“Nah, I’m good,” Lexi said, holding up a silver thermos. “Zane brought coffee to keep us warm. You can have some, if you want.”
I squinted at the canister. It was totally a Zane thing to think of his girlfriend like that. He was pretty much perfection in male form and he only had eyes for the girl with the soft red scarf and cream stocking cap sitting next to me. Even now, he held tight to her hand as he and Hunter discussed some hockey strategy that made no sense to me. It was like that for me regarding all sports and physical activities. The only action I liked was in the virtual world.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll run to the concession stand, instead,” I said, standing up. Anything to get the blood flowing again. “You guys can stay here. I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t move.”
They weren’t going to move. Charlotte was looking pretty cozy in her puffy white coat and fur-trimmed hood, pressed up against Hunter. Lexi’s cheeks and nose were flushed as she draped her knee-high tan boots over Zane’s lap and giggled when he poked her lovingly in the side. My two best friends were tiny and cute and everything feminine. They wore their hair the right way, matched their lip glosses with their outfits, and even liked most girly things. It was a feature I didn’t have.
Being girly didn’t come naturally.
As I shuffled down the stands and toward the concessions, my fingers worked their way into my sweatpants pocket where the comforting weight of my phone was. It was the latest model and the reward I’d managed to beg out of my parents after they’d practically forced me to go to science camp last summer. I took it out and unlocked the screen, gazing eagerly at my notifications for messages. Not just any message.
A message from him.
Battlescar13
“Oops!”
A shoulder bumped hard into mine, causing me to jolt into the cement wall next to me. I blinked up, partly in shock and partly in pain. A white hockey jersey stood in front of me, pads stuffed underneath to protect the wearer. Frustration rolled through me as my gaze met with the owner.
“Watch where you’re going, Corrigan.”
A sneer marred his otherwise gorgeous face. I’d always thought it was extremely unkind to women in general that a guy like that had been blessed with a chiseled jaw, dimpled chin, and dark steely blue eyes. Not to mention, a great head of dark wavy blond hair that fell into his forehead and an athletic body toned by years of pushing other kids around on the ice. It was deceptive. Michael Corrigan didn’t deserve the attention.
“Sorry, when I saw the baggy sweatpants, I thought you were a dude from the other school,” he said, leaning his head slightly to one side to slide his cruel eyes down my body. “You sure you’re not a dude, Frye?”
Fury burned inside of me. I glared at him, willing myself not to overreact. We were almost at eye level, my lanky build putting me close in height to most of the guys in school. That didn’t help my situation. Guys didn’t like girls who were taller than them. Not unless she could strap on six-inch heels and wings and prance half-naked down a catwalk. That was so not me.
“Absolutely sure.” I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. “And I can still kick your rear in Battlegrounds anytime, anywhere. So, get over yourself.”
His eyes narrowed and his chest puffed up, the amusement gone from his face. Michael Corrigan was pretty ruthless when it came to competition. Whether it was on the ice or in the gaming world. We’d never played each other in the virtual world I spent so much time in, but I was pretty sure I was right. He’d never admit to that, though. We’d been verbally sparring since middle school, forever locked in a battle of egos. The gamer world was no different.
“Bro, coach wants us in the locker room, asap.”
A large hand clasped the shoulder of his jersey and I broke away from his gaze to see a face identical in nearly every way to Michael’s, except for a thin jagged scar that traversed the length of his jawline. Gabriel Corrigan, Michael’s twin brother, had hardly said more than ten words to me in my lifetime. He really didn’t have to, his brother did plenty of the trash talking. Still, the intense dislike I held for
Michael couldn’t be bound to just one of them. Seeing his twin brother standing there was about as enjoyable as getting a root canal.
“Oh, perfect timing,” I said, throwing Gabriel a dazzling, yet mocking smile. “You little boys better run. And don’t forget your sticks. You might actually win a game if you show up with them once in a while.”
It felt good to hold my own against the bullies. Michael’s response was an obscene hand gesture in my direction as he turned to leave. I snorted and looked up at his brother, expecting the same treatment, but was shocked to see a spark of amusement light up his blue eyes as our gazes met. The corner of his mouth curled up just enough to confirm what I’d seen, before he put back on the indifferent frown he usually wore and turned to follow his brother.
Okay, maybe the Corrigan twins weren’t as humorless as I thought they were. But I still really didn’t like them. And I was pretty sure that feeling was mutual.
Clasping my phone, I sailed past the concession stands and down the hall to the warmly lit seating area hidden around the corner. Most people didn’t know this was here. I only knew because my dad used to let me hide out here during my older sister’s ice skating lessons as a kid. Sinking into one of the plush worn armchairs, I looked down at my phone and opened up the messaging portion of the Battlegrounds app. Pulling up Battlescar13’s name, I typed into the message box.
Me: I think I’m going to lose my fingers to frostbite tonight.
No more gaming for me.
Leaning my head back, I stared at the foam tiled ceiling. Battlescar13 was the only guy who didn’t judge me. Sure, we’d never met in person, but I could confidently say that he was the only decent one left. Not that I could tell him that.
My profile picture was currently one I’d stolen from a random Internet search. A young guy with curly blond hair and green eyes, like mine. He was my male counterpart and the only reason I was able to play in Battlegrounds without being constantly harassed by the other dudes.
Not that Battlescar13 would do that. His profile picture was Dwight from The Office. We’d been playing together for months and chatting online. He was my age. Loved playing video games and hated the sludge that came from the posers in the battle rooms. That was all I needed to know.
It didn’t take long before the ding of my phone had me whipping my neck back down so I could read the screen. It’d been like this for months. I was becoming so attached to this thing, I was starting to wonder if my hand would become attached to the back of my phone.
Battlescar13: I’d feel sorry for you, but I’m playing on the ice tonight.