Faking It with the Forward: Wittmore U Hockey

“Just let it go,” I say to Nadia after she asked me a dozen questions about me and Reese showing up together. Are we on a date? How did he ask me? What were his exact words? Does that mean the picture he posted was real? “We’re just… feeling things out.”

My friend blinks at me and says, “Girls don’t just feel things out with guys like Reese Cain. They fuck him or they marry him. There is no in between.”

“Who says I can’t be one of those?”

We both know it’s a stretch, but I get the sense there’s something else lingering under Nadia’s disbelief. Jealousy. In her world, there’s no other option for a woman who wants to be with an athlete. Jersey chaser or wife. If I fall into something in the middle, her whole life plan falls apart.

Our stare off is interrupted when two guys approach the table. Two cute, non-hockey playing guys.

“Well, hello,” Nadia says, instantly intrigued.

“You’re new,” the tall one says, grinning down. His shirt has the symbol of the rowing team stamped over his heart. “I’m Knox.” He sits next to Nadia and his ridiculously good-looking friend stares at me. “That’s Miller.”

“We’re, uh…” I look over their shoulder searching for Reese. He promised to stick by me all night.

“Nadia,” my friend says, eyeing the rower. Not her team of choice but I know her, and any varsity athlete will do.

“And what about you, beautiful?” Miller says, reaching out to touch my hair. “What’s your name?”

“Not interested,” a voice says. We all look up and to see Reese and Reid back from the bar. “You’re in my seat, Hansen.”

“Cain. I didn’t know you were sitting here.” His lip quirks in a way that says he definitely knew it. “How’s the season looking?”

From the expression on Reese’s face, it’s looking like he’s one heartbeat away from ripping this Miller guy’s head off at the neck. Knox seems to get the picture faster than his friend because he stands up and says, “Nice to meet you.” He nods at Reid. “Later, dude.”

Reid nods and slides into the seat Knox vacated. Nadia smiles at him.

Miller takes his time getting up. I don’t know who this kid is, but he has balls, that’s for sure. He winks at me and says, “See you around,” before rising and merging with the crowd. The last thing I see is him palming the ass of a blonde before getting swallowed up.

Reese glares at his backside and sits next to me.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I should’ve known that if I left you alone for two seconds the vultures would descend.”

“It’s okay.” I’m rattled although I’m not sure why. “Who was that?”

“Miller Hansen–frat boy degenerate.” He sets the two glasses he was carrying on the table. “I know you’re supposed to be learning how to relate to guys, but absolutely not with that one.”

I’m not going to disagree. Reese is out of my league. Miller seems like the Devil looking for a new plaything. Shifting, Reese’s massive thigh presses against mine. A flutter tickles in my lower belly, followed by a slow-spreading warmth. Am I so desperate that I’m falling for a jock-manwhore like Reese? No. It’s just biology and going way too long without a boyfriend. But ugh, how can one guy smell this good?

“I apologize for the beer,” he says a little louder, sliding a glass in front of me. “Reid ordered before I could get a word in.”

“What? PBR is a classic.”

“It’s watered-down piss.” Reese shakes his head. “At some point last year Reid decided he wanted to go old school with beer. Only brands made before the nineteen fifties.”

“Hey, this beer was made in the eighteen hundreds.” He starts pouring the pitcher into glasses. “If it was good enough for our forefathers, it’s good enough for me.”

“You know these people didn’t have indoor plumbing, right?” Reese says, clearly diving into an old argument. “Progress isn’t a bad thing.”

“I like it,” Nadia says, smiling over at Reid. “Beer is beer.”

“It’s really not,” Reese mutters, but lifts his glass and takes a sip. He grimaces and gives me an apologetic look. “Seriously, you don’t have to drink it. I’ll get you something else.”

“It’s fine,” I say, taking my own sip. I’m not really into beer one way or the other. It all kind of tastes like piss to me. I prefer my alcohol flavored with syrup and sugar. “Mmmmm, so good.”

“See?” Reid says, feeling vindicated. “Twyler’s got good taste.” His eyes dart to Reese. “Mostly.”

Beer issue settled, the table sinks into conversation, the guys talking about the first preseason game coming up. “Anderson’s off the injury list,” Reese says. “Which means that Hartford will be a lot more dangerous this year.”

“Maybe.” Reid doesn’t look bothered by this news. “But they lost three seniors, including Boozer to Wisconsin.”

“Fair point,” Reese says. “I just wish we were playing at home and not away.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” I look across the table to Nadia, “we’ll be on the bus when tickets go on sale. Are you still good for buying them?”

“Yep. The online sale starts at nine.”

“You can’t oversleep,” I tell her.

“I won’t. I promise. I have the whole morning cleared.” Nadia lifts her glass and takes a drink. “I already set my alarm.”

“Tickets for what?” Reid asks.

“The New Kings,” Nadia replies before I get a chance to. “It’s Twyler’s favorite band.”

“New Kings?” Reid says. “I haven’t listened to them since high school.”

“You mean since they had a song in that superhero movie, and they played it on the radio all the time.” Fairweather fans. They’re the worst.

“How many times have you seen them?” Reese asks.

“Eight.”

“Eight tours,” Nadia supplies. “That’s not including multiple shows at each stop. She’s hardcore.”

The New Kings were indie for a long time, but exploded a few years ago. It’s great that they’ve had such huge success, being on that soundtrack set them up, but for the majority of the fanbase, we’re not in it for their fame. Two best friends front the band, and their lyrics are about life and struggling with depression. The good and bad stuff. It’s all real, and I’m not surprised a party boy like Reid isn’t into it more than superficially. Their music has helped me through a few rocky times—including the one with Ethan.

“So, you’re a fangirl,” Reese says, looking at me like he’s trying to unlock some code.

“Is that a surprise?”

“Maybe,” he says, “but as someone who had a shrine to Wayne Gretzky in my bedroom, I don’t think I can judge.”

“They’re coming to the city next month,” I explain, running my thumb over the condensation on my glass. “I haven’t seen them at the arena before and I just want good seats.”

“Twy,” Nadia says, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand. “I’ve got this. Wake up, get in the queue, sit there bored out of my mind for two hours, snag awesome tickets.”

“Thank you.” The tension in my shoulders eases, and I brush against Reese. God, he smells so good. Some kind of intoxicating mixture I can’t put my finger on. I just know it makes me want to lean in and huff him. “I just haven’t missed a tour yet. I’d ask Ruby, but she’s working the reading bowl that day for her school district.”

“Ruby doesn’t need to do it. I’m doing it.”

Reese nudges my knee with his, sending another round of butterflies hurling through my stomach, and says, “I’m sure Nadia can click a few buttons, aren’t you?”

Reluctantly, I agree. Nadia isn’t the most reliable person. She’s terrible at communicating and answering texts. I’d feel better if Ruby was getting the tickets, but I’m just going to have to trust that Nadia won’t screw this up.

I nurse my beer while Nadia and Reid empty the pitcher. Next to me, Reese sticks to his one drink limit, a self-imposed rule he put on himself for the season. His dedication is impressive and as someone busting my ass to help the team, I appreciate it.

Another thing? He sticks by me all night, even when a steady stream of teammates stop by to ask him to play a game of pool or various girls linger to flirt, just like he promised.

“Hey,” I say when Reid gets up for a refill. “Can I get out? I need to use the restroom.”

“Sure.” He slides out of the booth, then takes my hand to help me scoot out. He bends down and asks, “Want a chaperone?”

“I think I can handle it.” I lock eyes with Nadia. “Y’all stay here so we don’t lose the table.”

Shockingly, there’s no line for the bathroom, although two girls, clones of one another with stick-straight hair and tops with plunging necklines, stand at the mirror applying makeup. One I recognize from stopping by the table to talk to Reese and Reid. The girl from the party. Ginna, I think.

When I come out of the stall, they’re still there.

“Hey,” one says, as I squeeze between them to wash my hands. “You’re the girl from Reese’s Chattysnap, right?”

“I guess.”

I pump the soap and lather up.

“And you came here with him tonight?”

“To meet up with some friends.” Why I add this, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the way they’re both looking at me. Like I stole their pet.

I turn off the faucet and grab a paper towel.

“Well, if he takes you home, let me give you a little tip.” She faces me. With all the makeup and the boobs and the confidence, I feel like I’m talking to some older, wiser woman, when rationally I know we’re the same age. She leans forward, her perfume wafting, thick and oily. “He loves it when you bite the head a little bit. Just a little nibble.”

“Okay,” I say, heat rising to my cheeks. “Good to know. Thanks.”

I don’t miss the sound of their laughter as I rush out. Because although I told Reese earlier I know everything about him, I realize it’s not true. I definitely didn’t know that.

Just outside the door I slam straight into a brick wall.

A wall with tattooed hands.

“What you running from, TG?” Axel Rakestraw’s hands are wrapped around my upper arms, holding me upright. He peers behind me just as the bathroom door opens and Ginna and the other girl walk out. “Ah, vipers.”

“Come on, let’s get a drink.”

I follow him, only because I don’t want another run-in with those girls.

“Two shots of…” he looks from the bartender to me, “…what’s your poison? Tequila? Jack? Fireball?”

“Something sweet?” I ask.

“Jäger,” he orders, leaning on the bar.

He’s a little shorter than Reese, but he’s got the wingspan of an Olympic swimmer. All the better for blocking the goal. His white-blonde hair sticks out like a devilish halo, and dark tattoos peek out from the neck of his shirt.

“You gotta ignore girls like that,” he says, nodding over to where Ginna now has her body plastered up against Pete. “You intimidate the fuck out of them.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Across the room, Pete stares at her tits like a deer in headlights. Fuck, now I’m staring at her tits. “No one intimidates a girl like that.”

The bartender pours the two shots and pushes them over. Axel hands me one and lifts his.

“Girls like you do, the kind that wears comfortable clothes, looks hot while doing it, and spends her time pursuing a career, not trying to fuck the entire hockey team.”

I tip back the shot, allowing the burn in my throat to avoid acknowledging any of the nonsense Axel is spewing. He’s a huge player and spends every night with one of the girls he’s talking about.

“Speaking of… did you get any of Linkletter’s presentation on ligaments last week?”

Axel is in my anatomy class. He spends the majority of each class with either his headphones on listening to music or sleeping.

Before I can answer, a strong arm wraps around my shoulders, tugging me into a hard chest. I’m engulfed in the best, sexiest scent known to man. Reese Cain.

“There you are, Sunshine.”

I look up into Reese’s face. His, if I’m not reading it wrong, annoyed face. “Yep. Here I am.”

Axel’s gaze drops to Reese’s arm and the way his fingers tighten around my bicep. He smiles. “Hey, Cap.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Reese asks, looking between us.

 “TG and I both have Linkletter for our anatomy class.” Axel grins. “We were just comparing notes.”

Is it me, or does Reese pull me a little closer to his side. “I didn’t realize you had class together. That’s cool.”

“To be fair,” I say, “we’re both in class, but only one of us is awake for the majority of it.”

“You know how it is. Late nights. Early practice.” He shrugs like every player in the room does the same. “Plus, Linkletter bores the fuck out of me.”

“It’s a little like listening to paint dry,” I admit. Unlike Axel Rakestraw, I need to pass the class and get my degree. He’s already been drafted.

Axel and I share a knowing look and we both laugh, but he adds, “Maybe we could meet up and go over some of the notes before the midterm—’

“We should go,” Reese blurts, sliding his hand from my shoulder down to my waist. His fingers brush over the bare skin above my waistband. I stiffen at the contact, fighting off the shiver that threatens to run down my spine, but I don’t move away.

Then he takes it a step further and presses a warm kiss to my temple.

“Now?” I ask, my voice a squeak.

“Yep. All this talk about anatomy is giving me ideas.” He winks and licks his bottom lip, forcing my eyes to zero in on his mouth. Fuck. Reese overload.

With his arm firmly around my waist, he nudges me toward the door. “Later, man.”

“See ya, Cap.” He grins and claps me on the shoulder. “You too, TG. We’ll talk about class later.”

“Bye,” I call out as Reese continues toward the door, barely acknowledging his teammates as he passes. “Wait.” I stop. “Should I tell Nadia we’re leaving?”

“You can text her. Let her and Reid finish their date,” he says, pushing me outside. The cool night air feels good against my overheated skin. He doesn’t stop moving until we’ve passed the pizza parlor next door and are close to the crosswalk.

I wiggle out from under his grasp. “Okay, what the hell was that?”

“What?” he asks. If he’s playing dumb, he’s super good at it, because his expression is a mix of innocence and confusion.

“What’s with the rushed exit? I was talking to Axel… doing what you said I should do. Socialize a little. Gain some confidence.”

“I did say that, but…” he weighs his words, finally adding, “…not with Axel.”

“Why not? He’s popular and social. We have a class in common and something to talk about. He—”

“He’s out of your league.” He cuts me off like he can’t bear for me to continue.

It hits like a slap to the face. Eyes stinging, I say, “Oh. Right. Okay.”

Reese grimaces. “Fuck. No. Wait, that’s not—”

“No. I hear you,” I assure him before spinning on my heel. I check the crosswalk, it’s flashing, warning that the time to cross the street is ending. I dash forward at the last minute, hoping to put some distance between us.

Behind me, I hear Reese calling my name, but then the flow of cars blocks us. I brush a hot tear off my face. Fuck. Why am I crying? What Reese said is nothing but the truth.

“Twyler, hold up.” I hear his feet hit the pavement behind me. His stupid long legs allowing him to catch up faster than I hoped. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Sure you did.” I refuse to let him see me cry. “Axel Rakestraw is definitely out of my league. Just like you are. Everyone thinks so. Nadia. Ruby…”

He grabs me by the shoulder, forcing me to stop. We’re a block away from Shotgun, the streets over here are quiet. At least there aren’t witnesses to my humiliation.

“I didn’t say that because I think you’re not good enough for him.” He takes in my face, frowning at the tears I can’t hide. “If anything, you’re too good for him. Axel is a—”

“A fuckboy.”

His eyebrows raise.

“I know Axel’s reputation, Reese. God, it’s like you think I live in a cave like some naïve innocent. I know he’s slutty as hell. Just like the majority of the team.” I eye him. “Just like you.”

If that hurts him, and it probably doesn’t because these guys wear their promiscuity like a fucking badge of honor, he doesn’t show it. “Listen, this isn’t about reputation or fuckboys or anything else. This is about the fact that as far as anyone is concerned, you and I are together right now. We have to establish ourselves and unless I marked my territory a little bit in there, he was going to think you were fair game.”

I brush aside a tear. “Why would he care?”

“Sunshine, I know Axel. I know what he looks like when he’s interested—and he was interested in you.”

My jaw drops. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m being serious.”

I take a shaky breath and feel his hand on my hip. It’s strong and firm, and I know it’s mostly to anchor me to him so I can’t run off again.

“We just had our first official fake date.” His other hand reaches out and his warm thumb wipes a tear off my cheek. “There were some hiccups, but we survived. For better or worse, you definitely got the attention of the guys on the team.”

“I think Nadia bought it, even if she’s not sure she understands it.”

“Oh,” he says with a smirk, “Nadia bought it enough that she felt the need to threaten me with slight bodily harm if I fuck this up.”

“Oh my god,” I choke out a laugh, “she didn’t.”

“She did.” He laughs, gray eyes bright. Warmth spreads through my limbs when he squeezes my hip. “It’ll get easier from here.”

“You think?” I ask.

“Yep.”

Sliding his hand into mine, he threads our fingers together and we walk, hand in hand, to my house. On the front porch, I stand on the top step, and he’s two below, making our faces level. I tense when his hand reaches out, thinking he’s about to touch my neck, but he only pushes my hair over my shoulder. “If we were really dating this is when I’d kiss you goodnight.”

I roll my eyes. “You want me to believe you drop girls off on their doorstep with nothing but a kiss?”

“I said dating. Which is different from my normal–”

“Hookups,” I supply.

“Yeah, I guess.”

His hands cup my face and his eyes dart to my mouth, and I think for a second, he may kiss me. And for a second, despite our laid out parameters, I think I want him to kiss me. Instead, he tilts my head forward and presses a kiss on my forehead, before stepping back. “Night, Sunshine.”

I don’t exhale until I’m inside, door locked behind me, and say to myself, “Don’t call me Sunshine.”