And all my fucking alarms were blaring now.
“Well, there wouldn’t be a key to be lost if you had a keypad, would there?” I said, keeping my tone easy, friendly, like I wasn’t cataloging every reaction in real time, and wasn’t already deciding how much I hated this man. “Just a thought.”
For a long moment, Nathan and I stood there in a quiet standoff. His eyes narrowed, flicking between my face and Ariana’s like he couldn’t tell if I was being amicable, or if I was being an asshole.
It’s the latter, you dumb motherfucker.
“I better get going,” Ariana said, carefully peeling herself away from her husband with her eyes on the key in her hands. “I have groceries in the car.”
“Oh, wonderful, now we’ll have spoiled milk and produce, too,” Nathan said, still smiling, like if he pretended it was all a joke, no one would pick up on the fact that he was being a fucking bully to his wife.
I ground my teeth as the word flashed in my mind.
And I didn’t care that I didn’t know this man well, I knew enough to feel with urgent fervor that he wasn’t good enough to call Ariana his.
“I’ll walk you out,” I said, but before I could take a step, Nathan slid in-between us.
“I’llwalk her out.”
He glared at me only a moment before he was all teeth with his fake smile, and then his arm was around Ariana, guiding her to the parking lot.
I had no choice but to watch him leave with her, and my hands curled into fists in my pockets, my stomach tied in the fiercest knot.
When Ariana glanced at me over her shoulder, I thought I saw apology in her eyes, as if she had anything to be sorry for. I also thought I saw her slightly shake her head, like she was telling me without words to leave it alone.
That’s when it hit me like a six-foot-four, two-hundred-pound defender.
She was scared of him.
I was determined to find out why.
Fair Trade
Shane
2006-2007
I didn’t want to be apart from Ariana after that day at Girls Inc.
Instead of sitting two rows back from her, I’d taken to sitting in the seat right next to hers. I figured out when she walked to class and I’d meet her at her dorm, taking her bag over my shoulder.
It became a rhythm; one I looked forward to more than game day. Every Thursday, I showed up with a new smoothie from the Smoothie Guy — mango sunrise, tropical punch, peanut butter banana — and watched her wrinkle her nose before I convinced her to try a sip. By week four, I had a running list of her favorites scratched into the margins of my textbook.
Those walks to class were my time to shine. That was when I got to bug her without restraint. I asked her about everything: what music she listened to when she was sad (Coldplay), what her first job was (dog walker), why she always layered a lacy tank top under her shirts (because it’s cool). She rolled her eyes at my endless curiosity, but she always answered. When fall semester was coming to a close, and I knew we wouldn’t have Professor Reid together anymore, I innocently asked her which classes she was taking in the spring and made sure I had another one with her.
I didn’t want to lose our walking-to-class ritual.
And from that ritual, Ariana came to know me better than most of my teammates.
She knew I was majoring in psychology, that it wasn’t just a backup plan for when hockey ended, but something I already used in the locker room — to read the guys, to lead better. She knew we were clawing through the playoff race, one step from a Frozen Four berth if we could just keep the momentum. And she knew about my pregame superstitions and routine, everything from how I had to eat half a Hawaiian pizza to the precise way I laced my skates.
She told me she was majoring in sociology, that she wanted to work with kids someday. She didn’t say it like it was some vague dream, either. It was steady and rooted, the kind of certainty that made me believe she’d actually do it.
By the time we’d reach the classroom, I was usually mid-question — sometimes serious, sometimes dumb — and she’d push open the heavy door with a sigh. “Class is starting, McCabe. You’ll have to wait to yap at me later.”
But then she’d shoot me this look, this small, reluctant smile that gave her away. She liked the questions. She liked me being there.
And I had every intention of staying.
