Page 2 of Faking It with the Forward

“You hear that, Reid?” Jefferson calls. “Twyler wants toassessyour problem.” He smirks in my direction, revealing the dimple in his cheek, and a slow heat rolls up my spine. “Reid has a severe case of blue balls, sweetheart. As far as I know there’s only one remedy for—”

“Perkins!” Coach Green barks at me, “What’s the status on that ice pack?”

“I’m on it.” I take the opportunity and duck into the office, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. I should’ve seen that one coming. Jefferson always has a way of making me feel self-conscious. They all do.

Taking a deep breath, smoothing down my athletic shorts and Badger hockey T-shirt, I grab the pack out of the freezer and fall into my old habit of just wanting to be invisible. No. No hiding. This is my job, and these guys are all assholes. I knew that when I accepted the position. Clenching the ice pack in my hand I start for the door, but then stop short.

“—how many times do I have to tell you. That girl is off-limits. Not just because you’re a bunch of heathens and aren’t worth the air she breathes, but because this isn’t the time or place. Leave her be. She’s not your sweetheart. She’s not your girlfriend. She’s here for one thing; to do ajob, and that doesn’t include dodging your pathetic attempts at flirting!”

“Aw, come on, Coach. Jeff was just messing around. No one here sees Twy like that.”

The humiliation I felt a moment before amplifies by a million when Reese steps in with that little nugget. Of all the guys on the team, he makes me the most nervous. Like palms sweaty, tongue-tied, nervous.

It’s not just his looks, although that doesn’t help. It’s like looking straight at the sun. My real issue is the way he interacts so effortlessly with everyone. There’s not a trace of insecurity, and he uses that skill not just to command the team, but to win over everyone around him. People like that make me uneasy. Like how can it be so easy for them, when it’s so hard for me?

“Twy’s like the little brother we always wanted, right, Sunshine?” Reese adds, noticing me in the doorway and giving me a wink.

Sunshine. Like the way people call a big guy Tiny, Reese started calling me Sunshine.

Because of my not-so-sunny disposition.

A strangled laugh erupts in my chest. “Yeah. No worries here. I’m not into any of you.” I wave my hand at the room of shirtless men in front of me. “Like, at all.”

The room full of desirable, sexually active, ripped hockey players stare at me like I’ve grown two heads as if they’re trying to figure out how it’s possible.

“Good,” Coach Green says, stroking his beard. “Glad that’s cleared up.”

What’s been made clear is that in the last ten minutes I’ve had my hair pulled, my fist bumped, and the captain of the hockey team just declared that I’m not just undateable, I’m reminiscent of a little brother.

And Iagreed.

Fuck my life.

It’s bad enough that for the past two years, the guys on campus have made it brilliantly clear they’re not interested in me, but it’s worse that Coach Green reinforces this with his little speech anytime one of the guys dares notice that I’m actually female.

But Reese Cain’s declaration is the nail in my coffin.

“Now,” Coach Green says, walking past me and toward the office, “who besides Reid and his underused balls needs something looked at?”

* * *

I walkin the door of my house, tossing my backpack near the door and heading straight to the kitchen. There’s a leftover burrito with my name on it, and after a long day of classes and assisting with practice, I’m starving.

The kitchen is small—well everything in the house is minimized. We live in an area called Shotgun, named after the tiny, narrow cluster of houses that were originally part of a community built for the local mill. The mill closed at some point in the seventies, but as Wittmore expanded, it became coveted student housing. A kitchen, living room, two bedrooms, and a shared bath. That’s all me and Nadia need.

I can tell she’s home. Music pulses from behind her closed bedroom door. That and the kitchen sink is a mess, coffee grounds are all over the counter, and a dirty pot sits on the stove. I grab a plate, toss the burrito in the microwave, and start straightening up. Nadia and I are opposites, proof that the roommate match system through the university has its flaws. She’s a business major while I’m studying Kinesiology. She’s a social butterfly, while I prefer just hanging out with one person at a time. Her confidence initially made me feel even more insecure. She just understands all the social games I don’t. Like social media, or flirting. She’s so comfortable in her own skin, it makes me all the more aware of how uncomfortable I am.

I had plans to find a new roommate the following year, but then Ethan happened. She didn’t judge me. She had my back, and ever since then I’ve tried to do the same for her.

Her door opens, music spilling out with her. She’s got her phone in her hand, barely stopping to take a selfie, camera angled down to catch the top of her cleavage pushing out of her sports bra. I glance down at my eight-year-old, worn hoodie that I tossed on after practice.

Totalopposites.

The microwave beeps and I take out the plate.

“Hey,” she says, turning the music down on her phone. “How was the first day of practice?”

“Easy enough. No major injuries.” I make my way over to the couch and grab the remote off the coffee table. “They made Reese captain.”

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