I pat her knee condescendingly and whisper, “Shh. The game’s starting.”
I swear the woman growls at me, and I feel a little smug knowing I got under her skin again today.
As the players skate onto the ice, the student commentator announcing each player, the girls jump out of their seats, cheering them on. It’s a mystery to me how easily Scarlett can switch from being a complete ass toward me to this ball of energy when she’s with her friends.
I find myself getting engrossed in the game, focusing on Miles and Xavier as they assist each other in two goals. A part of me envies the bond these guys have with each other. You can feel it from the stands in the stadium, watch it play out with every shift and celebration after each goal. Maybe if I stuck with the sports I did growing up, I’d have a lot more friends than I do now.
Another shot lands and Wren jumps up from her seat, screaming and yelling like a complete madwoman. Miles sees her and points his hockey stick her way before making a heart with his hands. Kennedy lets out a dreamy sigh, while Scarlett gags beside me and I laugh.
When the second period ends with the teams tied, Kennedy and Wren talk across me, conversing over tactics. I consider getting involved and explaining to them that half the terminology they’re using is for football, but I bite my tongue.
Scarlett stands and smooths out her shirt. “I’m going to get some snacks. Does anyone want more popcorn?”
“I’ll have some. Salted, please,” I say, giving her a bright smile.
Scarlett’s smile mirrors my own. “I wasn’t asking you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, standing from my seat. “I’ll just come with.”
Scarlett bites the inside of her cheek, turning to her friends. “Ken?”
Kennedy shakes her head. “I’m good.”
“Wren?”
“Snacks, yes! I’ll come too,” Wren replies excitedly, but just as she stands from her seat, Kennedy tugs on her arm, flashing her a look and pulling her back into her seat. “Maybe not.”
“Have fun,” Kennedy says, wagging her eyebrows and flicking her gaze between Scarlett and me. Scarlett just rolls her eyes, walking off without me, but I chase after her, almost tripping up the steps. She’s trying to lose me in the crowd, but I don’t give up that easily. Arguing with her is way too much fun, and I’d rather do that than sit for a minute longer in the stadium.
By the time I get to the concession stands, she’s standing against a vending machine talking to some guy. Her back is to me, but she’s playing with her braid, clearly entertaining the guy that’s checking her out. I could move closer, find out what they’re talking about, but I think better of it.
He disappears after exchanging numbers, and I inch a little closer to Scarlett as she decides what she wants from the vending machine.
“Are you that easy to win over?” I tease.
She scoffs. “Easy? No. But he was an attractive guy who knows how to respectfully compliment women without being an ass about it.”
“Right.”
She punches in the numbers on the screen for the treat she wants. “If you’re impressed by his skills, Branson, I have his number if you want some pointers on how to successfully score a hookup.”
“I can do that on my own, thank you very much.”
Scarlett leans down to pick up her candies. “You can, huh?”
“Yep,” I say, switching places with her to get my own. “It’s not that hard.”
“I think you must have a lot of faith in your own species, Branson. You’d be surprised how many guys our age have no idea what to do with their hands.”
“Not all guys,” I say, grabbing my packet from the bottom of the vending machine. I shrug, smirking as I add, “I play piano.”
Scarlett’s brown eyes light up with intrigue as we move out of the queue for snacks. It’s a subtle change, but I notice it nonetheless. “And that suggests what exactly?”
“Well, I’ve never had any complaints.”
“Haven’t heard any good things either.”
“Have you been asking around about me?” I grin, but she gives me a blank look.
