Page 88 of Faking It with the Forward

“Like I said, the university can’t dictate a student dating another student. It would be different if either you or the player in question held a position of authority, but since you’re both enrolled students at Wittmore, there doesn’t seem to be any conflict.”

“And do you have any problem with it?” I ask. “Ethically?”

“With you dating a hockey player?” She snorts. “No more than dating any of the other guys on campus. At least the varsity athletes have a measure of accountability around them.” She leans forward, resting on her elbows. “But in all seriousness, professionalism is important in a situation like this. Your internship comes first, especially one as coveted as varsity hockey. You’re being assessed based on your performance and you’ll need those references moving forward. The sporting community is tight-knit. Any job you apply for in the future will want a referral from Coach Green.”

“He’s made it clear he doesn’t approve and has warned me about getting involved with any of the players.”

“It’s possible he’s just looking out for you and being protective.” She rests her hands on the file and leans forward. “But I don’t think I have to tell you that you’ll have to work twice as hard in this field simply for the fact you’re a woman. If some of these coaches have a reason to accuse you of being a distraction, they’ll pounce on it.”

“That’s been my fear.” I sigh, leaning back in my seat. “I’m a hard worker. I do everything Coach Green asks me to do and then some. I get along with all the players and show no favoritism to the guy I’m seeing. In fact, I do my best to ignore him most of the time.”

She grins. “I’m sure he likes that.”

“He’s been respectful of my situation, but neither of us are comfortable hiding it anymore.” I don’t go into the situation with Brent and CJ. I’m still holding out hope that Nadia will file a report, but I also want to be prepared for it by getting my business together. “We’d both feel better getting this out in the open.”

“Then you should.” She smiles gently. “I can attend the meeting with you, if you’d like.”

“No,” I exhale. “Thank you, but I think this is something I should do on my own.”

The plan is to tell Coach Green as soon as I get to the arena, but the meeting with Professor Purvi started late. By the time I get there, the guys are already on the ice. Pete is sitting on the bench wrapping his ankle.

“Let me do that,” I say, dropping next to him on the bench.

“It’s fine,” he says, securing the end. “Coach is already pissed I’m not out there.”

“Wait.” I grab his foot and push my fingers under the tape, making sure there’s enough give. There’s not. “You need more flexibility in your ankle.”

“Pete!” Reid shouts. The guys zip up and down the ice, running shooting drills. “Get your ass out here!”

“See?” He grabs the roll of tape from me, and pulls off a long strip, wrapping it around two more times. He tosses it back and I catch it. “Thanks, TG.”

Before I can respond he’s gliding off, merging in with the others. I’m about to call out for him to come back when Reese skates up and grabs a bottle of water.

“How did it go?” he asks, squirting a stream into his mouth.

“Fine,” I focus on the bottles. “I’ll tell you later.”

“But everything’s okay?”

“Yeah,” I give him a small smile, “I think so.”

He grins back and my stomach flips, both out of fear of being caught and the memory of hearing him say “I love you.” He hands me back the water bottle and his fingers graze mine. I’m so gone for this guy.

He skates off, shoulders squared, stick sweeping out to make contact with the puck already in play. He’s so natural at this, able to flip one switch to the other. Juggling work and my social life has never been a strength—to the point that I avoided it for a long time. My eyes are still trained on him, but a breakaway down the ice draws my attention away.

“Somebody block him!” Axel shouts, eyes wide as Pete comes barreling toward him as he chases the puck. His gait is awkward, fast, but out of control. He’s lacking the smooth finesse that I know he’s capable of. Panic fills Axel’s eyes as Reid hustles across the mouth of the goal, body rigid as he checks Pete, knocking him away from the goalie. The two players slam full speed into the wall, rattling the boards. Pete crumples to the ice, followed by a string of curses.

“What the hell, man?” Axel shouts, abandoning the goal and skating over, looking ready to get in a fight with his teammate. Reese is already in the middle of it, arms wide, keeping the guys apart. He drops to his knee and I lose sight of him as the others huddle around.

“Get the kit,” Coach Green orders, taking off toward the injured players. My heart pounds, and I grab the medical kit, following him out to the ice.

“Jesus Christ,” I hear Reid shout. “He wouldn’t stop! I had no choice.”

“Everyone move back!” Coach Green muscles through the players. They make a small gap and I skirt in behind him. Reese rises off the ground, moving back with the rest of the team. Reid stays, bent on one knee, his face red and flustered. Pete is leaning against the board, wearing a pained grimace. Coach Green carefully unlaces Pete’s skate and eases it off, revealing the thick tape. Coach asks, “Can you wiggle your toes?”

I know the answer to that is no. He barely had any flexibility.

“Perkins, hand me the scissors.”

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