Page 5 of Faking It with the Forward

“Fuck, it’s crowded in here.”

Jefferson holds the two cups of beer, one, for him and the other I assume for whatever girl he’s planning on hooking up with tonight, over his head, trying to keep from spilling them on the floor. It works because he’s six-five and just to get through the room people have to give him space.

“Yeah, I think Reid made a video and put it on blast.” I eye the crowd. Every frat and sorority showed up, as well as the rest of the varsity athletes. The bigger the better is how I see it. More options for the end of the night.

“Ginna’s looking for you.”

“I saw her,” I say, lifting my own bottle of beer to my lips. As captain, and the guy responsible for my teammates getting to early skate on time, I get one drink and I’m trying to make it last. “She looks good.”

More than good. Ginna’s got this straight blonde hair, big eyes, and pouty lips. Everything she wears is for show, leaving little to the imagination. That’s what I like about her. She’s a no-nonsense puck bunny. No games. No mystique. No strings. She’s here for a good time and happy to provide it.

“If you can’t drink,” Jeff says, “you may as well get your dick wet, don’t you think?”

My best friend is the one that commiserated with me when I broke up with Shanna. He’s the one that told me I was making the right decision to throw our four year relationship out the window for my goals. He’s also the one that encouraged me to stop having a pity party and to get over my ex by sowing some oats. That was five months ago. It’s not an exaggeration to say I’ve planted an entire crop at this point.

Holding up my bottle, I clink it to his red cup. “Go have fun. Just don’t make me drag your ass out of bed in the morning, okay?”

“Got it,” he says, leaving me to go push through the crowd toward the backyard where a volleyball game is in progress.

The Manor is the biggest house in Shotgun—formerly the foreperson of the mill’s home. Two stories, a big front porch and backyard. It’s been claimed as the hockey house for years now, passed down from one teammate to the next. I moved in sophomore year—and now that I’m a senior, this will be my last. Jeff, Reid, and Axel all live here, too.

Everything is riding on this season for me. The team, the tournament, and my future.

“There you are,” Ginna says, appearing out of the mass of people. Her arm snakes around my waist. This girl gets it. She knows what I need and how much I have to give, which isn’t much between hockey and school. Especially not with how much is on the line. “Thought maybe you took off.”

“Nah, just keeping tabs on everyone.” I grin down at her. Okay, fine. I grin down at her tits. “Making sure no one does anything stupid.”

“That’s right, I heard the news. Congratulations on being named captain.” Her reaction is genuine. My position is beneficial to both of us. She gets to fuck the leader of the team and I, well, I get to fuck her and anyone else I want. No obligation. My favorite kind of relationship. “Want to take a break from duty and go upstairs?”

The good thing about drinking less is my dick is always ready to go. “I think I can spare a few minutes before the guys get in too much trouble.”

She nudges me toward the stairs, but I hear my name called over the music. Jeff’s head pops above the rest. “Cap!” He waves me over. I’m about to tell him to talk to me after Ginna sucks me off, but he’s got a serious expression on his face.

“Give me a second.” I drop a kiss to her mouth, and she doesn’t miss the opportunity to swipe her tongue against mine.

“Don’t be long.”

I push through the crowd, an easy feat when you’re taller than most people in the room and outweigh them by fifty pounds. Outside I see a small circle of people and there’s a body on the ground under the volleyball net.

The red hair is a giveaway. Reid.

I’m not the first to get to him, a hot girl with curly long dark hair is already next to him. Her hair shields her face, and I don’t recognize her small frame. She’s wearing jeans and a black shirt revealing a wide strip of skin on her lower back. She leans over Reid, touching his forehead.

“Move,” I command, pushing everyone aside. I crowd next to the girl, my shoulder knocking into her, but I don’t give a shit. Reid is my responsibility. He’s on his back, his shirt long gone, but he’s awake, thank God—although I spot the glassy look in his eye. “I’ve got this under control.” I push the girl’s hands away.

“Do you? Because nothing about this seems under control,” she bites back. “Reid, how many fingers am I holding up?”

I know that voice. I do a double take.

Reid, even in his dazed state, says it first, “Twyler?”

“Yeah.” She wiggles her fingers in front of his face. “How many fingers, Wilder?”

“Holy shit,” his eyes dart to me then back to her, “you don’t look like…” he swallows, “...you.”

She sighs. “Well, it’s me.”

“But you never come to our parties.” Again, he looks to me like he needs help figuring this out, but I’m with him. Twyler,this Twyler,is a surprise.

---