Page 11

Chapter 11

The Bunny Corner

Jamie

S ome asshole must have decided to do a fire drill on campus on the Monday morning of a long weekend.

The only few rare Mondays when there’s no class and, even better, no practice.

I hide my head under my pillow in the hopes of making that obnoxious sound go away, but I have no such luck. It keeps coming in waves.

Hold on a second. I rub the sleep out of my eyes when I realize that the offending noise isn’t a fire alarm, but it’s my phone.

That’s the text tune I assigned to Coach Harrison.

Because, let’s face it, if Coach was ever to text one of us directly, it surely means that the apocalypse is coming.

That thought wakes me up completely. And I open the text message.

Coach Harrison:

My office 8 am. Tardiness won’t be tolerated.

What the fuck? That doesn’t sound good. Why am I being summoned to Coach’s office? I haven’t been slacking during practice. I’ve played well and scored two goals in the only pre-season game we’ve had so far. I haven’t been late once on the ice, and I get along with my teammates like a house on fire. There’s no reason for a summon to Coach’s office at 8 am, on a day when everyone is still sleeping off last night’s parties. That fact worries me even more. Eight o’clock in the morning is early on any day, but on a day like today? When all the offices on campus, all the classrooms and even the library are closed? It’s like being summoned at the crack of dawn on a regular day.

And why would anyone be summoned so early anywhere? I wonder, as I get out of bed and shove my legs in last night’s jeans. Nothing good ever happens at the crack of dawn. The only thing I can think about is executions and other grim stuff like that.

By the time I park my car in the ice rink’s deserted parking lot, I almost convinced myself that it must be a mistake. Or maybe even a prank. Could Tucker have gotten my phone and saved his number under Coach Harrison’s name?

But then again, the only way Tucker would be up at this time after partying until the sun came up would be if he still hadn’t gone to bed.

The plot thickens when another car pulls into the parking lot and Luke comes out of it.

I leave the safety of my car and walk up to greet my team captain. “What are you doing here?”

He has shadows under his eyes, which means he ran here the second he woke up, just like I did. There’s no way Luke would be seen anywhere looking less than perfect; and I know an anti eye circles miracle cream and concealer are a non-negotiable part of his early morning routine.

“I got a text from Coach,” Luke answers. “Why are you here?”

“Same.” I bite out, noticing that Luke has his workout bag in his hand. “Did he say it was a surprise practice or anything like that?”

Luke shrugs. “No. But the last time we got called in here this early, Coach bag skated us, remember? I’d rather be prepared.”

Maybe he has a point. “Do you think that’s why he called us here? But wouldn’t he have said to be prepared to get on the ice?”

He shrugs a second time. “You know Coach.”

“Yeah, he’s a sadistic asshole on a good day, so anything is possible.” I sigh. “But if it’s a surprise practice, where’s everyone else? I heard no signs of life coming from Connor and Keene’s rooms, and they should know better than being late when Coach calls us.”

Luke glances at the smart watch on his wrist. “Whatever the deal is, it’s five to eight. You know better than me that keeping Coach waiting is never a good idea.”

I follow him as he walks toward the door of the arena. “Yeah, but the fact that we’re the only ones here is weird. Come to think of it, there really is no reason why we should be punished with an extra practice on a vacation day. Could this be a prank?”

Luke doesn’t stop walking, but considers my words nonetheless. “I doubt it. No one on the team would be so crazy to steal Coach’s phone or to hack into it. Not even Tucker.”

“I doubt that dipshit even has the skills for something like that.” I snort. “But if it isn’t a prank, what the fuck is going on?”

Luke lifts his fist to knock on Coach’s office door. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Come on in.” Coach’s voice is louder than I would have expected from inside the office.

The door actually opens before we can grab the handle, and Coach Harrison ushers us inside.

The first thing I notice is that he isn’t in his usual Cove Knights tracksuit, but in a casual polo and khaki pants.

The second thing that strikes me as odd is that Coach isn’t sitting at his desk, like he always is when someone is called into his office.

But there’s a reason for that, I discover as soon as Coach Harrison steps to the side, letting us into the room.

Dean Fletcher—the previous head of admissions who succeeded Dean Williams after the scandal that shook the school to its very foundations our sophomore year—is sitting at Coach’s desk.

My stomach plummets. This can’t be good. I can’t think of one positive situation that would warrant our coach and the Dean of students to call two hockey players into a meeting this early on a vacation day.

“Take a seat.” Coach orders with a tone that brooks no argument.

Luke and I know better than to argue with Coach Harrison on any day, but in front of the Dean? Our asses hit the chairs opposite Coach’s desk faster than you can say “puck.”

There’s a moment of silence when the Dean takes his time to look from Luke to me.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he finally says. “Even though I have to say that title is debatable, at least when it comes to one of you two.”

I straighten in my chair. I’m pretty sure the Dean is staring straight at me. What the actual fuck is going on? I have excellent grades and I’m one of the star players on the team. My face is on all the recruiting material and on billboards all over campus. I’m the face of the Star Cove Knights. I take hockey and academics extremely seriously, and I have never failed a drug test in my entire career. Why is the Dean looking at me as if I had just pissed in his cereal?

“Hockey is very important here in Star Cove.” Dean Fletcher states. “We’re a Division One team and have won more Frozen Four titles than any school on the West Coast. Our team is popular on campus and in town. Being a Cove Knight comes with local fame and great popularity, and it should be considered a privilege.”

I don’t disagree with anything he’s saying. It’s obvious that the Dean thinks we—I, by the way he’s staring at me—have done something to tarnish the school and the team’s reputation in some way. I rack my brain, wondering what that could be, but come up empty.

“Other students look up to you, and your behavior is a direct reflection of the values this institution upholds and strives to instill in every student that sets foot on our campus.”

I’ve always admired Luke as a friend and as a player. He has my respect as team captain. He also has the biggest pair of balls on this side of the Pacific, because he dares to speak during the Dean’s tirade.

“I couldn’t agree more, sir. I can assure you we’re well aware of the privilege of being part of this team and of attending one of the best Ivy League colleges in the country.”

If this was anyone else, I’d think they were brown nosing to get the Dean’s favor. But I know that Luke is just being honest. His school spirit is unmatched. That’s one of the many reasons why he was voted team captain unanimously after Cole Marshall graduated last year.

However, Luke’s words don’t seem to do anything to appease Dean Fletcher.

The school administrator touches a tablet I hadn’t noticed on the desk, pushing the device toward us.

“Then I’m sure you understand my surprise when I saw these social media posts.”

I see my own face on the screen. I have my arms around two girls at the first Gamma Delta Tau party this fall semester. I’m kissing one girl and my hand falls on the other girl’s tit. That was a wild night.

“Sir, I don’t—” I begin, but the Dean’s scowl deepens.

“There’s more. Go ahead. Look.”

I swipe on a few other photos. They’re all pretty similar. It’s me with a few girls I hooked up with recently. Some of them are from last semester, I know because I cut my hair a little shorter since then.

“After the trouble we had a couple of years ago,” the Dean continues. “We monitor social media pretty closely. We watch anything that could tarnish our reputation and hinder our chances of being ranked as the top university in the country. We’re right behind MIT right now and the thing that sets us apart from them and gives us an edge is our sports programs. And we all know that the most visible, most popular asset within our athletic department is our hockey team. This is why the entire country is watching us this year. They’re watching you.”

Luke intervenes again. “We?—”

“I’m not done, Mr. Harper. Two years ago, our team made this school proud. You won the Frozen Four. We had a crown prince in our ranks. We were the school heads of states and royalty all over the world wanted to send their kids to. Our reputation took a hit when my predecessor was caught in that horrible scandal, but I—we—worked hard to restore our prestige and credibility as an institution.”

This time, Luke and I keep our traps hermetically shut.

“After the disastrous season during Dean Williams’s final year of tenure, Coach Harrison put together another great roster. We missed the Frozen Four victory to Bridgeport by one single goal last season. That’s probably one of the main reasons why we’re behind MIT. This year we have every chance to make that top ranking. But to get there, our school needs to stay at the top in every field and our reputation needs to be beyond reproach. That’s especially important after the scandals we just recovered from. So imagine my chagrin when I saw those posts showing one of our star athletes in such comprising situations.”

Fuck.

“Sir, please accept our most sincere apologies. As captain of the Cove Knights, I guarantee you that we’ll tighten our ranks and?—”

The Dean shakes his head, an expression of sheer disgust on his face. “I’m afraid that’s too late. Have you seen the captions in those pictures?”

My eyes go back to the photo currently open on the tablet.

Huh.

Jamie Hart breaks hearts.

I slide onto the next one.

The Cove Knights’ left winger is a one and done kind of man.

And the next.

Jamie’s bedroom has a revolving door and every sorority girl, cheerleader and a substantial portion of the female population on campus has walked through it.

That’s unfair.

“Sir,” I dare, looking the Dean in the eye. “I’m not gonna lie. I love a party. And I enjoy female company. But breaking hearts? That’s impossible. I’m always upfront with any woman who wants to get close to me. Before any clothes come off. A good time with no strings attached. I’ve never lied or deceived anyone. You can ask any of the women in these photos.”

That was the wrong thing to say. I know by the way the Dean’s lips purse as if he had been sucking on a lemon.

“Are you sure, Hart?” There’s a distinctive threatening note in his tone. “What about this particular girl?”

He shoves his phone right in my face and I have to crane my head back to be able to look at the screen.

It’s another photo of me and a blonde girl that looks familiar. Her mascara is a little smudged around her eyes and she has one arm around my neck as she takes the selfie with her other hand.

The caption reads somewhere along the lines of #jamiehart, #hothookups, #bunnycorner, #blowjobs, #Idontswallow.

“That’s Marissa…” I begin.

“It’s Carissa.” The Dean corrects me.

“That’s right. Thank you, sir. How did you know?”

The Dean’s fist hits the mahogany top of his desk, causing me, Luke and the pens in a ceramic pot to jump with the violence of the strike.

“THAT’S MY DAUGHTER!” The Dean bellows.

Shit. Shit. Fuck.

“She’s a lovely girl, sir.” What else can I say?

The Dean’s eyes narrow, his voice a furious hiss. “Oh, is she? Is this why you defiled her?”

I rear back, as if I had been slapped. “Defiled? Absolutely not, sir. I would never. We didn’t fuck, we just?—”

“I would be careful, son. Very careful about the next words that come out of your mouth.” If his eyes were narrowed before, now they’re bulging as if his head was about to explode. That mustn’t be healthy. I’m willing to bet that his blood pressure right now is through the roof.

Thank fuck Coach Harrison intervenes. “Graham, I think we need to look at damage control at this point. I know you’re angry. Let’s just be constructive here.”

“Thank you, sir.” I say, but immediately pipe down when Coach levels me with a withering glare.

“I’m sure Jamie meant no harm. And he’s going to make this right.”

I nod along, eager to get the Dean to calm down. “Of course, I absolutely meant no harm. In fact, your daughter and I parted on very good terms. And I am going to make it right—wait a second. What do you mean by making it right? I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t marry your daughter.”

The Dean laughs.

But it’s not a happy laugh, it’s harsh, and a little unhinged. I’m officially worried that he might cut my balls off and use them as paper weights on his desk, or worse, as pucks on the ice.

“Marry my daughter? Are you fucking insane?”

My jaw hits the floor at the F-bombs the Dean just dropped. Administrators are no longer the dignified academics they used to be, I swear to God.

“My daughter,” the Dean explains, his tone haughty as he looks at me as if I was the scum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “Is engaged to be married to Harry McBride, the son and heir to the McBride’s fortune.”

The name rings a bell. Oh, the guy is a billionaire who made his fortune in the Silicon Valley when all the biggest tech giants of today were born. I think McBride Senior even owns a NHL team and a NFL team. He’s that rich. My family is upper one percent wealthy, but that kind of money makes us look like paupers.

“So if you don’t want me to marry your daughter,” I say, fighting to hide to a sense of relief that floods me at that thought. “How can I make this right?”

A look passes between the Dean and Coach Harrison. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure it’s going to hurt me one way or the other.

“Carissa is in love with her fiancé,” the Dean explains. “But she’s always had a wild streak. She takes that trait from my wife’s side of the family. She’s looking forward to marrying Harry after she graduates in two years. But it seems that in the meantime, she intends to have… fun .”

I’m confused. “Right, sir. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

The Dean smiles. “Oh, you don’t?” his tone has that false friendliness that usually precedes an outburst. I’ve seen Coach doing that. When he doesn’t yell, and seems to agree with us, he’s scarier than ever. That’s when he’s more likely to impart some crazy punishment, like bag skating, or suicide drills until we all puke.

This time I know better than to open my mouth and wait for the backlash that’s about to come.

“I found this on my daughter’s phone.” Dean Fletcher’s tone is accusatory. “Take a look, Mr. Hart.”

It’s some kind of score card with names on it. A Bunny Card, as it says on the top.

I see my name on it and the names of all my teammates.

“What is this?” I blink a couple of times, unsure what I’m looking at.

The Dean’s look turns feral. “That, Mr. Hart, is a card every so called Puck Bunny carries with her. They put a checkmark next to the name of every Cove Knight they ‘hook up with.’ Furthermore, you get a score. If you look at the top of the card, there are categories.”

My stomach plummets when I realize that the Dean is right. Carissa has checkmarks next to my name, Tucker, and Connor. The categories are interesting, too; muscles, dick size, personal hygiene, kissing, fucking, oral, and after.

I wonder what’s after. I gotta ask Candace next time I see her.

My name doesn’t have a score for fuck, which is fair because Carissa and I didn’t do that. I do pretty well in the other categories. Muscles nine, dick size nine, personal hygiene ten, kissing nine. Oral doesn’t have a score because she went down on me, but I used my fingers on her. After has a three. A three? I definitely need to ask Candace what’s the deal with that.

I skim quickly down the list at the guys Carissa hooked up with. Ha, I score way better than Tucker. He has a lousy score on kissing and a zero on after. Connor is on par with my scores.

“I’ll take that back.”

I hand the Bunny Card back to the Dean. “I’m sorry, sir. If I could have a do over, I would decline your daughter’s offer to follow me to the bathroom.” And I would try harder not to think about Luke’s sister while she’s giving me head. I know better than to say that last part out loud.

“Did you hear that?” The Dean’s tone is accusatory, his glare now turned to Coach. “We need to nip this stuff in the bud. If word about these Bunny Cards gets out, I fear it’ll go viral. It could reach Harry’s ear. And even worse, it could affect our ranking. I want to be the number one Ivy in the country. That’s my legacy. Our hockey team should be one of our greatest assets, but it risks becoming our biggest liability. I thought you ran a tight ship with your team. If the actions of your players were to make us lose the chance to get to the top spot, or even worse, fall further down our current second place, I’m gonna hold you personally responsible, Harrison.”

Oh, fuck. If Coach thinks his leadership is being questioned, we’re definitely going to be hit with some cruel and unusual punishment.

“I do run a tight ship. And this nonsense with the puck bunnies and the score cards ends right now.”

“Yes, sir,” Luke and I say in unison, straightening in our chairs.

Coach Harrison, however, must have heard the uncertainty in my voice. He walks from the spot where he was standing behind our chairs and leans forward to speak into my ear. “Do you have any objections, Hart?”

I should probably keep my thoughts to myself, but the words tumble out of my mouth before I can exercise my better judgment. “No objections, sir. But how are you going to stop everyone from hooking up?”

The smile on Coach’s face doesn’t promise anything good.

“Interesting you should ask that, Hart. Not everyone knows that before my NHL days, when I was in college, I majored in economics. And the solution to the bunny problem will be solved by applying one of the first principles they teach in Economy 101. The law of demand and offer.”

“Come again, sir?” I ask, confused.

The amused glint in Coach’s eyes is even scarier than his usual scowl. “It’s very simple when you think about it. A service is offered if there’s a demand. There are puck bunnies because you and your teammates are a bunch of unruly, promiscuous horn dogs. If you stop showing interest in the girls who hang around the team, they’ll hopefully move onto more edifying pursuits.”

This is crazy.

Coach played in the NHL for fifteen years, and before that, he played hockey right here in Star Cove. I’m sure there were puck bunnies even back in his day. Puck bunnies are a tradition, and I doubt that anyone could do anything about it.

“With all respect, sir,” Luke finally intervenes, voicing my same perplexity. “But how can you keep the entire team from hooking up? There are always girls gravitating around the team and you can’t police everyone twenty-four seven.”

The answer catches me by surprise.

“We’re going to lead by example.” Coach’s grin widens as he points his finger at Luke. “You are in a monogamous relationship and the team looks up to you. Do you know who else they look up to?”

Coach’s eyes land on me, and I squirm in my chair.

“You’re one of our star players, Hart. Your teammates look up to you and follow your example on and off the ice.”

They’re out of their minds.

“So you want me to turn down any woman who wants to hook up with me?”

Coach Harrison shakes his head. “That would be unrealistic and way too out of character. Besides, I doubt that you could stay entirely celibate, and I don’t want this new groove to mess with your performance on the ice.”

That’s it.

He’s definitely going to cut my balls off. Or beat any sexual urges out of me with triple, maybe quadruple, daily practices.

“We’re going to make monogamy look cool, Hart. We’re gonna get you a girlfriend.”

I’m sure I must have heard that wrong. “A girlfriend?” I repeat, shocked by the turn things are taking.

“A girlfriend.” Coach confirms. “And you’re going to take her to every party. She’s going to come to every home game and wear your jersey. You’re going to look blessedly, hopelessly in love, and convince your teammates that random hookups are out of fashion.”

Maybe Coach has taken too many hits to the head during his hockey career. Even though we wore helmets, concussions are a still big problem when you play a contact sport.

There’s a reason why I don’t do relationships. They take dedication and time I don’t have. I also never met a woman who can keep my attention for more than a night or two.

“Sir, even if I wanted to go with your unorthodox plan, I don’t know anyone who would want to date me under false pretenses. I mean no disrespect, but I refuse to lie to someone about my intentions. If I dated someone as some kind of photo op, they should be aware of what they’re getting themselves into.”

The Dean looks furious. “Are you seriously choosing this moment to grow a fucking conscience, Hart?”

I’ve never cared about what other people think about me. But the judgment I see on the Dean and Coach’s faces stings more than I care to admit.

“Like I said before,” I say, holding my head high. “You might disapprove of my actions, but it always takes two to tango. And every woman who’s spent time with me knew that it would be a one-time thing and that I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I’ve never lied to get what I wanted, and I’m not going to start now.”

There. If they want to kick me off the team or expel me, they’ll have to justify their actions to the rest of the school.

“Fine,” Coach doesn’t look half as perturbed as the Dean. “If you don’t want to lie, and you don’t know anyone who would believe you’ve suddenly fallen for them, we’ll assign you a girlfriend.”

Someone please pinch me.

Did I wake up in some kind of fucked up parallel universe?

“Assign me a girlfriend?” I stutter. “Who?”

Thankfully, the Dean is just as perplexed as I am.

“That isn’t a bad idea,” he says to Coach. “But Hart is right? Who would we choose? It would have to be someone pretty enough to be believable as the woman who reformed the biggest man-whore of this campus.”

I take offense to that. “Why, thank you, sir.” I sound as butt hurt as I feel.

“Maybe one of the Zeta Theta Beta girls.” Coach suggests. “They’re affiliated with the Gammas, and we could probably explain the situation.”

Luke chooses that moment to intervene. “Forgive me for the unsolicited advice, but that wouldn’t work. Most of the Zetas who are single party with us on a regular basis and I’m betting that the ones who would be suitable candidates for the role of Hart’s girlfriend have a Bunny Card. I know it sounds like a complete misogynistic double standard, but puck bunnies aren’t considered girlfriend material. Pairing Jamie with one of them wouldn’t change anything. The rest of the team would take it as a sign that nothing has really changed. Besides, with the familiarity between the Zetas and the team, I’m afraid that choosing a sister would put the entire operation at risk. This is going to work out only if no one outside this room, and aside from Jamie’s new girlfriend, knows that the relationship is fake.”

Coach considers our team captain’s words. “I hadn’t thought about that, Harper. You have a point. If we want this to be successful, we need to find someone that hasn’t slept with the entire team, or isn’t friends with all the players. But if we don’t choose a Zeta, are we going to look at another sorority? The cheerleaders?”

Luke shakes his head. “No, sir. We need to keep this plan close to our chests. We need to choose someone trustworthy, and I think I have just the right woman.”

That gets the interest of both men, and mine too.

“Who?” I ask.

Luke’s lips curl into a smile, and I guess what he’s thinking a second before he says it out loud.

“My twin sister Bex came to visit me this weekend. She goes to college in Bridgeport, but due to some personal circumstances, she’s taking a gap year. Bex would like to stay here in Star Cove for the foreseeable future, and I’m struggling with finding her a job and accommodation. I asked the Zeta president to help me with the job, and she’s looking into hiring Bex to work at the Zeta’s new Art Center. It would be perfect because art is Bex’s major, anyway. I’m going to ask her to help us with Jamie in return for you putting in a good word for her with the Greek Council, and for free accommodation on campus.”

This is shocking. I look at my team captain.

I assumed that Luke would never want to see his sister with someone like me. I mean, granted, this would be a fake relationship, but still.

The Dean and Coach agree pretty quickly with Luke’s terms.

“The only problem,” the Dean says. “Is that at this point of the year, campus is at capacity and it’s very slim pickings in town.”

I know what Luke is going to say before the words leave his mouth.

“I spoke to the Gamma president, sir. There’s a room for me in the fraternity house. I would be happy to move into the Gamma house and live with the majority of my teammates, and give Bex my current room.”

When Coach observes that Bex would be sharing with three of his players, Luke knows how to sell that part of the deal, too.

“A lot of dorms are coed on campus. And every room in the condo we share has its own private bathroom. So living with three men would be no big deal. Besides, Jamie is one of those three guys, and that would definitely help to give more credibility to the fake relationship.”

The Dean is happy with that solution and promises to help Bex’s cause with the Greek Council.

We’re dismissed with a warning. If we don’t clean up our image—especially mine—and lose the school its ranking, there’s going to be hell to pay.

Jamie

I don’t say anything until Luke and I are back out in the still deserted parking lot.

“When Coach made you captain, he said your determination is one of your strengths.” I say, before he can unlock his car. “I guess he was right. You got your way about having Bex staying at our place.”

If I expected an apology from Luke, I don’t get one.

“Bex is my twin sister,” he bites out. “She’s a part of me. I watched her last night, and I don’t think she’d like living in the Zeta house. Besides, that would have been another temporary situation where she would have had to lie low. Like this, we’re above board.”

I cross my arms over my chest, mildly annoyed with the situation. “Are you sure? What if the Dean changes his mind?”

Luke’s confidence doesn’t falter. “We have Coach’s word. You know he’s solid. Good or bad, he always keeps his promises.”

He’s right about that.

“What are you going to say to Connor and Keene? We had a vote, and you just ignored their wishes.”

There’s a tick in Luke’s jaw. “Connor said he was just worried about getting expelled if anyone found out, and that’s no longer a risk. Let me deal with Keene.”

“Good luck with that.” I snort. “He was clear about his feelings. And if you ask me, Keene is almost as scary as Coach.”

Luke has either the biggest pair of balls in this entire campus, or a death wish. “Don’t worry about Keene.”

He keeps his gaze on me, as if he was waiting for me to say something.

Having Bex in the house is exciting and troubling at the same time.

“This whole fake relationship thing you agreed to on my behalf,” I start. “Is that going to become a problem between the two of us, Luke?”

His eyes bore into me. “What do you mean? Why should that be a problem?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because Bex is your sister and I’m not sure you’ve thought this through before making a deal with the Dean and Coach. We’ll have to sell being together. Actually, it’s more than that. We’ll have to sell being madly in love with each other for our teammates and the entire school to take notice of it.”

He doesn’t get it. “So?” he shrugs.

“To be able to convince everyone, we might have to get close.”

My words don’t seem to be driving the point home.

“I still don’t see why you’re so worried about that ruining our friendship, Hart.”

I speak my mind. “Because it’s me we’re talking about. I sleep around. I’m the farthest thing from boyfriend material you’ve ever seen. Any of our teammates would buy their sisters a chastity belt if they knew they were going out with me.”

There’s a beat of silence before Luke shocks me for the second time today.

“Why? You haven’t been doing anything wrong. Like you said earlier, you’re upfront with your dates. All you promise them is a good time, and from what I’ve heard, you deliver that in spades. Do the same with Bex. Show her some fun if that’s what she wants. Fuck knows she needs it. And I’d rather have her spend time in your bed than with Kurt Priestly.”

That name makes my blood boil. Kurt Priestly is one of the players I hate the most. He’s a real asshole in the worst sense. He plays dirty, provoking his opponents with endless shit talk, but it doesn’t end there. He has no qualms about hitting someone hard enough to injure them, and he’s a cheap shot. He always hits you from behind and when the referees aren’t looking.

“Priestly? That’s the guy she left at the altar? The guy who hit her?”

“Yup.” Luke scowls. “It was some kind of fucked up arranged marriage. Priestly is our dad’s top client.”

That could be a problem. “So you think she should go from an arranged engagement to a fake relationship?” I gawk.

He explains. “This is different. You aren’t going to ask her to do anything she doesn’t want and you’ll keep her safe, like you’ve already proven. You’re not a monster like her ex. When we play Bridgeport next, he had better watch out or I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

I’ve never seen Luke so furious.

“Fuck. He must have done quite a number on her.”

Luke’s jaw ticks. “What do you mean?”

I tell him about the terrified, haunted look in Bex’s eyes. And the way she recoiled from my touch after Connor and I took care of those assholes who tried to grope her outside Joe’s bar the night she got here.

“It makes sense.” Luke sighs. “Priestly pretty much forced himself on her and then choked her and left her unconscious. That’s why she ran.”

I clench my fists, wishing that the bastard was here right now. “Motherfucker.” I growl. “Wait till I crash him against the fucking boards.”

Luke slaps my back. “See why I trust you with her?”

I take offense. “You think I’m better than Priestly? Gee, thanks.”

He grabs my shoulder, looking me in the eye. “Anyone, even the fucking Antichrist, would be better than that piece of shit. I think you could be good for Bex, Jamie. You’re fun, experienced, and I trust you with my life. I don’t expect you to change who you are, and Bex isn’t a pushover. If she doesn’t want something, she’ll let you know. She learned her lesson that night with her ex.”

His words appease me. “Ok. You know I would never mistreat a woman.”

“I know.” He nods. “Neither would Connor. Or Keene, despite how much he says he hates women. This is why I wanted her to stay with you guys in our condo. The only men she’s been close to in the past four years have been Priestly and our dad. Our father isn’t better than Kurt Priestly. He brainwashed her to cut contact with me so he could take advantage of her and turn her into a money maker on social media. The three of you are the kind of men she should want to be with. Living with you will be good for her.”

I get into my car and watch as Luke drives away. Conflicting emotions war in my chest at the thought of fake dating Bex.

I’m not a good liar and I don’t know if we’ll be able to make our relationship believable to the entire school. But I can’t deny that a part of me is excited about getting closer to her.

Fake or not, I’ll treat her right. Luke trusts me with her and I’m not going to let him down.