Brenna

I go out for a late lunch with Catina and Evren on Friday. Mille was supposed to tag along, but she got caught up in taking over another shift at Winners. We also had to switch the day of our lunch and get together because of clashing work schedules tomorrow. We hit up Mad Mango to enjoy some authentic Vietnamese cuisine. Evren insists we get an order of the salad rolls—I insist we get three orders. They're the most delicious food salad rolls I've had, and the peanut sauce is the shit. When we're finished with the appetizer, we order our main lunches. After eating so many salad rolls, I'm unable to finish my food.

"Would you like that wrapped up?" the server asks me.

"Yes, please," I nod, wiping my mouth with a napkin. "Thank you."

"We'll have ours wrapped, too, please," Evren adds. As usual, Evren looks top of the line. Her rose-gold bracelets jingle around her wrist as she smooths out her brown shoulder-length style hair. The sharp jut of her chin complements her ruby-red lips. So does the silky cream-coloured cami she's wearing beneath her black cardigan. I've always been jealous of Evren's style. She has this unique ability to pull of anything, be it a hair style, lip colour, or outfit.

"So," Catina says once our dishes have been cleared. "Are we going through with this?"

I check my phone. The screen is lit up with several text messages from Hunter, Nick, and Drew. There's nothing from Ella. We're not close friends, but her breakup with Jones seems to have shaken her. Quietness has been her best friend throughout class. I thought it would be a good idea to invite her. A little support can go a long way, and I know her well enough to invite her over. I hope she takes the invitation and joins us. We're probably just going to play video games and eat junk food. Maybe watch a movie on Netflix.

There's also a text from Mom. She's back to working the night shift at the hospital, giving me the opportunity to throw a party behind her back. That, however, isn't how I roll. I quickly scan through her text message. She's okayed me having some friends over. My response is a list of who's coming, and an excess amount of heart emojis. "We are," I reply. "Mom said it's okay."

Catina rolls her eyes. "Why do you ask your mom about everything? You're going to be eighteen next year."

Evren nudges Catina in the ribs. "Brenna's told you, like, fifty times. Her mom trusts her, and she wants to keep it that way."

"I get it," Catina says, leaning back in her chair. As she crosses her arms, the server returns with our packaged food. We thank her, and then she tells us we're welcome to pay up front whenever we want. "But you need to live a little, Brenna. Take some risks. You never go to parties or do anything teenagers do. You're always playing hockey or working out at the gym."

I suppress a snort. Why do kids cross their parents? Betrayal isn't a column in the foundation of relationships. I can't imagine lying to my mom. Then again, my mom has always been lenient with me. But that's because I've never given her a reason not to trust me. "I'm taking plenty of risks by playing with the boys."

"What the hell are you talking about?" she replies. "You kick their asses."

Evren even sends me a skeptical look.

I flick a piece of rice from the table, feeling indifferent to males. "I'm risking their egos. It's like they forget about me. Yes, I'm a girl. Yes, I play hockey. Yes, I will kick your ass. Every time I step on the ice, they're shocked. I take pride in denting their fragile egos."

Evren and Catina burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. I can't help but smile with them. It's true, though—the boys underestimate me. Aside from my team, there's only a handful of boys who don't underestimate me. Kaleb Jones and Jayden Miller dislike me, but at least they're respective to my face. I don't give a shit about what they say behind my back. People can say whatever they want about me. All that matters is I know who I am and what I stand for. I could pit the entire world against me and I'd still believe in myself. My stubbornness is strong. It's what unifies me with hockey—a white, male-dominated sport.

"Still wish you'd come back to the girls' team," Catina sighs. "I miss our road trips."

I send my friend a sympathetic smile. Never will I apologize for joining the boys' league. Skills are conditioned and circumscribed by competition. Continuing to play with the women's team would've been too restrictive. And not regarding skills. I'm talking about the quality of the organization. Boys get more tournaments and better exposure than girls do. They get more funding and support. They get a fucking bus to travel to places like Coquitlam and Vancouver.

My decision was entirely selfish. Why join the boys' league and fuel their recognition? I could have stayed with the girls and voiced the inequality. But every woman knows that would've done nothing. Silencing our voices has become the norm. It's unfair that women have to prove themselves worthy of their skills. But if playing better hockey than boys across the Okanagan is what I have to do to make a statement, then so be it. I'll infiltrate the system and break it from the inside.

Evren nudges Catina and leans over, whisper-yelling, "She will not change her mind."

"I know," Catina sighs. She swirls of the last of her water around, ice cubes clinking against the frosted glass. "We should leave. I want to stop at the grocery store and buy some snacks and drinks for tonight."

My nose wrinkles. She's going to buy barbecue chips like there's no tomorrow. I hate barbecue chips. "We're coming in with you," I say, pushing my chair back. From my purse, I remove my wallet. We always get into an argument over who's paying for lunch, so when I flash my debit card to Evren and Catina, I say, "You guys can pay for the drinks and snacks. That way, it balances out."

Catina's jaw clenches, but she doesn't argue with me. She hates it when other people pay because she doesn't want to feel like she owes them anything, which she won't after buying the snacks. Evren can handle the drinks.

"I'm cool with that," Evren says, slinging her purse over her shoulder. Her heels click against the linoleum as she follows me to the front desk. "God knows Cat will buy the worst snacks."

"I buy delicious snacks! Drew, Hunter, and Nick love the stuff I pick out!" Catina calls from behind.

Evren and I snort.

Up front, I give the cashier our bill and tell her I'll be paying by debit. She takes several seconds to type in the orders and have the proper amount be charged. While she's sorting out the prices, I listen in on the conversation behind me.

Evren and Catina are bickering over the snacks. "How can you label them as good snacks when there are no ketchup chips? Like, I can't believe you call yourself Canadian. What Canadian citizen doesn't like ketchup chips? Their flavour has vigour compared to barbecue chips."

"Ketchup is full of sugar," Catina snorts. "It doesn't belong on anything—not even fries. Therefore, you two are never in control of snacks for parties. You buy that nasty ketchup shit."

I can hear the eye roll in Evren's voice. "They don't actually use ketchup to flavour the chips. It's processed shit and a bunch of spices."

Smiling, I tap my card against the payment terminal. It immediately rings through as accepted and the cashier hands me the receipt. "Thank-you," I smile. Pocketing my card and the receipt, I turn to face my friends, food in hand. They're still stuck in the argument about ketchup chips and blocking people from passing by. I suppress an eye roll and guide my friends outside into the welcoming autumn air. Leaves litter the sidewalk as a cool breeze sweeps through the downtown area. It's cloudy today, with the promise of rain on the horizon; the mountains of Okanagan Valley are shrouded by mist. I pull my bomber jacket tighter around my body.

"I think we should bus back to my place. We can drive to the grocery store after," I say, squinting up at the sky. If we go to the downtown Safeway and delay catching the bus, there's a better chance of us getting caught in the rain. It's quite the walk from the bus stop to my place. "By the time we get back, Hunter and the rest of the guys should be there."

"That's a good idea," Evren nods, stepping around a group of college students. We stop at Ellis Street, waiting for the light to turn red. "Walking back to your house in the rain would suck."

Catina snorts and gestures to Evren's heels. "You're insane for wearing heels. How do you expect to walk up Westlake Road in those?"

Evren glances down at her chunky heeled ankle boots. Something I could never pull off—I'm more of a Converse girl—but they're adorable. "Did you ever think there's a reason she's wearing them?" I tease. "Evren can obviously handle it." I poke Catina in the side as the light turns red, signalling for us to walk. "I'm sensing some jealousy, Cat. You'd fall flat on your face wearing those."

Catina swats my hand away and bumps her shoulder against mine. "So would you."

"Hence the reason I prefer Converse," I laugh.

We continue down the sidewalk, passing Frock & Fellow, Funktional, and Mosaic Books. My gaze lingers on the bookstore for several seconds. If I were alone, I'd spend hours in there, browsing the books and chatting with fellow readers. My favourite novels are fantasy ones with strong female characters. The novels that will remove me from reality and drop me into a different world.

Through the window, I notice the book I'm reading right now. An Ember in the Ashes. Regrettably, it brings up memories involving Smith. His cowardice pisses me off. Telling people how you feel solves problems. If he would tell me what the hell went wrong between us, we'd be able to get along better. Not that he deserves my respect. He's an asshole, despite the outstanding qualities he has. The good don't outweigh the bad when you're sexist, though.

"Come on, Brenna," Evren laughs, looping her arm through mine. "No books today."

A sigh escapes my lips. Evren and Catina will forever think it's because of their restrictions. It's not. I miss the days when Shea and I were friends. I hate that whenever I see his face, all I can think about is us as kids.

Those hours on the frozen pond, playing hockey and laughing.

* * *

"Jayden Miller?"

Those are the words that escape my mouth when I open the front door. I'm greeted by his relentless brown locks and even darker eyes. His brown eyes are startling, reminding me of a forest floor after spring rain. The hood of his charcoal-grey hoodie is pulled up and damp. My eyes trail across his thick brows, down his strong nose and pattern of freckles, and across the five o'clock shadow along his triangular jaw. Yet, despite the masculine vibe, there are still babyish features. His eyes are round and big, almost doe-like. There's also a roundness to his cheeks, as if he hasn't lost the baby fat yet.

His face makes the blood rush to my cheeks before I can stop it. Although he's friends with Shea, it doesn't inevitably make him an asshole. Jayden has morals, and he's respectful. He's the type of hockey player that helps someone up off the ice after they've been hit.

"Brenna," he smiles. "Hey."

"What are you doing here?" I hold the door open, allowing him to enter. The rain is coming down hard, just like I assumed it would. As strange as it is to see him here, I don't want him getting soaking wet. He steps inside and removes his hood, shaking droplets from his unruly hair. A few droplets hit my face and I wipe them away.

"Nick invited me," he replies, glancing around the entryway. "We work together at Sport Chek. He tossed me an invitation after his shift was done. I, uh, hope it's okay I came over."

I blink a few times. My first instinct is to tell him to leave. But that's my inner hockey player reacting. Jayden isn't a bad kid. In fact, he's one of the nicer ones on Kelowna's team. It would be rude of me to judge him based on our time on the ice. Or the fact he's friends with Shea.

I'm hoping Nick isn't a bad judge of character.

"Yeah," I reply. "Sure."

His gaze lingers on my face for several seconds before he looks away, his cheeks turning pink. He unzips his leather jacket—the kind with the removable hoodie.

"I can take your jacket," I reply, glancing up at him. He's an inch taller than me, broad and toned. Like most hockey players are. Butterflies are beating against the lining of my stomach, and I feel no shame. I'm allowed to think hockey guys are hot. It's not like I'll ever date one. Aside from a handful of guys on my team, hockey players enjoy flexing their high power. They take pride in adding notches to their bedposts.

He shrugs his jacket off, revealing a tight-fitted long-sleeve black shirt. It hugs his body well, only adding to his charm. I take the jacket from him and hang it up while he unlaces his running shoes. Unlike Hunter, I don't need to organize the shoes or clean up a pitiful mess. Jayden moves his shoes onto the waterproof mat where everyone else's are. When he's standing upright, he glances around the entryway again. "You've got a really nice place."

My mouth pulls into a smirk. He's being presumptive—he's only seen the entryway. "Well, we'll see if that's what you think after you've seen the rest of the house. Follow me."

I lead Jayden down the hallway, aware of the awkward tension between us. It would be a lie to say the rivalry between Shea and I hasn't bled into other players. Our hatred has caused an even more defined rift between Kelowna and West Kelowna. It's why Jayden and I aren't sure how to act around each other.

"So, uh," Jayden says. I turn to the left. Cutting through the kitchen is a faster way to get to the living room, where everyone is gathered. I hear a bowling ball hitting pins, which is followed by an eruption of cheers. They're playing bowling on the Wii. We'd been planning on watching a movie on Netflix, but that didn't work out. "I heard you guys won against Summerland's team."

"Yeah," I reply. When my eye catches the cans of pop on the counter, I stop and turn to Jayden. I may as well play delightful hostess. "Do you want anything to drink?" I gesture to the counter. "We've got cream soda, sparkling water, and iced tea." There's also a bottle of vodka next to the sparkling water. It doesn't take a genius to realize the guys have been spiking their drinks.

Jayden chuckles, picking up the bottle of vodka. He gives it a shake and cocks a brow at me. "Getting rowdy tonight?"

"Nah," I snort, crossing my arms. I'm aware of every move I make. Of placing my hands and the colour of my hair. My senses are hyperaware. "At least, I'm not. Alcohol isn't my favourite."

"Yeah," Jayden sighs, setting the bottle down, "same here. I also have to drive back to Kelowna. I'll pass on the alcohol. A water would be nice, though."

I busy myself with Jayden's water, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water from the pitcher. I filled it earlier for the guys, but they haven't touched it. All the ice has melted. "Do you want ice?" I ask.

"No, thanks."

I hand him the water, and he takes a sip. Before he can thank me for it, I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. "Nick and the rest of the guys are in the living room. They're glued to the Wii. It will not be much of a party."

Jayden shrugs. "That's okay."

As we enter the living room, Hunter lifts his arms in victory as the animated bowling pins fall, Wii remote in hand. He turns to Drew and Nick, flipping them the bird. "I'd like to see you top that," he gloats. He stumbles a little, making me wonder how much he's had to drink. "

Evren laughs, picking at the bowl of ketchup chips. "Someone take his alcohol away before he cracks his head open on the coffee table."

A round of laughter echoes through the living room. Hunter stoops down to pick up his drink, toasting to the proclamation Evren's made. It gives Nick just enough visibility to see Jayden and I.

Nick stands up and pushes past Hunter. "Jayden, man! You made it." They exchange the typical bro hug. Somehow, Jayden doesn't spill his water on the hardwood.

To the left of the hug, Hunter and Drew exchange a weary glance, despite their alcohol consumption levels. Teammates from opposing teams getting along isn't common.

"Thanks for inviting me," Jayden continues. "It's nice to get away from Connor and his shit. I invited KJ to come along, but he declined. I think he's hanging out with Shea tonight."

Panic builds up inside of me, while the mention of Smith's name pisses me off. This is how parties get out of hand. One person tells another, and before you know it, there's a rager going on. I can't allow that to happen. This night was also supposed to get my mind off of anything related to Smith. I have to deal with him enough. "You didn't tell anyone else, did you?" I ask. "There's a limit on how many people can be in my house."

Catina, who has forgotten about her phone, joins me at my side as she sets her drink down on the coffee table. Without a coaster beneath. I exhale deeply, knowing she'll tease me if I do or say anything. Wrapping her arm around my shoulders, I can't miss the aroma of alcohol on her breath. Or her cotton-candy scented perfume. At least, that's what it smells like to me. It's sickeningly sweet. "She's joking, Jayden. Don't look so concerned." She glances at me, a menacing smile on her face. "You are joking, right, Brenna?"

"No," I reply, shrugging her off. "I don't want a large group of people here." I glance around the group. Having one extra person will not bother Mom. But it bothers me—even if Jayden is nice to look at. I must text Mom when I get a chance. Giving Jayden a polite smile, I say, "It's fine, you're here. Just... Just don't invite anyone else without consulting me first, okay?" I pierce Nick with my gaze when I say that. He curls away from me, looking terrified.

He should be.

I'm going to kick his ass at practice on Monday.

Catina snorts and takes Jayden's arm, guiding him to the couch. Evren scoots over, providing room for the two of them to sit down. "It's your turn, Brenna," she says. She's practically sitting on Jayden's lap. He looks uncomfortable, but it's not my place to tell Cat what to do. Although she can overwhelm when she flirts, she has nothing but good intentions.

Sighing, I swipe my remote from the coffee table and take my turn. Just like Hunter did, I score a strike. My name is still on top of the leaderboard which makes Nick and Hunter huff in frustration. Drew's up next, so when he stands, I steal his spot next to Hunter. Although we're teammates, we're super competitive with video games and board games. They're frustrated with me winning, and I guarantee Nick has gone to the kitchen to grab another drink. He needs to drown away his sorrows somehow.

Hunter nudges me. "Sorry about Nick inviting Jayden. He'd been talking about it, but I didn't think he was going to go through with it."

I flash my friend a weak smile. "It's okay. Jayden's not so bad. I... I just don't want Smith and the rest of the gang thinking they're invited." Honestly, Jones showing up wouldn't have been too bad. I could've handled him and Jayden. Smith, Connor, and the rest of the team, though? No fucking way. If there's one person I hate more than Smith, it's Connor Watt. He's the epitome of a dickhead.

Hunter chuckles, looping his arm around my shoulders. He pulls me against his body, and I'm overwhelmed with the smell of his cologne. It's something musky with a hint of orange and cedar. "I doubt he'll show up. That kid hates you."

I pick at the chipped nail polish on my fingernails, suppressing a sigh. This sudden feeling of dread in my heart. It's a mystery why Smith hates me—one I fear I'll never be able to solve.

"Hey," Hunter continues. "What's up?"

"Do you remember when Shea and I were friends?" It's strange to taste his name on my tongue, but I can't call the young version of him anything else. When we were friends, Shea was Shea. Not Smith.

"Of course," Hunter smiles, rubbing his chin. "The three of us used to play hockey together, remember? I hung out with him, too."

I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling, stretching my neck out. I'm getting antsy. I should be at the gym right now, doing my usual workout. It's agonizing to go off-schedule.

Hunter rests his hand on my knee, holding it still. "Relax, Bren," he murmurs. His breath smells faintly of stale alcohol. He's tipsy, but not overly drunk, so I can still take him seriously. I become very intolerant with people who turn into drunken fools. "Shea's pissy attitude is his problem. Not yours. I'm sorry, though, Bren. I know how close you guys were. For what it's worth, he doesn't deserve to have you in his life."

I know Hunter's right. Having Shea confess the reasoning behind his hatred would put me at ease, though. It would explain the constant tension between us. Before things went downhill, I had a thing for him. It was a silly elementary school crush, but a crush. I loosen a tired chuckle and give Hunter a shove. "I can always count on you to make me see reason." His head flops forward and I push it back with my head. He laughs, swatting my hand away. "Even when you're shit-faced."

Hunter's glassy eyes meet mine. "For one thing," he states, holding up a finger. "I'm not shit-faced. Drunk, yes. Shit-faced? No, ma'am."

Snorting, I glance at the rest of the gang. Nick has returned, and they're enjoying their drinks and snacking on different flavours of chips. There are a few slices of ham and pineapple pizza left, too. Jayden reaches out to grab one. "God," he groans after a bite. "I'm glad you guys aren't heathens who think pineapple doesn't belong on pizza." He chews thoughtfully for a moment. "Connor and the rest of the guys hate pineapple on pizza."

"Figures," Drew snorts, grabbing the other piece. My stomach grumbles. Damn. I wanted that piece. Good thing there are still some ketchup chips left. Leaning forward, I grab a handful.

"Watt is a douchebag," Drew continues. "I want to clobber that kid every time I see his cocky smirk."

Jayden rolls his eyes. "Try being on the same team as him. He's always fighting Shea for top position. I don't think Connor realizes he's a bigger asshole than Shea."

Evren raises her eyebrows in surprise. "You think your own teammate is a jerk?"

Evren's not familiar with the ideology of hockey. She thinks everyone on a team can get along and have no residual effects on each other. Boy, is she wrong. There are a few guys on my team I clash with.

"It's complicated," Jayden sighs. "Shea is a good person, but he needs to be a better person. He chooses not to try. He's a great captain, but yeah, he's a jerk." He shoots an apologetic look my way. "He's a nice person beneath his ignorant vibe, but it's easy to tell when he's faking it."

I have to agree with Jayden. Although Shea's brain is primitive in the gender equality category, he's a great leader on the ice. I've heard him talk up his team and bring them back to the game. He sets a prime example of what a captain should do. Despite his sour attitude toward me.

Still, something seems off with Jayden's wording.

"I can handle it," I shrug, ignoring the nagging feeling.

Just then Catina comes stumbling back into the room. I didn't know she'd left.

"Hey!" she says, joining Hunter and I on the couch. She's sitting on my lap, reeking of alcohol and something sweet. I hope she hasn't been mixing cream soda and vodka. She's going to have a killer hangover tomorrow if she is.

Something cold seeps through my jeans. When I look down, I see the remnants of something foamy and sticky. I mentally curse, glancing at the drink in her hand. She has a red Solo cup full of something. Her cut-off time is on the horizon.

She plants a kiss on my cheek. It's sloppy and sticky, but it makes me laugh. Whenever Cat gets drunk, she becomes overly lovey and touchy. Her drunken behaviour amuses me. I kiss her cheek, too, laughing. "What? What is it?"

"Did Jayden tell you about the party KSS is having? He invited us, saying we should come!"

Puzzled, Hunter frowns. "Cat, you already go to KSS."

"Oh, yeah," she giggles. "I guess I do." Her head lolls to the side as she looks at Evren. "Evren doesn't, though!"

"Nor do the rest of us," Drew mutters, tugging at his lavish locks. The kid could do a commercial for a hair product. His flow is flawless, blonde with golden highlights. I'm envious of his hair. But not as envious as he is of Cat sitting on my lap. He takes a long sip of his drink, only to realize it's empty. "Damn it," he mutters, getting to his feet. "Anyone else want a drink?"

Hunter, Evren, and Nick all agree. As soon as Drew is gone, Jayden asks, "What do you think? Do you guys want to come? I can give you the details."

"Yes!" Cat exclaims. "We'll go, right?"

The others nod in agreement. I stay silent. Little do they know, Smith invited me to the same party last Sunday. A party I refuse to go to. I can tolerate my friends being drunk and acting goofy. What I can't tolerate is obnoxious boys and idiotic behaviour. I can only imagine how the Kelowna team acts when they're drunk. Besides, I have better things to worry about than parties.

I glance at my Apple Watch, noting not all of my rings have been closed for today. How am I supposed to keep my game on point if I'm not committed to a schedule?

When I glance at Hunter, I notice he's already looking at me. His hand is still on my knee, keeping it steady even though all I want to do is bounce it up and down. Hunter flashes me a sympathetic smile, but it makes me feel sick to my stomach. I need to prove a point in men's hockey; that women are just as capable as men. Sitting around at a party isn't going to do that. Yes, it's been fun to spend time with my friends. But two days in a row? No way.

He raises his eyebrows, silently asking me about the party.

I avert my gaze and shake my head, feeling disappointed in more ways than one.