Page 3 of The Riley Effect

If there is one thing hockey players hate, it’s being called soft. It doesn’t matter if it concerns drinking, hockey or girls; we’re anything but soft.

I push through the last couple of reps, not caring about the crashing sound of metal on metal the machine makes, when I hastily place it back in its home.

“Fuck you, Byron,” I barely get out through my labored breaths.

He smirks. He knows he’s got me. I can prove to my uncle that we can have a calm get-together like civilized adults.

“Okay,” I respond reluctantly. “But I mean it. It needs to stay small. I can’t get in any more trouble before the season starts.”

This party is anything but small. The house is overflowing, the smell of weed lingers, and Byron is rubbing his dick against some girl on our couch.

I consider going to the library to get a head start on my work for the week, really not wanting to disappoint my uncle. The need for approval evaporates almost as quickly as it came when the hot blonde cheerleader I met last week grabs my hand and pulls me towards the stairs.

I follow the sway of her full hips as we make our way through a maze of beer-pong and sloppy dancing. I stop her at the bottom of the stairs that lead to my bedroom and walk her back until she is flat against the wall, caged in by my caramel-colored arms. I lean in and whisper what I plan to do to her once I get to my room. I’m about to tell her how good I can make her feel when I hear a deep voice screaming her name.

“What the fuck are you doing, Samantha?”

Before I know what’s happening, a fist closes in on me, and I see my roommates lunging toward the culprit. Byron, Marcus and Aaron grab him and force him out of our off-campus house.

Twelve hours.

It only took twelve hours to break my promise to my uncle.

2

Ivy

“Are we hungry?” I coo. Riley’s tail starts swaying, and his big brown eyes light up. The seventy-five-pound golden retriever loves to eat and I love any day I can earn his love by being the one to feed him.

I’m the starting shooting guard for the Westvale University basketball team and Riley is our school’s mascot. When I’m not at practice or a game, I take him to any home games on campus.

Westvale has an on-campus animal shelter that houses Riley and other animals that are looking for a home. It’s my happy place and has been since I was a kid. The shelter is one of the reasons I stayed in Westvale to attend college. That along withmy family living here, the pre-vet program being one of the best in the country, and the full-ride scholarship I was offered to play college basketball. Everything I wanted right at home.

Happy barks fill the shelter. The familiar sound eases the anxiety settling in my chest. I know it comes from spreading myself too thin, a bad habit my sister has been begging me to correct for years. That anxiety was what carved a hole in my heart that only the love of a puppy has ever been able to fill. My parents died when I was eight, and Ruby, my older sister, became my guardian at just twenty-one, the same age I am now. The sudden loss of half my family triggered panic attacks that always rear their head at the worst time. At some point, my sister decided it was best for me to talk to someone outside the family, so she brought me to a therapist who suggested I work with animals to help with my anxiety. That’s where my love of animals was fostered. It is the one good thing that came from that horrific night.

“Hey, Ivy,” Jill, my supervisor at the shelter, says softly, knowing how easily I startle.

“Oh hey Jill, do you need something?” I ask quietly, trying to lower my heart rate, embarrassed at how I jumped even with her cautious approach.

“So I just got off the phone with the school’s athletic director, Matt Holloway.” I look at her and let out a low laugh.

“Jill, I’m on the basketball team. I know who Mr. Holloway is.”

Jill nods, and I think she is slightly embarrassed because she just stands in front of me, completely silent.

“What did he want?”

“Do you know Jalen Halloway?” she asks, seemingly amused.

“I mean, who doesn’t? That pompous ass walks around campus like he is god’s gift to the world.”

“Oh, glad to hear you two are friends,” she says sarcastically. “Mr. Holloway has just informed me that Jalen will be volunteering with us for the rest of the year, and he asked for you specifically to be his supervisor.”

I stare at her silently, begging her not to add another thing to my already overflowing plate. “I have no say in this? I really don’t have time to add babysitting to my resume.”

“Sorry, Sweetie, Mr. Holloway thinks you’ll be a good influence. As an athlete with your reputation, I’m sure he hopes you’ll help turn Jalen’s attitude around.”

I sigh, knowing that Jill can’t change the circumstances, and even if she could, I’m too much of a people pleaser to say no.

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