“What’s happening?” she asks.
“Nole got another penalty.”
“That means he’s going into that box?” Bethany asks and I nod my head.
Sarah doesn’t look away from the game. “He’s a defender too, right?”
Once the question passes Sarah’s lips, I slowly turn my head, fighting back the urge to flick her in the forehead for not paying attention yet again.
“Defenseman,” I correct her.
“Oh, yeah. That.”
I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Is this how you feel when we watch volleyball with you?”
“Yeah.” Sarah grins, patting my thigh. “Pretty much.”
The rest of the game goes the same way. Bethany acting like Moose getting boarded hurts her too, Sarah asking questions shejust asked to get a rise out of me, and me reminding myself that Lucas isn’t the only player on the ice.
When Lucas makes the winning shot of the season, I pull Sarah and Bethany up with me, cheering along with the rest of the crowd.
“Did we win?” Bethany shouts over the crowd and I nod my head.
It’s then that the two clap their hands alongside me while shouting out things that purposely show they don’t know what the hell is happening.
“Touchdown!” Sarah cups her hands over her mouth, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Bethany joins in, cheering for the wrong team. “Go Blue Jays!”
About a group of four guys in front of us—men in their mid-forties who clearly have no patience for college-aged girls—look over at us, eyes narrowed and lips pulled back in disgust. They catch me staring at them, arms crossed and not threatened at all just because they’re men. That fact alone just makes me want to walk down a few steps and kick them in the balls.
I only refrain because I don’t think my dad would appreciate getting a call from the school on what’s supposed to be an exciting end to the season.
But oh, do these shitheads test me.
“Is there a problem, sweetheart?” the one with hair that’s slicked back due to grease and not gel, asks.
“I don’t know, you tell me, fuckwad.”
“Okay!” Bethany tugs my arm and holds my seat down for me, while Sarah is laughing unapologetically. “Why don’t we sit down.”
The men shake their heads, deciding to walk toward the entrance.
Good, because it wasn’t going to be me.
I let Bethany tug me back down but as the men pass in front of us, I make sure to hold both of my middle fingers up, lips forming into a tight line. Bethany grabs my hands and forces them onto my lap.
Sarah waves as they walk away, a smile on her face.
She’s usually the one to find my temper hilarious.
Bethany, on the other hand, might just die from a heart attack one of these days from how often she has to break up fights and arguments between me and whoever decides to push my buttons.
It’s not that I want to start fights, it’s that I don’t know any better way to handle a situation or a person I don’t like. Besides, having people know that I’m not afraid to punch them in the fucking face prevents less instances of me having to resort to that.
Bethany sighs. “Must you always resort to violence?”
I nod my head with no hesitation. “How else am I going to get my point across?”