Page 56 of So This Is War
OC holds up his finger. “You know, I actually think a man’s jaw?—”
“Shut up,” Silas, Pacey, and Eli say at the same time, and OC clams right up.
I turn to him and say, “Don’t let them treat you like that. You go ahead and compliment me. I’ll be sure to add it to the running tally of reasons I like you and why I’ll help you with your love life.”
“Jesus Christ,” Silas says on a groan. “Yeah, have fun, OC, working with a real wizard. The guy has zero credentials. No love of his own. No girlfriend. Not even a recent one-night stand.”
“You don’t fucking know that,” I shout, losing my cool. We can thank the makeup-free face of Wylie Wood this morning for that and the restricted access to her.
“From the sounds of the outburst,” Pacey says, “we do.”
“Seems odd, though,” Eli says. “Being that he’s the guy who always has a girl with him, even secretly. What has changed?”
I look over at Silas, who now studies me, his hand to his chin. “You know, ever since last year, it seems like he’s paid more attention to us and less attention to himself, and then there was that girl he was crushing on that OC told us about.”
“I, uh . . . I was lying,” OC says. “I didn’t say anything. I was drunk. Medicated. Mistaken. Anything you heard from me was a fabrication.”
Silas just rolls his eyes and looks back at me. “He’s hiding something. All of this tension, all of this backup, it has to do with that girl.” I look down at my skates, and that’s all Silas needs. He snaps his fingers. “That’s it. He’s going through girl troubles, and he won’t tell us.”
“Is he really?” Pacey asks.
“That can’t be right,” Eli says while bending at the waist to try to look me in the eyes. “Are you having girl troubles?”
“No,” I growl as I stand. “I’m not having girl troubles. I’m having . . . fuck, I’m having bologna withdrawals.” I grip my hair, ready to lie right through my teeth because I can’t fathom telling them anything else. “I’m trying to quit cold turkey because Grace said it wasn’t good for me. So yeah, I’m crushing. You’re right. I’m crushing hard on lady bologna, so if you all don’t mind, I’d prefer for you to leave me the fuck alone so I can deal with my anxiety and heartache in private.”
With that, I stomp toward the bathroom, locking myself in a stall and leaving the tension, anger, irritation, and frustration to bottle up in my shoulders.
It’s not going to be a good game tonight.
I know it already.
Sending well wishes to the opposing players . . .
“You seem tense,”Eli says over the roar of the crowd while I squirt some water into my mouth.
“Not tense,” I reply, eyeing Vladmir Popov out on the ice. He’s been fucking with me all night, and when our line is called in, I’m going to do something about it.
“Uh-huh. You have a snarl in your lip. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I say as I slam my water down and grip my stick tightly.
“Yeah, I’m not going to take that as a response. What’s going on?”
“Dude, we’re in the middle of a fucking game. This isn’t a therapy session,” I snap, just waiting for the moment we’re called out on the ice.
“Yeah, and I’m afraid you’ll do something stupid if we don’t discuss it.”
“I’m not going to do something?—”
“Change it up,” Coach Wood yells, and I’m off the bench and out on the ice in seconds. I spot Vladmir, who has the puck, and I charge after him with one thing on my mind.
Slamming him into the boards.
I sprint toward him, only hearing Eli briefly in the background, and with his back toward me, I slam into Vladmir, sending him right into the boards and freeing the puck to toss it down to Holmes.
“Fuck,” Vladmir shouts as he pushes off the plexiglass and then turns toward me. Immediately, he drops his stick, wraps his arm around my neck, and starts punching me in the ribs.
Perfect. Just what I wanted.
