Chapter 2: Chapter One

I told her I didn't want to go. I told her she couldn't make me.

She made me.

I, more than anyone else in the entire city of Winnipeg, should have known not to underestimate Angela French and her power of persuasion. Especially when said power was against my always well-meaning, but at times, self-sabotaging need to please others. It didn't matter that I warned her before she entered the contest that I wouldn't go with her if she won, and it didn't matter—clearly—that I shoved the ticket back into her backpack when she wasn't looking after our Abnormal Psychology seminar.

If it did, I wouldn't be in the lobby of the Modar Centre on a Thursday evening five minutes before the puck dropped in the Winnipeg Storm's final preseason game.

"Oh, come on, you can at least wipe that frown off your face and try to look like you're having fun!" Angela teased.

She certainly wasn't frowning, although that really wasn't saying much, because other than her mom's taste in men, there weren't many situations or circumstances that could take her smile off her face.

"I am."

It wasn't a total lie, even if the corners of my lips did feel forced as they pulled upwards. I was having fun with Ang. Kind of. Did I even know the meaning of the word? We were a month into the semester and this was my first non-school-related outing since classes began. That didn't seem so bad, right? University's hard. I'm sure I wasn't the only passenger in this fun-less boat. The thing was, though, was that I hadn't really done anything fun for a lot longer than that. And by "fun," I mean things that actually involved leaving one's room, putting down the Kindle, and leaving the cheese popcorn for someone else to eat.

"Okay, well, look more alive. I'm going to get something from the snack bar. You want?" she asked, tilting her head toward the aforementioned place.

I shook my head. The chicken penne I ate with my parents not even an hour ago left little room for Modar's overpriced offerings of salt, sugar, and fat. "I gotta pee, I'll meet you at the gate."

After I did my business, I washed my hands extra thoroughly. When your main source of transportation was public, you tended to always act like it's cold and flu season. As I dried them on a paper towel, I inspected my reflection in the mirror and tried not to be too critical. My pale skin seemed extra pale. The lighting could have been at fault for sure, but I'd be lying to myself if I attributed my complexion to anything other than the fact that I was burnt out.

Again.

Already.

It was my fourth year doing this—this being university—and getting back into the swing of things in the first few weeks always kicked my butt. That much was evident by the absence of sparkle in my brown eyes and the presence of the dark shadows underneath them. God, I could use some sleep. I really could. Never mind that I slept nine hours each night. I needed a good sleep. Not a tossing and turning joy fest.

I stifled a yawn. What was I doing here, seriously? If it wasn't because I really, truly loved Angela, I wouldn't be. No chance in heck that I would have accepted that second ticket she won from the university's radio station contest from just anybody. Not that I had many people in my life who would offer me it, but that was beside the point.

It took me all of 2.5 seconds to find Angela standing by the usher with the kindly, old face. She was holding a large popcorn bag in both hands and was sneaking a few pieces in her mouth with just her tongue. Oh god. She was such a dork, but then again, so was I.

"Hey," I said as I approached her. I took our tickets out from my coat pocket—we decided I should be the one to hold on to them—and gave them to the usher.

"You ladies are fifth row down, three seats in."

"Thanks," I smiled. I led the way inside.

"I know you said you didn't want anything," Ang began. "But I didn't listen, and I got you your favourite fruit gummies."

"You didn't," I gasped as we sank down into our seats. "They must have cost more than five bucks here."

It was actually criminal, considering that I could buy the same bag at Walmart for $2.99. Even Shoppers Drug Mart, which was notorious for marking up the prices, had them for under five. Clearly, I was in tune with the market for the tropical-flavoured squishy things.

"It's not a big deal. I know I kind of dragged you out here, and it's the least I could do. I know you'd rather be at home studying for our final exams."

I let out a small laugh, not even a little ashamed that she was spot on. Doing well in university was a marathon, not a sprint.

"Can I at least pay you back? You got the tickets, after all."

Angela gave me a look, her boss look that she rarely unleashed on me. "You know the tickets were free. And besides, how many damn times have I ate your snacks, at your house? Or ate your parents' food?"

"Okay," I conceded, shyly tucking a dark lock of hair behind my ear.

Ang and I had different family situations. And by different, I mean that I had a great one and hers was dog shit. Ang's words, not mine. Despite us both being from Winnipeg, she moved out of her mom's place and into the dorms when she started at the University of Winnipeg. It had always been just her and her mom, and those eighteen years spent together were eighteen years too many. Again, her words. Dani French had been nothing but nice to me the entire time I knew her—which has been since second grade—but the fact that Angela had to come to my house if she wanted a home cooked meal, hadn't endeared me to her. I, on the other hand, still lived with my parents and was close to my older brother, his wife, and their two sons. There were times, more than I'd care to admit, that I felt somewhat less of an adult because I was still at home, but things were too good there to leave, just so I could say that I did.

"I didn't take you for a hockey fan," I said, changing the subject.

She's never mentioned being a fan of the sport, or any sport, for that matter.

Angela shrugged as the referee dropped the puck at centre ice.

"I'm not, I guess, but I like to enter myself in every contest the W throws. It's just fun to win."

I nodded. We had that in common. Except I'd say that I'm even more competitive than her, and by a little more than a tad.

We didn't talk as much when the action began. Even though it was only preseason, the crowd was quite into it. All the hoopla was probably due to the fact that Winnipeg was expected to have a decent season. Decent meaning not dead last like the previous year. But at least that flop had gotten them the first overall draft pick. And said pick came in the form of one Taylor Hudson.

Yeah, I know hockey. It's hard not to when my dad lives for the Storm. Whether my mom and I liked it or not, we were a hockey house. My brother, Thomas, played growing up and there were many weeknights and weekends spent in the bleachers of a freezing arena when I was just a young girl. I wouldn't say that I chose to watch it on TV if it was on, but watching hockey always made me feel nostalgic. Like I was a kid again.

"Why does that one guy look so much better than the others?" Angela murmured in between bites of popcorn. I opened my gummies and popped one in.

Speak of the pick.

"That's Taylor Hudson. He's supposed to be really good." I spared Ang all the hockey jargon. 'First overall' probably meant nothing to her.

"Yeah, even I can tell."

Because this was preseason, it wasn't exactly the roster that would start on opening night. Many of the players would be sent down to the minors. Even though Taylor probably wasn't more than 19 years old, there was a slim chance that it would be him.

An unpleasant feeling stirred deep in my gut. Even though it was completely stupid, I felt a pang of what?... jealousy... inferiority? Here was someone who was so young and probably in the exact spot he wanted to be in life and I was so close to graduating with no idea what was to come. Yeah, I had plans to apply to grad school, but those plans were as concrete as clouds right now.

"How much time is left in the game?" Ang asked, mouth breaking into a yawn at the tail end of her question.

I glanced at the block numbers on the jumbotron. "We're two minutes into the third period, so there's about another twenty minutes of playing time, but with the timeouts it'll probably take a little longer."

"Are you okay to stay?"

It was already half past nine but I didn't have classes on Fridays. In my third year, I decided to enroll myself in back-to-back classes on Friday. That's the kind of mistake you don't make more than once.

"Yeah, I'm good if you are."

When the final buzzer did sound, I was more than ready to leave. The Storm had won by a final score of 4-1, and Hudson had scored twice and gotten two assists. I knew that, well, because I had watched the game, but also because he was announced first star and had his stats flashed across the jumbotron.

"Don't you just love the fact that neither of us drives?" I asked as we stepped out into the frigid night air.

Angela rubbed her hands over her arms to warm herself up. "Hey, just be thankful that W Transit has direct routes to the school and mall."

We made our way to the bus stop that was conveniently close to the arena. It was near the back entrance of the building, in the parking lot that was marked Staff and Players Only by the white sign near the lamppost.

The problem was, that because it was so late, the bus only came every half hour, and according to my W Transit bus app, one had just come by two minutes ago. Which meant precisely twenty-eight more minutes until warmth. Even though I was exhausted—both by the afternoon Psych seminar I endured earlier in the day and the fact that I wasn't able to spend the evening unwinding like I usually did—I pushed myself to make conversation. I wasn't verbose on a full night's sleep and the best of moods, but talking with Ang would probably make the time go by faster.

"When's the last time you went to your mom's? How's she doing?"

Angela turned to me, her breath making a small cloud in front of her lips. She shrugged.

"She's good, I guess. Same old. She texted me last night to see how I was, but I haven't been back since the semester started."

The semester had only started a month ago, so that wasn't a hideously long amount of time, but I had the suspicion that Angela wouldn't go back for a while still.

"She still seeing Al?"

"Still seeing Al," Ang confirmed. "He's practically moved in at this point."

The bite in her voice was undeniable. I had never met the man—and by the things Angela said, that seemed like a good thing—but I disliked him just because Angela did.

"I'm sorry, Ang. If you dislike him that much, tell Dani. I'm sure that if she knew you'd be over more she'd end things."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Right, because that always got rid of her loser boyfriends before."

Okay. This wasn't exactly the direction I wanted things to go. Dani got pregnant with Angela when she was twenty and raised her on her own. Angela never met her father, but based on the older French's taste in men, perhaps Ang was better off. I don't know; that's not for me to decide, but I do my best to not remind Angela of where she comes from. She's trying to be better than that. And she's succeeding.

I was thankful for the visual distraction when I saw two figures walking towards the Jeep parked closest to the bus shelter. We were illuminated by the pot light in the ceiling of the shelter, and one of the guys—I could tell they were men by their build—noticed us.

Even with a hood over his head, I still recognized the blond hair falling on his forehead, the pink cheeks, and the thin lips.

"Hey Angela, hey Camille." Lawson Gorenki greeted. "What are you guys doing here?"

I opened my mouth to answer but Angela beat me to it. I looked at her from the corner of my eye. She had been crushing on Lawson since they were partnered up in Psych Lab last year but she had yet to admit it.

"We came to watch the game. I won tickets from the W."

I think Lawson mentioned something about that being cool, but I couldn't be certain, because at the mention of the game, the guy next to him looked up with interest.

There are moments in our life where time seems to stop and our sensory and perception systems work overtime, committing every moment to memory, like a picture that could never fade.

Yeah, this wasn't one of those moments. It was as non-surreal as a conversation at a bus stop could get.

It's incredibly ironic then, that it was the moment I meant Taylor Hudson.

"Really? Did you guys enjoy it?" the still-unnamed man asked.

I turned to look at the man wearing the black peacoat standing beside Lawson. His face was clean shaven and some black curls peaked out from the back of his grey toque.

"Yeah, we did." I answered.

Way to keep the conversation going, Camille.

"Oh, this is Taylor Hudson, by the way." Lawson said.

Taylor smiled and extended his hand, first to Angela and then myself.

"Camille Riccardi," I said.

Taylor shook it and his hand absolutely swallowed mine. God, this kid was huge. Was he a kid? Even in the dark and with his coat, I could tell that that was not a kid's body.

"Camille," he said, a small smile on his lips.

My tongue connected with the roof of my mouth and made an awkward noise. What was I supposed to say now? By no means am I an artist, and that applies to the art of conversation as well.

"Camille, when is our History of Psych midterm? Is it the 18th or 20th?"

Thank god for Lawson. I turned my body towards him, momentarily forgetting about Taylor.

"It's the 11th." I tried to soften the blow by smiling.

Lawson cursed. "Shit, that's sooner than I thought."

"Good luck with it."

Lawson nodded his thanks and said a few more things to Angela with a shy smile on his face. I tried to subtly check Taylor out. It wasn't for personal gain, though. In the morning when I told my dad I met this guy, he'd want details. But that rundown would have to wait for tomorrow because my dad would certainly be asleep by the time I got home.

"We gotta get going," Taylor said a few minutes later. "But it was nice meeting you, and thanks for the support."

"Have a great season," I smiled. And waved.

Who the hell waves? Especially at someone two feet away from them?

We watched them climb into the dark Jeep and pull away. I was pretty sour that we still probably had ten minutes to wait, but Angela was giddy.

"What are you so excited about?"

"Didn't you just hear? I was just telling Lawson that we haven't hung out since last semester and he said he'd text me!"

If that was me in Angela's situation, my stomach would have probably broken out into anxiety cramps. Most social situations—okay, fine, pretty much all of them—revved up my anxiety. Add a boy into that mix, and I'd probably keel over.

But I could tell she was happy, so I told her that I was happy for her.

When the bus finally did come, I got on silently and let Angela chat happily in my ear. Angela got off first, at the stop in front of the dorms.

"Text me when you get home, 'kay?" Angela said as she got off.

"I will," I assured her. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."