CHAPTER 27
ACE
THE APARTMENT DOOR closes behind me and I'm already pulling off my gym shoes, my muscles pleasantly sore from the workout, when my phone starts buzzing in my pocket.
I don't even need to look at the screen. I already know who it is. My mouth curves up involuntarily, and I pull out my phone to confirm what I already know.
"Hey," I answer, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile.
"According to the spreadsheet, you're free for the next five hours," Devon's voice comes from the other end.
I stifle a chuckle. "I am."
"That's good, because I have an emergency."
"What kind of emergency?" I ask, brows furrowed.
"A dickergency."
I choke on nothing. "A what?"
"A dickergency. As in, I need dick immediately." He says it like he's ordering coffee, and my cock immediately perks up with interest. "Specifically, your dick. There's no substitute. I checked."
Heat floods through me, settling low in my gut. "Is that so?"
"Yep. Very urgent situation. Medical emergency, really. Life or death."
"Sounds serious."
"Extremely serious. And I need home delivery, too."
I'm already moving toward my bedroom, phone pressed to my ear, my gym clothes suddenly too restrictive. "What about your roommate?"
"Gone for Christmas. Room's empty. So again, I ask: why are you still not moving?"
"I'm moving. I'm—" I'm yanking a clean shirt over my head, nearly dropping my phone in the process. "I'm already changing."
"Excellent. Current ETA?"
"Fifteen minutes."
"Make it ten."
"Devon—"
"Did I stutter? Tick tock, hockey boy."
The call ends and I'm left standing in my bedroom, half-dressed, cock already responding, and absolutely no blood left in my brain.
I'm not even finished changing when my phone buzzes again. I open the text and—
Jesus Christ.
It's Devon's cock, hard and flushed, his hand wrapped around the base, because that's who I'm dealing with.
Me: Jesus, I'm coming!
His reply is immediate.
Devon: Bet ??
I finish getting dressed in record time, grab my keys, my wallet, my phone, and I'm out the door.
***
THE DRIVE TO campus is a hazard. Not just because I'm hard and horny and cataloging all the things I want to do to Devon the second I get there, but also because it's snowing.
Hard. The kind of snow that makes driving actually dangerous, thick flakes coming down so fast the wipers can barely keep up.
I should probably slow down. Be responsible.
Instead, I'm going fifteen over the limit, white-knuckling the steering wheel, and praying to every deity I can think of that I don't crash into anything.
I make it to campus in twelve minutes and pull into the visitor parking lot, which is mostly empty because apparently everyone else has better survival instincts than me.
Devon's waiting at the entrance to his building, and even from here I can see him shivering, arms wrapped around himself, doing this little bounce thing like he's trying to generate heat through kinetic energy alone.
He's not wearing a coat. Just a hoodie. In a snowstorm.
I jog over, snow crunching under my feet, and fight the overwhelming urge to kiss him hello right here, in public, where anyone could see.
When did that become a thing? This urge to greet him with my mouth? Like it's hardwired into me now, automatic, as necessary as oxygen?
"You're late," he says, teeth chattering.
"I'm two minutes late."
"That's still late. I'm freezing my dick off."
"Then let's get inside before it falls off. I have plans for that dick."
He grins, turning toward the door. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."
We walk into the building and the warmth hits me immediately, the heating system working overtime. Devon leads the way down the hallway toward his room, and I follow, my eyes definitely not on his ass.
Except my eyes are absolutely on his ass.
But then, something else catches my attention.
Heads turning.
A girl walking past does a double-take, her eyes widening slightly, and she whispers something to her friend. They both look back at me, giggling.
Two guys at the end of the hall stop talking mid-conversation, staring.
Someone pulls out their phone as badly concealed whispers reach my ears.
"Is that—?"
"Oh my God, it is."
Devon notices too. His shoulders go rigid and he picks up the pace.
I match his speed, more uncomfortable with every person we pass, every stare, every whispered recognition.
Right. Because I'm sticking out like a sore thumb and, worst of all, as far as everyone else is concerned I have absolutely no reason to be here.
More people are emerging from their rooms now, drawn by the commotion, and suddenly there's a small crowd forming in our wake.
Devon glances back, then at me, eyes wide. "Uh..."
This is getting out of hand fast, and just as the first spark of panic rushes through my system, an idea crystallizes.
I stop walking. Devon stops too, looking at me like I've lost it.
"What are you doing?" he mouths.
I turn around to face the small crowd that's now gathered in the hallway. Maybe twenty people, mostly college-aged, some in pajamas, some clearly just woken up from naps. A few girls are giggling, whispering to each other. One guy is filming on his phone.
"Hey," I say, then clear my throat. "Hi. I'm Ace Jackson. I play for the Chicago Wolves."
More whispers. More phones materializing.
"I know this is weird," I continue, "me being here. But I want to tell you about something important."
Devon's staring at me like I haven't bounced back from my concussion yet. I totally have. I know what I'm doing.
God, I hope I know what I'm doing.
"There's an animal shelter on the south side," I say, addressing the crowd like I'm giving a press conference and not standing in a dorm hallway in my street clothes.
"They take in animals that other shelters won't. The old ones, the sick ones, the ones with behavioral issues.
They've been doing incredible work for years, but now they're in trouble. And they need your help."
A few people are nodding now, actually listening.
"So on December twenty-third, we're hosting a charity hockey game.
It's players from the Wolves and firefighters from Station 42.
And it's going to be epic. All proceeds go to the shelter.
Plus, there will be adoptable animals there, so if you've been thinking about getting a pet, this is your chance. "
"I volunteer for the cause," Devon chimes in, and I could kiss him right now. "I work at Frank's Bar downtown. We're hosting fundraisers there too, pretty much every night until Christmas. Come by, have a drink, meet some of the animals, and help us save this place."
"We'll post all the details online," I add, pulling out my phone. "What's the best way to reach you guys? Is there like a campus group chat or something?"
A girl in the front raises her hand like we're in class. "There's a Facebook group. And an Instagram. I can share it."
"Perfect. Send me the links." I rattle off my Instagram handle and immediately regret it because my DMs are about to explode, but whatever. It's for a good cause. "Share it with everyone. Tell your friends. Tell your foes. This shelter is special, and these animals deserve a fighting chance."
The crowd is definitely engaged now, some people already typing on their phones, probably posting in real-time.
Crisis averted. Panic transformed into purpose.
Devon's grinning at me, eyes bright, and I can tell he's impressed.
Good. I was going for impressed.
"Alright," I say, clapping my hands together. "That's all I got. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. And seriously, come to the game. You won't regret it."
The crowd starts dispersing, people chattering excitedly. Devon grabs my arm, tugging me down the hallway.