Faking It with the Forward: Wittmore U Hockey

I’m almost late to class.

Professor Kent is already setting up at the podium, and I quickly slide into the open seat next to Nadia. Even though we’re barely speaking, neither of us moved our seats during our shared class.

“Hey,” I say, giving her a tight smile. This is what we do now. We greet one another, and ask basic questions, but personal stuff has been off the table for a while.

My heart is still pounding from rushing across campus and from what just transpired between me and Reese.

I gave him a blow job. In the middle of the day. On campus.

What is this life?

I’m not embarrassed about it, but I am a little shocked at myself. Maybe even a little proud? Reese makes me think and feel and do things that I’d normally be too hesitant to even consider. His confidence is contagious.

Keeping this relationship a secret isn’t nearly as easy as I thought it would be. I did my best to ignore him during his workout this morning, but ultimately, it proved impossible. His presence is commanding. He’s a natural born leader. And holy shit, he’s so hot. From that cocky grin to the ripped muscles that line his lean body. And now I get to touch them.

I fan my face and try to settle in my seat, giving my attention to Dr. Kent, who is speaking to a TA. This week we’re moving to the eighties. Hair bands and new wave. An image of Duran Duran fills the screen at the front of the classroom, and I make note to tell my mom. She loves them.

My heart rate finally slows, and I glance over at Nadia. Her eyes are narrowed and she’s watching me.

“What?” I ask.

“You look… different.”

Her scrutiny makes me fight the urge to wipe my lips for any lingering evidence that Reese’s cock has just been in my mouth. I can’t help but notice she’s got dark circles under her eyes. Too many late nights out, I guess.

“Nothing’s different,” I say, lifting my shoulder nonchalantly. “I had to run across campus to get here on time. I’m out of shape.”

“No, it’s not that.” Her mouth purses and her eyes skim over me. “Something’s definitely different.”

This may be the most we’ve said to one another in weeks that doesn’t involve toilet paper or a spider in the kitchen. The urge to confess everything builds on the tip of my tongue and I swallow it back. We’ve never kept secrets even if that meant me telling her the horrific truth about Ethan, or her oversharing about her sexcapades with half the Wittmore athletes.

I asked Reese to promise not to say anything, to anyone. No one can know. Not even our friends. But I know Nadia. She’s like a dog with a bone. A gossip bone. She’s not going to give up until I reveal something.

“Reese and I broke up.” The lie sits like a stone in my belly.

“Okay, class, today we start our section on the eighties,” Professor Kent says from the front of the room, “the era of big hair, eyeliner, and keyboards.”

 Nadia’s hand shoots out and grabs my forearm. “Did he dump you,” she whispers, “because I’ll—”

“No,” I tell her quickly, and quietly. I feel like shit for lying because Reese deserves no one’s wrath. I offer a portion of the truth. “Coach Green saw a photo of us together and gave me the riot act about dating a player. He made it clear that if he caught me with him or anyone else from the team, I’d lose my internship.”

She sits back in her chair, eyes blinking. “Wow.”

Kent continues to talk, the slide show flipping through images. My focus is split between Nadia and the professor, although it’s kind of hard to ignore David Lee Roth in those bright, ball-hugging spandex pants.

“Are you okay?” she asks. I don’t miss the sincerity in her voice.

“It was never serious,” I reply without looking over. “I told you we were just having fun.”

She must buy it, because she quiets, and we both redirect our attention to the lesson. I’m thankful that the topic is fun and interesting, it helps keep my mind off of everything. When class is over, I don’t rush out like I have been doing. I take my time and wait for Nadia. As we fall into step she says, “I’m really sorry about the tickets. I knew how important it was to you and I let a guy distract me.”

Hearing the apology loosens something in my chest. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” I step aside and lead us out of the way of the flow of students. “I apologize for judging you—because I was. I let my own hang-ups about guys bleed over into not supporting your decisions.”

Her hands grip the straps of her backpack. “You weren’t wrong about Brent. He’s a dick.”

“Oh no.” I cringe. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I saw him outside the coffee shop last week and when I went up to say hello and give him a kiss on the cheek, he totally brushed me off.” She shrugs. “All he wanted was a fuck buddy. Someone to come over after dark and leave before morning.”

“God, that sucks.” My heart aches for her because I know deep down that she wants something real.

“Apparently all athletes are asses.”

Not all of them, I want to say, but don’t. I’m the one forcing Reese to keep our relationship quiet. He’d probably shout it from the rooftops if I’d let him.

“Twyler, hey.”

I look up and see Logan walking over.

“Logan,” I say. “How are you?” His sleeves are pushed up and the crown on his forearm is visible. Nadia takes it in immediately and grins at me. “This is my roommate, Nadia.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, then turns to me. “Did you see the video drop?”

“What video?” I already have out my phone, searching for New Kings. The band is notorious for going online in the middle of the night and dropping news. It could be a new song, a tour announcement—almost anything. I’d been in a rush to get to early practice and then was occupied with Reese after. I hadn’t checked any of my accounts.

“A few fans posted videos of the new tour. They’ve added Heartbreak to the set list.”

“Shut up.” My eyes widen and fuck, I find the video. The song Heartbreak is notorious in the fandom. It’s a little obscure and never got any radio time, but it’s my favorite. I listened to it on repeat during my dark days.

I press play and he leans over, pressing his shoulder to mine. We watch together and tears spring to my eyes. “Oh my god, it’s amazing.”

“Right?”

“I can’t believe I’m going to miss it.” I instantly feel guilty for saying it and look to tell Nadia it’s okay but she looks more stricken than I feel.

“I’m so sorry, Twy.”

“It’s okay.” I nudge Logan with my elbow. “I know someone who will bring me back a T-shirt and a video.”

He grins. “Absolutely.”

Logan takes off, heading to class, and I don’t miss the huge smile on Nadia’s face.

“So, Logan. He’s a cutie.”

“He’s okay,” I say, non-committal. A month ago, Logan would have been my dream guy. But today… well, things have changed.

“Just okay?” She looks over her shoulder and watches him walk off. “He’s into you.”

I snort. “Probably because he basically saw my tits in an accidental wet T-shirt contest.”

“A what? Okay,” she links her arm in mine, “I’m officially skipping class so we can catch up. You and I stop talking for a couple of weeks and you break up with the hottest guy on campus and meet another, equally adorable guy? What kind of sorcery is this and how do I get some for myself?”

OneFive: What are you doing?

InternTwy: Watching a show about a cold case.

OneFive: Of course you are.

InternTwy: How’s the Den?

OneFive: I feel like I’m babysitting a group of horny fifteen-year-olds having their first drink.

InternTwy: You’re not actually their dad, you know that, right?

OneFive: It feels like it.

OneFive: I’d rather be feeling you up right now.

InternTwy: Now who’s acting like a horny fifteen-year-old?

OneFive: Me, Sunshine. I’m horny for you and it’s fucking killing me.

“Who are you talking to?” Nadia asks.

I lower the phone and adjust the dumb grin on my face. I hate lying to Nadia, especially with our new-found peace, so I just shrug.

“Is it Logan?” she asks eagerly. She’s in the chair across from the couch doing homework. “Or wait. Is there another hot guy you haven’t told me about?”

Avoiding the question, I ask, “Are you bored? I’m bored.” I turn off the TV. Who am I kidding? I’ve watched three different shows about this cold case already. No one’s solving it unless there’s a miracle. “Want to go do something?”

“I always want to go do something, Twyler, you know that.” She grins, slamming the laptop shut. “What are you thinking?”

Thirty minutes later we walk into the Badger Den. Coach Green can’t demand that I avoid the team in a public place. The Den is a Wittmore institution, it makes perfect sense for me to come here with a friend. The place is packed with hockey players and fans coming to watch the game on a dozen screens. That and the girls that love to hang out with them.

Neither of us took much time on our appearance or dressing up other than changing out of our pajamas and into actual clothes. My hair is twisted up in a bun, the best I could do last-minute.

I push through, thinking about how far I’ve come since the last time I came here with Reese. I’d been so nervous. Not just about being with him, but in general. Putting myself out there. The farther I get away from Ethan, the more I realize how much he affected everything in my life. I don’t want to be that person anymore.

“TG!” Reid calls over the crowd. He rushes over and gives me a hug. I don’t miss the can of Busch Light in his hand. “I wondered if you were coming.”

“I’m not on the team, Reid.”

“Sure you are.” He sees Nadia and nods. “Nadia.”

“Hey, Reid.”

A few other guys come up to greet us and I say hello. My eyes are skimming the room for Reese, but I can’t see him over the crowd.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out.

OneFive: So you’re horny for me too, huh?

So he can see me. Another message pops up before I can respond.

OneFive: Because I can’t imagine another reason you’d show up here.

“Come on,” Reid says. “We’ve got room at our table.”

Nadia goes first, following Reid’s broad-shouldered body as he pushes through the crowd. Most people are watching the game, but as the back booth comes into view, Reese’s gray eyes are pinned on me, making little to no effort to pretend otherwise. My gaze drops to his mouth and my skin heats, thinking about how good it felt when he was between my legs.

This may have been a terrible idea.

There isn’t actually room for the two of us, not with four massive hockey players already crammed in the booth, but Reid forces Kirby to shift over, leaving a sliver of space next to him. Across the table, Reese and Jeff make space, but the two guys are so big that whoever ends up sitting there will basically be in Reese’s lap. I pause, determining the best route to take, the one I should or the one I want.

Nadia leans in and whispers, “I got your back,” and squeezes in next to Reese. I don’t miss the dirty look she gives him. From the way his eyebrow raises, he doesn’t either.

“So, how’s the bonding going?” I ask, cupping the glass of beer Jeff slides down to me. I take a sip. Thankfully, it’s not Reid’s pick. “Everyone BFF’s?”

“Someone made the rookies all take shots when we first got here” Kirby says, eyeing Reid, “so they’re all wasted.”

“Hey! It’s tradition,” Reid counters. “Matching shots for your jersey number.”

“You made up that game.” Reese rolls his eyes. “Just because you got wasted on shots on your first night out with the team, doesn’t mean it’s a tradition.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, looking over at the group of guys. “Emerson is number eighteen. You want him to take eighteen shots?”

Reid shrugs. “If the number fits.”

“Conveniently, Reid’s jersey number is seven,” Jeff says, tipping his beer back and taking a swallow. “And even then he blacked out by the sixth shot.”

“No regrets.” Reid grins and looks between me and Nadia. “You girls want in? I can go get a round.”

“No thanks,” I say, “I’ll happily leave that tradition to the real teammates.”

A knee brushes mine and I shift, trying not to cramp anyone’s space, but then I feel the firm spread of fingertips clamp down. I glance up and Reese is staring up at the TV watching the game, but I don’t miss the curve of his lips.

I’ve never been with a guy this touchy, like he can’t get enough of me and I’m all he wants. It’s weird and new and amazing. Our eyes meet over the table and a flicker of heat licks up my spine.

I look away and try to focus on the rest of the table, but I’m distracted by his presence. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I discreetly check.

OneFive: Meet me in the back?

I don’t need to think twice. He’s right. I came here for a reason.

InternTwy: Five minutes.

Luck is on my side and there’s a dramatic play on the screen. Everyone jumps up, shouting. “What the fuck, Ref!” Reid curses, flipping off the screen. “Did you see that?”

I slip out of the booth, mouthing to Nadia that I’ll be back.

With all of the attention on the game, it’s easier for me to slip down the back hallway. The bathroom is empty; thank goodness Ginna isn’t in here again. And after smoothing out my hair and washing my hands I step back outside, peering down the hall to see if Reese is there.

He’s not, but someone is. Someone worse than a puck bunny. It’s Ethan.

“Hey,” he says, “I thought I saw you walk back here.”

“And you followed me?” I ask, wondering what he’s doing. No, wondering what he’s doing here. “What are you doing in a hockey bar? This isn’t your scene.”

“I didn’t think it was yours either.” He shrugs. “Joan’s brother is visiting and he’s a big fan.” So he’s making concessions for Joan and her brother. Interesting. “Saw your hockey player back there. Why is he sitting with Nadia and not you?”

There’s something in his tone. Ethan does this whole thing where he slowly sets a trap and waits for the other person to step into it. “We didn’t come together. It’s a team thing. Nadia and I just popped in for a bit.”

“Right.” He laughs to himself. “Sure. I understand.”

Against my better judgment, I ask, “What do you understand?”

“It finally happened.”

“What happened?” My head starts to spin.

“You turned into her—Nadia. A jersey chaser. And what better place to do it than from inside the locker room.” His eyebrow arches. “Tell me, do you fuck all of them or just one at a time?”

“Oh my God,” I glance around, making sure no one else heard. “Why would you say that?”

“Because, Twyler,” he steps close and I catch the scent of his body spray, “you’re a sheep—always looking for a leader to follow. When you lie with dogs and all that…”

“Shut up, Ethan.”

But he’s just getting started, even with the whole disaffected attitude, I see the glimmer in his eye. All he wants is to get under my skin and fuck, mission accomplished. Bending down, close enough that I can feel his breath on my ear, he asks, “Do you cry when he fucks you too? Because a big alpha male like that must like it rough.” His fingers graze my throat. “Or have you finally learned to like it that way.”

I jerk away, choking back nausea. I push past him and take the first route of escape I can find; the back door. Cold air slaps my face and I try to breathe but I can’t. Anxiety and panic claws at my chest.

I do the thing I know best, I run.