Secret Puck (Campus Nights Book 1)

by Rebecca Jenshak

  “Genevieve!” Maverick calls. He’s got a bottle in one hand and a controller in the other. “Come be on my team. They’re kicking my ass.”

  Rhett puts his controller down and runs a hand through his dirty blond hair. “You can take my place. I’m out, boys. I need to call Carrie.” He stands and heads to his room, leaving me with Heath and Maverick.

  “Need another?” Mav stands, sways, and then walks to the kitchen. He grabs a beer and holds it up.

  “No, thanks,” Heath says. He motions me over to him and holds his arms out.

  I go to him and climb into his lap. As he wraps his arms around me, I snuggle in close and breathe him in.

  “Hey,” I whisper into his jaw. He’s unshaven and I love the way his scruff feels against my smooth skin. “Feeling better?”

  “Mhmm.” He places a thumb under my chin and lifts my mouth to his and places a quick kiss on my lips. I melt into him. “I only had two beers and look at me, I’m a lightweight now. Sorry that we didn’t make it out. How was it?”

  “A total bust. You didn’t miss anything.”

  “You two wanna cuddle?” Maverick asks. “Make a little Mav sandwich?”

  “No chance,” Heath says and stands, holding me in his arms. He’s unsteady on his feet, but somehow he carries me without falling or dropping me.

  “Night, Mav,” I call over Heath’s shoulder.

  He kicks the door closed and deposits me on his bed and lies on top of me, burying his head in my neck. He kisses the spot. “You smell nice.”

  “You feel nice,” I say, lifting my hips into the hard bulge in his pants.

  I slip my hands under his T-shirt and up over his pecs. He leans up enough for me to pull the material all the way over his head. I love Heath’s body. Every muscle and every ridge. The light smattering of hair covering his chest and the defined abs and V that disappears into his jeans.

  A shiver of pleasure shoots through me as he kisses my neck and collarbone, first on one side and then the other.

  I unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down. As my palm meets skin, I chuckle.

  “Had to freeball it,” he says and leans up to give me a sheepish grin. “Haven’t done laundry since I got back.”

  I free his cock from his pants. “Convenient.”

  He hisses and then moans as I slide my hand down his length. “I may never wear boxers again. Fuck. I missed you.”

  My insides are total mush when he voices his feelings. Even if I am touching his dick while he’s saying it.

  “It’s only been a few days.”

  “And your point is?” he asks, eyes closed and hips bucking into my palm.

  I pause and his eyes open and lock onto mine. It’s an opening to tell him how I feel, but instead of taking it, I slide down the bed and wrap my lips around the head of his cock.

  Afterward, we’re lying on the bed curled up together. Heath’s eyelids keep shutting even as he tells me he’s not tired.

  “Let me get you some water and Tylenol.” I start to stand, but he captures my hand and tugs me back down.

  “No. I don’t need you to do that. People are always trying to take care of me. I just want you to lay here with me.”

  “You are very stubborn.”

  His mouth pulls up into a smile, eyes still closed.

  “You know, it’s okay to let people do nice things for you. It doesn’t mean you’re incapable. That’s how relationships work.” I bite at the corner of my lip. “Speaking of, I’ve been trying to talk to you since we got back from break, but with everything that’s happened, we haven’t had a chance. Maybe tomorrow we can hang out, just the two of us?”

  His lids flutter open and those dark blue eyes focus on me. “It’s okay, Ginny, I already know. I overheard you talking to Adam.”

  “You know what?”

  “At your parents’ house. I was in your room that morning before we left, and I overheard you tell Adam that you… how you feel about me.”

  “Oh.” Crap. Embarrassed, stilted laughter slips out and I sit up. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

  “I didn’t know what to say.” His lips turn down at the corners and then his tongue darts out to wet them. “Ginny… I like you a lot.”

  All the blood drains from my face. The way he says it and his expression—it’s excruciating. Like. He didn’t tell me because he doesn’t feel the same.

  I’m absolutely horrified, and fleeing is the first thing that comes to mind. Get out of here before I start crying.

  “I forgot how honest you are when you’ve been drinking.” I try to laugh it off, but tears sting my eyes. I stand and look for my clothes. “I’m going. Let’s talk tomorrow when you’re sober.”

  “Please don’t go. This is why I didn’t bring it up before. I didn’t want you to say it and be hurt if I didn’t say it back. What we have is great and it’s just a bullshit word.” He runs a hand through his hair, making the dark strands stand up, then the other hand joins it. I love his hair. It’s always such a beautiful mess. Even now when he’s breaking my heart.

  “Love is a bullshit word?” I shake my head in disbelief. “This is why I told Adam and not you. I thought it might be too soon and I didn’t want to pressure you or make things weird. I had no intention of telling you that I love you.” I swallow. I can’t describe how much I hate that the first time I utter those three words to him, it’s like this. I feel completely shattered that I’ve been his unknowing pity case while he’s been secretly trying to figure out how to let me down easy.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. It isn’t that you…” He pauses. “Wait, you weren’t? But you said that you wanted to talk. I just assumed that’s what it was about. I’ve been worrying about it all week.”

  “Oh my god.” I glance to the ceiling and try to calm the anger rising. When I look back to him, I can no longer keep my eyes from welling. Hot, angry tears.

  “Fuck, that came out wrong,” he says.

  “I was going to ask you to be my boyfriend, you big jerk.”

  His brows draw together. “Oh.”

  “But it’s really nice to know you’ve been stressing about me using the L-word, heaven forbid. What an awful thing for you to cope with.”

  Anger. Yes, I need more anger to keep from feeling the sadness.

  He gets to his feet. His jeans are on but unbuttoned and they slide down on his hips as he starts toward me. “Fuck, Ginny. I thought I already was your boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ve never talked about it. Hence, the talk.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? Not loving me or thinking the whole concept of it is ludicrous?” My voice cracks.

  He groans and he runs those big hands through his hair again while he struggles to find the right words. But it’s too late. What could he possibly say now? Any illusion I had that he might feel the same way, today or someday in the future, is now gone. Dating a guy who isn’t ready for a serious commitment is one thing, but once you tell them you love them (even by accident), there’s no going back and pretending it’s just a casual fling.

  “This isn’t going to work.”

  “Don’t say that. Forget everything I said in the past five minutes. Start over. Ask me to be your boyfriend.” He closes the distance between us and frames my face with his hands. “Ask me, Genevieve,” he pleads.

  He makes a strangled sound deep in his throat as I pull away and finish getting dressed, tossing the T-shirt of his I was wearing on the bed, yanking on my own clothes, and slipping into my shoes. I think he might say something else to try to stop me, but he doesn’t. He just watches me prepare to leave, looking helpless. Before I go, I have to say it at least once—out loud and to him, if only for myself.

  “I love you, Heath.” He flinches. “I’m sorry if that’s too much for you to deal with, but I do, and I don’t want to just forget it.”

  36

  Heath

  “I haven’t been this hungover in years.” Ma
v drops on the couch and chugs half the Gatorade bottle in his hand with one long drink. “Getting drunk after being sick and hardly eating all week, I’ve basically got the tolerance of a high school chick.”

  I’m silent and he nudges my foot on the coffee table. “What’s up with you? You’ve been quiet all morning.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Girl fine or really fine?”

  “I said I was fine.”

  His brows lift and he smiles, but he drops it. He finishes off his drink and stands. “Ready to go to campus? I’m starving.”

  “Let’s go out for breakfast today instead of the dining hall.”

  “Yeah, that sounds rad. I want pancakes. Text Ginny and we can swing by and pick her up.”

  “She doesn’t want to come.”

  “What? Of course she does. I’ll text her.”

  “No, don’t. We’re not… she’s…” Jesus, I can’t even finish a sentence that puts an end to whatever we were.

  Maverick stops and the hand holding his phone falls to his side. “What the fuck did you do, Payne?”

  I’d like to resent his automatic assumption that I’m at fault, but of course I am. I let out a giant sigh. “I’ll tell you over pancakes.”

  He doesn’t press me to talk until we’ve both got a heaping stack of pancakes on our plates. Only then does he ask what happened. I fill him in on last night, unable to eat more than a bite or two.

  “That’s cold.”

  “What was I supposed to say?”

  “I’m not sure.” He shrugs and takes a large bite of his food. He looks thoughtful as he chews and then swallows. “You really think love is bullshit?”

  “Don’t you?” If anyone would understand, I figured it’d be Maverick. His childhood was as fucked up as mine, just in a totally different way.

  “No, man. Love is beautiful.”

  “How the fuck would you know?” Damn, I need a muzzle lately. “Sorry, that came out wrong, but you know what I mean. Who’s ever said it to you and not screwed you over?”

  “Well, you’ve never said it, but you love me and you’ve never screwed me over.”

  “That’s not the same.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Not unless you’re over there thinking about me naked.”

  His lips part and pull into a smile. “Relax, you’re not nearly kinky enough for me.”

  “But seriously, man. You think there’s someone out there that’s capable of speaking the words to you and really meaning it? No strings, no ulterior motives, two people who care deeply and want to support one another?”

  “Isn’t that basically what you and Ginny had before you blew it up?” He sets an elbow on the table and waves his fork around. “I’m not much for trying to live up to other people’s expectations. I know what it means to me and yeah.” He shrugs. “At least I hope so. Otherwise, it’s going to be me and you heading to the Early Bird special together. The only question you need to ask yourself is, do you believe Ginny means it?”

  “Yeah, I think she does. She’s never given me any reason to doubt her.” I toss my napkin on the table. “I’m not hungry.”

  He takes my plate and I watch as he inhales my food and then sits back with a contented sigh.

  “I don’t know what to do. I want to be with her, but I can’t tell her I… you know, when the words make me want to throw myself off a cliff.”

  “But you do?”

  “If I didn’t hate the word and everything in my past associated with it? Yeah, that’s probably how I’d define it.”

  “Big gesture. Huge. I’m talking Kanye-antics.”

  “I think I’ll just try to talk to her first.”

  “Talking got you into this mess,” he points out.

  When we get to campus, Maverick starts toward class. I’m going by the dorm first to see if I can find Ginny. Something tells me she didn’t show up at the dining hall this morning either.

  “Good luck, buddy. Try not to use the word like.”

  I flip him off. He turns and I call after him. “Hey, Mav.”

  My buddy glances over his shoulder.

  “You can always count me in for the Early Bird special. No matter what.”

  I move at a clip across campus and jog up the stairs to the second floor.

  I knock on the door and wait. No answer. Knock again.

  “Ginny? Are you there? It’s Heath. Open up if you’re there. Please.” It’s quiet on the other side and I rest my head against the door. “I’m so sorry.”

  A few people pass by in the hall and give me weird looks, and the door continues to mock me by staying shut. I blow out a breath, the magnitude of how badly I screwed this up makes my whole body ache something fierce.

  I’m caught off guard when the door finally opens, and I stumble forward. My heart soars and then plummets when it’s Ava’s face that appears and not Ginny’s.

  “She’s not here,” Ginny’s shy roommate says, her cheeks turning pink.

  “Right, okay, could you give her a message?”

  She nods, prompting me. Shit, what’s the message? I’m sorry that I’m a giant prick doesn’t really tell her anything she didn’t already know, even if it’s accurate.

  “Just ask her to call me.” I step back and then add, “Please?”

  37

  Ginny

  “Thank you for doing this one with me,” I say to Dakota as the group of local elementary students line up for a tour of the Hall of Fame. It’s my first day back working after being locked in the hype room. I’m already a mess from last night and the idea of being in there by myself again is scary.

  “Of course. These guys might look little but trust me, it’s going to take two of us plus their teacher to keep them in line.” She gives me a reassuring smile and steps forward and introduces herself.

  I fall back and let her do the majority of the talking. I’m not feeling particularly chatty, but I answer questions and help keep the kids from wandering off. It’s a totally different experience than the recruits get, less focused and more about letting the kids walk around awestruck by catching glimpses of college athletes working out or walking around campus. They look up to them like celebrities and it’s pretty heartwarming. But since it’s less intense than our recruit tours, I’m able to fade into the background, and today I’m extremely thankful for that.

  When we walk into the hype room, Dakota goes first, the kids follow, and I bring up the end of the line. She glances to me as I enter. I nod to let her know I’m okay. Maybe the anxiousness I thought I’d feel coming in here again is dulled by the deep aching pain I’ve had since I walked out of Heath’s apartment last night, but I’m able to stand and watch the video without panicking. It’s a generic video, encompassing all sports, but since hockey is such a big deal at Valley, there are still lots of times that Heath’s face splashes on the screen. Each and every time it feels like someone’s pouring alcohol into an open wound.

  I’m sad and mad, flipping between the two so frequently even I don’t know which one is the prominent emotion. Does he really think we can keep dating like nothing happened? Even if I could get over the idea that he doesn’t feel the same, and likely never will, I’d be a wreck waiting for the day he freaked out again or decided to move on. There’s really only two ways a relationship can go, and he took one of those options away. When you know how something is going to end, it’s harder to enjoy the moment.

  As the video stops on the final frame, a drone shot overhead of campus, the kids’ faces are lit up with joy and wonder. I step to the door so I can be the first out.

  Dakota and I take them to the football field and let them loose to run around in the big, open space.

  “How was it?” she asks as we stand on the fifty-yard line.

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel the same about that room, but it was okay.”

  “Listen, I’ve got it from here. Take off, go see Heath, or go lay in bed and cry… whatever you need to do.”

&n
bsp; “You’re sure?”

  “Definitely. Five more minutes of them sprinting up and down the field and I can hand them back to their teacher.”

  I hug her. “Thank you.”

  I take off for my dorm with the intent of trying to nap. Needless to say, I spent last night tossing and turning, so I’m not only emotionally exhausted, but physically too. However, as soon as I fall into my bed and pull up the covers, I get a 911 text from Reagan.

  I get back up and trudge across campus. I find her in the back of the theater in their dressing room. Her hair is in curlers and she’s wearing her green silky robe.

  “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “Ms. Morris fell and broke her wrist. She’s out and now I don’t have anyone to do my makeup. Can you help? We have our dress rehearsal in thirty minutes.”

  I’d gotten the first part from her text message and had come prepared to do her makeup, but dress rehearsal? The look on her face is pleading, though, so I suck it up. “I’ve never done stage makeup like that, but I can try.”

  “Thank you!”

  The dressing room in the theater is a large open room with a long counter that extends on two walls with lighted mirrors. Stools are around the room in disarray. Some tucked under the counter, others have clothes and makeup bags on them, and the rest are occupied by girls as they get ready.

  Reagan sits; her cosmetics litter the space in front of her. “So, what happened with Heath? Dakota heard from Rhett that Heath was not looking great at their morning skate.”

  I set down my backpack and add my makeup to the counter. “It was a very long night after you left.”

  I fill her in while I add primer to her face.

  “All of this happened last night? And you haven’t heard from him since?”

  “Ava said he came by the dorm looking for me.”

  She smiles and tries to shoo me off. “Go. I can do my own face.”