Jersey Girl (Sticks & Hearts #1) (12 page)

"Naturally, because sex with Josh is always amazing," I tease.

"Well, not always, but most of the time it's pretty spectacular." She actually blushes as she admits this. "But enough about me. How was your hottie?"

"He has a name, you know."

"No, I don't know, because you haven't bothered telling it to me." She pokes me playfully in the ribs, and I squirm away, fearful of being tickled. After years of being held down and tortured by Scott, I have quick reflexes.

"It's Brantley Cage," I tell her, the words coming out on a whisper, as if the mention of his name will send those around me running back and reporting gossip to my brother.

Her chin drops, leaving her mouth open for a few moments. "Whoa, that's one serious hottie. Jesus, Cassie, I had no idea
that's
who you were spending the evening with." She goes quiet and takes a sip before continuing. "What about your brother's ridiculous rules? Won't this be breaking them somehow?" She knows all about my introduction to Brantley and had been quick to point out that most of the students on campus have harbored a crush on him at some point in time. And that isn't limited only to the female population.

"Please, don't get me started on that," I wave her off and lean back in my chair. "Besides, it's not like that. I told you, we have an understanding."

"What sort of understanding is this?" She arches her brow and rests her chin on her hand.

"Well, we established a few rules before he would agree to tutoring me. For instance, there'll be no naked study sessions and absolutely no sex," I clear my throat, suddenly feeling silly after repeating them out loud.

"Seriously? That's what you guys came up with?" she lets out a snort of derision.

"What? Oh, come on. I know they sound ridiculous, but establishing these parameters seemed to make him feel better."

"Cassie, the fact he felt the need to establish them at all tells me he's into you. I think you two are a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, and when it finally does, it's going to be hot and sexy and very sticky." She bursts into a fit of laughter, drawing the attention of the crowd behind us.

"Stop it!" I glance over my shoulder and offer a weak smile at the group of guys behind us. I think one of them is in my calculus class. "I'm not having sex with him. He's helping me pass a class, end of story."

"Oh, please. You can't tell me you're not the least bit into this guy. He's hot as fuck." She leans over to whisper in my ear. "And from what I've been told, he's great in the sack."

"Gee, thanks. Now that's the only thing I'm going to think of every time I see him. It's bad enough I know what his dick looks like, now I have to know he's skilled in using it too."

"Sweetie, from what I've been told most hockey players know how to handle their stick, both on
and
off the ice." She winks once again and finishes her coffee. "I'm just saying you may want to re-think those parameters."

"Okay, on that note, I think I'll be going." I stand, feeling my face turn multiple shades of red as the image of Brantley's
stick
flashes through my mind. She grabs her purse and follows me out, never once taking her eyes off my scarlet cheeks.

"Admit it, you're thinking about sex with him right now, aren't you?" she asks as a satisfied smirk fills her perky face.

"Fine." I stop short and turn to face her. "Yes, right now, I'm thinking about how great it would feel to have him take me from behind. I'm envisioning his lips kissing my spine as one hand keeps a tight hold on my throat as he pounds into me. Does that make you happy?"

"It'd make me happy if I could do that to you. Name the time and place, sweetheart," comes a strange, male voice.

Roni and I both turn and find the guys from the coffee shop standing behind us in the alley, and all three of them wear a huge grin.

"That's a really nice offer, honey, but not now," Roni dismisses them and links her arm through mine to drag me down the brick walkway.

"Maybe some other time then. I'm not picky. You're both hot as hell," calculus guy calls after us as we both release a flurry of giggles.

"That was fun," she laughs, rubbing tears from the corners of her eyes.

"For you, maybe, but that guy's in my math class. Now he's going to think I like rough sex."

"Hey, don't knock it."

"Only you would say that to me at a time like this." I give her a shove and adjust the strap of my backpack. "Listen, thanks for hanging out. I've missed this. I have to get going. I need to run and practice my song before meeting Brantley."

"Oooh, another study session. Remember what I said about those rules." She waggles her eyebrows a few times before tossing a wave over her shoulder and heading in the opposite direction. "Have fun, sweetie. I want to hear
all
about it later tonight."

Rather than answer, I simply shake my head, knowing I'll probably be asleep before she rolls in.

CASSIE

A blast of cold air hits me in the face as I step through the doors of the arena. I got my calculus test back today, and I'm here to share the good news. Ever since that day at the diner, we've been hanging out. On the days he's too tired from practice, we usually text or he'll video chat with me before falling asleep. We make each other laugh, and he's easy to talk to. In a short span of time we've gone from acquaintances to something along the lines of best friends. My friendship with B seems to have been formed of its own mold. It's organic in the sense that we came together to satisfy a base need of having someone to talk with, who would accept us for who we are without expectations. Even though I know the chance for a relationship is off the table, I'd be lying if I said I'm not attracted to him. It's hard not to be captivated by him. His sex appeal makes every hair on my body stand up and take notice whenever he's near. It also doesn't help that he's a very
hands on
kind of friend. We'll be walking around campus and he thinks nothing of slinging his arm around my shoulder. Or, when we cross the street, he takes the time to hold my hand and drag me across. He claims it's because I'm so short it takes me twice as long and he's worried oncoming traffic will plaster me. Normally, I would accept that response, but that doesn't explain why he continues holding on long after we've reached the other side.

Practice started an hour ago, and there's a crowd of girls huddled near the boards. Of the ten or so girls gathered, at least half of them are wearing jerseys. I slip past, and they don't acknowledge my existence. This isn't my first time attending practice, and the same girls are always present. I know most of them, though only by name. For example, Mandy Cunningham is a junior lusting over Danny Simpson. I know this because she not only wears his jersey, but she also squeals every time he steps out on the ice. Then there's Stacy Preston, and she currently has the hots for Gavin Turner. Rumor has it she's slept with most of the team, but that doesn't stop her from wearing a Great Lakes jersey with the number seventeen plastered over the back. I can't be certain, but either these girls have a never-ending supply of cash to spend on trivial items such as jerseys, or there's a community closet where they can reach in a pull out their favorite flavor of the week.

I take a seat five rows up and rest my elbows on my knees. Threading my fingers together, I lean forward and survey the lineup currently on the ice. At the moment, they're gathered around Coach Bishop. I give a small finger wave to Scotty and he gives me a nod of acknowledgement before waving to Ashley and taking his place between the pipes. For as long as I can remember, my brother has wanted to be a goalie. Every year when winter would come around he would wait for the pond at the end of our street to freeze and he would beg my dad to help him drag the net out and set it in place. Then, he would take up his position while my dad would fire shots at him one by one. I loved going with them, but I hated getting all bundled up to go, so I would never be dressed properly and would end up heading home before everyone else in order to prevent getting frost bite. Watching him this year is bittersweet because I know these times are coming to an end.

The puck drops, and I watch as they practice a few plays. Brantley's skates glide gracefully over the ice, and watching him makes me feel as if I'm already watching a professional athlete. Based on what Scott's told me, I know he and Brantley are headed to Detroit at the end of the year, and I realize I'm going to miss them both.

Suddenly, Kevrick sends the puck sailing across the ice and Brantley takes off after it with Danny Simpson close behind. Brantley's stick makes contact, but Simpson slams him into the boards and they both fight to gain possession. I stand, eager to see if Brantley comes out the victor, and realize my mistake too late as Brantley makes eye contact with me and loses control of the puck. I make a face and mouth
sorry,
but he simply gives me a wink and a gloved wave.

I sit back down, still smiling from the simple interaction, and am quickly surrounded by a cackling brood of puck bunnies. No one speaks for a few minutes, and we sit in awkward silence as they take turns sizing me up. I stare at each of them, wondering if any of them have been in B's bed, and bite back the snarky comment that hangs on my tongue.

"Hi, I'm Stacy, and this is Mandy, Tiffany, Lana, Lisa, and Tina." She continues speaking and pointing to each girl, but honestly, all I hear is
blah, blah, blah
. I have zero interest in meeting these girls, let alone wasting any time speaking with them. They're catty, shallow, and viciously cruel in the way they try to tear apart relationships of players with legitimate girlfriends. I know this because Ashley has mentioned on more than one occasion that Tiffany's tried her best to get her claws into Scott.

Before I can answer, she voices the very words they're all wondering. "Are you dating Brantley?"

To the average, unsuspecting female her question would appear harmless. But I'm neither of those things, therefore I know this question stems not from simple curiosity but from pure jealousy. From the corner of my eye, I see Brantley watching the interaction. I avoid looking in his direction, but only to prevent adding fuel to their fire. What we share is none of their damn business, and I'm about to tell them that very fact when I'm interrupted by the sound of Ashley's voice.

"Hey, Cassie, what's going on here?" Ashley steps between them as if they're in her way, and they immediately part to make room for her. Ashley is a longstanding Jersey Girl, and it's clear she's not intimidated by their presence. They may travel in a pack, but it's obvious who their leader is, and she's busy eyeing the two of us as if trying to figure out what we have that she doesn't.

"Hi, Ashley, we were just introducing ourselves to Brantley's little girlfriend." Ashley's eyes narrow, but I can tell she's trying not to react. "Yeah, she's been here a few times over the last week, and just a short time ago he saw her and waved. We all know what
that
means," Stacy stands and begins to walk away. The rest of her brood follows close behind. "However, I feel I should warn you he's aggressive in the sack. I only say this because you're so tiny and I'd hate for you to go in without that knowledge. I simply couldn't live with myself if you were split in half by his giant co—"

"Cassie, you okay?" Brantley's deep voice cuts her off before she can finish her sentence, though I know for a fact the only thing she was trying to tell me was that she's been on the receiving end of something I've only dreamed about. But I did have to agree with one thing; it
had
been pretty damn big. His eyes question mine; the worry on his face is evident. To. Everyone. Present.

Stacy's eyes dart from Brantley's to mine as a snarl fills her face. "Guess we have our answer, girls. Cassie, don't say I didn't warn you. Brantley, be careful out there sweetie." With that said, they march down the aisle and straight out of the arena.

"I'm okay."

"Care to tell me what all of that was about? I mean, I know it's not any of my business, but you know how your brother is about these guys," she gestures toward the ice.

"It's not what you think, okay. He's helping me with calculus and we hang out." She gives me a confused look. "Look, neither of us is looking for a relationship. We get along, like the same movies, and before you say anything I'm not in denial." I hold a hand in front of me as if this is helping me get my point across. "He's a really nice guy who's my friend. Nothing more."

"Okay. As long as you know what you're doing." From her smile I can't tell if she believes me or if she's just agreeing with me to appease me.

"Please, Ash, if Scotty asks, you need to let him know nothing is going on. Brantley was very clear establishing the rules. Scotty can trust him."

"Hey, don't worry, I'll be sure to defend you both. Actually, you spending time with Brantley is going to benefit me, because now he may stop nagging the shit out of Scott to stop spending all of his time with me. Honestly, I was beginning to wonder if he didn't have a thing for Scott." She lets out a soft giggle and straightens out her sweater.

"Yeah, I don't think you need to worry about B crushing on your man. He's all about the ladies. I mean, you heard Stacy."

"Oh, please. You can't believe a word that girl says. I'm not so sure she's slept with Brantley, though he does make the rounds." Her last words are almost a whisper as she looks at everything but me.

"Ash, he can sleep with whomever he wants. I told you, nothing's going on." An hour later a whistle sounds, announcing the end of practice, and we make our way toward the locker room.

Twenty minutes later, Scotty walks out and Ashley pounces on him, wrapping her long legs around his waist as he slants his mouth over hers and walks toward the exit with her in his arms. I watch with mild envy, wondering if I'll ever have that again. I remember being that way with Justin. I would hang around after practice, waiting for him to shower me with kisses. We'd grab a bite to eat, because he was usually famished after practice, then head back to his place and spend the evening between the sheets. Witnessing their brief interaction makes me realize I miss connecting with someone on that level. My body craves human contact. I find myself wondering what B would do if I were to throw myself at him when he walks through the door.