3. Nash
CHAPTER 3
NASH
“You know, from the way some of y'all were skating out there, you’d think you may have stayed up a little too late last night,” Coach Hardin says as we all stand or sit in the locker room after a particularly grueling practice.
Lucky for me, I cut myself off after one beer early on in the night.
Unlucky for so many other of my teammates, especially the rookies, who drank so much that some of them seemed drunk on the ice, practice nearly killed them. Not that I was going to call them out, but I didn't pull any punches when we were practicing. They had to learn somehow.
“I think all of you can give me the best coach of the year award now,” he continues, sliding his hands into the pockets of his tracksuit. “Seeing as how I took it easy on you guys today.”
There are a few looks of shock, followed by several outright groans.
I chuckle, shaking my head at Pax who sits next to me on one of the benches.
“Anyone have any questions before I release you to sleep it off?”
“Yeah, Coach, I have a question,” Lawson says with a shit-eating grin on his face as he looks from me to Coach and back again.
This motherfucker.
“Are we going to talk about that video that's gone viral?”
All eyes turn to me, including Coach’s, whose brows raise as he barely holds back a laugh.
“Thanks for pointing that out, Wolfe,” Coach says, nodding toward me. “Let's all give Nash a big round of applause for finally being the centerpiece in what made our little ticky tocky page go viral. I've also heard from the rumor mill that there are already partnership opportunities on the horn. Stay tuned for that news later. I always knew you were strong, Stokehill, but the way you threw our social marketing rep over your shoulder...” He shrugs, then pins me with a serious look. “As long as it was consensual .”
“It was,” I assure him, cringing as I mouth I'm going to fucking kill you at Wolfe. “Consensual is the only way I do things.”
Coach claps his hands together. “That's what I like to hear. You're all dismissed.”
“Had to be done,” Wolfe says to me, and I flip him off.
“You're just jealous that the first viral video the team had wasn't about you, Wolfe,” I say as we head to the showers.
“Does that make a difference?” he asks, and we both laugh as we go our separate ways.
I step under a lukewarm stream, sighing as it takes the sting out of the heat clinging to my skin.
I can't help but think about Reese, not only because Wolfe brought up the video I saw this morning, but because of how we left things. I’m seriously hoping she feels okay today, but a slight hangover is inevitable. I just hope she isn't sick.
And yeah, I may have watched the video a few times, my smile growing bigger each time.
And no, it's not because of what Lawson thinks, that I love watching myself, but it’s the edit she made.
She made me look like a hero when I was just helping a friend out.
I can’t help but wonder if that's how Reese sees me or if that's just how she wants the world to see me, but either way I’m intrigued as hell.
Not to mention her kiss haunted my dreams in the best way last night. Really digging under my skin in a way that even a cold-ass shower hadn't helped. There’s something about the way she kissed me, all passion and bite and heat and snark.
The way her curves felt underneath my fingers for those few blissful seconds that she let me touch her. And there was something about the softer way she spoke to me the more the night went on.
I liked both sides of her, and I wondered what other sides she had tucked away waiting to be uncovered.
I turn off the shower and get dry, throwing on a pair of sweats and a long sleeve shirt, leaving my hair wet as I grab my gear bag and head out of the locker room.
Reese fills my vision the second I step into the hallway, looking cute as hell pacing with a concentrated look on her face.
“I was just thinking about you,” I say.
“You were?” She closes her eyes then shakes her head. “Never mind. Can we talk?” Her eyes flit to the stream of players coming out of the locker room behind me, then back to me.
Shit, she looks anxious as hell.
“Sure,” I say, nodding across the hall where the weight room is.
There’s no one on the Badgers team who's interested in extending today's workout, except of course for our captain Clay Kiplin because the guy is a fucking machine and loves punishment. I mean damn , even Baylor is taking the rest of the day off, and he practically lives in the gym.
Reese eyes Clay where he sits on the weight bench, doing some sitting curls with a pair of headphones on.
“Don't worry about him,” I say, drawing her attention. “He's probably blaring Taylor Swift or something, he won't be able to hear us.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, keeping her voice lowered.
“Yeah. Watch.” I look over to Clay who’s across the room, focusing on his reps.
“Kiplin, I heard you spend every Friday night knitting with a bunch of senior citizens in a sewing group. How’s that going?”
Kiplin's perma-scowl is still etched on his face, his eyes focused as he doesn’t miss a beat of his workout.
Reese laughs, and I turn to her with a prideful smile on my face, the sound of her laughter making my chest swell.
“Okay then,” she says the laughter melting right off of her face. “I wanted to apologize to you.”
I set down my gear bag. “For what?”
Her gaze widens. “Ohmigosh, have you not seen the video?”
“Of course, I've seen the video,” I say. “What does that have to do with you apologizing?”
She opens and closes her mouth a few times before she finally gets any words out. I have to say it's cute as hell.
“I did an edit of you from last night,” she says. “I put you in a spotlight unintentionally—one where the entire world seems to think that I'm your girl.”
I shrug. “I called you my girl. It's not like they jumped to that assumption under false pretenses.”
“You’re so chill about this,” she says. “I had no idea. I thought you’d be super upset. All those comments about the bad boy bachelor Nash Stokehill finally meeting his match.” She uses air quotes around her last sentence.
“Coach says the video is a good thing,” I counter. “Says we're already getting interest for endorsement deals.”
Light flashes behind her eyes, and just that bit of pride and happiness has my own smile widening.
“It is, you’re right. It’s a really good thing for the exposure and for the Badgers in general. I just wanted to apologize on a personal level because I wasn't trying to ruin your bachelor reputation.”
“I give zero fucks about my reputation,” I say. “I thought you knew that by now.”
“Well, that's a relief,” she says, but then she groans, rubbing her palms over her face.
“Are you not feeling well this morning?” I ask, true concern tugging at me.
“No, I'm fine. Well, I mean, I hate alcohol. I'm swearing it off. But that's not why I'm frustrated.”
“What's going on?”
“I just feel... guilty.”
“Why would you feel guilty? You haven't done anything wrong.”
“No, I have. The Badgers are finally getting the recognition they deserve and it's because of a lie. Notorious bad boy bachelor finds a girlfriend. It's a great headline. Certainly news for the thirsty, but it's not true. All those followers we gained won't stay unless they're given the same kind of content.”
“Ah,” I say, nodding. I see. “So give it to them.”
“What?”
“Give it to them,” I say again.
“I suppose I could ask some of the players who are in relationships if they wouldn't mind if I got some behind-the-scenes interviews with them?—”
I step a little closer to her, drawing her out of the thought she's in. “You could do that,” I say. “Or you could just give them what they want. Which is us , right?”
If there is any way I can help her, I sure as hell want to.
“What are you saying?”
“I'm saying use it,” I continue. “Use me.”
“You're not making any sense.”
“Sure, I am.” I smirk down at her. “I'm saying exactly what you would say if you weren't too much of a baby to ask me yourself.”
She gapes up at me, fire churning in those beautiful eyes of hers. “I’m not a baby.”
I give her a look that suggests otherwise. “Then ask me.”
She huffs out a laugh, folding her arms over her chest.
“You're saying you'd willingly play this role?” she asks. “Pretend to be my boyfriend for videos, go to events with me, parties, that sort of thing?”
“Yeah, why not? If it gets us more deals and exposure, it can't hurt anything.”
And I for one would take any endorsement deals I could get. I had a nice contract, but I have family responsibilities, one being my dad is currently on his second round of chemo. Big contracts are all well and good until medical bills are threatening to kick my parents out of their home. I made sure that wouldn't happen, but every extra dollar I can earn is a bonus.
“It could hurt,” she counters. “If someone figures out we’re lying.”
“Look, Reese,” I say, wanting to ease her worries. “Like I said last night, you and I run in the same circles. We're even inching closer to being friends. We're at the same parties and events anyway. Besides, half of social media content is more story than truth. It's about entertainment. About giving the followers exactly what they want. There's no harm in that. I can pretend if you can.”
“You're serious? This isn't some joke you're going to play on me? Lure me to an event under the guise of pretending to be my boyfriend and then do something horrific?”
“Ouch.” I splay my hand over the center of my chest. “Is that what you think of me?”
Reese visibly swallows, flashing me an apologetic look. “No,” she says. “That has nothing to do with you. Past trauma. It slips out sometimes.”
“Who hurt you?” I ask, unable to keep the primal dominance out of my tone. Don't know where that sneaky fucker popped out of, but for some reason I feel incredibly protective over this girl.
“Nobody worth mentioning,” she says, her eyes trailing me up and down. “You really want to do this?”
“Will it help you?” I ask. “You and the page and the team?”
“Yes.”
“Then yes.”
Reese blows out a breath, starting up another little pace right in front of me. I can't help but grin down at her, absolutely fascinated by the way her mind and body seem to sync up and operate at top speeds.
“If this is going to work, we're going to have to lay out some ground rules,” she says finally glancing back up at me.
“Oh, this should be fun,” I say. “Hit me with it.”
“Rule number one, no falling in love. Rule number two, no sex. We can look like we're in love and we can act like we want to have sex but neither of those things will be happening.”
I cock a brow at her. “The first one is easy,” I say. “The second one? I can't make any promises. If you ask for it, I'm giving it.”
Pink dusts her cheeks as she shakes her head. “I will not be asking.”
“We'll see,” I say. “Anything else?”
“We'll have to figure out safe boundaries,” she says. “Like how much PDA you'll be comfortable with.”
“How about I let you take the reins on that? I'll follow your lead.”
“You're going to give me free rein?” she asks, and I nod. “So you're saying that I could climb into your lap and kiss you like no one is watching, even though the camera is on?”
Heat bolts straight to my cock, twitching at just the thought of having her supple body atop mine, a camera rolling to capture every delicious inch.
“I told you, you can use me,” I say.
She bites her lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Okay,” she says. “So we have a deal?” She reaches her hand between us, and I laugh as I shake it.
“We have a deal.” I hold her hand a little longer, dipping down to catch her gaze. “And I just have to say, if anyone's going to fall for the other, it's going to be you falling for me.”
She draws back her hand, rolling her eyes. “Maybe I'll make you fall in love with me , ever thought about that? Maybe I'll make you fall hard and then leave, just to see if you actually have a heart.”
“You think you're that irresistible?” I ask, totally on board with the sassy teasing she's delivering.
“I know you think you are,” she fires back instead of answering my question.
“Please,” I say. “All it would take is one more kiss and you'd probably be asking to wear my last name on your back to the next game.”
“You are such an arrogant ass,” she says, but she can't wipe the smile off her face, or the interest churning in her eyes.
“You seem preoccupied with my ass, Reese's Pieces. If you want to take a peek all you have to do is?—”
“Seriously?” Kiplin's voice cuts over me, and we both snap our attention to him. “I think you're both idiots,” he says, shaking his head, his headphones still on. He re-racks his weights, glaring over at me. “And there's absolutely nothing wrong with blaring Taylor Swift or enjoying knitting, dick .”
He flips me off before heading out of the weight room.
Reese looks up at me, her shocked gaze mirroring mine before we burst into laughter.