The Secret Assist (Covey Crushers #4)

Chapter 1

Freshman Year

It’s eight a.m., I’m naked, and I’ve officially accepted that nothing good ever comes after a post-practice shower.

“This is ridiculous,” I mutter, kicking dirt from under my toes…and immediately brushing my thigh against Erik’s.

Great. Perfect start to the day.

At least the Covey U campus is practically deserted at this time on a Saturday. Saves me from the embarrassment of everyone seeing me waltz around the place buck naked.

Well, not completely.

They let us take one item from our hockey bags before dragging every freshman out here.

Erik and I had the sense to grab gloves.

Alex didn’t. He grabbed tape, and what he did with it is something none of us will ever be able to unsee.

“It’s freezing out here,” Erik groans, elbowing me in the side. “Like, shrinkage level ten.”

“Is that your excuse?” I murmur, my gaze flicking to his glove for a split second. “The cold?”

He snaps his head toward me, his green eyes narrowing to slits, then he angles the glove ever so slightly, checking himself.

I roll my eyes.

Two weeks.

We've been teammates and roommates for two weeks, and I've already seen every inch of Erik Steele many times.

Not on purpose. Definitely not by choice.

In fact, I live in constant fear of turning a corner and running straight into the left winger himself—fully nude and way too proud of whatever girl he convinced to sleep with him the night before.

“My glove is XXL, I’ll have you know.”

I lift a brow. “XXL, sure. Junior league, though.”

His nostrils flare. His jaw tightens, and a low, annoyed growl rumbles from the back of his throat, followed by a string of mumbled threats. There's something about breaking my stick in half and jamming it so far up my ass that they’d need a full-body X-ray to locate it, but I ignore him.

The guy is all bark and no bite.

“When are they going to get this over with?” Alex asks from the other side, hopping in place. “Every time I move, the tape yanks out another pube.”

I cringe, but Erik doesn't miss a beat. “That's why you've gotta wax, bro. If you want to attract the bees, you've gotta make some honey.”

“That makes no sense,” I say.

Before Erik can respond, Dash Bridges and Cade Bright, our sophomore leaders, walk past and check our names off their list, making sure we’re all here for this stupid hockey tradition.

The Legendary Covey Crushers Freshman Fun Run.

My dad warned me this was coming. He said his alma mater, Rome U, didn't have these stupid traditions, but I chose Covey U anyway.

Still, even standing here with my balls shrinking in the cold, I know I made the right decision.

Covey U is mine. Not his.

“You know,” Erik announces, completely unprompted, “everyone who’s seen my dick says I’m above average.”

Alex scoffs and shakes his head as I slowly turn to Erik. “Oh, are we still on your dick size?”

“Always. The stats don’t lie.”

I nod, letting out a low whistle. “Right, man. Keep telling yourself that. Confidence is important. Even if it’s completely unfounded.”

Erik’s lip curls as he looks me up and down. “Dude, what the hell crawled up your ass and laid eggs today? Why are you being so mean? I thought you were supposed to be nice.”

I snort. “What makes you think that? You hardly know me.”

“Not true.” He shifts on his feet to get a better view of me.

“I've watched every season of Hendricks Unchecked and every time you appeared—which admittedly wasn't often—you gave off a brooding Prince Charming vibe.” He squints, his eyes dragging over my face. “Although, looking at you now all feeble and pathetic, I’m convinced it’s your obnoxious dimples doing all the heavy lifting.”

“Wow, thanks. I’ll pass that along to the production team,” I say dryly. Inside, though, the mention of the show still pisses me off. I avoid it, dodge it, pretend it doesn’t exist, but everyone seems determined to bring it up anyway.

“Personally, I really thought you and Carrie were well-suited, by the way,” he continues.

“Carrie? Do you mean my sister's best friend?”

“Yeah. She's a hottie.”

Cade clears his throat and claps, commanding our attention.

“Alright, boys,” he announces, striding up and down the line of naked hockey players. “The annual Hockey Fun Run is about to begin.”

There are a few groans from the team, but none of us are getting out of this now.

“Do you remember the rules?” Cade asks.

Beside me, Erik shifts closer, muttering under his breath, “Bet your dimples won’t save you now.”

“You guys are about as useless as Dash’s foam roller,” Cade yells louder. “I said, do you remember the rules?”

The team roars this time, our voices echoing off the dorm buildings like some kind of barbaric battle cry.

“First one to high-five Professor Eden’s statue and make it back to Hendricks Hall without getting caught”—Cade shouts, pausing for dramatic effect—”earns co-captain for the first four games of the season.”

I don't miss that his gaze lingers on me when he says Hendricks Hall.

How can I?

The fucking building is named after me because my father donated enough money to rebuild it after I committed here.

He's too involved. We all know it, but the problem is, he's so nice. He's not mean about it. He loves me and just wants me to succeed. He just needs a lesson or two on boundaries.

“Who's got the guts to make it across this campus and show us what you're made of?” Cade asks.

I lean forward and look down the line. Not one of these guys thinks I deserve to be here.

Half of them think I’m a glorified mascot, something to parade around so they can say they played with the legendary Hendricks kid.

The other half are too busy licking my boots, hoping I’ll somehow get them a spot on my dad’s reality show.

I need to win. I need to shove their assumptions down their throats and walk away the undeniable winner.

“On your marks.” Cade holds his hand up.

Erik shifts beside me, cracking his neck. “You’ll let me know if I’ve got any zits on my ass, won’t you?”

“Get set.”

I cringe, glaring at him. “Why would I be looking at your ass?”

“Because it’s the only thing you’ll see when I’m halfway up the fountain ahead of you.”

I roll my eyes. “Awesome. I’ll try not to trip over your ego on the way up.”

“Go!” Cade draws his hand down, and we're off.

Naked, running, and about to traumatize anyone who didn’t get the memo about this tradition—I ignore everything and everyone.

I just run. Fast. Focused. I cut across the grass and blow past the other freshmen, who immediately slow the second their feet hit the concrete, like they somehow forgot the pavement basically turns into lava this time of year.

I glide past all of them and focus on the small entrance to the courtyard.

The first one through those gates is almost always the first to the statue.

“SCOTTY! SCOTTY! SCOTTY!”

“Hey, Scotty!”

“Scotty, come here!”

“Scotty, can I wear your jersey?”

“Scotty, come to my dorm and I’ll get naked too.”

Of course there would be a chorus of girls here waiting for me. How could I forget the seven thousand friend requests I received on Covey Connections during the summer?

What the fuck is up with girls and hockey players?

And more importantly: Is my dick still covered?

With my eyes locked on the fountain, I force a grin, doing my best to ignore the onslaught of catcalls, chanting, and flashing lights. I can only hope I don't end up fully exposed in someone's viral post. Dad would have a fucking field day with that.

The statue is in sight…

No one else is even through the gates yet…

I'm only a few steps away…

But when I see who's sitting on the edge of the fountain underneath the statue, I nearly trip.

Shit.

It's her.

Laura Conners.

The one girl who always gets my attention, even though I can't seem to get hers. She sits on the front left corner of the lecture hall, and every time I’ve tried to talk to her, she’s oblivious, too focused on whatever she’s reading.

Even now she’s sitting on the ledge of the fountain, completely unaware of the chaos around her while she reads one of my favorite books, The Princess Bride.

She flicks her dark hair over her shoulder and casually bites her bottom lip.

I lick mine without thinking, wondering how she might taste.

“Scotty! Can I take a bite of your peach?!” a girl asks from behind.

That’s when I remember I’m standing buck naked with my glove over my junk, frozen mid-run as I stare at her.

Pull it together, man.

Behind me, the crowd cheers. No doubt for my teammates, who’ve kept running while I stare at a girl who's so hot it's unfair and so disinterested it hurts.

I should move. I need to move. Only, the second my feet hit that fountain water, she’s going to notice me whether she likes it or not, and that’s not exactly how I want to introduce myself.

Fuck, I had this all planned out. I was going to sit next to her in class on Thursday, then ask about the book she's reading, maybe make her laugh. And I was going to do all of this fully clothed, but apparently the universe has other ideas.

I take a few tentative steps forward. Maybe she won’t notice me doing the Naked Glove Shuffle five feet from her. It’s not like she’s noticed me before. You know what? I’m pretty sure I could do a naked cartwheel in front of her, and she still wouldn’t notice me.

That’s part of the reason I like her—she doesn’t care.

The only important thing to her is finishing her next chapter.

I inch closer. She shifts but doesn't look up. I take a step onto the fountain, and I think I've gotten away with it.

“See you later, sucker!” Erik's shoulder slams into mine as he blows past.

No. No. No.

I try to recover, but it’s too late.

I stumble forward, lurch straight toward Laura, totally out of control.

There’s no stopping the momentum.

No recovering my dignity.

This is happening, and it will be one of those moments I’ll relive at 3 a.m. for the rest of my life.