Shut Out (8 page)

She laughs again. “So what do I get out of this deal?” Then she smacks my shoulder. “And you better not offer to pay me! That was so insulting.”

“Okay, okay. No money. Um…” My mind searches. “Okay, how about this. Pretend to be my girlfriend and I'll get all the hockey guys to come to your big pizza fundraiser and sign those affirmative consent pledges.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes narrow at me. I know the fundraiser is important to her, from when she was talking about it before one of the training classes. “Really? You'd do that?”

“Sure.” I'm not actually sure if I can deliver on this, but I'll definitely try. “I'll even help with the fundraiser. What do you need me to do?”

She blinks. “Uh. We need prize donations for the silent auction. People to serve pizza and sell silent auction tickets, and help us set up.”

“I can do that.” Christ, I have enough on my plate, I don't know why I'm saying this. Okay, I do know.

“All that and just for one night I have to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

“Hmm, you're right. I think you should pretend to be my girlfriend for…” I get stuck on this. I have no idea how long I'll need her. “The rest of the school year.”

She chokes again. “What?”

“Ah hell.” I frown. “If guys think you have a boyfriend, nobody's going to ask you out.” My spirits plummet. This has to be a major con for her in this plan. “You probably don't want that.”

She shakes her head. “I'm not interested in dating.”

“Why not?”

She drops her gaze to my chest and sighs. “Well, like you, I'm trying to do well this year. Last year, I, uh, failed two courses.”

“Shut the fuck up. No way.”

“Way.” She nods, still not looking at me. “Something happened and I was kind of messed up. I told you how hard I have to work to just pass my courses, never mind get marks like my sister did. My parents were so disappointed in me. I can't let that happen again. Plus, with my part-time job and my volunteer work…I don't have time for a boyfriend.”

“Perfect! You have time for a fake boyfriend.”

She lifts her chin and our eyes meet. “I don't know. How much time is this fake boyfriend going to require?”

“Ha. We just need to be seen together once in a while. You know…lunch. Studying together. Maybe the odd time we could go to a party together. The guys get on my ass if I spend too many weekends studying.”

“As do my friends.”

She appears to be actually considering this genius yet somewhat insane idea.

Am I actually thinking about agreeing to his ridiculous suggestion?

Getting all the hockey players involved in the fundraiser would be a major, major coup. And not only would Victoria be impressed with me, we really would be able to reach more people, because although it pains me to admit it, if the hockey guys are there, a lot of other people will want to come. It would be fantastic.

Yeah, guys won't ask me out if they think I have a boyfriend. But they aren't beating my door down for dates, anyway, so it's not much of a loss, and I'm really not interested. Or, I
thought
I wasn't interested, until Jacob somehow got my girl parts all revved up. Plus, maybe it would also keep Ella, Nat, and Brooklyn off my case about partying if I have study dates with a hot guy.

Me with a hot guy.

Faking it, mind you. Totally faking it.

I eye Jacob. My body is tingling everywhere, with him holding me against all his muscles. He's strong and warm, and that face…He thinks girls are all over him because he's a hockey player, but the truth is, they'd be all over him if he were the Zamboni driver. That cleft chin, the high cheekbones, that smile. I'm melting and this is all fake.

Okay, not
all
fake. There was a busload of chemistry between us that night, and we were exploring it. I was ready to throw good judgment under the wheels of that bus to go upstairs with him and…yeah, I probably would have had sex with him if we'd done that.

I swallow. I haven't had sex since…well, quite a while. I'm nervous about it, honestly. But Jacob made me totally forget that. Now I'm supposed to hang out with him and
pretend
to be his girlfriend? I'm somewhat concerned about my ability to be that good an actor. Because that chemistry is still smoking between us.

The warm sincerity in his eyes now tugs at something inside me. He really wants to avoid girls so he can do well in school? My heart goes all wobbly. Holy duck fuck, if he asked me to strip naked and get up on the coffee table and dance, I'd consider it right now.

“Fine.” I toss my hair back. “As long as it's mutually agreeable. Either of us can end this at any time.”

“Deal.”

His smile makes my heart leap in my chest and my girl parts squeeze. And judging from the bulge behind his fly, he feels the same.

“Um, I'm just gonna say it…This deal doesn't include sex, does it?”

His grin goes wicked. “Only if it's mutually agreeable.”

“Oh, you're good.” I arch an eyebrow. “That would be taking a fake relationship a little too far, don't you think?”

“Okay, honestly, I wasn't thinking about sex. Christ.” He closes his eyes. “I can't believe I just said that. I'm pretty much
always
thinking about sex.”

I laugh. “At least you're honest.”

“I am. I
am
an honest guy.”

His earnest words have my heart fluttering wildly again.

“So no sex,” he adds, but he looks like he's in pain. This doesn't help my aching pussy. It also weirdly reassures me that he didn't reject me last weekend because I'm a total loser. “And I'll deny it if anyone asks if we are, and defend your virtue.”

“That's really not necessary,” I say dryly. “Not that our fake sex life is anyone's business, but I'm not a virgin.”

“Hey, here's an idea. We can just take things slow, right?” His smile makes my nipples harden.

I smile back, somehow totally hooked by his charm.

“What are you drinking, anyway?” He glances down at my glass.

“Kool-Aid.”

“What?”

“Cherry Kool-Aid. Want some?”

“Uh, no. I haven't drunk Kool-Aid since I was about ten. Is there vodka in there?”

“Nope.” I smile. “Just Kool-Aid.”

“Okay.”

“It's good. I'm trying to stay sober tonight so I don't try to proposition the first hot guy who talks to me.” I make a face. “Unlike last weekend.”

“Are you
sure
you aren't interested in a boyfriend?”

“Yes, I know that wasn't exactly in line with my plan to not be distracted from studying. I was a little, uh…”

He smirks.

“Don't let your already oversized ego get so big you can't get through the door.”

He laughs and releases me, finally, but I only move a little apart from him so I can take a sip of my drink. “Did you come with your friends again?”

“Nope. I live here.”

“Shit. Really? This is your place?”

“Yeah. Natalie's one of my roommates. She and Brooklyn and Ella all wanted to have this party. Me, not so much. Another reason for staying sober—to make sure things don't get out of hand.” I bite my lip. “Actually, it might be too late for that.”

“Nah.”

I turn and survey the room. It's packed with bodies, the music is loud, people are yelling, but so far things seem benign. There's a couple making out in an armchair and—

A crash of breaking glass in the kitchen has us both going on alert. Our eyes meet.

“I better go check that out.” I scurry toward the kitchen. I find a girl and two guys laughing hysterically as they try to clean up a broken glass.

“Oh shit, I cut myself!” The girl holds up her hand, dripping blood.

“Aw fuck, don't show me that, I can't stand the ssssss—” And one of the dudes passes out, sprawled on the tile floor.

“Shit,” Jacob mutters behind me.

He rushes over and lifts the guy's shoulders. “Skylar, help her.” He nods at the girl who is still laughing and dripping blood.

I grab some paper towels and wrap her hand in them. “Come to the bathroom with me so I can see how bad it is. We'll find you a bandage.”

The unconscious guy and bleeding girl have put a damper on the hilarity, and others are quietly cleaning up the mess. I leave them to it with a quick, concerned glance at Jacob and the other guy. Luckily, he was crouched on the floor when he passed out. Jacob's trying to get him to come to, his head shoved between his knees. I'm worried about how much the guy has had to drink.

“I'm Skylar,” I tell the girl, leading her upstairs. “And you are…?”

“Uma.”

“Okay, Uma, let's see that cut.” She sits on the toilet and I unwrap her hand. My stomach is clenched, anticipating the worst, like a severed finger or something, but it's only a small cut. I clean it up and wrap a Band-Aid snugly around it. “There you go.”

“Thanks.” She wiggles her finger. “Sorry about the glass. I guess it wasn't really that funny.”

“Well, a broken glass isn't a big deal. A severed finger on the other hand…Luckily, you're okay.”

“I'm good. I better go check on Kyle.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Nah, just a friend. He's pretty squeamish.”

Kyle is fine, now seated on a kitchen chair, drinking a glass of water, a little pale. The floor has been cleaned up. “Jesus,” Kyle says on seeing Uma. “You okay?”

“I'm good. You?” Uma sits on his lap. Just friends? Oooookay.

I meet Jacob's eyes, draw in a long, slow breath and let it out. Wow. Suddenly I think
I
need to sit down.

“C'mere.” He reaches for me and pulls me into a hug, resting his chin on top of my head. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Scared me a bit.” It feels good to be held like this when I'm a little shaky.

“No shit. Could've been way worse.”

“I wish there weren't so many people here.”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “You want more Kool-Aid?”

“Sure.”

With my glass full, he leads me to a chair in the dining room. “Sit here for a minute. I'll be right back.”

I sip my drink and watch him wind through the bodies. His size means people move out of his way. He pauses near his friends who I met at the diner the other night and says something to them, then gives one guy a clap on the back. They all nod.

I watch him do the same thing with a different guy, who Natalie introduced me to earlier, another Bears player. Then Jacob returns to me.

“What are you doing?” I tip my head way back to squint at him.

“Just mentioned to the guys to keep any eye on things. Anything starts getting out of hand, we'll take care of it.”

I give him a slow blink. “You guys are our party cops?”

He grins and tweaks my chin. “Yeah. That's it.”

“Is that what hockey players do?”

He shrugs. “Nah. It just helps when you're bigger than most people.”

Something in my chest goes soft and warm. “Thank you.”

“See? Told you I'm a good guy.”

I'm not completely convinced yet, but I have to admit Jacob is winning me over.

He drops to a crouch next to me. “So hey, I wanted to tell you…you were amazing in that training.”

My mouth falls open. “What do you mean?”

“You're really good at it. You got everyone involved, even when nobody was saying much at the start. Kept the energy up. It seemed like you were really reading everyone.”

I don't even know what to say. My mouth closes. Then opens again. Finally I come up with “Thank you.”

“Plus, you're knowledgeable and you obviously care a lot about what you're teaching.”

I nod. “Yeah.” I take a quick sip of my drink. “It's important. SAPAP helped me last year through a tough time and I like the feeling of helping others.”

He frowns. “You…?”

My insides tighten up. “My friend Brendan committed suicide. I went for some counseling there.”

“Oh.” His frown changes. “I'm sorry.”

I drop my gaze. “Yeah. It was tough. It still is.”

“That's what happened? You said last year something happened and you were messed up.”

“Yes.”

He curls his fingers around one of my hands. I can tell my hand is icy, mostly from holding the cold glass of Kool-Aid, because his is so warm. And strong. His thumb rubs over the back of my hand. “That really sucks.”

I nod. “But I'm okay.” I lift my head to give him a smile. “It sucked gorilla butt, but we're getting through it.”

He chokes on a laugh, but his eyes are warm on me. “I have no doubt.”

There's a minor skirmish in the living room and I hear a guy saying loudly, “Yeah, yeah, chill, man. Sorry.”

Jacob and I turn that way, then look back at each other. My lips quirk. “Your boys are stepping up.”

He grins. “Damn straight. Come on. Let's go join the party.”

He pulls me out of the chair and we walk hand in hand into the living room.

Weird.

It's not long before Ella corners me alone. “What's up with you and the hockey player?”

“You mean Jacob?”

“No, I mean Wayne Gretzky.” She scrunches her face.

I laugh. “We're, um, kind of seeing each other.”

“Since when?”

I tell her about meeting him that night at the party at Sigma house, and then him being in the training sessions, not really lying but omitting some details so it sounds plausible.

“He's hot, Skylar.”

“I know.” Truth.

She squeezes my arm. “Wow. Good for you.”

Excitement wriggles inside me, which is stupid because Jacob and I are only pretending. But the reality is, it
is
kind of exciting being around him.

Since it's my job, I keep an eye on other girls to make sure nobody's bugging him, and for the most part, this does seem to be working. When we meet up again, we stand close together and I can feel the looks from other females at the party.

“You should come to our game Friday night,” Jacob says.

I purse my lips. “Hmmm. I don't really care for hockey that much.”

“What?” Eyes wide, he slaps a hand to his chest as if he's been stabbed. “You did not just say that.”

I grin. “Sorry, I did.”

“I can't even…” He shakes his head, but his lips are quirked. “But still, as my girlfriend you should be there to support me.”

“Yeah, I don't know. I'm down with playing the girlfriend role when we're out together, but at a game?” I shake my head. “Besides, I could get a lot of studying done Friday night.”

His shoulders slump.

“You really want me to come?”

“Well, sure. I saw you in action, doing that training. You should see me in my element.”

“Your element. You're probably really good, aren't you?”

“Come and find out.”

“I'll see.” I'm actually tempted to do this, curious about him and his hockey skills. It's true I've never been a hockey fan—but then, I'm not into football or basketball either. I've never really gotten that whole jock appeal thing. I mean, I get that the guys are athletes and therefore in great shape, but what's so attractive about guys running around tackling each other or smashing each other into the boards?

Okay, I totally get the jock appeal.

I'm sitting in the stands at the DeWitt Center on Friday night with Ella, who agreed to come with me to the game as long as we go out after. I've blown off an entire evening of studying for this, and right now I don't even care.

I'm vibrating with adrenaline and arousal. The testosterone is up to the rafters of the arena, all those big bodies out there flying around at crazy speeds, flinging the puck at the net, hurtling themselves without any regard for personal safety to slam another player into the boards. They're fearless skating into the corners for the puck, knowing there's an opponent right behind them who's going to slam them hard. If that were me, I'd leave the puck there and run—er, skate—the other way. Or pass the puck to someone else as fast as I could.

It's only a game, but I see determination, courage, sacrifice, and loyalty out there on the ice. Yeah, some of the players are clearly better than others—and yeah, Jacob is one of those. In fact, he stands out with his speed and puck handling, drawing all eyes whenever he's on the ice. He makes it look so easy and yet I know it's not. But despite his obvious talent, he's no diva. He hits as much as he gets hit. He passes the puck to others and doesn't hog it. He throws himself in front of the puck to block a shot, sacrificing his body. He scores two goals, but he also gets two assists. He goes after one of the other team's players when that guy laid a hit on one of the Bears that had the whole crowd booing and yelling. I'm not exactly sure what the difference is between a clean hit and a dirty hit, but apparently everyone else here knows, and they're pretty upset about that hit and also by the fact that it didn't result in a penalty. They cheer when Jacob checks the guy at center ice the next time they're both on the ice together, laying him flat out.