Brenna

"Honestly, Bren. I thought you would bail."

Hunter won't shut up.

He's happy I made it to the Winter Formal, despite not attending together. I'm glad he's enjoying being Willa's date. She looks beautiful tonight— her dress reminds me of Elsa from Frozen.

Observation aside, Willa's a sweet girl. We've talked on many occasions. If hockey and gym classes weren't so occupying, we'd hang out more. Willa's attended school with Hunter and me since kindergarten.

Hunter pulls me into a hug. His familiar scent of cedar cologne fills my nose. Warmth spreads through my chest. With all the shit that's gone on, I haven't gotten to see Hunter a lot. I miss what we were like before. Before there was drama. Before Connor fucked with us.

"It's good to see you out," he murmurs. "We were worried."

There's no response on my tongue. Hunter's trying to cheer me up. It's not working. My stomach is a hollow pit of negative emotions. Attending the Winter Formal is a mistake. All I'll do is drag the group down.

I hug Hunter back, pasting on my best fake smile. "I'm okay."

The lie tastes like ash on my tongue. I'm far from okay. Pain weighs on my heart. Stress on my shoulders. But this is my problem to deal with. No one else's.

We step away from each other, our breath coming out in white puffs. Snowflakes are caught in Hunter's reddish-brown hair. His cheeks are rosy. We exchange one last smile before turning back to our "dates."

"This is your fault," I mutter.

Shea loops his arm through mine. "No clue what you're talking about."

I glare at him. He played nasty at the café. Tempting me with food and coffee while playing the victim card. I'll get revenge. "Let's just go inside. I'm cold."

"And grumpy," Shea mutters.

We exchange another glance. "Your fault."

At the entrance, we show the chaperones our student IDs. They then check our names off of the list and direct us to the gym.

I'm not expecting much. Movies that portray proms and winter formals are way off. No school has the money to make it fancy. There are no balloon arcs. No glittery snowflakes hanging from the ceiling. No snacks or bowls of punch.

Just a dance floor, strobe lights, and the smell of sweat, colognes, and perfumes. Bodies are crammed together, making it difficult to move.

Shea and I follow Hunter and Willa to the far corner, where there's a bit of a reprieve. Ella, KJ, Evren, and Jayden are already there.

A smile encompasses Shea's face. "Jayden?" He claps his hand against Jayden's back. "How the fuck did you get in here? You go to KSS. These Boucherie assholes even checked our student IDs."

"No shit," he drawls. He directs his gaze to me. "Someone pulled some strings."

I smile, directing my gaze at the ground. A warm feeling trickles into my stomach. It feels good to smile again. To forget the heartbreak caused by my parents. "He's joking. Jayden offered to be Evren's friend-date after Alexia came down with the flu. All I did was present the case to the student council. They agreed to let Jayden attend."

Evren snorts, nudging Jayden. "That's cute, but we all know why Jayden wanted to join."

"Because KSS is having their Winter Formal tonight, too, and I didn't want to be near Connor?" Jayden offers. "That sounds about right."

Shea snorts, exchanging a fist-bump with Jayden and then KJ. "How anyone can be friends with that asshole is beyond me."

"You got that right," KJ agrees.

The three of them laugh, as if there's some kind of inside joke. As the conversation continues on, with Hunter, Evren, and Willa joining in, I survey the area. I also take several steps away from the group.

Nothing but self-doubt and grief consume me. The strobe lights are tacky. The music annoying. It's some kind of techno shit. People are jumping up and down, slamming their feet to the gymnasium's scuffed flooring. Couples are swaying, despite the energetic beat.

This is stupid. Overrated. All Shea's fault.

Ella, who hasn't been involved in the conversation, bumps her shoulder against mine. Her long blonde hair is styled with loose curls. Every time the lights hit us, I can see glitter in her hair. She must've used glitter hairspray. The dress she's wearing is red and strapless. It has a tight bodice and flowing skirt. Little diamonds are encrusted along the hem.

When I glance at KJ, I see his tie matches her dress. I'll never understand the relationship between these two. They keep saying they're broken up. It doesn't seem like that.

Before I can make a comment, Ella asks, "What's wrong with you? You're moody tonight."

Good old Ella. She cuts straight to the point.

"Tired," I shrug.

"Liar," she retorts.

Another genuine smile curves across my lips. Fine. Ella's got me there. I am lying. Sleeping's been difficult since the tourney. All I do is toss and turn.

"I don't want to be here," I admit.

Ella snorts. "Your dress says otherwise. So does Shea's matching tie."

"What about Kaleb's matching tie?"

She loosens a low whistle. "Touché."

I can't stop myself from laughing. Ella joins in on the laughter.

"These things are overrated," she admits. "But at least we all get to hang out, right?"

I expel a deep sigh. Ella has a point. But I know where she's trying to direct the conversation. She's sneaky that way.

Two can play at that game.

"What's the deal with you and KJ?"

Ella shrugs. "We're broken up."

I side-eye her. "Doesn't seem like it."

She directs her gaze to the floor, knowing I've called her out. "It's complicated, Brenna. My dad's putting his foot down. Let's leave it at that." She glances at me. "Please don't tell him. I don't want Kaleb to stress."

I make a zipper across my lips. "I heard nothing."

Sometimes, Ella and I don't get along. There are moments where we question each other. Call each other out. Act strange. We trust each other, though. The thing is... I'm not good at confiding in someone. My issues aren't theirs to deal with. Telling someone will make them feel entitled to do something. They don't need to. That's why, until Hunter caught me in a vulnerable position, I didn't tell him about the bet.

Shea and Connor's bet is my problem. Not Hunter's.

I suppose, if you want to get technical, I wasn't lying to Ella. I am tired.

Tired of fighting for my rights in several categories.

Of being controlled by men, governmental or not.

Judged by my actions or what I wear.

Being deemed a puck bunny or told I'm not good enough to play hockey with men.

Life as a woman is hard. We shouldn't have to fight. Or prove ourselves. Fighting isn't even a choice anymore. We're required to fight.

"Hey," Shea says. He nudges me. "Want to dance?"

When I break my train of thought, I see Shea and I are the only ones standing here now. Everyone else has dispersed. KJ is talking to other friends. Hunter and Willa are on the dance floor. Ella is gone. Jayden and Evren are jumping around the dance floor, acting like goofs. Their dancing skills make me smile. The song has changed now. It's slower. More melodic. People are glaring at them with looks of disgust.

I turn my attention back to Shea. "I don't dance. Thanks for offering, though."

He grins. "You seem to have forgotten the rules, Harrison. We're on my time tonight, remember?"

Fine. He has a point.

"Funny. I thought playing the victim card would be detrimental to your ego."

Shea snorts, running a hand through his tousled hair. He then adjusts his tie. It's the perfect shade of purple. "My ego has fallen through the floor already. An all-time low. No further damage can be done, I'm afraid."

I roll my eyes. "Fine. If dancing ends this conversation, then so be it."

Without hesitation, I loop my arm through Shea's and drag him to the dance floor. If I'm assertive, maybe I'll intimidate him enough, he'll forgo dancing. As soon as we're on the dance floor, I thread my arms around his neck, pulling our bodies close.

"Comfortable?" I drawl.

Shea rests one hand on my hip. The other on my shoulder. "Very," he smirks.

I don't doubt that. He seems too comfortable. Almost like he wants this. It scares me. My stupid plan has backfired. I meant to make him feel intimidated. Not me.

Several seconds tick by. We stand there, swaying to the music. Neither of us knows any dance moves. We're hockey players. Not figure skaters or dancers. There isn't much in the gracefulness department here.

"You look good in that dress," Shea says.

I glance down. It was the dress I wore to my grade nine graduation. When I moved from middle school to high school. Buying a new dress didn't seem ethical. Why waste my money and purchase a product I'll never reuse? Repurposing the dress was better. Hunter's dad had to do some last-minute stitching to make it fit around my boobs, but it worked. Knowing a tailor comes in handy.

"You don't look bad yourself," I reply.

Wrinkling his nose, Shea glances at his suit. "This old thing? It's the same one I used for pre-hockey games. Different tie, same suit."

A chuckle escapes my mouth. "This dress is three years old. Same one I worse to our grade nine grad."

His lips pull to one side. "Always gotta one-up me, eh, Harrison?"

"Yeah, I do, Smith."

The grin on his lips is casually cruel. My heart aches. Being this close and not being able to do anything drives me insane. There are rules between us. Ones we've bent too many times. A dangerous line we continue to tease.

All because of stupid emotions I can't control. I've seen a side of Shea I wish he would display more often. People would like him instead of hating him. Shea stood up for me against Mom today. I heard their voices from the top of the stairs. He parents his little sister.

What settles the dust between us is his ability to accept change. He's trying. He wants to be a better person. That doesn't justify his past actions, but it means he's holding himself accountable.

It's admirable.

However, in the same breath, it's disheartening.

Admiring men who are good people shouldn't be normalized. It should be expected. They shouldn't receive pats on the back or be praised.

The world's fucked.

"Why didn't you take credit?" I ask.

Shea frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"I heard the argument between you and Mom. She said you knew nothing about parenting. You agreed. Why? You're raising Chelsea, Shea. I think that qualifies as parenting."

Shea glances at the floor. His mouth is set in a firm line. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing, Brenna. That's why I didn't take credit. Parenting my sister is like walking in the dark without a flashlight. My hands are in front of me, ready to prevent myself from tripping, but there's no guarantee. All I do is question myself. I'm seventeen. I'm not supposed to be looking after my sister." He pauses, a cute frown on his face. "Not like this, anyway."

I snort. "Spoken like a true parent."

He gives me a playful shove.

"Why were you expelled from KSS?" I ask.

His face doesn't falter. There's no shame in his expression. No dent in his posture.

Shea Smith doesn't give a fuck.

Big surprise.

"Connor and I got into a fight. He plays basketball, too. He's captain of the school's team. He was... making comments about... never mind. Connor was being Connor, and I snapped. Although he's a prick, I had no excuse to fight like I did. There's a different route to solving problems. Fists don't belong in resolutions." He expels a deep breath, glancing at the flashing lights. The bass of the music shakes the gymnasium. "The only reason I beat him is because of my adrenaline. Had there been a build up... had Connor been expecting me to fight, I would've been the one in emergency with a broken nose. Not Connor."

My curiosity piques. Connor pissed Shea off. No surprise there. Again. But what did he say?

He sighs again. "You're going to ask why, right? So I might as well tell you. Connor sabotaged one of my papers. I forgot to sign out from my account in the computer lab. Just my luck, Connor picked that computer to use. He made it look like I plagiarized my entire essay. He handed it in through the online option. I had a chat with the principal and everything after that. It was my first strike. I got the chance to redo the essay without having a stain on my permanent record."

My eyebrows furrow. "How did you know it was Connor?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "Why do you think I lost my temper? He told me. He claimed it like it was a fucking gold medal."

"That's horrible."

Shea shrugs, glancing off into the distance. "I'd been in fights before," he murmurs. "That was the last straw. The reason for my expulsion. Connor got what he wanted. That's all that matters, right?"

My blood is volcanic. Anger pumps through my veins. That bastard. I should march over to KSS and kick his ass. Shea being framed for plagiarism is the equivalent of being stabbed. Connor could've botched Shea's chances of going to Boston after high school.

"Harrison," Shea drawls. "Keep embracing me like that, and you'll choke me." He pauses. Winks. "Not that I'm not a fan."

I loosen my grip and roll my eyes. "You're disgusting."

His grin is cheeky. "You love it."

Yeah, I do.

"You wish," I snort.

Shea's expression turns serious in a matter of seconds. "Are you okay? I know meeting your dad has shaken you." 

My mood plummets. Just when I thought things were getting better. He had to bring my shitty life up.

I shove Shea away. He tumbles into the person behind him. While he's apologizing, I storm away from the dance floor.

What an idiot.

He just had to ruin the evening, didn't he?

I bet Hunter put him up to this.

Wouldn't surprise me.

"Brenna!"

I ignore Shea, heading for the exit. Although Shea picked me up, I'm okay with walking home. It's not that far. I might lose my toes from hypothermia. Oh well.

Outside, snow is falling harder than earlier. The pavement is coated in it. The poor man shovelling the area can't keep up.

I take a sharp right, heading for the stairs up to the arena. The West Kelowna Warriors are playing tonight. I'll buy a ticket and watch the game until Hunter's had enough of the dance. Then he can drive me home.

On second thought, I'll call Evren. She won't pressure me for answers.

My foot touches the slippery bottom step just as Shea's hand wraps around my bicep. He spins me around.

I speak before he can.

"Why?" I demand. "Why bring it up and ruin the dance? I was having fun!"

He crosses his arms. "Because you need to talk about shit that's bothering you. Otherwise, it festers. Trust me, Harrison. Nothing good comes out of keeping secrets. You told me that."

"Well, I'm a fucking hypocrite, then." My tone and smile are sardonic. Fuck this. This isn't a conversation I want.

"Bren..."

"No!" I snap. My emotions are boiling over. "Don't call me that! Stop being nice to me. Stop trying to be a better person. You're making this harder than it needs to be."

Shea blinks in surprise. "What?"

"Nothing."

We stare at each other. The hope in his hazel eyes kills me. Snow tangles with his lashes, catching for a moment before melting. Each snowflake that touches my skin sends a shiver down my spine. So does the contact between Shea's palm and my bicep.

Fucking Shea Smith. Why does he have to care? I push people away, yet he continues to rebound. He's a fucking parasite.

Tears pool in my eyes. "I don't understand why she didn't tell me, Shea. About Randy—my dad."

My voice cracks, and then the tears pour.

I drop my face into my hands. My composure is crumbling. I'm a mess of snot and tears. Smudged mascara.

Shea stands there, unsure of what to do.

Then his arms are around me.

I press my face into my shoulder as sobs shake my body. The bottled emotions are tearing me apart. I feel like cracked glass, ready to shatter at any moment. My mom sucks. Randy is a jerk. Shea cares too much. So does Hunter.

"You're o—" Shea cuts himself off.

"Just cry," he corrects.

But my emotions aren't done playing with me.

This doesn't look like a friendly embrace. It looks like something more. Anyone passing by will assume the latter.

"No," I say, stepping back. Pacing sounds appealing, so that's what I do. I pace alongside the school. "This needs to stop."

He understands what I'm referencing.

"You think this is easy?" Shea asks. He pins me to the side of the school. My back presses into the wall. "Maybe I wanted you out of the league. At the beginning. Connor's bet was tempting, Brenna, but it was a mistake. You didn't consent to being the target in a bet. Every day, I'm reminded of what I did. How I acted. I'm trying to fix that. Fix my stupid fucking actions that my stupid fucking mouth caused while trying not to fall for you. Do you think I like these emotions? God, Brenna. I would've lost my mind had you and Tucker attended the dance together. Because you know what I find tempting now?"

"What?" I ask.

I'm disturbed by how meek my voice sounds. By the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks again.

He licks his lips. "You."

My glassy eyes meet his. "We're bending the rules too much, Shea. This will backfire."

His thumb traces the curve of my jaw.

My stomach clenches. We're outside our high school in the snow. Anyone could see this exchange. People are coming and going as they please.

"Sometimes bending the rules is worth it. Hell, sometimes breaking the rules is worth it. I think we should just forget the rules."

A smile tugs at my mouth. He's blabbing. It's cute. Seeing Shea Smith blab is a rarity.

Still, I shove Shea away. My head is a mess. So are my emotions. Ever since meeting my father, nothing feels right. I need to get my shit together before I decide how to handle my Shea problem.

"No. We can't do this. It's too problematic."

Shea frowns. "Do you ever think you're the problem, Brenna? Talking to someone isn't bad. I confide in Jayden and KJ all the time. Just because I'm talking to them doesn't mean I expect them to solve my problems. Venting is good. Something we need."

A pang reverberates through my heart.

But I keep walking.

I keep walking because I know Shea's right.

About everything.