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Taylor

My best friend is the luckiest bitch alive. Bex Bryant, my teammate and roommate since freshman year, walks alongside me through campus, rehashing her dinner date last night with Preston Parker. He’s among the hottest players on campus and the men’s ice hockey team captain.

I’ve forced her to tell me the story at least ten times since she came home last night.

It still doesn’t seem real. Well, it wasn’t a date, per se.

Her dad was at the pizza shop with them.

So were a few of Preston’s teammates—Drake included.

Ugh, I still can’t stand the thought of that dickwad and how he spoke to me in the cafeteria.

Drake had some nerve dissing Jackie after sending those pictures to her.

In his defense, she was begging him for them.

I can see why. Drake’s dick should have its own postal code or a P.O.

Box to send some fan mail. Jeez, it really is impressive.

Still, what kind of douche makes a habit of sending dirty pics to every girl on campus who wants them?

Even though he’s hot as puck, he’s fucking nasty.

Like Drake, Preston is a mega-talented hockey player and the son of a famous hockey player. Both Preston and Drake are the guys every girl on campus drools over. The only difference is Drake is a major asshole, and Preston at least seems decent. And Bex has a shot with him.

“I still can’t believe you had dinner with Preston Parker.” My voice reaches a higher octave, my excitement getting the best of me, accidentally catching the attention of the people passing us. “My ovaries would have exploded sitting next to him.”

“Would you keep it down?” She lowers her voice, power walking past the crowd on the sidewalk with us. “I don’t think everyone heard you across campus, big mouth.”

Bex has strict rules about dating her dad’s players.

Fixing the gym bag strap over my shoulder, I sidestep a few people and catch up to Bex, matching her pace.

“Shit. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” I say to calm her down.

“But this is a big deal for you. After obsessing over his mom for like… ever. How are you not as excited as I am about this? He talked to you. Preston sat next to you.” I fan myself with my hand, still in awe that Bex has a date with Preston lined up for this weekend.

“I would die if he even breathed in the same airspace.”

Okay, maybe that’s dramatic, even for me.

But what excites both of us is the meeting she’ll get with his mom.

Holy shit! Known by everyone in the sports world, Charlotte ‘Coach’ Coachman—now Parker—is the top sports agent in the country.

She was the first woman to land deals for clients.

Dante West, the best basketball player who ever played the game, was one of Coach’s clients before retiring.

Bex and I are major fans of his, and over the years, we’d gossip about how cool it is to see a woman standing alongside a player like Dante as he held up the Larry O’Brien Championship Trophy, not once, but seven times during his NBA career.

I started playing basketball when I was five years old, like Bex.

We instantly bonded over our favorite sport during our first year at Strickland University, and now we’re in our last season together.

The chance to meet Coach is huge for Bex, considering she wants to become a sports agent after graduation.

“He’s just a hockey player,” Bex deadpans. “Stop acting like a girl.”

“Must I remind you I am a girl?” I counter with a hint of laughter in my tone. “And he’s the hottest guy on campus. Preston is taking you to meet his mom. Hello, that’s major. Wake up, Bex. You have a date with Preston Parker this weekend. I’m so jealous, I almost hate you.”

I hate to admit aloud that I’m jealous of Bex. She gets to meet Coach. That’s huge. I would kill to be in her shoes right now.

She nudges me in the arm with her elbow and laughs. “You’re not allowed to hate me over boys. It’s in the roommate agreement.”

Dodging her second attempt to elbow me, I snort. “Roommate agreement?”

“Yeah, it’s like unspoken rules we both have to follow. No fighting over boys is one of them.”

“But he’s Preston Parker,” I point out.

“Will you stop saying his name like he’s a big deal?”

I narrow my eyes at her. She’s lost her damn mind. “He is a big deal, silly. Did you fall and bump your head? Just because you have more of a crush on his mom than him doesn’t make him any less yummy. Hey, if you don’t want him, I’ll happily be your substitute.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Does all your fangirling have a point?”

“You have a shot with Preston. Take it, girl. This is your one chance. Girls like us don’t get opportunities to date guys like him. They usually go for cheerleaders or sorority girls.”

“My dad has rules about his team,” she hedges. “You know them well.”

“How can I forget? No talking to his players. No hanging out with his players. No dating his players.”

“Technically, I already broke one of them when I talked to Preston in the locker room.”

Yesterday, before she ran into Preston and his teammates at Gio’s Pizza, she ran head-first into Preston’s chest in the men’s locker room. I couldn’t believe she committed to walking to her dad’s office once she saw the players were still getting dressed in the locker room.

I would have died.

“Your dad broke his rules by introducing you to his players.”

She gives me a look that says she knows I have a point. Because of her past, hockey players are off-limits to Bex.

“It’s not just his rules,” Bex admits. “After what happened with Kellan, I have no interest in dating, let alone his players. I still don’t. Kellan left a lasting effect on my life, one I never want to repeat.”

In high school, Bex dated Kellan Lehane, her father’s star player, who attempted to ruin her life by posting naked pictures of her online. To this day, she still hasn’t been able to get all of them taken down. She’s constantly humiliated by what happened, even though it’s not her fault.

Her dad is overprotective because of Kellan, and since he plays hockey for Boston College, her dad still faces him on the ice every year. The reminder of Kellan never fades for Bex and her dad.

I frown at the thought of Kellan. “It’s been four years.”

“I can’t undo my mistakes.” She sniffs as if fighting back tears.

I get the urge to hug her, though I know Bex would push me away. My best friend has a rough exterior. She acts as though she needs no one. Sometimes, she confesses that Kellan still has a hold on her. For as long as I’ve known Bex, the memories of her past have messed with her head.

He controls her life when he’s no longer in it.

But the scars are still there. That’s why I worry about her hanging out with Preston Parker.

However, I am excited at the promise of Bex moving on with someone new.

It’s about time she dates. She’s allowed Kellan to keep her from living her life for too long.

I cup her shoulder. “I’m sorry, babe.”

She sighs. “Kellan was?—”

“An ass,” I finish for her.

Once we reach the parking garage, Bex removes a set of keys from her bag and clicks the remote to open her dad’s car.

She retrieves a men’s leather wallet from the cup holder. “I have to run this over to my dad. It won’t take long. Do you want to tag along? We can grab something to eat from the cafeteria afterward.”

My nose wrinkles in disgust. I hate eating in the cafeteria. They serve only junk and fried crap that ruins my mojo for basketball. And the last time I let someone talk me into going to the cafeteria, Drake knocked me on the floor and then acted like a pig.

“No, to cafeteria food. A definite hell yeah to sneaking a peek at the men’s ice hockey practice.”

“Awesome.” She shuts the door with a smile and locks the car. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to face the guys alone, especially not Preston.”

“Are you kidding me? As if you even had to ask.”

Because Drake will be there.

She chuckles. “Don’t act like this around the guys. Their egos are big enough.”

“Gotcha. Don’t feed the players,” I quip. “Duly noted.”

She shakes her head, entertained by my usual goofy comments. Someone has to lighten up the mood. Bex can be such a downer sometimes.

We reach the ice rink on the other side of campus five minutes later.

Before we enter, I fix the dark strands falling in my face with my fingers.

I look like a mess, my forehead coated in sweat and my hair a little frizzy from the unusual heat.

I’m from Southern California and used to warmer weather, but not the humidity. Why is it so hot this late in the year?

I remove my pink gloss from the inner pocket of my bag and apply a thin layer to my lips, smacking them together loudly as I look over at Bex. She’s a real tomboy. Anything to do with makeup or hair scares the crap out of her. It’s as if she’s allergic to anything girly.

I turn to face Bex, greeted by a strange stare as she takes in my features. “How do I look?”

“Fine.” Her tone is devoid of emotion. “Stop worrying about your appearance. A guy should like you even on your worst day. Otherwise, he’s not worth your time.”

“I wish I could be more like you, Bex. You never care what anyone thinks of you.”

She shrugs. “It’s simple. People will either like you the way you are or hate you for it. You know what my dad says about opinions and assholes.”

Realizing she’s right, I laugh and open the door where hot hockey players practice on the other side. “I’ll try to find my inner Bex.”

Be like Bex, I chant a few times under my breath, mimicking the Be Like Mike slogan from Michael Jordan’s Gatorade commercial from the 90s.

“You’re the only girl I know who would show her face around a bunch of popular guys with a bloody lip and no makeup.”