The Forbidden Freshman: A College Sports Romance (Nolan U Hockey Book 1)

The squeak of sneakers on a shiny court accompanied by the rhythm of a basketball dribbling has always been music to my ears. One of my first Christmas presents ever was a basketball. My dad specially built a toddler-sized hoop for me, and we’d spend hours in the driveway, dribbling back and forth, practicing my shots. He took me to basketball games on a regular basis. The Lakers were our team, and I’ve been a loyal supporter my whole life.

And then Dad left, taking the shine off my budding basketball career but not completely killing my passion for the game. I may not have seen it all the way through, but I still love to watch… and in the last five years, I’ve come to adore women’s basketball. Which is why I’m sitting in the bleachers on a Wednesday afternoon watching the Nolan U girls light up the court.

I pretend I’m a sports agent, sitting in the stands, scoping out potential clients. Number 26 is tenacious. She might be one of the shortest girls on the team, but she’s fast and strategic with her play. Her passing is impeccable, and I can’t stop watching her as she makes another point-scoring move, passing off the ball to number 12, who does a sweet double clutch layup.

“Yes!” I clap along with the crowd, enjoying the energy around me but wishing there were more people here.

This is why I want to be an exclusively female sports agent. We need to shine more light on these talented athletes. Sure, women’s sports coverage has gotten way better in the last decade, but there’s still room for improvement. I want to see people lining up to get into a women’s game—no matter what sport it is.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my cargo pants pocket, grinning when I see Ethan’s name pop up. Underneath is a string of emojis, which I try to decipher. He’s been doing this to me all week. Ever since he got my phone number, I’ve been inundated with hilarious messages. It all started with a Mickey Mouse GIF that led into a string of bantering texts that had me cracking up in the middle of the Luxon dining hall. Yes, I got stared at like I was a crazy person.

Then it happened again that night, when he sent me a line of emojis that I couldn’t work out. This started a lengthy texting conversation that led into a deep-dive discussion about nutrition and how strict his coach is. I threw in my two cents, since I studied health and nutrition in high school, and he had me in stitches as the evening wore on. He turned our serious food discussion into a string of exercise-fail GIFs that had me snorting into my pillow.

So yeah, it’s been a week of texts. I haven’t seen Ethan. I haven’t spoken to him. I’ve just watched his words pop up on my screen and been sucked into one conversation after another. He’s actually pretty smart. Knows way too much about hockey, but I guess if he’s wanting to go pro, that makes sense. He’s also obsessed with that show How to Get Away with Murder and… wait for it… Dawson’s Creek!Although he made me swear not to tell anyone about that.

I nearly typed back, Fool!

Until he followed it up with the fact that he used to watch it with his mom. They’d sit there for hours when she was too sick to do anything else.

My heart started bleeding over that one, and I could do nothing else but type back, Your secret is safe with me.

He said I owed him one back, obviously trying to lighten the mood, so I admitted that on my sister’s eleventh birthday, I laced her cake with laxatives because she’d called me a loveless ho.

Captain Hero: Yeeeeouch! And also… hilarious!

Mouse: It was pretty funny, and no one ever found out. They blamed it on the hot wings! And to this day, no one has ever questioned why I didn’t feel like a slice of birthday cake.

Captain Hero: Kinda harsh that she called you a loveless ho.

Mouse: People say mean things when they’re stressed and angry. I don’t even remember what I did to her, but that’s Megan for ya. She doesn’t hold anything back. She really is the biggest brat.

Captain Hero: Remind me never to piss you off… or eat any of your baking… ever.

I replied with a bunch of green-faced emojis and “I’m gonna throw up” GIFs. It was pretty funny and led to more laughter on my part. Whenever I send him another message, I always wonder if I’m making him laugh too. Or maybe he smirks at the screen or snickers or… I don’t know. But he keeps texting back, so I can’t be all bad.

Pursing my lips, I figure out that his emoji train must be telling me that he’s done with studying for the day, his last class made his head explode, and now he’s gonna blow off steam with a workout, since today is the only day of the week he doesn’t have hockey practice.

I’m about to type back with emojis telling him about my day when my phone actually starts ringing.

Crap on a cracker. It’s Mom.

Ugh!

Standing up, I quickly shuffle down the row of seating and run up the aisle, trying to get away from the noise of the game before answering. She hates me wasting time with sports when I should be studying or learning how to be a better Sig Be sister. Yes, I’ve told her I want to be a sports agent, but I’m pretty sure she’s hoping this is something I’ll grow out of. She was desperate for me to get to college and expand my options, no doubt hoping that by the time I graduate, I will have discovered a passion for something far more feminine and ladylike. I swear, for a modern woman, some of her ideas are so fucking old-school.

“Hey, Mom,” I answer just as I reach the corridor that leads outside. “What’s up?”

“Where are you right now?”

“Just walking back to the house.” Pushing the door open with my shoulder, I run out into the sunlight and hope she can’t hear how out of breath I am.

“Well, good, you’ve got some time to get your apology ready.”

I stutter to a stop. “My apology? What are you talking about?”

“Aimee has informed her father that you have been making life very difficult at the house, shirking your responsibilities, constantly rolling your eyes, and making sarcastic comments.”

I roll my eyes, grinding my teeth together.

“And she said you haven’t been trying very hard at all with learning the history of the sorority house and⁠—”

“That’s bullshit,” I cut her off before I have to hear any more of these lies.

“Don’t you use that tone with me. And watch your language. No wonder Aimee has such a problem with you. You don’t talk like this in the house, do you?”

“No,” I mutter.

“You better not, Mikayla Evelyn Hyde. I raised you better than that. How could you embarrass me this way?”

“I’m not swearing in the house,” I snap, then huff and clamp my lips together when a group of students walk past me with frowny faces on. I force a smile and keep walking back to the Sig Be house. I kind of want to storm in there, find Aimee, and tear her shiny blonde hair out. How could she dump on me like this?

“Well, you must be doing something wrong.”

“I am trying. I really am. I don’t know why she’s got it in for me.”

“Aimee? Has it in for you? Don’t be ridiculous. She’s trying to help you. She called her dad out of concern.”

I’m sure she did.

“You’re making life really hard on her, Mikayla. She promised Jarrod she’d do her best to get you in, but she only has so much sway. Being president gives her some influence, but these girls are close, and if enough of them don’t like you, she’ll have no choice but to ask you to leave. And not only will that break my heart, but I can’t guarantee that Jarrod will be happy to keep funding your education if you’re going to treat his daughter with so little respect.”

This is un-fucking-believable!

I tip my head up to the sky, clenching my hand into a fist as waves of desperation rage through me. I hate that I’m in this position. I hate that I’m bound by all these stupid conditions. If Mom wasn’t trying to impress Aimee’s father so much, I wouldn’t have to put up with this crap. Why can’t she just stand up for me and tell Jarrod that I deserve this opportunity without having to follow in his precious daughter’s footsteps?

Mom’s changed since meeting Jarrod. Sure, she’s been happy, and it’s great to see her loved-up this way, but there’s also this underlying fear that seems to drive her, like she’s petrified that any one little thing will push him away and she’ll be left again. She’ll go back to being a stressed-out single mother—the woman she hated back in Fontana.

“Mom.” I let out a sigh. “I know you want me to succeed here, I really do. I know the conditions, and I’m trying. I swear, I’m trying.”

This seems to appease her, but still… she can’t help a little sniff before muttering, “Well, you need to try harder. Okay, sweetie? I want your best effort. Now go do something good for those sisters. Do whatever it takes to make up for your misconduct, because I do not want Jarrod getting another call like that from Aimee.” She sighs and then mumbles, “I love you. Now go make me proud,” before hanging up.

I pull the phone away from my ear, giving it the finger before shoving it back in my pocket.

I am so livid right now. I could strangle perfect Miss Aimee Walters. I break into a run and reach the house in record time. I was hoping the exercise would help me burn off some of this steam, but it’s only made me sweat and arrive at the house a heaving, mussed-up mess.

Stomping up the front steps, I fling the door open and yell, “Aimee!”

Yes, it’s unladylike, probably undignified, but do I give a shit?

Nope on a rope!

“Aimee!” I call again, storming up the stairs into forbidden territory. That’s right, only junior and senior sorority girls get top-floor privileges. I’ll no doubt get told off for walking my dirty little self through this plush part of the house, but I am so beyond caring.

I reach the door that has SORORITY PRESIDENT embossed on the front and am about to pound the wood when it swings open.

“Mikayla. I thought I heard you call. If you’d been patient, you wouldn’t have had to walk all the way up here.”

I cross my arms, trying to clamp down this torrent of emotion. “What have you been saying to your dad?”

She looks confused for a second, tipping her head like she’s trying to figure out what I’m talking about.

“Aimee,” I snap. “How could you complain about me behind my back?”

“I wasn’t complaining.” She blinks. “I was concerned.”

“Oh, whatever! Cut the bullshit.”

Her opaque blue eyes flash, that innocent veneer dropping away as she sighs and grips the edge of the door. “Fine. He asked after you, and I told him… the truth.”

“You painted the worst picture possible. And lemme guess, you didn’t mention at all the fact that you’re making me do the most ridiculous initiative ever invented!”

“It’s not ridiculous. Other girls have done it before—with far more ease, I might add.” Her voice spikes, her anger rising to match mine. “And it’s not like Ethan Galloway doesn’t deserve it.”

I narrow my eyes at her, picking up the way her cheeks flush and her delicate nostrils flare. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing I couldn’t get over.”

“Obviously.” Okay, that sarcasm was impossible to hide. But come on.

She huffs and crosses her arms. “We dated freshman year. Things were going perfectly and then poof.” She snaps her fingers. “The guy decides I’m not the only girl on campus worth boning. So he dumps me and turns himself into a man slut. That arrogant prick. ‘I don’t think we should be exclusive. It’s not really my style.’” She puts on this voice which is the worst imitation of Ethan I will ever hear.

I raise my eyebrows at her.

“As if any girl on this campus could be better than me.”

“O-kay,” I murmur, wondering if she can actually hear herself when she speaks. “So, if he didn’t want to be exclusive with you, then why the hell do you think he’s gonna fall for me?”

Her expression returns to that arrogant smirk she loves to wear so much, and finally, the penny drops.

I click my tongue, looking away from her as I try to contain the vibrating anger in my chest. “You chose this task on purpose. You want me to fail so I can’t be part of this sorority, even though you told Daddy Dearest that you’d do everything in your power to get me in. But you can’t admit how much you hate me, right? So instead, you give me an impossible task and then tell him with those fake doe eyes of yours that ‘I did everything I could, but Mikayla just wasn’t a good fit. I tried, Daddy, I really tried.’”

Her cheeks flush red at my mocking imitation of her before she sneers. “You don’t even want to be here.”

Oh, how I want to lace her morning health shakes with laxatives!

I’ve been working my ass off to stay here, but of course she sees through my paper-thin veneer.

I don’t belong. I’ll never belong, but I have to. Because of Jarrod’s stupid contract. Why the fuck did I sign that thing?

Because it’s senseless to get saddled with a huge student loan when I have the chance of free education at a really good school.

You could just bail. Head back to Cali, move in with Rachel, get a student loan.

Break your mother’s heart. Piss off Jarrod, which will probably cause tension in Mom’s relationship, and that will break her heart in a whole different way.

Shit!

I clench my jaw, trying to hide my angst from Aimee. Like I’ll give her the satisfaction of knowing how much this is killing me.

Crossing my arms, I meet her challenging gaze with one of my own. I am on fucking fire right now, and I will not let this prissy president beat me.

“I’m not gonna fail.” I point at her. “I will win Ethan’s heart, and then I’ll break it. You just watch me!”

She lets out a derisive snort before stepping back and shutting the door in my face.

“Grrrr!” I spin on my heel and stomp out of the house, slamming the door shut behind me and storming back across campus to the hockey arena.