Page 52 of Faking It with the Forward

“No.” He laughs and turns off the car. “One of the conditions for being part of the hockey team is we have to sign up for campus-coordinated volunteer events.” He nods at the barn in front of us. “This is the one I chose.”

I narrow my eyes. “I thought today was about me learning to meet guys and building confidence. Instead, you brought me on a volunteer project—to fulfill your obligations?”

“Two birds, one stone, Sunshine.”

He opens the door and hops out. I don’t move, too stunned to process what kind of trickery Reese Cain has gotten me into. He walks around and opens my door, offering his hand to help me out of the low car. I eye it skeptically.

He sighs. “This is a school-wide event. People from all over campus come to volunteer, so it’s not just jocks, but frat boys, science nerds, ag kids, and any other group you’re into. Skinny philosophy majors, too.” He points to a group of boys walking toward the barn. They’re all in black skinny jeans and have shaggy hair. Definitely my type. “Also, don’t pretend you’re not an animal lover. I saw the picture of the black cat in your house.”

I grin. “Bertha. She’s my baby.”

“I love animals, too. The reason I chose this project is because before my mom left, we would foster dogs. The last one that we took in was George. When my mom moved out, George was the one that was there for me after school and on the nights my dad worked late.”

Well, way to soften me up with that story. Jeez. When he offers me his hand again, I take it. He drags me close and I look up into his gray eyes. “So how are we doing this,” I ask, “are we here as a couple?”

“I think we have to keep up the act, but I’ll give you a little space to mingle.” He tugs at one of the drawstrings on the hoodie. “Plus, you’ve got my name and number stamped on your shirt. I’m pretty sure that’s sending a message.”

My heart pounds. “I wasn’t trying to imply anything. It’s just really soft. Like perfectly soft. I can take it off.”

“Keep it,” he says, tossing his arm over my shoulder and squeezing me against his hard side. “Never underestimate a man wanting what belongs to another man, Sunshine.”

“That’s so gross.”

He shrugs. “It’s biology. The better you understand that deep down, all guys are animals, the better off you’ll be.”

I’ve always shied away from any of the volunteer activities at school—partially because my training activities keep me so busy and I’m already doing them for free—but also because I just feel too awkward to jump into a social setting cold. But, as much as I hate to admit it, Reese is right. There are tons of students here from all kinds of groups. We get an opportunity to pet some of the animals at the shelter. Reese drags me to each one, getting down on his knees to greet the dogs and give them a lot of love.

A student photographer roams around, clumping people into groups and taking photos for the university. After posing together, Reese and I get dragged in different directions. There’s a little panic at first, not having him next to me for support, but since we’re all here for the same purpose, my anxiety quickly diminishes. Of course, people immediately recognize Reese. Why wouldn’t they? That poster in his bedroom is hanging on banners outside of the arena and on half the lampposts around campus. He’s friendly to everyone, although the emo boys look thoroughly unimpressed.

“Everyone gather around!”

Reese finds me in the group circled around the volunteer coordinator, who passes around a clipboard for us to sign and get a name tag. He’s really good at playing the boyfriend. His hands never leave me, touching my lower back, taking my hand in his, fussing with my hair. I guess he had years of practice with Shanna, but he leaves no doubt to everyone involved that we’re a couple.

When he wraps his arms around my body and rests his chin on my shoulder, it’s hard for me not to buy into it too.

“That guy over there keeps looking at you,” he says, mouth next to my ear. His breath is warm and a shiver runs down my spine.

“I think he’s looking atyou,” I joke, but can’t help seeing for myself. Across the circle I check out one of the guys dressed in black, his hands shoved into his pockets. He’s cute, with messy light brown hair. Our eyes meet and he gives me a quick grin.

“See?” Reese says. “Guys always want what they can’t have.”

For the record, men suck, but I’m here for a purpose and I’m trying not to forget that.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” the volunteer coordinator, Henry, says once everyone has signed his clipboard. “We’ll divide up into different groups for efficiency.”

Reese gets tapped to repair the outdoor enclosure, while I get sent over to a large plastic tub.

“What’s this for?” I ask, although when I get closer, I see the industrial sized jug of shampoo.

“It’s bath day!” Miranda, another volunteer, says. “First up is Winston.”

“I’m more of a cat person,” I say, eyeing the cozy cat cabin a yard away.

“The beauty of cats is that they clean themselves,” Miranda says. “Dogs? Not so much. We need them nice and clean so that when potential families come in, they’re looking their best.”

I take off Reese’s sweatshirt, hanging it on the nearby fence post, leaving me in an old, threadbare shirt from my high school training program. The neck has holes in it and at some point, I ripped the hem. Not something I normally wear in public, but at least it’s not something I’m worried about getting ruined.

The name Winston feels like it should belong to an eight pound, tiny dog that fits in a purse. The dog they bring out? A squat, barrel-chested basset hound mix.

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