Page 22 of Faking It with the Forward

“Totally.”

She smiles gratefully. “Okay, cool. I can tell Professor Walker is kind of done with me dragging my ass in late every week.”

“Go!” I push her playfully, telling her I’ll see her at home later. Once she’s out of sight, I linger in front of the women’s room door for a minute longer before taking a deep breath and turning to face him. I know he’s still there. I cansensehim. Reese has that kind of presence. Big and commanding. When I finally get the courage to make eye contact, I know one thing for sure: Ruby’s right. This guy is completely out of my league.

My palms start to sweat as he pushes off the wall and crosses the hallway.

“How did you find me?” I ask, well aware of everyone watching him approach me. How many have seen that photo?

“I asked around.” His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip. The action has me mesmerized, propelling the memory of our kiss to the forefront of my mind, and all those feelings rush back to me. Which is why I’m not prepared for the kiss he plants on my cheek, or the way he takes the backpack off my shoulder in one seamless move.

“You don’t have to do that.” Meaning both the kiss and the backpack.

“Sure I do,” he slings my bag over his broad shoulder, on top of the one he’s already carrying, “girlfriend.”

I take a deep breath and exhale. “So you’re serious about this.”

“Dead serious.”

The back of his hand brushes against mine and he tries to hold it. I shift nervously, stuffing my hands in the front pocket of my hoodie. He adjusts by laying his arm over my shoulder. Oh god.

“This is weird,” I say quietly, as he holds the door for us to walk outside. Two girls stare up at him with dumb grins on their faces.

“It’s not weird,” he says, trying to assure me. But it doesn’t work. Every eye on campus follows us as we walk across the quad. I’d like to say they’re just looking at Reese, but I feel their eyes shift from him, down his muscular arm, to me. That’s when their expression turns from awe to incredulous gaping.

“People are watching.”

He chuckles darkly. “Welcome to my world.”

“Jesus,” this time it’s a group of guys swooning over Reese as we walk by, “no wonder your ego is so fucking big.”

“It’s not just my ego that’s big, Twy.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

I stop and crane my neck to look up at him. “Did you seriously just say that?”

This time his laughter is more genuine, and the action lights up his face. “Just trying to break the tension.” He tilts his head. “Did it work?”

“No.”

In fact, it made it worse. Now I’m thinking about how big he is—everywhere—and another thought comes to mind. Does he expect us to experience that firsthand? Like how far does being Reese Cain’s fake girlfriend go? What are the expectations?

Oh, God. I can’t breathe.

“I can’t do this,” I blurt, ducking out from under his arm. “Sorry, I just—”

I don’t finish the sentence, bolting across campus toward the training center. There’s a short cut by the agricultural building, and I take it, hoping Reese doesn’t see me. He hasn’t caught up to me by the time I enter the building, and thankfully the locker room is quiet. Coach Green is in a private therapy session with one of the players down the hall. I exhale, feeling settled for the first time all day.

This… this makes sense to me. The smelly locker room. The laundry running down the hall with the guy’s clean uniforms. The lingering scent of antiseptic and bleach. I first joined the sports training team at my high school on a whim. I was new to the school and a girl I’d become friendly with suggested it. Before that it’d never been on my radar, but there’s something about working with the team that came naturally. Probably because here I’m behind the scenes, not on the field–or ice–as the case may be.

Grabbing the clipboard with the list of jobs Coach Green leaves out for me every day, I skim the list.

First up: Organize supply closet.

Perfect.

I’m in the middle of sorting the bandages by size when the door opens behind me. Looking over my shoulder I see Reese as he enters. His cheeks are pink and he’s breathing heavy.

He tosses my backpack at my feet.

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