Brenna

Ella finds me in the hallway on Monday, and she doesn't hesitate to drag me into the nearest women's washroom, which also is the women's locker room. Although Ella and I are friends, we're not close friends—that's more her and Evren's lane. Time has passed since we got together at Catina's house. I haven't seen her since then.

"What?" I ask once she's closed the door.

The bathroom reeks of perfume. Several types, ranging from sweet and floral to citrusy. A group of girls just had a gym class. The perfume is potent, giving me an instant headache.

Ella tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder as she crosses her arms. "What's going on with you and Shea?"

"Nothing," I reply. My voice is too assertive, drawing suspicion from Ella.

"Brenna, you kissed him. That's far from nothing. I want to make sure everything's okay. He doesn't surround himself with good people. Associating yourself with him will only pull you into that circle. Connor, Preston... Basically any boy aside from Jayden and KJ is a problem."

I expel a flustered breath. Does she think I'm stupid? "I know," I reply. "Just because Shea is trying to treat me better doesn't mean he's realized. This isn't some fucking miracle. He's still an asshole. There's been progress, but it's not satisfactory progress. He still has to acknowledge his sister. Whatever decision he makes regarding treatment of me or any woman is based on Chelsea. He needs to stop doing that. He's taken baby steps, but it's not enough."

Sighing, Ella rubs her temples. "That's not what I'm talking about. You can't trust Shea. Even if you think he's making progress, Brenna."

"Do you hate him?" I ask, cocking my head to the side.

"No," Ella replies. "When I was dating Kaleb, I got to know Shea. He's a good person, but he has his flaws. He's morally grey. Shea isn't afraid to do the wrong thing if it means getting what he wants."

I snort. "That's a loaded statement. Either you hate him or you like him. There's no in between."

Ella chuckles. "He's problematic. An anti-hero, if you will. Trusting him is a mistake."

The focus of Ella's conversation is trust. It's her priority. Why would she be insisting I can't trust Shea? There are obvious reasons, but it's as if something lies beneath. It's almost as if... My eyebrow raise in surprise. "KJ told you about the bet, didn't he?"

Ella's grip tightens on the strap of her leather backpack. "You know about it?"

"Shea told me," I reply. "I'd tell you the rest, but I'm assuming you know. It's strange, Ella. Didn't you dump KJ? Why talk to him if you dumped him?" 

"He came to me," Ella says. Her shoulders sag with relief. "He was worried about the consequences. Kaleb asked me to look out for you."

I cock an eyebrow. "So you've been spying on me?"

"No," Ella replies. She reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. "We're not as close as you and Catina are—I know that. But you're still my friend, Brenna. I'm not spying on you. I'm looking out for you. Just like Evren and Catina, I'm here if you need me." She pauses, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad you know. I was trying to hint at it because Kaleb told me and then told me not to tell you, and then the guilt started eating at me. I know I could've said something earlier, but I also know the dangers of people knowing... Don't be mad at Kaleb. He's worried about you and Shea. This whole thing... it's crazy. You're both walking a thin line."

My temper reduces and I exhale. "Right. Sorry." Sighing, I sit down on a bench. My elbows rest on my knees and I drop my face into my hands, rubbing my temples. "I'm sorry."

Ella shrugs. "Apology accepted. I'm sorry for not telling you I knew. Brenna... You need to be careful. Connor isn't a pleasant person. His hatred for you is strong."

"Good," I spit. Hearing his name adds fuel to my temper. "Let that motherfucker hate me. No one likes him anyway. Why would anyone want to like him? If he hates me, it means I'm doing something right."

"Beats me," Ella replies. She sits down beside me, dropping her bag to the floor. "Why did you kiss Shea?"

Her question irks me.

"Hold up," I say, raising a finger. "Shea kissed me. He made the move."

"But you didn't push him away."

I draw my bottom lip between my teeth and look away. Fine. She has me there. There's no explanation why I didn't shove Shea away. I'm not admitting that. Hell no. Admitting I didn't want to shove him away will complicate things. Even if Shea is working on his attitude based on his view of Chelsea, he's putting in the effort. Most men wouldn't do that. Sticking around and pushing him... It's something I want to do.

"Ella," I say. "I was shocked, okay? Do you think I expected Shea to kiss me? His actions were shocking."

My words hold truth. Shea kissing me was shocking.

Ella purses her glossy lips, glancing at the line of sinks. I don't think she believes me.

"Fine," she sighs. "What are you and Shea doing about the bet?"

My posture slouches. I shouldn't let Connor's games dictate what I do. His actions don't account for my actions. However, I see an opportune moment to take Connor down. He's a bully. He abuses his teammates. Although I don't like Kelowna's team, I know KJ and Jayden are good people. They don't deserve Connor's abuse. If Shea and I can expose him...

"We're exposing Connor," I reply, my voice firm. "He's abusive, Ella. We're not letting him get away with threatening his teammates. Although Shea deserves karma, he's going through enough. He has Chelsea to care for—even though it's not his responsibility. His parents are fighting, too. KJ and Jayden's hands are clean—Connor dragged them into this..."

I trail off, thumbing the zipper of my sweater. My petty side wants to tattle on Connor. I could say he's forcing Shea and I into this situation (which he is). But I fear the retaliation. Connor could give us. He would injure KJ or Jayden—even Shea—enough they'd never play hockey again. As for me?

I suppress a shudder.

There are many things a man could do. I don't know how I'd react until the situation was happening.

"He's gotten away with too much," I conclude, tossing my hair over my shoulder. I glance at Ella. She looks concerned, but there's a fire in her eyes, too. Although she broke up with KJ, I think she still has feelings for him. His safety concerns her. "He needs to learn a lesson."

Ella presses her lips together, nodding. "Okay. I just hope you know what you're doing. You and Shea need to be careful. Everyone knows what happens if you're caught dating a hockey player."

Her words shake me. Why am I walking a thin line? Why aren't the boys? If I'm not allowed to date someone, they shouldn't be allowed to, either. I make a mental note to talk to the committee behind this league. My romance life doesn't affect who I am as a hockey player. No matter what happens, I will always put my best foot forward. A relationship wouldn't affect the way I play hockey.

Why should they have a say in who I decide to date?

"Are we done here?" I ask, standing. I sling my backpack over my shoulder. "French class is coming up. My partner is expecting me."

Ella sends me a sardonic smirk. "Partner? You should be sarcastically expressing the word boyfriend."

I snort. Calling Shea my boyfriend makes my skin crawl. Okay, he's trying to be a better person. But he's just not my type.

Keep telling yourself that.

I shush my inner voice. It seems to intervene when it shouldn't. A common concern as of now.

"Yeah," Ella continues. "We're done here. Just be careful, okay, Brenna? Remember, I'm here if you need me."

Tension eases from my shoulders. I'm being too hard on her. She's only trying to help.

Reaching out, I squeeze Ella's shoulder and send her a smile. "Thanks, Ella. I appreciate it."

Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. Worry weighs on her brow.

My smile doesn't ease the strained panic in my chest. As I'm exiting the change room, my head buzzes. It continues to as I hold the door open for Ella and exchange goodbyes with her. Connor's constant presence has caused my chest to constrict. Even when we're not on the ice, that bastard still gets in my head.

Ella's right. We'll need to be extra careful while undermining Connor. Before anything happens, Shea and I need proof about this bet. We need evidence. A video or a voice recording. Something. If not, Connor will win. He'll have evidence of Shea and me being together. We'll have nothing but our words.

Words never fare well for women and girls.

Across the hallway, I spot KJ and one of his friends speaking. Their gym bags are slung over their shoulders as they wait for the bell to ring. He watches as Ella saunters down the hallway. Her head hung low.

The longing in Kaleb's brown eyes, although we're more acquaintance than friends, hits me in the gut. The poor dude. He's still in love with her.

After Ella has disappeared down the hallway, KJ glances at me once. He then excuses himself from his friend. He approaches me with caution. "Were you, uh... Were you talking to Ella?"

"Yeah," I reply. "Why?"

He runs a hand through his messy hair. KJ looks tired today; there are bags under his eyes and his skin is paler than usual. "Is she okay? I haven't, uh, spoken to her for a while."

I stare at this kid. Even after Ella dumped him, he's still worried about her.

"Goddamn," I mutter, not bothering to call him out on his lie. "You really are a Kaz Brekker." I almost add No wonder Ella loved you.

His face twists with confusion. "Huh?"

"Nothing," I reply, waving him off. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," he echoes, keeping his voice cool.

I roll my eyes. "Ella was expressing her worry about Shea. She knew about the bet because of you."

A flush creeps across his cheeks. He tugs at the collar of his sweater. "I'm not sorry."

"I know," I sigh, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're lucky I'm an understanding person, KJ. Otherwise, I might have killed you for telling Ella. But only because you told her before I had a chance to."

KJ snorts. "We all know you like me, Harrison. Besides, you should thank me. One less conversation to contribute to."

"Keep telling yourself that," I muse, biting back a smile.

He runs a hand through his black hair, biting his full bottom lip. "Have you figured anything out yet? About how to make Connor defeat himself?"

An idea pops into my head. "Does Connor brag about it?"

"The bet?" KJ asks, raising an eyebrow.

I nod.

KJ rubs his jaw, nodding. "He does. More so when Shea is around. Why? Do you want to tape him or something?"

"That's exactly what I want to do."

He presses his lips together, contemplating my statement. Finally, he nods. "I can do that. I'll get a recording of Connor discussing the bet. Then we'll have proof." He suppresses a shudder. "I don't want a broken nose like Jayden."

I step forward, removing myself from the middle of the hallway so a group of grade tens can pass by. They're on their way to the smaller gym. As they pass by, one of their backpacks knocks against my shoulder. I mumble an incoherent curse word. Goddamn grade tens. They think they own the place.

"You don't have to take that role," I argue. "Nor do I. This is Shea's fault."

He squints at me. "Then why are you helping him?"

"Because," I sigh, "Connor is an asshole. He doesn't deserve to get away with shit anymore."

KJ adjusts the strap of his bag, shooting me a mocking glare. "Then you have my answer, too."

His comment renders me speechless. Arguing with him would make me a hypocrite. "Fine."

"Fine," he echoes.

KJ and I stare at each other for several seconds, ignoring the surrounding student body. I don't know why this exchange feels like a challenge. Perhaps we're both hell-bent on undermining Connor. Or maybe we have a mutual understanding of what Shea is experiencing. That, although he's a jerk, Shea doesn't need more shit to deal with.

Pressing his lips into a firm line, KJ nods.

I return the nod.

Fucking Shea Smith and his calamities.

*  *  *

"Scandia?" I ask, heaving a bag of dog food onto the shelf. "With who?"

I've been working since school ended. My stomach is grumbling—there wasn't even time to stop at Tim Hortons and grab a bagel. I'm counting down the hours. Only one left until closing. Until I'm able to go home to eat the fridge for dinner. Mom's working the night shift again, so I'm not expecting dinner. Perhaps I'll order takeout from that new sushi place. It's on my way home...

"Brenna! Are you even listening to me?"

"No," I blink.

Catina sighs on the other end. "You, me, Evren, Nick, Hunter, Drew, Kaleb, and Jayden. A few others are joining, too. Some kids from KSS."

I lean against the shelving unit. "Connor isn't amongst those kids, is he?"

"Fuck no," Catina replies. "Who would invite Connor?"

Aside from Ella, my friends only know about the kiss I shared with Shea. They don't know Connor's the mastermind behind this newfound common ground between Shea and I. That our friendship is being fuelled by mutual hatred. Catina and Evren are convinced I have feelings for Shea. They're unaware that Connor's demise is on the horizon.

If Shea and I can pull this off.

Although I'm tired and hungry, Scandia would be an excellent place to grab some photos with Shea. And, if we're in a large group, people won't qualify this as a date. Shea could convince Connor otherwise, though. We'll take some selfies Shea can show Connor at hockey practice. It's perfect.

Besides, it's been a while since I hung out with my friends. Hunter's been busy with work and outside events within the culinary program. I've only seen him in hockey. After Shea and I spend ten minutes together, Hunter and I can take off. Maybe we'll go mini-golfing while the rest of them play arcade games.

"Fine," I sigh. "Fine, I'll join. What time are you meeting everyone?"

Catina releases a giddy squeal. "Nine-thirty! We'll see you there!"

Before I can say anything else, Catina hangs up on me. Staring at my phone screen, I sigh. No one ever says no to her. Ever. Catina will always get what she wants. Had I declined her invitation, she would've stormed into the house and dragged me to Scandia.

Just as I'm about to tuck my phone away and continue unloading bags of dog food, I receive a text message. It's comprises one word and is from Shea.

Scandia?

I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, pondering a response. Strange as it is, I'm looking forward to tonight. With all of them. Including Shea. That being said, Hunter and Shea don't get along well. There could be drama. I hope not. Drama isn't something I'm in the mood for. I've dealt with enough of it.

Yeah, I'm going. Are you? I reply.

Yeah. Noah's okay with looking after Chelsea. No thanks to Jones. I swear, sometimes I want to kill that kid.

I snort. People always want to kill KJ. He's such a nosy, petty, purposeful bastard. Still, I can't help but respect him. The kid's got determination.

Well, I'll see you there.

See ya.

Sliding my phone into my pocket, I glance at the clock above the entryway. I wonder if my boss would allow me to leave early. She's pretty lenient. I'm allowed to wear leggings and carry my phone with me, for God's sake! Lenience aside, I don't want to push my boundaries. By the time I'm finished unloading the dog food, I should be able to sign out and make a quick stop at Tim Hortons for a bagel. At least. Personally, I'd love to stop at home and change. There'll be no time for that, though.

Using my brute strength, I heave another bag of dog food up onto the shelf.

*  *  *

When I'm hungry, I become petty.

Hangriness causes pettiness.

No pun intended, but they feed off of each other.

I'm in a shit mood when I walk up the inclined ramp to the entrance of Scandia. Scandia Golf & Games is my childhood. The moment I walk inside, the building overwhelms my senses with stale air and the smell of burnt cheese pizza. Noises fill the air, making the building feel like a casino for kids. I can't count the times I was here. Mom, Hunter, and I would play outdoor mini-golf for Hunter's birthday. Catina and I challenged each other at the batting cages. Everything, from the arcade games to the indoor jungle golf, makes me feel nostalgic, despite my grumpy mood.

Shit, I wish I could've gotten some food.

I press a hand against my stomach as I walk, cursing at myself. Agreeing to lock up was stupid of me. The last customer couldn't decide which bird seed he wanted for his bird feeder. I spent twenty minutes discussing the pros and cons of different seeds. By the end, I was ready to throttle him.

Through the entryway, I take the fist right and head down the hall. Scandia is buzzing with kids, teenagers, and families. It takes a while to find my friends. They're hanging out near the Deal or No Deal machine. Just like I figured, I'm the last one to show up.

Hunter and Drew are sharing the seat while Evren, Catina, and Jayden stand around them, shouting which case to pick next. Shea is off to the side, scrolling through his phone. KJ hangs back with Nick and a few other guys, playing the game where you kick the soccer ball to see who has the strongest kick. Right now, Nick is kicking the ball. Sweat glistens against his brown skin at the hairline.

The guys whoop and cheer when he strikes the ball, causing a ding to echo.

I turn away from that group. There some few guys and girls I don't recognize. If they're somehow associated with Connor, I don't want to know. Instead, I join the group Hunter is part of. I walk up behind him and rest my hand on his shoulder.

He looks over his shoulder, flashing me a smile. "Bren!" Hunter gives me a half-hug. "You made it!"

I shoot daggers at Cat. "Someone convinced me."

She flashes me a wicked grin.

"Thanks, Cat," Hunter says, winking at me. "I'm glad you came. We haven't hung out for a while."

Although I love Hunter like a brother, I hate it when he gets gushy. Not because it's embarrassing, but because I don't know how to respond. Rolling my eyes, I saunter over to Shea. "You look like you're having fun."

He taps his screen a few times before slipping his phone in his pocket. "Buckets," he replies dryly.

Tonight, he's wearing faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt. His cobalt-blue ball cap is backwards and tufts of hair stick out from beneath, curling at his temples. The stubble on his jaw is a little darker than the five o'clock shadow. It makes him look older. If he tried to purchase alcohol from the liquor store, I bet he'd pass as at least twenty-five.

With his usual cocky aura, Shea leans back and crosses his arms, shooting me a smug grin. "Didn't think you were going to show up, Harrison."

My mood plummets a little further. If I don't eat something within the next five minutes, I'll go for his throat. He should know better than to tease me.

Expelling a frustrated breath, I lean against the wall, too. We're standing next to each other, our shoulders brushing. "Why did kids from KSS have to come?"

I feel him side-glance at me. "Jayden's from KSS."

"Jayden's an exception," I bark. A hunger pang radiates through my stomach. Goddamn. If only I'd stopped and eaten something.

"O-kay," Shea drawls. He shifts next to me, his shoulder bumping into mine. "We don't have to worry about any of these kids. They're part of the anti-Connor population, too."

"Great."

Shea snorts, pushing away from the wall. Soon enough, he's standing in front of me. I flick my gaze up to his, questioning the firm look of amusement and... concern? It's like he wants to joke around but is also wondering what put me in such a foul mood.

"Why are you so pissy?" he asks.

I roll my eyes, pressing a hand to my stomach. "I'm fine."

"Hey, Tucker!" Shea calls.

Hunter glances over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"What pisses Brenna off?"

"You." Hunter says. His voice is emotionless. He has a deadpanned look on his face.

Drew, Evren, and Catina stay silent, but Jayden snorts. He clamps a hand over his mouth, his face turning red while he tries to stop the laughter from shaking his body.

Shea points at Hunter. "That, my friend, is correct. To be fair, though, I have done nothing. Yet. What else pisses her off?"

"Hello," I snap, grabbing Shea's bicep. "I'm right here, asshole!"

Smith stares at me. A subtle smirk rests on his lips. He knows he's goading me.

"Oh."

We both glance at Hunter. He's turned his back to the game now, and is staring at Shea and I, his eyes wide. His sweater is lopsided, hanging down from one shoulder. Hunter's hair is a disaster, too.

"What?" Shea asks.

"She might be hangry. Trust me, Smith, there's no use talking to her until she's had some food. It's like poking a bear."

"I'll second that," Evren nods.

"Me too," Catina adds.

Drew shoots me a sympathetic grin. "Sorry, Brenna, but they're right. Unless you've eaten, you're menacing."

Shea side-eyes me. Gives me a nudge. That same fucking smug-ass grin is on his face. "Are you hungry, Harrison?"

I shove him away. "Fuck off, Smith."

My friends snicker, including Hunter. I'm surprised. Hunter's never liked Shea. Usually, he'll become defensive and question everything Smith says. Does Hunter know about the bet? Did KJ open his big mouth to him, too?

"Fuck," Smith says, taking my arm. "Let's get you some food." He glances over his shoulder at Hunter. "We'll be back. Harrison's hangry."

Hunter snorts, turning back to the game. "Good luck, man. You're gonna need it."

Shea drags me to the concession. Again, I shove him away. "You don't need to guide me. I know where the concession stand is."

His mouth quirks to the side. "Do you?"

My eyes narrow into thin slits. "Watch your mouth, Smith. Didn't you hear Hunter? Dealing with the hangry version of me is like poking a bear. Stupid. Daft. Idiotic."

"What?" he snorts. "Are you a walking thesaurus now?"

I expel a deep breath, clenching my fists at my sides. Somehow, I bite my tongue. My blood sugar is low, and the release of cortisol is causing this wave of aggression—thank you biology twelve. Or was it bio eleven? I can't remember.

In front of the concession stand, which is also where you can buy tokens and trade in your tickets for prizes, Shea and I stop walking. He gazes up at the board. As he reads the options, he removes his ball cap and runs a hand through his hair. He then puts the ball cap back on.

I tear my gaze away from him, crossing my arms. Now I'm mad at myself. I need to stop staring at him.

He nudges me again. "What do you want?"

My eyes scan the board. Pizza sounds good. But so does a burger.

"A burger," I say. "No onions. And I swear to God, Shea, if you nudge me again, I'll punch you."

He drops his elbow, but the smirk doesn't fade. "Onions make a burger. I can handle them."

I snort. "If you think the night ends with me kissing you, you're wrong. I just don't like onions on my burgers."

"Fair enough," he shrugs.

Shea then orders our food. We're given a ticket, which Shea pockets. He then removes his bank card.

"I can buy my food," I murmur, reaching into my purse.

He ignores me, tapping his card against the terminal.

"Shea!" I snap.

"Brenna, go sit the fuck down," he retorts. The corner of his mouth twitches.

Somewhere, deep within my conscience, I know I'm overreacting. Does that stop me from poking him in the chest? Nope.

"You go sit the fuck down," I say.

Shea rolls his eyes. Now he's smiling, which pisses me off. He gives me another nudge. "Go grab a seat."

Realizing it's useless to argue with him, I saunter over to the seating area. The area is busy, but I spot an empty table on the far side. It's next to the strange animatronic creatures. They'll usually start singing at some point, unless a kid scrambles up and hits the button. Which I hope no one does. One day, I hope they remove the creepy bear and mouse and whatever else is up there. Ever since I was a kid, they've creeped me out.

Sighing, I head to the empty seat. Once I'm there, I shrug my bag from my shoulder and toss it on the table. The chair scrapes against the floor as I pull it own. With one glance over my shoulder, to see where Shea is, I sit down. He's still waiting for the food. Judging by the crease between his brows, he's texting Noah to make sure Chelsea is okay.

Turning my back to him, I rest my chin in my hand and sigh. My mood is still low, but I'm realizing just how ignorant I was when I arrived. Even if my blood sugar is low and my hormones are out of sorts... It's happened to every person, though. Mom gets hangry when she hasn't eaten. Several times, Catina has almost bitten my head off. But I've experienced their hangry attitudes alone. Not in a large group when we're all supposed to be having fun. I sigh again.

"That was a loud sigh."

Looking up, I catch Shea setting the burger down in front of me.

My mouth almost waters. It look delicious. Before Shea has even sat down, I've picked it up and taken a bite. Then another. I almost groan in approval. Although this is some cheap-ass concession food, it tastes delicious.

"This is delicious," I say through a mouthful. After I've swallowed, I take another bite. Ketchup dots the corner of my mouth. I lick it away.

Grinning, Shea takes a sip of his vanilla milkshake. Then he loosens a low whistle. "Damn. I haven't had one of these in years."

"The milkshakes are good," I admit, "but if you want the best, they're in Penticton. At the Peach. They're so big and crazy you get a slice of cake on top."

Shea takes another sip. "Never been," he replies. "On the weekends I'm playing hockey or driving Chels around. There isn't much free time. Unless Noah is free. But I don't want to hold him back from his university life."

I take another bite, a pang of sympathy echoing in my chest. He shouldn't be looking after her. His sister isn't supposed to be his responsibility. "Well," I say. "Now you know."

Holy shit. I almost said we'll have to go sometime. What's wrong with me?

We lapse into silence for a few minutes. Shea sips his milkshake, his gaze wandering around the busy seating area. I devour my burger and then work on my fries.

After a few fries, I lean back and sigh. My stomach feels full now. I'm staring to feel human again.

"Better?" he asks, cocking a brow.

I take another fry. Never will I admit he's correct. Aloud, anyway. He is correct. I'm way better than I was when I arrived. Where there was pettiness and irritation, there's now energy and relaxation—if that makes sense. I want to let loose and have some fun. Maybe play a competitive round of mini-golf.

"I'll take that as a yes," he laughs, snatching a fry from my plate.

Nodding at him, I say, "Why didn't you get any food?"

Shea shrugs. "Not hungry. I ate dinner before I arrived. Noah made some mushroom chicken and rice dish." He picks up his milkshake and swirls the glass. The straw follows, spinning around and around until he stops and takes another sip. "There was just enough room for this milkshake, though."

"There's always room for dessert," I reply. "Every time Mom and I go to Thai Terrace, we order the deep-fried ice cream. Even if we claim to be full."

Licking his lips, Shea nods. "What's your biggest weakness?"

My lips pull to one side as I contemplate my answer. There are many candy or chocolate weaknesses. "Mars bars," I admit. "They're my biggest weakness. On Halloween, I ate so many of them. What about you?"

Shea's hazel gaze flicks down to the milkshake. He grabs a fry and dips it in the milkshake before popping the fry in his mouth. After he's swallowed, he clears his throat. "Remember those gummy bags we used to buy? The ones from the concessions at arenas?"

I nod.

"Those are my weakness," he admits. A light blush finds its way across my cheek. "Gummies are my weakness. Those mixed bags, Fuzzy Peaches, Swedish Berries... You name it, it's a weakness."

A smile finds its way onto my lips. "Gummies are delicious."

Shea almost smiles. Almost.

Instead, he keeps his face neutral and glances down at my empty plate. He then clears his throat. "We should get back to our friends."

Shea stands before I can say anything, forcing me into following him. Gathering my bag and my empty paper plate, we head over to the garbage can and toss out our trash. Shea and I walk in silence. Everyone's over at the skeeball machine. Catina and Jayden are facing off, trying to see who will win.

My lips pull to one side. Catina is the skeeball queen. There's no way Jayden will beat her. No one will. Catina holds the record amongst our friends.

"Bren," Hunter says, joining my side as Shea and I enter the group. With a playful smile on his lips, he steps back, hands raised. An eyebrow is cocked. He glances at Shea. "Did she eat?"

Shea nods, keeping his face neutral. "She had a hamburger," he shrugs. "Might need some time for the food to settle, but I think she's okay now."

His neutral look irritates me almost as much as his shrugging habit.

Hunter glances at me. "You're not gonna punch me, are you?"

"Depends," I drawl, rolling my eyes. Any urge to punch anyone has faded. Now that I've eaten something, I feel like myself.

Hunter grins, ruffling my hair. "You'd never punch me."

"No," I sigh, bumping my shoulder against his. "I wouldn't."

Shea, who's acting as the third wheel right now, snorts. "I'd punch both of you."

Hunter and I stare at him.

Sighing, Shea removes his hat and runs a hand through his hair. Again. He glances off to the air hockey table, looking desperate for a way out. "That was supposed to be a joke. About when Brenna came between you and me. Remember, Tucker?"

"I remember," he replies. His voice is cautious.

Shea sighs again, muttering something before he leaves Hunter and I. We watch as Shea heads over to KJ. He's been gravitating back and forth between our group and the KSS group. KJ's a goddamned social butterfly.

"What's his deal?" Hunter asks, eyeing me. "Maybe your hangriness transferred to him?"

"Maybe," I shrug, stepping aside as three little kids bolt past us. Tickets fill their hands as they rush to the counter, inspecting the prizes in the glass case. Their innocent faces and excited voices don't faze me, though. I'm too focused on Shea. He looks uncomfortable. Aside from KJ and Jayden, there aren't many people here he likes. "Actually, scratch that. I think he's uncomfortable."

Hunter snorts. "I'd call you a liar, but I was thinking the same thing. He was here an hour before you. I never thought Smith could keep his big mouth shut. He said little until KJ and Jayden arrived. Even then, not a lot."

Before I can say anything, a group of guys rounds the corner. The group is led by a tall, blond guy. I know he plays hockey with Shea, but I can't remember his name. Glancing at Shea and KJ, I note the grim look on their faces. They exchange words before Shea leaves, heading back to Hunter and I.

He walks past without glancing at us. His face is stone, and I swear he will break his teeth if he clenches his jaw any harder.

"Christ," Hunter murmurs. "Is hangriness spreadable?"

I give hunter a nudge to the ribs. "Stop it. You're being a jerk. I'll go talk to him."

Hunter eyes me, but says nothing. God knows what questions he'll ask next time we're alone, though.

Leaving Hunter, I follow Shea to the counter.

He has a putter in his hand.

"Shea?" I ask, resting a hand on his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Playing a round of mini-golf," he mutters.

"Why?" I frown. "Everyone's up here."

He releases a frustrated sigh and turns around. "Brenna," he says, gripping the putter. "That's Preston Kline. He's friends with Connor. Putting up with his shit isn't something I want to do. You don't have to join me, but I'm going to play a round of indoor mini-golf."

I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, combing through the information he's given me. If Preston is friends with Connor, then I want nothing to do with him. "I'll join you," I nod.

We turn to the counter.

"Ball colour?" the kid behind the counter asks. He's already placed a putter on the counter for me. 

"Red," I reply, taking the putter.

"Hot-pink," Shea shrugs.

"Hot-pink?" I ask.

Shea flashes me a smirk. "What's wrong with hot-pink?"

"Nothing," I reply.

After our round of mini-golf is paid for, Shea and I head downstairs. Unlike upstairs, the basement has a jungle theme to it. The walls are painted with tropical designs and the air is damp down here, saturated with a sweet musky scent. Once again, nostalgia arises. God, it's been years since I last visited Scandia. Let alone with Shea Smith.

Speaking of Smith... When I glance at him, he looks tired. Exhausted. Worse than he did five minutes ago, before Preston Kline arrived. I remember him now. He was the asshole who got away with tripping me during our last game. The ref either didn't see or ignored it. Bastard.

"Shea?" I ask as we walk to the first hole.

"Yeah?"

I glance at him. "Thanks for the burger."

Shea says nothing.

But I notice how his jaw tics. Almost as if he's trying to hide a smile.

It lights something in my chest. Although we're working together to bring down a common enemy, something about this feels natural. It's easier to be friends than enemies.

When we arrive at the first hole, it's empty. In the background, strange jungle noises play. The sound of trickling water, rustling leaves, and voices from further ahead. It smells of chlorine and stale water.

"So," I continue. "Competitive?"

Shea shakes his head. "Why don't we just have fun? We're always competitive."

A jolt of anxiety shakes me. He doesn't want to play competitively? Then what's the point of playing?

Frowning, I say, "That's not right. Golf is competitive."

He leans against his putter, tossing his hot-pink ball to the ground. "Golf is competitive. Mini-golf is not."

"You can't say that," I argue. "It all depends on what the players want to do."

Shea side-eyes me. "I don't want to play competitively."

"I do."

Glancing at the ceiling, Shea makes a face. His nose is wrinkled and his lips are twisted to one side. "Isn't that what people say at weddings?"

My mouth drops open. I close it. "W-What?"

He snorts. "Fuck, calm down, Harrison. I'm fucking with you."

Now it's my turn to snort. I gesture to my clothes. "There's no fucking going on here. My clothes are still on."

The blush that spreads across Shea's cheeks as he clears his throat... God, it's perfect. Flustering him is almost as fun as goading him.

"Let's just play golf," I continue, setting my ball down.

Shea watches while I line up the shot, ready to put my best foot forward. I'm just about to take the shot when he stops me.

"Harrison," he warns, resting his foot atop the red golf ball.

"Smith," I demand. "Move your foot."

"Not until you promise me, you will not analyze this shot. We're not playing hockey. We're playing mini-golf. Relax and have some fun."

I press my lips into a flat line, glancing at one of the animatronic monkeys. Whatever Shea's trying to prove... it's pissing me off. What's wrong with wanting to win a game of mini-golf? I'm a competitive soul.

As if to prove his point, Shea sets his golf ball down and swings his putter. The hot-pink golf ball whacks the obstacle in the middle, bouncing back in our direction.

My gaze flicks to his.

His hazel eyes are full of challenge. A mockery.

Feeling defiant, I kick Shea's foot away. Then, keeping eye contact with Shea, I swing the putter.

Not caring where the hell the ball goes.

I hear it ding off of something.

A smile curves Shea's lips.

*  *  *

After our game of golf, Shea and I join the gang for some arcade games. We play several games. We mingle with our friends. Ignore the prying eyes of Preston Kline and some of Shea's teammates. Shea and I take selfies together. Some are just of us. Others are with the group. We promise each other to post them on Instagram. Both types of photos. That way, we can prove we went out together to Connor, but with friends to everyone else.

Right now, we're standing in line, ready to exchange our tickets for the cheap-ass prizes.

"Thank God Preston left," I murmur. We're standing behind Hunter and Jayden, who seem to have a new friendship blossoming. Catina and Evren are loitering in the corner with KJ, the three of them enjoying milkshakes. "He's such an asshole. Having him here really kills the feminist mood."

His comment kills the mood. Really? He really thinks he can deem himself a feminist? His conclusion-jumping disgusts me.

"You're not a feminist," I scoff. "You're far from it, Shea. Though, I will give you props for trying."

He turns to me. "What are you talking about? Haven't I made progress?"

I feel bad for Shea. He looks genuinely confused.

"Progress," I say, resting my hand atop his heart. "Comes from here. It's great you're trying to view this from a standpoint that acknowledges your sister. What you need to learn is not everything can be based on your sister. I'm not her. Ella, Catina, and Evren aren't Chelsea. You're still viewing us as objects. Stop using the possessive term your. It doesn't apply to the rest of women. We're not your sister."

A crease forms between his brows. "But... But I thought..." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why is feminism so complicated?"

"It's not," I reply. "People make it complicated. It's about all genders having equal rights. The only reason it's called feminism is because men have never been oppressed. Men don't have government and religion telling them what to do with their bodies or removing the option of having a choice. Then, you must consider intersectionality. Women across the world face different issues. If you were to compare myself and a black woman, we would face different levels of oppression. I wouldn't face racism, while she probably would. So, on top of being a woman, she could face oppression because of her skin colour. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Shea removes his hat and runs a hand through his hair. His other hand is full of tickets. "Fuck," he mutters as we step up to the counter.

We hand over our tickets, and then pick our prizes. Shea chooses the turtle eraser. It's green and kind of cute. I choose the arcade ring. It's plastic with a pink butterfly on top.

After that, we follow the group outside. 

As we're walking, I turn to Shea.

"Here," I say, tossing him the arcade ring.

He catches it, but not before he fumbles a little. When his grip is secure, Shea frowns at the ring. "Why?"

I give him the one-shoulder shrug. "It's a gift. Let it symbolize the process. The world is rich with knowledge, Shea. Research it. Stop viewing women as object or basing your perception off of having a sister. Everyone can change. They just need an open mind."

Without another word, I leave Shea behind to ponder my words.

If he listens to me, he has a fighting chance of becoming a better person.