Rules of the Game

Winnie

"Are you sure I'm allowed to be here?" I clung to Stella's hand as she led the way through the crowd, weaving around sweaty, drunk college students. I watched as her blonde ponytail shone like a bright beacon in the dim room.

Stella waved her hand nonchalantly and gave me a smile. "Pssh, no one will even notice or care. The whole ice skaters only thing is more of just something the original hosts made up to feed their superiority complexes. No one actually follows that rule."

Somehow, Stella had convinced me to step out of my comfort zone and join her at the annual Rink Party which was being held this year by the Maybanks' figure skating team.

I had been apprehensive about coming for two reasons. One being that I didn't typically enjoy large parties; and two, being that I was in fact not on any of the skating teams at school.

There was the men's hockey team, the Bulldogs, the figure skating team, and then not one but two women's hockey teams, the Pistons and the Serpents. I always smile at the fact that Maybanks had more women dominated sports than men's. It just went to prove that women do in fact belong everywhere, especially in sports.

"I promise you, it's fine! I doubt anyone actually cares that you aren't a skater." Stella gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before turning to the heavily tattooed man at the bar.

She reached across the counter and gently grazed his arm before tossing her hair over her shoulder and batting her lashes. Flirting came easy to her, it was almost like it was second nature.

Not that anything was difficult for her, Stella Ronan was perfection incarnate. She was tall, but not too tall. Fair skin, full bow shaped lips, a witty personality and perfect hair.

All the boys wanted her and all the girls wanted to be her. And somehow, by some miracle, she had become my friend.

Stella and I could not be more different. From our features to our wardrobes to our majors, everything about us was opposite. Yet, despite our differences, we were friends.

We had first met at a summer camp we were both camp counselors at two years ago. We had been in charge of the same group of girls, and while Stella played bad cop, I was good cop.

The dynamic worked for us and once the summer ended, we tried our best to stay in touch. Then life happened and our daily facetime calls turned into weekly, then monthly, and then they seemed to stop altogether.

I never resented her for it, most of it was probably my fault. And she never held any ill will towards me either; so last month when a text came from her asking if I would be interested in going half on a tiny house downtown with her, I readily agreed.

We spent days catching up and decorating our new home and everything felt the same as it had been two summers ago.

Stella was wild and flirty. I was more reclusive and wouldn't know if a man was flirting with me if he spelled the words out.

Which is why when the tall brunette boy with a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose walked up to us, I let out a small sigh.

The boy was tall, much taller than me. His mousy brown hair looked ruffled, as if he had just woken up from a nap. His wire rimmed glasses complimented his face, and the wide smile on his lips revealed two rows of almost perfect teeth. If it weren't for the chipped top one they would be perfect.

Having a chipped tooth didn't seem to bother him; it didn't even make him ugly.

It made sense he had made his way over to us, Stella was with me and without her, I'm practically invisible. It's as if she has some gravitational effect on her, everyone flocks to her. They want to be in her inner circle, like I was.