten to know a few of the players my freshman year because of Shane’s connection to my father’s inability to keep it in his pants. I’ve seen these boys in action and I’m warning you to stay clear of Neo. It won’t end well for you. I’ve had a front-row seat to the effect he can have on a love-struck girl. Just ask Vikki Dixon. She’ll tell you.”
“I’m not love-struck,” I say rolling my eyes. “I barely know the guy.”
“The games are one thing but I should have never taken you over the ice house. That’s my fault. Just promise me you’ll stay away from him now that you know.”
“He’s not some dangerous warlord.” I say in a weak voice. “He won’t kill me.”
“Wait.” Kennedy studies me quietly at me for a moment. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with him?”
My eyes water and I don’t give her a response, but that’s all the confirmation that she needs.”
“Okay,” she takes a deep breath. “We all make mistakes but listen to me, the boy has baggage, Violet. People don’t really talk about it, but did you know that he killed his own brother?”
“That’s not true!” I protest, tears streaming down my face. “A drunk driver killed his brother.”
“Girl, that’s the half-truth his parents told the media to save his hockey career, but the gossip is that Neo was driving the car, not Jake. My guess is that he was the one who made some sort of driving error that night. Ran them both right into a guardrail and they spun out. I’ve often wondered if that’s why he doesn’t drink. Maybe he was drunk that night and?—”
“Stop.”
“Violet.”
“Just stop, Kennedy.” I raise my hand in a stop motion. “I don’t want to hear any more of your theories about Neo and his brother or your stories about the team. I have a headache and I just want to go to bed and pretend that I didn’t have the shittiest New Year’s Eve of my life.”
Kennedy’s face drops.
“And just so we’re clear,” I tell her. “I don’t need you giving me anymore unsolicited advice about who I choose to spend my time with. I had a mother, and she’s gone. I’m sorry if I gave you the idea that it was now your job.”
When I slide into bed underneath the freshly washed sheets I put on before we left for the party, completely spent from the night’s rollercoaster of emotions, I decide to do the one thing I can control and text Elijah.
