Brutal Obsession (21)

VIOLET





We’re going all out for this. The whole dance team is going to the game, and half of them are in our apartment. While Greyson was whispering in my ear to come to the game, Knox was inviting the whole damn team via Willow. What started as Knox innocently asking if Willow and I were interested—which she responded, maybe—turned into him trying harder. More persuasive of an argument, I would assume. Based on Willow’s pink cheeks anyway.

Amanda and Jess are in Willow’s room, applying their makeup on the floor using one of those cheap wall mirrors. Paris has planted herself beside me in the bathroom, using our curling iron. The rest of the girls are in the living room.

“You’re wearing that?” Paris asks, wrinkling her nose.

I look down at my blue tank top. It has the Hawks mascot in white across the chest. Underneath it, I have a lacy black bra that’s visible on the sides. I fully plan on layering it with a black jacket and scarf, because the stadium will be cold. And in that case, it’s the thought that counts when it comes to school spirit.

“Um… yes.” I lean closer to the mirror and run my nail under my lower lip to perfect the line of dark-blue lipstick. My eyeliner is blue, and so is the obnoxious eye shadow. It’s a remnant from our dance team competitions and performances during the football and basketball halftimes.

She’s got similar makeup anyway. Her winged eyeliner is sharper, and she went with a red lip instead of the blue. But that’s fine. She’s a good three inches taller than me.

“It’s cute,” she offers.

I don’t know why she came. She doesn’t like me and has never made that a secret.

“Thanks.” I can’t help how flat my voice is. “When do your parents come into town?”

She smiles. “In two weeks. They’re actually attending a charity event with Senator Devereux, so it might turn into a whole thing.”

A whole thing? I nod dumbly, not sure what she means. It doesn’t really matter anyway. The last thing I need is to get caught up in Greyson’s web. I don’t need to be his victim again.

And yet, I’ve been pondering what the fuck he wants with me. Why he made me come on his fingers… on the street, no less. Where anyone could’ve seen us.

I get the uncomfortable feeling that he did it on purpose. There. For an audience.

I let out a sigh and cap my lipstick, tucking it into the little clutch I’m taking with me. “We need to leave soon.”

She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, posing in the mirror for a moment. “I’m done anyway.”

She stalks out and almost crashes into Willow in the hallway. My best friend wears a white long-sleeved shirt with the Hawks logo in dark blue. It was a craft project last year, where she carefully cut the sides and retied them. It looks like ribbons up either side, exposing slices of her tanned skin. Her hair is up in a crown braid with a few loose curls.

“Cute,” I say, and unlike Paris, I mean it.

She grins. “You’re going to be freezing.”

I shrug. “Layers.”

“Let’s go round up the cats,” she says. In the living room, she pulls on her jacket. She claps to get everyone’s attention. “We’re leaving in two minutes. Y’all ready?”

She’s greeted by a chorus of yeses, and I smile. Willow should’ve been the captain of the dance team. All the girls respect and listen to her. But instead, Paris won out. She’s a senior, after all.

I let out a minuscule sigh.

“The Wolves won’t know what hit them,” Jess says in my ear. “When’s the last time you went to a Hawks hockey game?”

“Last year.” I roll my eyes.

She grins. “Just wait until you see Greyson skate. He’s so freaking fast. And he clicked with the other guys instantly.”

“We don’t know what kind of work went into it.” Paris breezes past us. “He’s talented, of course, but he’s also hardworking. They probably all took a lot of shit from their coach. Like us.”

I snort. “When’s the last time you took shit from our coach?”

“She’s not yours anymore, Reece.” Paris levels me with a look. “Or did you forget?”

Ouch.

Willow grabs my hand and squeezes. “You don’t need to rub it in her face like a bitch, Paris.” And to me, under her breath, “I brought a flask. We can drown her out if necessary.”

“Or we can get her drunk enough to shut up,” I whisper back. It took way too long in the shower to get the smell of beer off me. I’m not sure I want to dull my senses before meeting Greyson—if they win—and I’d rather watch Paris make a mess of herself.

The rest of the way to the stadium is relatively painless. Paris complains a few times about the cold and the walk from our apartment—without ever offering her place to get ready. Truth is, she lives farther away than us. We live in prime real estate, and we got it by pure luck. And then we refused to let the lease go at the end of our freshman year.

Our student IDs get scanned on the way into the stadium, and we join a horde of similarly dressed students. We find the section we usually sit in and take our seats. I end up between Willow and Amanda.

The energy thrums throughout the stadium. We’re on one of the corners, closest to the blue-and-silver painted goal and a good view of the rink. The student section fills quickly, and the ticket holders fill in more gradually. But soon enough, the whole lower level of the stadium is full.