Two-Faced

by Melissa Pearl

  Connor faked and then threw the ball to his right. His teammate snatched it, aimed high and followed through. The ball swished through the net as the final buzzer sounded. The Bruins fans went ballistic, the sound deafening as they jumped and hugged and kissed. I grinned at Eric as he threw his arm around my shoulders, kissed my head and whooped loudly. I snuck a peek at the professor who was laughing and clapping. More out of curiosity than anything, I whipped his mask off, just to double-check that I had been wrong about him.

  My lips parted, an icy fear creeping through me.

  I hadn’t been wrong.

  He looked pissed, like livid.

  His dark eyebrows were bunched, his vibrant eyes seething.

  He was staring down at the Bruins’ coach, firing death rays at his head.

  “Are you an Oakland fan, sir?” I blurted, before rational thought could stop me.

  He whipped around to look at me, his dark gaze making me want to shrink. I shoved his mask back on and saw mild confusion. “No. Bruins all the way.” He smiled and I peeled a layer back. His eyes were narrowed as he gazed down at me.

  I swallowed back my fear and forced a grin, yelling, “Go Bruins!” and turning back to the court before I could read any more on his face.

  Yes, my eyesight was still firmly intact. Something was off about the professor. Something was off about the game I’d just witnessed and I needed to find out what it was.

  As we left the stadium, I tugged on Eric’s hand, pulling him away from the crowd and into the shadows. I had to tell him everything before I totally flaked and lost my courage. He wouldn’t want to hear it, but he had to know.

  “Eric...” I placed my hand on his shirt, enjoying the curve of his tight pecks beneath my fingers. How could a human being be so divine? “I—“

  He stopped me with his lips. Placing his hands on either side of my face, he tipped my head up so he could press his mouth firmly against mine. It wasn’t a rough, passionate kiss. It was slow and luxurious, the kind that made my muscles feel like melted chocolate. His warm tongue tasted divine as it danced with mine. I ran my hand up his back, gripping his shirt.

  “Woohoo! Go Bruins!” Some loud revelers walked past us, killing the moment and reminding us that we were incapable of passionate alone time.

  Eric rested his forehead against mine. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for coming tonight just to check. I’m sorry I made you do it. I know that must have hurt. I just can’t tell you how relieved I am that you were seeing things at that first game.”

  My mouth went dry, my heart tripping over itself as he said the words.

  How the hell was I supposed to tell him after that speech?

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he closed the distance once more, kissing me until my senses turned fuzzy. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t shatter the perfect moment with the truth. Yeah, I couldn’t hide it forever, but maybe if I had a little more to go on, it’d be an easier sell.

  Gliding my fingers down Eric’s strong frame, I decided that delaying my big news by a few days was not going to kill our relationship.

  12

  Eric

  Something was wrong with Caity. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on what it was, but I could tell something was off. It started on Friday night, after the game, when I thought our hot make-out session was going to turn into something more. We could have snuck away somewhere quiet and I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. Unfortunately, I sensed a resistance within her, so I’d pulled away before things went too far. She didn’t even seem disappointed and that was how I knew.

  To say the weekend was awkward would be an understatement. Our conversations were stunted, our laughter forced. In the end, I bailed on going to her family lunch and went surfing instead. This annoyed her, but I didn’t think I could put on a show for the Davis family. They were a force to be reckoned with en masse. As much as I loved them, they were pretty overpowering and I needed the escape of the water.

  It was disheartening to say the least. When Caity told me Connor looked normal on Friday, I was so relieved I could barely put it into words. Watching the game with Caity on one side of me and Prof H on the other had been brilliant. The best night I’d had in a long time, and yet later, I couldn’t sleep.

  Caity was hiding something from me. I could feel it.

  I wished I could just come out and ask her, but our relationship was already on shaky ground and I didn’t want to make it worse. My gut, which I wanted to ignore, was telling me that she’d seen something at that game on Friday. I had to wonder if she was lying to me about the Connor thing.

  The thought stung. Bad. She promised she’d never lie to me. I couldn’t handle being with a girl who didn’t tell me the truth, but I had to concede that I hadn’t exactly made it easy for her.

  Shoving my hands in my pockets, I walked toward the huge gymnasium where Connor practiced most days. I didn’t really want to go, but if I cared about my girlfriend then I owed it to her to check out a few things. I should have really been pulling Connor aside and asking him outright if he was using. I hated the idea, because I didn’t want to hear him admit that he was.

  Images of Harvey flashed through my mind.

  My shoulders shuddered as I imagined Connor meeting the same fate. I couldn’t let that happen.

  Flinging back the heavy door, I eased into the dark corridor and sauntered toward the court. I could hear the rhythmic bounce of balls straight away. I took the stairs two at a time and found a perch on the back bleachers. I didn’t want to be spotted in a hurry. I just wanted to sit back and watch for a while. Sit and think.

  How would I approach Connor about this? We hadn’t exactly spent much time together in the last few years. Sure, I saw him a little on my year of travel and we did one wicked weekend of hiking up in Mt. Olympus National Park, but we weren’t exactly email buddies or anything. Did I just come out and ask him? That could go so badly.

  I spotted his mop of reckless curls as he ran down the court, dribbling the ball with ease and going for a layup that he’d obviously done a million times before. He had always been a natural athlete. He’d be good at anything he touched, but basketball was his passion and it was obvious.

  Leaning forward, I rested my forearms on my knees and continued to watch him. He looked like he was having fun and that was what I didn’t understand. He loved this game, like seriously loved it, so why would he risk it by taking drugs?

  Scrubbing a hand down my face, I tried to ward off the sick feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. I wished Caity had never seen anything.

  I was tempted to leave, sneak back out of there before Connor spotted me, but I felt someone’s eyes on me. I turned to my right and caught the gaze of a gorgeous, blonde woman. She looked to be about my age. She was pencil-thin like Caity, straight as an arrow, but her face was different. Her eyes weren’t as bright as my girl’s and her cheekbones protruded high on her face, giving her a catwalk-model quality. She gave me a closed mouth smile, which accentuated the structure of her face even more.

  I smiled back at her and would have turned away if she hadn’t risen from her seat and approached me. She collected her bag, holding the large camera around her neck steady as she climbed up the bleachers toward me.

  “Hey.” She sat down with a grin.

  “Hi.” I nodded and subtly shuffled down the bench so her thigh wasn’t pressing against mine.

  “I’m Tiffany.” She held out her hand and I took it, giving it a light shake before dropping it.

  “Eric.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Her voice was high and sweet. She sounded younger than she probably was.

  “You a student here?” I couldn’t help asking.

  “Yeah. I’m a junior. You?”

  “Sophomore.”

  “Huh, you look older than that.”

  “I started a year late. Did some traveling first.”

  “Very cool.” She rested her pointy chin on her hand, her gold bracelet
sliding down her slender arm.

  “So, what are you doing at a Bruins’ practice?”

  “Oh, I work for the college newspaper.” She sat back and pulled the iPad Mini from her bag. “I thought I might try and score an interview or two after the practice. These guys have got another big game coming up on Thursday night. It’s their first away game and after their epic win on Friday, I can probably get some good quotes.”

  “Cool.” I nodded and turned back to the practice.

  “Are you going to the game?”

  “Ah, no. I’ll just be coming to the home games this season.”

  “Well, you must be a fan, if you’re checking out practice.”

  I grinned and pointed to the court. “One of the players is my stepbrother.”

  “The newbie? Connor Penway?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “He’s good.” She smiled. “A real asset to the team.”

  “Yeah, I’m proud of him. I plan to see him play as much as I can. I won’t go to their away games, but I’ll watch the live stream if I can.”

  “It’s nice that you want to support him.” Her expression was gentle, enhanced by a glimmer of admiration.

  “Thanks.”

  She studied me for a moment, and I felt like I was being assessed for some reason. Biting the inside of her cheek, she looked to her feet. I cleared my throat and was about to turn back to the practice when her head snapped up.

  “You know, um...” Her glossy lips pursed to the side then rose into a stunning smile. “If you’re a keen fan...and you have a vested interest in the games...”

  Her eyes grew wide and innocent as she looked at me, her eyebrows rising in question.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I mean, because of Connor, I guess I will be more invested in the season this year.”

  “Well, if that’s the case.” She grinned. “I run a quiet little...” Her nose wrinkled. “Well, I have a little underground operation going on.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I don’t know if you’re into gambling at all, but thanks to Connor, the Bruins stats are making them pretty safe bets. If you ever want to place a wager, I can probably earn you some sweet cash.” My eyebrows rose. She dipped her head, her face heating with color. “Sorry. If it’s not your thing, that’s totally fine. I just...I don’t know...like the look of you. I wanted to offer you an in, if you’re interested.”

  Well, she was charming. I’d give her that.

  “I’m good for now.” I smiled.

  “Okay, well, if you ever change your mind.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her bag, followed by a pen. Clicking it on, she scribbled down her number and tore off the corner. “Give me a call.”

  I cleared my throat, gingerly taking the paper between my thumb and forefinger.

  With a little snicker she turned back to the practice, lifting the camera around her neck and snapping a couple of shots. I shoved the note into my pocket and focused back on the players as Tiffany continued to zoom, click, and then tap up a few notes on her iPad.

  We spent the rest of the practice in silence, watching the players. She happily hummed as she worked while I sat in stewing silence.

  13

  Caitlyn

  I couldn’t stop nibbling my lip as I hurried toward the basketball stadium. I’d asked around and found out where and when the Bruins were practicing. By the time I got out of class, I only had fifteen minutes before practice ended and I had to haul ass to make it there on time. But as I approached, my quick steps faltered and I ended up shuffling toward the big, side doors.

  That morning, I had been fueled by pure determination. After a disastrous weekend of false laughter and stunted conversation with Eric, I had to get on with my investigation. We wouldn’t last long if we couldn’t talk, but I didn’t want to start up a conversation without more proof.

  Sucking in a breath, I held it as I pulled open the door and slipped into the dark corridor. I could hear the squeak of shoes on the shiny court, broken up by the sound of balls being dribbled from one end to the other. Peeking my head around the corner, I leaned my shoulder against the large entryway to watch.

  Connor faked left then drove through the middle, sweeping past the players for a nice layup. I wanted to clap. He was an impressive sight on the court. Instead, I crossed my arms and gripped my shirt. I didn’t want anyone to notice me; I just wanted to observe for a while.

  His teammates whacked him on the back as he ran back into position. They were obviously ending practice with a friendly game. All the players got set for the ball to come back into play and I stripped away masks as I scanned each face. They all looked normal. A couple of them looked a little tired, dark bags under their eyes, but there were no signs of paranoia, pouring sweat or skittish behavior. These guys all seemed to be functioning in a normal capacity.

  I frowned, pursing my lips to the side.

  After the next basket, scored against Connor’s team, Coach Bleekman blew his whistle. “Good work, men. Shower up. I want a quick debrief before you head off. I’ll meet you in the locker room in twenty.”

  The players all scuttled off the court as the coach turned to give instructions to a couple of eager freshmen. They began collecting up the loose basketballs while Coach Bleekman grabbed his clipboard and headed out the opposite door.

  The players sauntered past me, breathing heavily and wiping normal amounts of sweat off their foreheads with the back of their hands. A couple of them eyed me curiously, while others didn’t even notice I was there.

  “Hey, Connor.” I grinned as he walked past.

  His eyes lit with immediate recognition and he gave me a lazy smile. “Hey.”

  “How you feeling today?” I pushed off the wall and walked beside him as we headed for the lockers.

  “Yeah, much better.” He used the bottom of his shirt to wipe his mouth and I caught a flash of his muscular body. He might not be related to Eric by blood, but they had similar physiques. The only difference was Connor’s height and I guess he was a bit broader and bigger. I gazed up at him, feeling tiny.

  He grinned down at me and stopped short outside the locker rooms. “Sorry for being weird the other day.”

  “That’s okay.” I shrugged.

  “I took your advice, you know. I checked in with the doc on Thursday.”

  “Oh yeah?” My eyebrows rose. “What’d he say?”

  “He said there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me and it was probably exhaustion from the game.”

  I frowned.

  Seriously? That’s what the doctor said?

  “Did he take blood tests or anything?”

  “Yeah, the whole works. I had a full check-up.”

  I nodded, unsure of what to say.

  “He’s put me on a stack of vitamins. The guy’s a total health nut.” Connor chuckled.

  I opened my mouth to ask more, but was interrupted.

  “Penway! Hurry up, man!”

  “I better run.” Connor’s smile was adorable. He seemed like a really nice guy. I could understand why Eric liked him so much. “Maybe you and Eric can take me out sometime. Show me the town.” He wiggled his eyebrows, making me laugh.

  “Sounds good. I’ll talk to Eric about it.”

  “Catch you ‘round...Caity?” He winced as he questioned my name, making me snicker.

  “Caity.” I nodded and smiled as his cheeks heated with color before he turned and headed for the showers.

  I found it hard to believe that absolutely nothing showed up in Connor’s blood work. Who was the team doctor? Was he completely useless?

  I breathed out a slow sigh, pinching my lower lip as I tried to wrap my brain around it all. I had read that drugs stay in the system for a while. If Connor’s blood had been collected the day after that basketball game, surely there was stuff still floating in his bloodstream.

  Flashes of my conversation with Detective Sullivan came to mind.

  There were no illegal substances in his body, if that’s what you’re asking
.

  What were the drugs made from?

  Dropping my hand to my side, I glanced toward the locker room, desperately wanting the puzzle pieces to fall into place. But it would never be that easy.

  I turned toward the exit and noticed a blonde girl gliding out the door, thanking the person who held it open for her. For a second, I thought it looked like Eric. My brow furrowed as I headed down the hallway after them. I was about to run for the door and push it open to see if I was right, but I spotted something out of the corner of my eye that felt more important.

  Stopping short, I spun back and inched toward the open doorway I’d just passed. Peeking my head around the corner, I saw a slight guy with an angular face chatting to the coach. His baggy jeans only just hung off his hips; one small tug and they’d be around his ankles. His dark-green polo shirt was loose, which ironically accentuated the fact that he was a pretty skinny guy. He certainly didn’t look like a basketball player.

  That’s not what made me stop, though.

  So a guy who didn’t play basketball was talking to the coach. Big deal.

  What made me turn back was the look on the guy’s face. He appeared to be around my age, maybe a little older. He wasn’t that tall, and his scruffy hair and young face made me think he was a freshman, sophomore at the most. There was something familiar about him, but I was too distracted by his expression to figure it out. He was jittery, nervous. Not drug jittery, but guilty jittery. The tightness of his jaw, the way his smile was so strained as he bantered with the coach. There was an edge to him that just seemed off.

  I tried to tune in on the murmur of conversation, but it was a struggle.

  “... Time do you leave?”

  “Tomorrow morning,” Coach Bleekman said. “The bus leaves at seven-thirty.”

  The guy grimaced then mumbled something else.

  The coach chuckled. “No, we definitely don’t want a repeat.” He swore and ran a hand through his fine brown hair.

  The coach’s face was obscured by the student’s body, but when he stood up from his desk chair, I got a full view of his gruff expression and nearly choked on my own saliva. A cruel smile was curving his lips north as he eyed the boy in front of him. Pressing his knuckles into the desk, he leaned forward.