Page 27 of Faking It with the Forward

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“Breathe, Sunshine.”

Her neck cranes and those blue eyes meet mine. “Don’t call me—”

I can’t help but grin because messing with her is the only way to get her out of her head. She scowls when she realizes it. “You good?”

“Not in the least.”

“Well, it’s happening.” We’re just inside the door and any loosening up she’d done on the walk to the bar vanished when we stepped across the threshold. I slide my hand into hers, adhering to our preestablished rules. Also, I don’t put it past her to bolt again and I’m not jogging all over town again to find her. She’s fast for someone so short. “But I promise to stick by your side all night.”

The Badger Bar is a Wittmore hockey landmark. It’s also a dive. Framed photos of past teams line the walls, along with signed pictures of the guys that went on to go pro. There’s an entire section for past Frozen Four winners and matted newspaper articles. It’s basically a shrine to local hockey and even as a kid, when my dad brought me here for the first time after watching a game, I knew I wanted to be on the wall.

On game nights, fans pack the place to watch the game on one of a dozen screens. On other nights, like this one, when we don’t have late practice, the team congregates looking to blow off a little steam. It’s not just hockey players though, there are plenty of girls that hang around, which means guys from all over campus will be here. I spot a group from Zeta Sig hogging the dartboard.

“Do you see them?” she asks, fingers tightening against mine. Her hand is so small and frankly, a little sweaty. She’s the complete opposite of Shanna, or really any of the girls I hang out with. They love athletes because they love competition. Going up against one another to see who can attain the attention of a jock. Twyler doesn’t seem to care–at all. She’s nervous and I like it—better than hiding behind that tough exterior. Nervous I can work with.

“Cap!” Reid’s voice carries from the back corner. His hand shoots up and waves us over. Keeping a tight grip on her hand, I lead her through the crowd to the booth. Teammates, girls, fans, they all say hello as I pass. If anyone notices me dragging Twyler behind me, they don’t mention it. That doesn’t mean they don’t see her though. I hear the guys’ excitement when they spot her, calling out her name.

“Hey!” Axel looks past me and grins down at her. “This makes twice in one week.”

“Axel,” she says, voice quiet over the noise and music. She looks him up and down. “I see you found a shirt to wear tonight.”

Pete laughs behind his hand. “She called you out, man.”

Axel’s lips quirk and he reaches for the hem of his shirt, exposing the waist of his low-slung jeans. “I can lose it if you want.”

“Shirt on,” I say, giving him a hard look. “Remember what Mike said last time.”

Axel sighs and drops the fabric. “Maybe next time, TG.”

“TG?” Twyler asks.

“Trainer Girl,” he replies with a wink. Axel gives everyone a nickname. I’m never sure if it’s because he doesn’t actually know their real names or if he just likes handing them out. Regardless, once he’s given someone a name, it’s a done deal.

“Who’s Mike?” Twyler asks as I lead her past the pool tables where a puck bunny I hooked up with last week plays a game with one of the rookies. She grins and I give her a friendly but disinterested nod. “And what did he say last time?”

“Mike is the owner of the bar. A former defenseman from back in the nineties. Due to Axel’s need to strip down everywhere we go, he had to enforce a strict no clothes-no service policy.”

We approach the booth and there’s no missing the way Nadia’s jaw drops when she sees us. To her credit, she recovers quickly. “You didn’t tell me you were coming…” She says, eyes pinging between us, “...withReese.”

“Last minute plans,” Twyler says, sliding across from Nadia.

Reid gives her the once over and says, “Like the hair.”

“Why does everyone get so weird when I wear my hair down?” she asks, tugging at one long curl.

Nadia grins. “Because it takes you from cute to smokin’ hot, babe.”

“She’s right,” Reid says, adding a wink. “Smokin’.”

Twyler rolls her eyes, and she may think Reid’s messing with her, but I know better. I see the spark of interest in his eye, like he’s seeing her for the first time too. These guys have spent two seasons around Twyler in her ratty hoodie and pulled-back hair. But unwrap those layers, revealing the woman underneath, and they see what I’ve started to notice too.

And I don’t fucking like it.

“Come on,” he says, drawing me out of my irritation. “Let’s go hit the bar.”

“So what’s up with you and the trainer?” Reid asks after we’ve fought the crowd and ordered from the bartender.

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