Page 77 of Anatomy of a Player

She didn’t pull away, so I drew her to me and kissed her, trying to show her how much she meant to me. Unlike our other, passion-driven kisses, there was an edge of uncertainty in each press of our lips and cautious touch of our tongues.

The warmth of her body soaked into me and yet she still felt far away, like when you thought you’d caught a magical lightning bug, only to open your hand and see that you never had it at all.

I wanted to say something that would keep her within my grasp, but how could I promise the intimacy and future she wanted when I’d opened up more than I ever had before and it still wasn’t enough? When I couldn’t predict how hard it would be for us to handle all the time apart that classes and practices and away games and playoffs would bring?

The scrape of a key in the door shattered the silence and I let go of Whitney and stepped back, knowing she wouldn’t want my roommates to see us kissing.

They barged in with all the grace of newborn moose, and as predicted, they each had several bags in their hands. Then they both stopped and stared at Whitney.

She wiped her mouth—clearly not used to clandestine make out sessions, because that was a dead give away. “Hi,” she said, way too loud and way too bright. It made me smile, despite blowing our cover, because she couldn’t lie to save her life. My issues with my mom made it hard to trust anyone, and I liked that I wouldn’t have to worry about not knowing whether Whitney was keeping something from me.

If we even were a we. Damn roommates and their shitty timing.

“Hey,” Dane said. He hefted the bags filled with Gatorade bottles and other groceries onto the kitchen counter.

“I needed to ask a few follow up questions for one of my articles,” Whitney said. “But since you guys weren’t here, Hudson answered them all.”

“Questions that couldn’t wait for tonight?” Dane asked, and if I could’ve reached him, I would’ve smacked him upside the head and told him to shut the hell up.

“It’s for a different article. My editor decided she had to have it this second, and when she says jump, I jump. Anyway…” Whitney backed toward the door, and it took everything in me to not grab her and beg her not to go yet.

Our cover was definitely blown, even if she didn’t know it, but if she wanted to cling to the illusion—if it would give her the confidence she needed to keep her job—I’d tell the guys to pretend they weren’t onto us. That was the least I could do.

“I’m sure you guys are getting ready for your big game tonight.” Whitney took another step toward the door. “I’ll let you get to it, but good luck, and I’ll be there to talk about all the details after.”

She didn’t even look at me before she darted out the door.

Chapter Forty-Two

Whitney

My head throbbed with unanswered questions and my knees didn’t want to carry my weight the way they were supposed to.

I made it two steps before deciding that I was going to have to go back. I’d wanted more assurances that Hudson wasn’t playing me—and that he wouldn’t hurt me—but I had kind of blindsided him.

I wanted to hold on to my disappointment and anger and show him I wasn’t a pushover, but he’d held me so tightly and kissed me so carefully. I didn’t know if his promise to try was enough, but I knew that I cared about him, and that he’d been given too few chances by people who should’ve been there for him. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake.

Plus, as much as it was going to suck, I had to tell him about the article I’d been working on for theHeights,so that whatever version came out on Monday didn’t completely catch him unaware and make him feel used. As if that wouldn’t be difficult enough, I’d have to follow it up with the confession about the note I’d seen on his fridge, and how I might’ve landed him and Dane in trouble, even if it was the final straw that broke us.

“Bro,” I heard as I spun around. For a second I wondered why Dane was calling me “bro” but then I realized his voice was carrying through the open window to the left of the door. “You did it! You slept with her!”

Wow, he was super excited about it. I supposed I should have been offended he assumed I’d slept with Hudson, when for all he knew we’d only done a little kissing. My skin heated as I thought about how much more embarrassing knocking on the door and confessing was about to be.

“I can’t believe you didn’t rub it in my face how wrong I was to doubt that you could hit that.”

I froze with my fist raised, seconds from knocking. Foreboding crept across my skin as I told myself that I’d heard that wrong.

“She was so uptight at first that I doubted she knew what sex was,” another voice said. Must’ve been Ryder, because I didn’t immediately recognize it. “Obviously you were right about her just needing a little loosening up—I hardly recognized her. So, how was she? Is there a freaky girl hiding under the surface?”

“Come on, you guys.” That was Hudson, the voice I’d know anywhere. I wanted him to say something that would make Dane and Ryder’s statements make sense, would make it clear I’d somehow misunderstood. “It’s not—”

“I didn’t think you’d pull it off when we first made the bet, and once I saw how much she hated you, I’d actually decided to drop it,” Dane said. “Guess your reputation and Lundqvist jersey are safe. I think I should get a discount on how much I owe you, though, because I gave you an extra push when you were ready to give up.”

The world tilted on its axis and the sound of blood rushing to my head drowned out every other noise. He’d made abetthat he could sleep with me, the uptight reporter who’d charged in and demanded everyone treat her professionally. It was all a big game—suddenly the way he’d pursued me despite how mean I was, and how many times I’d pushed him away, made sense.

It was theonlything that made sense, so I wasn’t sure why I’d been stupid enough to fall for it.

Now I’m just the butt of their joke. A locker room story they’ll repeat and laugh about.

---