Faking It with the Forward: Wittmore U Hockey

“Two more, please.”

“Seriously?” I watch the woman add two additional waffles to the tower of food on Jefferson’s plate.

“Thanks, Shirlene, you’re the best,” he says, giving her a wink. The cafeteria worker beams back. “And yes, TG, I’m a growing boy. My body needs the fuel.”

If Jeff gets any bigger both his ego and body will struggle to fit through the door.

“I’ll just take one,” I say, holding up my tray. Shirlene drops the waffle on my plate next to two slices of bacon and a banana. “Thank you.”

Crossing the dining hall, Jefferson carries his tray in one hand and eats one of the waffles with the other. One of the perks of being a training intern is access to the athletic dining hall. Groups of athletes cluster around the tables, usually divided by sport. The women’s softball team sits up near the window, and the football players occupy a long table closest to the cereal bar. Brent Reynolds holds court at the end, three demolished plates of food sitting in front of him.

The hockey team has staked out a section right in the middle and Jefferson drops his tray and sits at an open seat at the end. I scan the table for an empty spot and whaddaya know… there’s an empty chair next to Reese. He doesn’t look up at me when I approach, but grabs his backpack out of the seat and moves it to the floor. Ah, no wonder it was empty.

“Hey, TG,” Reid says, holding up a piece of toast. “You watch that new documentary on Dahmer?”

“Dude, you know the rule,” Kirby says. “No talking about cannibalism while we eat.”

“You were seriously just talking about the rash on your balls.” Reid rolls his eyes dramatically and looks back at me. “The four-part one?”

“I did,” I tell him, pouring syrup on my waffle. I take my time, filling up every little divot. “And, honestly, the whole thing is just really sad. Those poor kids.” I shift my gaze to Kirby. “Do you need to go to the clinic? I can make you an appointment.”

“Or you can just wait for the health department to follow up,” Axel adds. “But it may spread to your cock by then.”

“Shut up,” Kirby says, although I see the unease in his eyes. “I just need to air my balls out a little longer after I shower.”

Reese leans over and punches Kirby so hard on the arm that his fork jerks and snags his lip. “Jesus!” he touches his lip. “You could’ve hurt me.”

“You’re right. I could have.” Reese narrows his eyes. “Stop talking about your balls in front of Twyler.” Pete coughs and Reese sighs. “And everyone else. It’s fucking disgusting.”

“Cap’s right,” Murphy agrees. Kirby touches his lip and mumbles something about girls shouldn’t be invited to the table if they can’t handle the talk.

“Sorry about that,” Reese says, resting his hand on my knee under the table. Despite the cooler air, I’m wearing shorts and a hoodie after working with the guys in the weight room. “You don’t have to ruin your morning by eating with these degenerates.”

“I don’t mind,” I say quietly, making sure the other guys aren’t listening. “It’s pretty much the only way I can see you during the day.” I cut off the corner of my waffle and grin. “Even if I have to listen to Kirby talk about his balls.”

Even if Coach Green wasn’t watching me like a hawk, the matchup against Mason U has completely consumed the team. If the guys aren’t on the ice, they’re in the weight room. If they’re not in the weight room, Coach Bryant has them watching film. The guys are exhausted, physically and mentally. The time we have together has shrunk, and is a pretty good indicator of what will happen once the regular season starts.

It’s going to suck.

This is one of the solutions, having meals together with the team. It’s loud and the guys are obnoxious. No one around us pays us the slightest attention. I think I’ve become another fixture to them—just another part of the team—the girl to come to when you have a boo-boo.

With Kirby shut down, the guys fall into talk about the alumni dinner coming up. It sounds like Coach Bryant encourages the guys to bring a date, hoping that it’ll make them behave better. I barely listen because Reese’s thumb is rubbing small circles over my inner knee. I try to ignore him, but that’s impossible. Even before I got into this situationship with him, he was a force to be reckoned with.

His fingers inch up my thigh, and although it’s a tiny, almost insignificant touch, a zing of electricity shocks my core like I’ve been struck by lightning.

Unaware of my suffering, Pete asks Reid, “Who are you bringing to the dinner?”

Reid doesn’t answer right away, spending way too long on a piece of bacon. Finally he admits, “I asked Darla.”

“You didn’t,” Reese says, fingers curling. “I thought that was over.”

Reid sighs. “I did too, but she texted me the other day and one thing led to the other…”

“You mean she sexted you,” Axel says. “And you folded like a shitty hand of cards.”

He shrugs. “What can I say, she gets me. It’s easy and she likes dressing up.”

I glance at Reese and wonder if he ever wishes he was back with Shanna. She had no reservations about being seen in public with him, but the slow drag of his fingers up my thigh makes me think that his ex is far from his mind.

“How about TG?” Axel asks “You bringing a date to the alumni event?”

My fork stops mid-air. “Uh, I don’t know if I’m supposed to–I’m just there as support staff.”

Reese and I haven’t talked about the alumni event since we first made our deal. The arrangement had been that we’d reassess our relationship at the one month point–this week. We’d also decide how to handle the fundraiser when we got to it. Well, it’s here and I still have no idea what to do.

“Wait,” Reid says, looking at me with wide eyes, “does this mean you’re going to wear a dress?”

Every person at the table swings to look at me. Or it feels that way. “I wear dresses,” I say, feeling my cheeks warm. “Sometimes.”

Reid grins, eyes flicking over to Reese. “I can’t wait to see it.”

I feel Reese’s eyes on me before I look at him and when I do, the dark intensity in his eyes makes me sweat. I don’t know if Reese wants to see me in a dress or not, but I know that look. He definitely wants to get me naked. Under my hoodie, my nipples tighten, and I lick my bottom lip. When I dare a glance at him, he’s watching me, eyes dark and zeroed in on my mouth.

Heat spreads across the back of my neck.

“You know,” I say, cramming my last piece of bacon into my mouth, “I forgot I have an appointment with my advisor before class.”

“See ya, TG,” Reid says, barely glancing over from his conversation.

“Bye,” I say. I don’t breathe again until I’m outside and inhale the cool fall air.

My phone buzzes.

OneFive: Tutoring Office?

Followed by…

OneFive: Unless that appointment thing is real.

OneFive: Which I’m pretty sure it’s not…

InternTwy: On my way.

How he beats me to the student center, I’ll never know. A secret passageway only jocks know about? He enters the office and once I’m sure no one is watching, I follow him in.

The door is barely shut when he pushes me up against it and secures the lock.

“That was a fucking nightmare,” he says, fingers gripping the zipper of my hoodie and lowering it down. “Sitting that close to you and not being able to get my hands on you.” He licks my mouth. “I don’t like it.”

“Wait,” I press my hands to his chest, eyes wide, “if you weren’t touching me in there who was? Kirby?”

“I’d fucking kill him,” he growls, capturing my mouth with lips that taste like syrup. Nimbly, he pushes my hoodie off my shoulders and shoves his hands up my shirt. “Sometimes I hate these fucking hoodies, you know that? They cover everything.” His head dips down and he buries his face between my tits. “But then I’m glad no one gets to see these but me.”

His words are a sweet relief, knowing that my need for him matches his desire for me. This thing… it never feels one-sided. Not when I can feel the hard length of his erection drilling against my stomach.

My hips grind into him, seeking friction, and a big hand grabs my thigh, hiking my leg around his hip. I moan when his length hits me across my core. Reaching between us, he tugs my panties aside and glides the tip of his cock over my throbbing clit.

I cling to him, burying my face in his chest, wanting him to fuck me.

Suddenly he lifts me and turns me around, bending me over the study table. His fingers hook into the waistband of my shorts. He pauses, leaning over to ask, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” I say, only wanting to feel him inside of me.

He lowers my shorts and panties and I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper. His hand flattens over my lower back as his cock presses against my entrance. “Jesus, you’re so wet,” he says, followed by a low groan. His arm wraps around my waist and in one quick move, he punches into me at the same time he pulls me against him.

A gust of air leaves my lungs as the sensation of fullness spreads through me. I grip the edge of the table and fall into the spontaneity of this moment. How vulnerable I am, how utterly desperate he makes me feel, but also how safe. Ethan always made me question myself, picking at my insecurities until I could barely function. Reese draws me out, pushes me into new things, and over and over lets me know how much he’s into me. His confidence is infectious.

There’s no doubt how much he’s into me right now, not with the way he’s holding onto me. His hand slips between my legs and he rubs my clit, drawing me closer to the edge. I let go—of the worries, the complications of the two of us being together, of my past fears. I let go of it all, and let the orgasm shatter over me.

My body squeezes him, and his breathing turns short and erratic, hips flexing into my backside. He tightens his grip around my waist, pulling me closer until we’re almost standing—two bodies flesh to flesh—then releases a long, muffled groan against my shoulder and comes.

“Fuck, Twy.” He turns my head and presses a sloppy kiss to my mouth. He looks into my eyes. “How the hell does it keep getting better?”

I have no answer. Not when he pulls out and cleans us both up. Not when we kiss goodbye and sneak out of the room one by one, going our separate ways across campus like it never happened.

Because he’s right. This thing between us only keeps getting better and I never want it to stop.

“You coming over soon?” he asks, the same bass pounding in the background of the phone that I can hear echoing down the street. The party up at the Manor is in full swing and I’m pretty sure every cluster of people walking past my house is headed there. The guys won the game against Mason—a shutout—and with the full season starting next week, there was no way they wouldn’t celebrate.

“Still waiting on Nadia,” I tell him. She agreed to go with me as a buffer since I’m uncomfortable showing up there alone. “She was supposed to be back an hour ago.”

“You think she’s bailing on you?” The noise behind him grows more muffled.

“I don’t know. She’s been a lot more reliable lately.” I scroll through my texts with her. “She said she was meeting up with Brent around six and that she’d be home by nine.” It’s already ten after ten.

“She’s still seeing him?” he asks. “I thought he’d moved on.”

“He may have, but she hasn’t.”

“Sure you don’t want to come without her?” I hear the frustration in his voice. “I can sneak you up to my room and we can just celebrate alone.”

“Tempting, but…”

I may just be feeling paranoid, but I can’t shake the idea that Coach Green is watching us, or rather, me. Like he’s waiting to catch me and Reese in a compromising position. I’m willing to go to the party as just another student—with a friend—but alone? I can’t risk it.

My phone buzzes.

“Hold on,” I check the notification. “Oh, it’s just Ruby.”

She’s attached a video with the message: Is this Nadia?

“Hey, let me call you back.”

“Okay, but if you’re not here in an hour, Sunshine, I’m coming down to get you.”

We hang up and before I can press play on the video, Ruby calls.

“Did you watch it?”

“No, not yet.”

“Put me on speaker.” I do and she adds, “It’s not good, Twy. I’m worried.”

“Okay, chill,” I say, used to my sister’s overdramatics. I press play and at first, I’m confused. The image is blurry, but I can make out Nadia’s long, curly hair. She’s sitting on a bed, and although her back is to the camera, it’s obvious she’s topless. She leans over and that’s when I notice the guy in the bed. He’s also bare-chested—but his face is cut from view. She kisses his chest, the movement exposing her thong.

“Where did you get this?” I ask, thumb over the exit button. Whatever it is, I’m not comfortable watching it.

“It was posted on the live stories, and just wait…” Nadia shifts, seconds away from flashing her chest, when a sticker appears across the screen.

To watch a live feed go to lonelycams #nadia

“I checked the link and it’s behind a paywall,” Ruby says. “Twy, did you know she was doing this?”

“No,” I say, looking at Nadia’s expression. It isn’t clear with the grainy lighting, but she’s my best friend. I know her and something about this feels wrong. “Is it just me or does she look like she doesn’t even know the camera is there?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “It’s hard to tell and Nadia has a history of—”

“She doesn’t have a history of selling herself online, Ruby.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I told you, I’m worried.”

“It’s okay,” I say, crossing the room to grab my shoes. “I’m going to figure it out.”

“What are you going to do?” Her voice raises. “Twy—”

I hang up and immediately press another number. Reese picks up on the first ring.

“On the way?” he asks.

“No, something came up.” I search for my keys. “I need to go find Nadia.”

“Babe, I’m sure she just flaked. Just let me come down.”

“She’s in trouble.” My voice shakes when I say it. “I think. I don’t know. Ruby sent me this video of her and I’m going to go look for her.”

“Now?”

“I just need to make sure she’s safe.”

“Okay,” he pauses. “I’ll get my keys.”

“Your keys?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“It looks like it’s a house off Miller Avenue.” My eyes are glued to Nadia’s icon on the app tracking feature. It hasn’t moved in the last four hours.

“That’s where the off-campus football players live,” Axel says from the backseat of Reese’s car. “I’ve been to a few parties over there.”

“Does Brent Reynolds live there?” I ask.

“Yeah, he’s one of them.”

When Reese picked me up, I’d asked him why Axel was crammed in the back of the sports car. He’d simply replied, “He was the only one that wasn’t shit-faced.”

“Son of a—” a string of curses comes from the back seat. He’s watching the video, getting angrier with every second. “There’s no fucking way she agreed to this.”

The truth is that I don’t know what’s true. Nadia has put herself in some pretty high-risk situations before, but my gut is telling me something isn’t right.

“You didn’t have to come,” I tell them both again. I’ve been saying it since Reese arrived at my door.

“Yes, we did,” Reese answers unequivocally. “You definitely weren’t going into whatever situation this is alone.” His hands grip the wheel. “And something tells me if I show up at an off-campus football house asking questions, I should probably bring backup.”

The closer we get, the tighter the knot gets in my belly. Nadia is notorious for going off grid. I’d begged her more than once to keep her tracker on if she met some guy in the middle of the night. She rarely did—in fact, for some reason she’d do the opposite. Go dark the second she left. The fact she left it on tonight… well, that’s triggering my spidey-sense. Something’s not right.

Reese stretches his arm across the center console and rests his hand over mine, threading our fingers together. Despite Axel being in the car, I let him reassure me. Fuck the rules.

“There are other movies on this account,” Axel says, the screen lighting up his face. His blond hair dips in front of his eyes and he brushes it back. “All paid access. All the same angle—making it impossible to know if the girl is aware of the camera. Whoever this guy is, he never shows his face.” He grunts. “Seems shady as fuck.”

I take a deep breath and tell him to take the next right. He slows the speed as we get closer to Nadia’s icon.

“That one,” Axel says, leaning between the seats. “I came here for a party right before the semester started.”

He points to a one-story brick house. It’s nice, which isn’t surprising. Brent is the quarterback and that comes with some nice perks. The lights are on, but there are only a few cars out front—a big white pick-up and a smaller sports car. Definitely not a party.

“I know they didn’t have a game this weekend,” Reese says, pulling his car up to the curb in front of the house. He turns off the car and looks at me. “Stay here, okay?”

Um. No. “Not okay. I’m coming.”

“Twy,” he frowns, “we have no fucking idea what to expect in there.”

“Seriously, TG,” Axel says. “Reynolds we can deal with, but he’s not the one in the video. We have no clue what’s going on.”

“She’s my best friend.” I look between them. “I’m coming.”

Reese sighs and brings his hand to my face. “If shit goes sideways, you get out of there, understand?”

Axel and I hang back as Reese knocks on the door. Both guys are in their hockey jackets, and Axel has a split lip from taking a hit with a stick during the game. Nothing seems to faze him—probably part of being a goalie.

The door swings open and Brent takes up the entire opening. A baseball cap covers his head and he’s wearing an old Wittmore football T-shirt.

“Cain.” His eyes ping between us. He jerks his chin at Axel. “Rakestraw. What’s going on? Thought you guys were having a party tonight?”

“We are,” Reese says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We heard that a friend of ours may be here.”

“Friend?” His forehead wrinkles. “No one is here, but me.”

Fucking liar. I step next to Reese. “Where’s Nadia?”

He looks down at me, lips curving slightly. “I thought you looked familiar. You’re Cain’s tutor.” The way he says “tutor” drips with sarcasm. “Sorry, babe, I don’t do homework on Saturday night.”

I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about and don’t care. “Is Nadia here? She texted me and said she was coming over here hours ago.”

He casually rubs the back of his neck. “Eh, I think she’s busy. I’ll tell her to call when she’s finished.”

“Well, tell her it’s an emergency,” Reese says. “Twyler needs to talk to her.”

“Look, man,” Brent starts, but Reese pushes past him. Axel goes next and I follow. The living room is to our left and a cluttered office to our right. There’s the faint scent of sweat and body spray, like the locker room, plus an added layer of something oily, like incense.

“We know she’s here,” Axel says. “Her phone tracks to the house. Whatever the fuck is going on here is starting to look shady as hell, Reynolds.”

I’m tired of waiting. “Nadia!” I call out. There’s a hallway that leads to the back of the house. “Is she back there? Are those the bedrooms?”

“Dude, you can’t just barge in here,” he says, more to Reese and Axel than me. “Call your little bitch off.”

“My what?” Reese’s voice turns deadly. He pushes at his jacket sleeves and balls his fist. “What did you call her?”

“You heard me,” Brent says, turning his cap around. “You need to leave.”

 Thank God for Axel’s reflexes because he jumps between them before Reese makes contact.

“Reynolds,” Axel says, his voice level. “I don’t know what the fuck you’ve got going on in here, but we aren’t going to be satisfied until we locate her friend. The next step is to call the police.” His eyes slide to the coffee table littered with beer and alcohol bottles. I don’t miss the baggie of white powder either. “I don’t think you want that.”

“Call the police.” Brent shrugs and then folds his massive arms over his chest. “You think they’re going to arrest the quarterback of the football team? My coach’ll handle it.”

“They’ll care when they find out someone is running a live porn cam out of here.” I look up at him. “I need to know she’s okay.”

Brent, all six-two, two hundred and twenty-five pounds of him, makes no attempt to move from between me and the back of the house. “Nadia’s a big girl, sweetheart. No one is forcing her to do anything she wouldn’t do on her own.”

Sounds like a confirmation to me, and I get tired of waiting. I push past him, shouting, “Nadia! Are you here?” but he doesn’t let me get far, clamping his big hand on my shoulder and dragging me back. That’s when Reese explodes.

“I swear to God, you touch her again, and you’ll lose that million-dollar arm, Reynolds.” Reese’s voice is strained, his gray eyes wild. Brent drops his hand. “Twyler, go outside.”

“But—”

“Go. I promise I’ll bring her out, but I can’t deal with this asshole and keep you safe at the same time.” His eyes plead and I realize the situation is one second from escalating. I step back and he jerks his head at Axel. “Go find her.”

Axel doesn’t hesitate, pushing past us both. Brent doesn’t move, seemingly aware that he crossed a line when he touched me. I go out on the porch, pacing as I hear more shouts from inside.

“Is this what you’re doing, McMichael?” Axel yells. “Holding girls hostage and filming them?”

McMichael? Before I can process the name, Nadia rushes outside in only her bra and a pair of shorts. She’s frantic, eyes wide and rimmed in red. I open my arms and she falls into me. “Oh my God, Nadia, are you okay?”

A sob escapes and she shivers against me. “I was so scared. I kept telling him I wanted to leave.”

“Brent?” I ask, holding her tighter as a tremble runs through her body.

“No. CJ.”

CJ McMichael. Axel steps out of the house, expression hard as stone. He takes off his jacket and wraps it around her shoulders. “You two get in the car.”

“What happened in there?” I ask, looking behind him. “Where’s Reese?”

Voices rise inside the house, and I see Reese chest to chest with another guy I don’t know. He’s huge, bigger than any of the other guys. His leg is in a cast.

“I know you think you’re Teflon, but you’re not,” I hear Reese as Axel pushes us toward the car. “Especially you, McMichael. This is the shit that’ll follow you for the rest of your fucking life and no franchise will touch you.”

“Is that CJ?”

She nods.

“Get in the car,” Axel says. “I’ll get Reese.”

I walk her to the car and help her into the backseat. Looking back, I see Axel and Reese exit the house. Reese’s gait is jerky and his jaw is angry and tight. He looks over his shoulder more than once like he’s considering going back in. Thank God, Axel keeps him moving.

“I’ll sit in the back,” I tell Axel when they get close enough. He nods and slides in the passenger seat.

Reese approaches, hands cupping my face. “You okay?”

“Yes,” I nod, although the harsh truth about what just happened is slowly hitting home. “Are you?”

“Fucking McMichael,” he growls. “I knew he was a prick but…” he exhales and presses his forehead to mine. “How is she?”

“I’m not sure, but thank you for coming out here with me.”

“Don’t thank me. They’re both going to be lucky if this doesn’t get out.” He presses a kiss to my mouth. “Come on, let’s get you two back home.”