The Enforcer

by Avery Keelan

But when I glance back up, it’s her features that pull me in; big, doe-like eyes, a full, pouty mouth, and a perfect ski-jump nose. I’ve found the rare total package: a banging body with a gorgeous face to match. She’s easily a ten, and I hardly ever say that. She’s also petite, probably not much taller than five-three. In her left hand is a peach-flavored spiked seltzer, which answers my previous question. Hot chicks drink that crap, that’s who.

Somehow, I’ve gone more than two years without bumping into her on campus even once. It’s a little strange, actually; Lakeside University might be big, but it’s not that big. Then again, if I did run into her, what would I even say?

Unease settles in the pit of my stomach. My ex-girlfriend, Violet, is in the athletic training program. What if she’s one of them? Then again, she probably has some say in where she does her internship. There’s no way she would want to work with our team after the way things ended between us. With the way I ended things, specifically.

The only thing worse than having a ‘one that got away’ is knowing you’re the one who pushed her to leave.

In advance of training, the fourth-year student interns that will be joining our team for the semester are: Julianna Anderson Violet Dahl Preston Lowell

I don’t move an inch but inwardly, my brain explodes. This is bad. This is really, really bad. Beneath the list of names is another wall of text reiterating tonight’s practice plan, but I can’t stop staring at the middle name. My pulse jumps, grip on my phone tightening. This can’t be right. Working with the team? What the hell is she thinking?

“Oh, shit,” Vaughn murmurs, staring at his screen. Having witnessed me go off the rails firsthand after our breakup, he’s the only other person who understands how disastrous this development is. I have very few regrets in life, and all of them involve her.

In addition to the obvious problems associated with seeing my ex-girlfriend multiple times per week, all of the guys on the team are going to be thirsting over her because a) she’s gorgeous, and b) that’s how they are. Coach Ward’s warning won’t deter them for a single second. That’ll be short-lived, though. She’s off-limits, and I’ll make that crystal fucking clear by any means necessary.

“It was a little more serious than that. Violet is my ex.”

“It was before you started here. We met September of my freshman year and broke up the following spring. And now I’m fucked because I’m going to have to see her every day.”

I’VE ALWAYS LOVED SURPRISES. Getting stuck with my ex-boyfriend’s hockey team for my senior-year athletic training internship, however, is a surprise that I could have done without.

Except I don’t have a phone to order food with because Julianna confiscated it. To prevent me from “doing something regrettable,” she claims. Too bad that dates back to freshman year, and it can’t be undone.

I blink away the memories, channeling every ounce of strength I have to keep my voice level. “I don’t get it, Jules. I requested the women’s hockey team as my first choice.”

In my former life, I used to religiously attend their games. Then my ex-who-shall-not-be-named—the Grizzlies’ top defensive enforcer—cross-checked my heart into the boards at the end of freshman year, and I’ve made a second job of avoiding him ever since.

“We should absolutely hate him.” He went from being the perfect boyfriend at the beginning to someone I didn’t recognize by the end. From being sweet and thoughtful to a study in emotional unavailability, with a heart colder than the ice coating a rink. After one especially shitty deed, I ended things with him and moved on without looking back.

“Long story short, we dated for almost all of freshman year. Rumor has it, he turned into a complete fuckboy after that. I guess I broke him.”

crowd. “What’s up?” Seeing her is even more difficult than I expected. It’s not just awkward; it’s torture. Same big blue eyes and cupid’s bow lips, but the person beneath them is a stranger.

“We have to work together all semester. Can we call a truce? Be friends, maybe?” Friends? That’s cute. “You and I both know we can’t be friends.” Violet plants her fists on her hips, tilting her head defiantly. “Why not?” “Why do you think?”

“Are you seriously trying to play the victim? After everything you did?” An errant surge of irritation comes rushing back to me. While I wasn’t exactly a model boyfriend near the end, it doesn’t change the fact that Violet jumped right into someone else’s bed the moment we broke up. After seven months together, she moved on in the span of a weekend. Who knows, maybe it was even sooner. Given the timing, I’m not convinced there wasn’t some overlap. “Can’t have hurt too bad considering how quickly you found someone else. How is Jay these days, anyway?” Violet stiffens, indignation stretching across her pretty face. “Were you keeping tabs on me or something?” Obviously. It’s like she doesn’t remember me at all. “I know everything that happens on campus.”

It takes conscious effort to keep my breaths slow and even as a strange combination of resentment and desire courses through my veins. Part of me still wants her, even though I’m pissed.

“You have the balls to complain that I moved on too soon when you’re the one who broke us in the first place?” she hisses.

My grip on the strap of my bag tightens. Does she think I don’t fucking know that already? I’m well aware of the starring role I played in the failure of our relationship, but she played a part, too. Her tone turns skate-edge sharp. “You ditched out on Easter dinner with my family.”

Guilt is something that rarely troubles me, but even I’m not immune to experiencing a hint of it when she brings that up. Instead of going with Violet to meet her parents and sister, like I was supposed to, I may have taken a boys’ trip with a bunch of guys from the team at the ...

“Listen, fuckers.” All eyes in the room fall to me. “All any of you need to know is that Violet is one hundred percent out-of-bounds. If any of you even think about touching her, it’ll be a career-ending move. Because I will end you. Immediately.”

IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT, I’m still ticked off about how things went down with Nash yesterday, and to add insult to injury, he’s been living rent-free in my head ever since. “We can’t be friends.” Asshole.

Being with her was great … and it was terrifying. The more Violet and I bonded, the more I freaked out inside. The closer we got, the more I started to pull back. Prioritizing her less and putting my friends first. Going out with them instead of staying in with her. Getting way too drunk, way too often. I never cheated, never crossed a line with anyone else or even wanted to, but toward the end, I was a shitty boyfriend.

It’s my fault she rebounded right into the arms of another guy. Deep down, I know that.

Of course, none of this used to bother me until Violet teleported back into my life. It’s hard to forget the fact that our bedroom activities were anything but vanilla. It was Baskin Robbins and the thirty-one flavors of fucking. She’s almost as deviant as I am. Almost.

approval. As much as I hate my dad sometimes, I still crave his praise. I hate myself for that, too. I know I’m never going to get it.

Hating Nash would be so much easier if I didn’t have the underlying urge to tear off his clothes all the time.

barely admit, even to myself. Excitement. While his protective act might be a little old-fashioned, it’s proof he still cares, and the circle of people he cares about is minuscule.

Being with her is the highlight of my day. Twenty fleeting minutes where we get to be alone without the pressure and prying eyes of everyone else.

As cheesy as it may sound, it’s easier to ignore the bit of flab or cellulite when you know you can crush Dancer’s Pose.

Rather than focusing on the scale, or what size jeans I’m fitting into any particular week, it’s been so much better for me mentally to track things like my running split time or whether I can do a handstand in yoga.

Nash might tick the dirty boyfriend boxes, but the practical ones are all blank. Which is why him driving me home—which he’s now done several times—is more than a little hazardous.

I say I’m an old soul, but Grace teases me by saying I was born to be old and married. While she got pregnant and married—in that order—young, at twenty-two, I am the one who always played wedding with dolls growing up. Maybe there is a part of me that’s still a runaway hopeless romantic, as impractical as it may be in today’s society.

Not only are we facing MSU again tonight, complete with that asshole Eriksen, but it’s also the first time the athletic training interns will be on the bench during our game. In other words, Violet will be watching me play, and I’m more nervous about that than I’d like. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t been to a single game since we broke up. I never saw her in the crowd or around the arena. Though selfishly, I always hoped I would.

For the life of me, I’ll never understand worrying as much as he does. It doesn’t change the outcome; it’s an utter waste of energy.

Connor doesn’t understand what it’s like to be so hung up on someone, you can’t even fathom the idea of sleeping with someone else. And it’s not a debate I care to get into here, of all places.

“Sex is like pizza,” he says, catching my attention again. “Even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.” Up until a few weeks ago, I would have agreed with him. Now I’m being forced to come to terms with what I’m missing.

No big surprise there; Violet is my kryptonite. I do not, however, need this dickbag knowing that.

Traveling with the team is a huge honor. But being stuck on a bus with Nash for three hours each way, and then at the same hotel for two nights, is more than a little problematic. Sleeping a few doors down the hall from my ex, sharing meals with him and the team, all while trying to pretend there was never an “us” in the first place.

“Trust me, I have zero interest in dating any of your teammates. But like I was saying, it isn’t your place to scare guys off. We’re ancient history.” “Hardly.” Taking another step, he comes to stand directly above me, the warmth of his skin heating mine. “We were too many things to ever be ancient history.”

“Many of those things were bad,” I manage.

“Many of them were good.”

The good times were good. Delicious. Amazing. Sweet, even. But the b...

I’d like to say I’m being difficult to keep up my walls, but the ugly truth of it is, part of me enjoys riling him up. I’m pretty sure, deep down, part of him enjoys it, too. Especially one part in particular.

The rational part of me knows that it’s wrong, but he’s extra hot when he’s angry. Possibly because it reminds me of the make-up sex that always followed our arguments. God, we used to have incredible make-up sex. Clothes flying, frenzied kisses, and hands everywhere, tearing off clothes.

I would do bad things just for the chance to see Violet naked again. And then I would do bad things to her.

The one and only time I broke my word to Violet, it broke us in the process, and that was the biggest mistake of my life.