Page 25 of Faking It with the Forward

“That’s not the selling point you think it is.”

He laughs, squeezing my hip. “The earlier we rip this Band-Aid off the better.”

He’s right. Dammit. “Reid and Nadia are going to be there tonight.”

“Good. We’ll come out to the team and your friend all at once.”

The thought is terrifying, but I know this needs to happen. Something in my life has to change. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Not a chance.” He shakes his head. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Reese doesn’t give me an opportunity to push back. He presses a fast kiss to my forehead and exits the closet, leaving me, my pounding heart and burning lips, to process the fact that I officially just agreed to be Reese Cain’s girlfriend.

8

Reese

The door swings open before I have a chance to knock. That’s not what surprises me. It’s Twyler herself.

Fuck, she’s cute.

“Hey.” Her fingers tug her jeans. The nervous action draws my eyes to her waist and the strip of pale skin exposed by her cropped sweatshirt. My cock twitches in appreciation. Why did I agree to abstain from hooking up during this?

Shifting, I blink, taking in the curve of her hips. Then she’s gone, stepping back inside, saying, “I’m almost ready.”

She doesn’t invite me in, but she also doesn’t slam the door in my face, so after a beat, I step inside the narrow house and shut the door behind me. The Shotgun homes, other than the Manor, are uniform. Long and skinny, just enough room for a couple of people. A couple of normal-sized people. With my height, I feel like a giant, like if I stretched my arms out, I could probably touch both walls.

“No rush,” I say, looking around. There are two doors—both open. I glance in one and see it decorated in bright oranges and pinks—it also looks like a tornado recently passed through. The one right next to it is a bit darker. Gray, black, and a little light pink. Not spotless, but tidy. Twyler’s trademark blue hoodie hangs over the back of her desk chair.

“It’s just you and Nadia that live here?” I ask, giving the open bathroom door some space.

“Yeah, we’ve been roommates since freshman year.”

“I’ve lived with Jefferson since then, too.”

She walks out of the bathroom, hair down, and curled in long waves. Her eyes are smoky and dark, making the blue three shades brighter. Three silver hoops hang in both ears and a chain loops twice around the base of her neck—a small medallion resting against her throat. I think back to how she reacted to me touching her neck earlier today, the panic and discomfort in her eye.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was scared.

Twyler said something about a shitty ex doing a number on her, and seeing her like this, I have to believe it, because there’s no way guys on campus wouldn’t have noticed her if she’d wanted it.

She’s more than cute. She’s bordering on hot.

“I just need my coat and we can go.”

She passes me, stepping into her room, and I wait in front of a massive bulletin board hanging on the wall between the two bedroom doors. It’s filled with photos, including a furry black cat that seems to be the star of the board. Otherwise, it’s mostly Twyler and Nadia. There are other mementos, like silly handwritten notes and a dozen ticket stubs held up by push pins. I thumb through them, noticing they’re all from the same band; The New Kings.

There’s one photo of Twyler and two other women out in front of the arena. All dressed in Badger yellow and black. One woman is older, and one about the same age as Twyler, all with identical blue eyes.

She steps out of her room, and I point to it. “Is this the sister?”

“Yep.”

“And your mom?” I guess.

Honestly, the woman in the photo looks pretty young, but Twyler replies, “That’s us. The Perkins girls.”

No mention of a dad.

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