WATTYS 2020 WINNER
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When Brenna and Shea, two rival hockey players, have to collaborate to take down a common enemy, they soon discover love is a ruthless g...
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Shea
Well, I've put myself in one helluva predicament.
That's all I can think as I wander down the hallway to Biology. How am I supposed to play nice with Brenna? It's not like I can flip the script and become friends with her again. We have too many years of bad blood between us. In order to win her over, I need to be nice, express my interest in her interests, and quit bitching about a girl being on the boys' hockey team.
Easier said than done.
If I show too much interest, she's going to suspect something's up. If I continue to feed the conflict between us, I'm never going to win that money. She'll hate me forever.
Goddamn my decision to drink last night. I should've avoided the alcohol and kept my senses sharp. If I'd been entirely sober, I would've kicked Connor's ass and told him to fuck off. I wouldn't have given in to such a primitive method of earning money. I have to admit, though, it's a helluva lot easier than getting another job. At least roping Harrison in works with my schedule—we already have to collaborate with our French project. We also see each other frequently because of hockey.
As the morning hours passed, I watched Harrison through Chemistry. I was trying to figure out her weaknesses, what she likes and dislikes, and what we have in common. So far, I've learned several things. First, she sticks close to her friends: Tucker, Wright, Charette, and a girl named Evren. She's also partners in Chemistry with Ella, KJ's ex. Harrison hates cheese on sandwiches—I watched her pick it off during lunch. Her favourite NHL team is the Vancouver Canucks, and I can't help but express gratitude toward the person who created key chains. Who knew key chains could hold such valuable information?
Key chains aside, the Vancouver Canucks are also the team I cheer for. They give me some leverage. When I sit down next to Harrison in Biology, earning a glare from Charette, I bring up last night's exhibition game.
"What did you think of last night's win over Calgary?" I ask, watching Mr. Davis write the outline of our class on the whiteboard. I avoid her gaze because I know she's pissed at me for stealing Charette's spot.
"I think their win resembles a promising season," she replies. Her voice is calculating.
"Me too. That Pettersson kid looks great."
Harrison drops her pencil to the desk and swivels in her chair. "What the hell do you want, Smith?"
I tear my gaze from the whiteboard and stare into her blue-violet eyes. Her eyes turn to thin slits and she presses her lips into a flat line. As I'm shrugging, a smirk encompasses my lips. God, she's fun to poke. "Maybe I'm just trying to break the ice, Harris—Brenna. No pun intended."
My comment earns me an eye roll.
"Ah, c'mon Brenna," I continue. "I'm trying to be nice. I acted like a dick at Starbucks. Maybe I'm still trying to make amends. We said we wanted to act civil around each other. Is there shame in trying?"
