"He likes you as much as his DNA allows," he says as we head toward the locker room. "If you're talking about his comment...that had nothing to do with the game on Saturday and everything to do with the reason you smell like strawberries."
"I'm not following."
He stops dead in his tracks, his mouth quirking up to one corner. "You're running against the ice queen for president."
"Fuck me." I let out an exhausted sigh as I tip my head back to the sky.
Just when I thought the day couldn't get any worse, he drops this bomb on me. I knew what I was doing back home when I started messing around and competing in local rodeos behind my dad's back. I knew he'd be furious if he found out I was riding bulls. I've grown up riding horses. Horses are in my blood, but bull riding is a taboo sport in my house. My father doesn't have many hard limits, except that one, and I crossed it multiple times. Disobeying him got me exactly what I'd been hoping for: exile. But this complication I hadn't planned on.
"How ugly it gets depends on you," he says, squeezing my shoulder. "Victory always has a price, but few are willing to sacrifice. Asha won't go down without a fight."
That makes the corners of my lips turn up stupidly. Of course she won't. I wouldn't expect anything less.
My cleats squelch against the damp earth with each step as I pull off my gloves and stuff them into my helmet and ask, "Why do people call her the ice queen? Is she a mean girl?"
Hollis wipes sweat from his forehead, leaving a streak of dirt across his temple. "No, she's not mean…per se. Asha Fairfield is a one-woman show." He shrugs. "Well, I guess she has Emma now. Asha let her stick around for some reason. But mean, nah. She's not mean; she's a force. The girl is smart as hell—maybe too smart for her own good, if you ask me."
We pause as two of the guys jog past us toward the stables, and Hollis shifts his weight, favoring his left leg. He probably pulled something during the last chukker.
"Most of her classes are advanced," he adds, his tone fairer. "If she's not in the library, working on assignments, or jumping her Thoroughbred, she's volunteering. It's nothing bad. She just keeps to herself."
"So, you call her the ice queen because she's a smart snob who doesn't bother to pencil in making friends into her schedule." I adjust the mallet slung over my shoulder.
"You left out hot in your list of adjectives." He holds his hands in front of him, palms up. "Look, I know it sounds mean and maybe even a little discriminatory, but it is what it is. If she has a friend list, I probably fall on that list. She knows what people say about her, and she's fine wearing the crown." He shrugs. "The girl likes to be alone."
The sound of our footsteps on the gravel path fills the silence as we start walking again.
"You said she probably considers you a friend. Why?"
Hollis stops dead in his tracks, and a slow grin spreads across his face.
"Well, for starters, she's my cousin."
How did I not know this?I'm a details guy, always have been. I pride myself on picking up on connections, on reading between the lines. I feel like I would have caught this earlier. Then again, they don't share the same last name, and I haven't had a reason to bring her up until today.
"She's going to be pissed when she finds out I'm not the nominee," Hollis says as he starts walking again, his stride a little more confident after successfully blindsiding me.
"Why is that?" I ask, jogging slightly to catch up.
"Today, after algebra, she cornered me in the hallway and asked me to run against her for student council."
"Why would she do that?"
"She heard the rumors like everyone else. If they were going to make jocks run, she wanted the candidate to be someone she knew wouldn't want it.”
Great. I've just earned another reason for her to hate me.
"Any idea why she blasted me with a milkshake?" I ask, leaving out the part about how, in that moment, she could have recognized me.
I should tell him that I know Asha, but that wouldn't be the whole truth, because I don't. Not really. We met once, when we were six. I could tell him that my family's property neighbors hers, and that according to six-year-old Asha, we're sworn enemies due to some decades-old family feud. But I don't, because none of those things justifies what she did today, and when the time comes that I tell Hollis how I know Asha and why I went out of my way to get sent to this school, it won’t be like this, clueless of his connection with her and smelling of pungent strawberries.
"You don't have any classes with her?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.
"No, at least not today. That could change tomorrow with block scheduling."
"Then I'm going to say it probably has something to do with the mud stains on her uniform. You're the only student who drove to campus today."
I furrow my brow until the pieces click into place. I'm the only one who didn't have a dorm ready before school started. I had to drive. The mud stains splattered across her pristine uniform were there because of me. Because I'd been careless, probably speeding through puddles in the parking lot like some kind of entitled asshole.
