The Bro-code (Not Your Pucking Bunny #3)

1. Fake It Until You Make It

CHAPTER 1

FAKE IT UNTIL YOU MAKE IT

BAY

W hen you reach rock bottom, there’s a fool proof way to lift yourself up. Put on stilettos.

That’s what my Nana used to say and I never thought I would need to put those words into action.

I’m well aware that if you looked at me right now, rock bottom seems the farthest thing from reality. After all, I’ve been on a mega yacht in the south of France, for the entire summer break.

But believe me, sometimes appearances can be deceiving and rock bottom is a state of mind.

In reality? It’s good that we can’t see the future, because the worst was definitely still to come.

I know y’all must have a zillion questions, so let’s start answering the most pressing ones.

You might remember that the last time you saw me, I was hurling a trophy at my boyfriend’s head.

No, Topher hadn’t left the toilet seat up or an empty milk carton in the fridge.

I found him in my bed screwing one of my sisters.

And just in case anyone needs the reminder, I’m not talking about Lakyn, my twin .

I’m talking about one of my sorority sisters.

Do you wonder what happened after I threw my coveted Greek Row Olympics trophy, narrowly missing his head?

The asshole didn’t even have the decency to stop what he was doing. He came, came inside the puck bunny he was fucking in my bed.

It doesn’t matter that I had been looking for Topher to break up with him.

It doesn’t matter that I had known that our relationship was over for months, since after a disastrous Christmas break in Connecticut at his family home.

My sister and my best friend had never understood what I saw in Topher and at this point, it’s hard to blame them.

The truth though is that I was in love with him. Realizing bit by bit how blind I had been, not only to how Topher treated others but to how he treated me, sucked ass.

So what were my options when that trophy missed his head?

Believe me, I have been replaying that scene in my head over and over.

I wish I could tell you that I went to the Zeta house kitchen, got the sharpest knife I could find and sliced him like award winning sashimi.

Or that I said some epic one liner worthy of a book, flicking my hair in my signature defiant pose.

The truth unfortunately is far less flattering.

I’ve always believed that projection is reflection and I know everyone in my life thinks I’m this badass chick that takes no shit and no prisoners.

And yet, in the face of my boyfriend of three years cheating on me with the Dean’s daughter, I reacted like most women would.

My eyes filled with tears and I ran like I had the devil on my heels .

I don’t even know if Topher tried to run after me, I didn’t give him the opportunity.

Every other person I cared about was at the hockey arena, where the Frozen Four final match was being played.

So that’s where I went.

There were only two people who could make this better, who could comfort me.

One of them, my best friend Cole, was lifting the Frozen Four trophy after an amazing season.

The other one, my twin sister Lakyn, was being proposed to by her three hot boyfriends in front of thousands of fans and coeds.

I had waited outside after the award ceremony, Lakyn and Luca were the first ones to come out.

Now I know what you’re thinking.

My twin sister used our otherworldly twin sixth sense and immediately knew what had happened.

Yeah, not quite.

It wasn’t my proudest moment, but my reaction to everything I had been through in the past twenty-four hours was to burst into tears. Again.

After hearing what had happened and appropriately offering to get his royal secret service to make Topher disappear, Luca came to the rescue.

I guess having a crown prince as a brother-in-law-to-be has its advantages.

I told Luca and Lake that I couldn’t be on campus for one more second. Just the idea of seeing Topher before I could get my emotions under control was enough to open the floodgates all over again.

Luca had the perfect solution.

Before I knew it, I was in Luigi’s car headed to Star Cove airport where the royal private jet was waiting for me to take me to Europe .

There I boarded the Queen Isabelle, King Gilberto’s mega yacht.

So yeah, to the outsider eye, I spent my summer being waited hand and foot on a royal yacht cruising the Med Sea.

I drank my body weight in champagne, enjoyed the service of a Micheline star chef, and feasted my eyes on the muscles of the hunky deck hands and of many local hotties.

Looking at me, it’s hard to believe that my heart is broken in so many pieces, I doubt it’ll ever be whole again.

I laughed and flirted and toured the best beaches in Europe. People wondered if I was one of the royals of Montebello.

But at the end of every day, alone in the master cabin of the luxury boat, I would succumb to my tears all over again.

How could I trust someone who didn’t deserve my love and my loyalty?

How could I not see what a horrible person he was?

How could I let myself down in countless ways?

The truth is that aside from how his parents treated me last Christmas, deep down I hadn’t been happy with Topher for a long time.

My boyfriend had dropped the ball on our relationship both emotionally and physically.

But we’ll have time for more of that later.

Now the day I have been dreading since leaving Star Cove in a hurry has finally arrived.

Next week classes start and with that, all my obligations as president of Zeta Theta Beta.

It’s my senior year and I should be excited. I made college my bitch. I’m one of the most popular people on campus, I’ve been at the top of my class every year despite two very demanding majors, and my influencer career has taken off beyond my wildest dreams.

Then why does my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach when Luca’s yacht docks in Nice, France and it’s time to go home?

It doesn’t help that Murphy’s Law seems to slap me in the face the second I set foot on solid ground, in those stilettos I was talking about earlier.

“ Signorina ,” a very tanned Luigi, is waiting for me at the port, by the side of the usual black luxury SUV. “I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans. Unfortunately the King had to attend an important event that required him to take the royal private jet. Arrangements were made to book an alternative private flight for you, but it’s a busy time of the year for air travel and the company we use in these circumstances is overbooked. Nothing was available last minute from Nice, so it’s with my sincerest apologies that I have to inform you, the only travel I was able to secure for you today was on a commercial flight .”

The horrified way Luigi says “commercial flight” is the first thing that makes me smile in weeks.

“A commercial flight will be absolutely fine, Luigi,” I reassured Luca’s driver. “I’m used to flying in coach?—”

The older Italian man’s eyes widened in horror. “ Coach ? No, no, no, no. Mai (never). We were able to book your entire journey in first class, but I’m afraid there’s a scalo (stop) in Charleston, before you’ll be able to continue to Star Cove. The first class lounge will be available of course during your wait. I know this is not ideal?—”

I take the older man’s hand. “Luigi, don’t worry. Prince Luca has been incredibly generous by helping me in my time of need. A first class flight on a commercial airline is anything but a travesty.”

Luigi doesn’t look convinced, but I know I’ll be fine.

After all, what could go wrong?

The thing is, sometimes in life it’s not about the small inconveniences in themselves .

It’s about the universe giving you a sign that your life is about to go to shit.

More than that, it’s about not recognizing that sign and strutting on those stilettos, confident that you look like a million bucks, not knowing that the back of your skirt is tucked into your pants.

Just in case you were wondering, I’m being quite literal.

What does it say about the beginning of my senior year that the skirt tucked into the pants incident was just the tip of the iceberg?

RYKER

“Thanks, keep the change.”

Fuck I’m so happy to finally be leaving South Carolina, I would pay double, triple the price of this cab ride.

Sometimes in life though, just when you think you reached rock bottom, the universe gives you a sign that everything is going to be alright.

Maybe even more than alright.

But let’s begin from the fact that my college career in Hemlock Grove went exactly the opposite of how I had anticipated.

I came to Hemlock Grove College after being recruited by their scouts. They couldn’t offer me money to play hockey—the NCAA rules are clear about that—but South Carolina did everything they could to show me the “Royal treatment.”

I was one of the most sought after centers in my year when I graduated high school and when I walked into campus?

Fuck, I felt like a rockstar.

A god .

I was one of the most popular and loved people on campus.

A far cry from the way things turned out and the way I’m leaving the Deep South.

I heard somewhere that there’s a really small difference between love and hate and that couldn’t have turned out to be truer than it did.

I mean, things went swimmingly for the first two years.

I was obviously a starter on the team and we won the Frozen Four my freshman year. I scored the most goals in the entire year, not just for my conference, overall.

Things started changing when we lost in the Frozen Four finals to Yale the year after.

Nothing could prepare me however for the shit show that was last year.

I’ve always liked a party and I’m not one of those guys who looks down on the puck bunnies.

Those girls are awesome, dedicated, beautiful and always available.

I’m not trying to be a douche here, I’m pretty sure many collegiate athletes can relate. Every major sport has their version of the “bunny.”

Some call them jersey chasers, but I don’t like the negative connotation that name carries. I like to call them super fans.

They love an elite athlete and this particular elite athlete loves his super fans right back.

Like I said, life was sweet.

I’ve never had a problem academically, I have a photographic memory and it takes me reading something once to remember it forever.

At the risk of sounding like an arrogant douche, I don’t think my generation has seen a better center on the ice.

I know it, my coach knows it and the NHL knows it too. After our Frozen Four win, I was a first round pick for the Hartford Heroes and life was perfect .

My future team wanted me to keep playing at collegiate level to hone my skills and I was happy with that.

College was too much fun to leave so soon and I loved my teammates and my Gamma Delta Tau brothers.

Don’t ask me how in the space of a year I went from the most loved athlete on campus—and in the neighboring town of Hemlock Beach—to the most hated person in Hemlock Beach in the history of the low country.

Of course it was because of a girl.

The head coach’s daughter.

If you’re imagining the oldest story in the world, the kind of forbidden story that all the romance novels are ripe with, you’d be totally wrong.

I didn’t fall in love with Alexis Jones and we didn’t have a secret love story behind her father’s back.

It’s simpler than that and I’d look even worse than I did if I had fallen for someone who was off-limits.

Saying that Coach Jones had warned the entire team to keep our hands off his daughter is an understatement.

But do these kinds of warnings ever work?

Yeah, I know.

Telling a bunch of young, hot blooded athletes not to touch a beautiful, equally young and hot blooded girl, who happens to be majoring in physical therapy and is doing a placement with the team, is like waving a giant red flag in front of a bull.

By winter break, everyone on the team had figured out that our goalie Jeremy was boning the coach’s daughter.

What does that have to do with me?

Jer was my roommate and I stupidly covered for them.

Everything seemed fine until the two star crossed lovers quarreled.

Alexis thought it was a good idea to use me to make Jeremy jealous.

In my defense, I was naive .

I offered her a shoulder to cry on—a very platonic, strictly as a friend shoulder to cry on, let me add—and when she suggested we did some shots just to loosen up, I stupidly agreed.

Somehow that backfired when after finishing an entire bottle of tequila, Jeremy found us in a compromising position.

My protests that nothing happened fell on deaf ears and when the story reached Coach Jones’s ears?

He made my life hell.

Coach made bag skating feel like a walk in the fucking park, believe me.

Have you ever been in a toxic environment? That’s what my team became for me.

Nothing I did was ever right, everything that went wrong with the team in any capacity was always pinned on me. It got to the point that my only options were going to my NHL team early or transferring.

Asking to cut college short when the Heroes and I had an agreement was a dangerous move though.

No NHL team wants to sign a rookie who doesn’t get along with his coach. It doesn’t fucking matter if the coach had a chip on his shoulder the size of South Carolina, it looks bad.

It makes you look way more work than you’re worth.

So I looked at transfers and I lucked out when the coach of Star Cove College heard through a friend of a friend that I was looking for a fresh start.

Apparently he had just suspended his starting center for unsportsmanlike behavior and was looking for an alternative.

So here I am, headed to Star Cove California after attending summer training with the Heroes.

I wish I could have stayed, but Coach said one more year of collegiate hockey under my belt will have me ready for the actual team next year. No farm teams for me, but a NHL rookie season from the get go .

It was about time I got out of here anyway. People at school and in town made it pretty clear what they thought of me when the news of my transfer became public.

Admittedly, deciding not to go to California and not to play against my future team last April in the Frozen Four final didn’t buy me any favors with the locals. But I mean, come on. Would you skate for a team where the Coach hates you and gives you ice time only because you’re the best player on his roster? Would you play when the second you step on home ice the fans boo you and chant “Traitor” every time you touch the puck?

So, yeah.

I’ll be glad to forget South Carolina even exists.

I’m one year away from making my dream come true as a professional hockey player. All I need to do is go to Star Cove and to not screw things over.

And there’s only one fool proof way to make it through my senior year keeping my nose clean.

Avoid women at all costs. It isn’t going to be too hard since I don’t have time for a relationship anyway.

One woman I wasn’t even fucking almost screwed up my life, so this year? No bunnies, no hookups, no nothing.

My left hand and my fleshlight will be my best friends.

Armed with determination, I push the cart with my luggage toward the door marked “Departures” with one objective in mind.

I’m gonna find a comfortable spot to wait for my flight and spend the time eating a cinnamon roll and watching hockey tapes.

The cinnamon roll is a treat I always indulge in when I travel, but aside from that this year I’m gonna eat, sleep and breathe hockey.

I don’t even get to finish that thought when the lady at the check in desk smiles at me. “Here you go, Mr. Moore. Your seat is twenty-seven E and your luggage will be delivered directly to Star Cove. Have a nice flight?—”

Wait a minute…

“Twenty-seven E?” I fight the urge to raise my voice, but this is bullshit. “I booked a first class seat. I should be at the front. Besides, I’m six three, how am I supposed to sit in coach, in a middle seat? I’m not going to fit.”

The lady looks flustered and a part of me feels for her. Probably the part that doesn’t have to spend five hours in coach and crammed into a middle seat.

“Let me check, sir.” There’s the telltale click-click noise that denotes furious typing on her keyboard as she keeps a nervous smile plastered on her face. “I see what happened. The aircraft that was supposed to operate this sector is stuck in Seattle for maintenance and a different model has been destined to your flight. So the previous seat reservations have been?—”

Sure. But I’m still not sitting in twenty-seven fucking E. “I understand that. But surely the system must have taken into account that I booked a first class ticket?”

Her blush deepens. “You’re right, sir. I don’t know what happened. Especially because the first class section is almost empty. Not to worry, you now have one A and I’ll add fifty thousand miles to your frequent flier account as an apology for the inconvenience. Here’s your boarding pass, enjoy your flight.”

That’s more like it.

The change of aircraft must be why the app on my phone didn’t let me check in, but I’m glad this was solved.

I collect the boarding pass and I can already taste the cinnamon rolls they have in the first class lounge. I’m hungry and I might even be a little naughty and have two.

Paired up with a nice glass of bourbon possibly? —

“Hey,” a horrified sound, half-scream, half-squeal makes me look at the person immediately behind me in the check-in line. “Watch where you’re going!”

Fuck me.

I’ll be damned if this isn’t the hottest girl I’ve ever seen in my entire life—and I’ve seen my fair share.

Petite but with luscious curves in all the right places, the woman I just elbowed by accident has the face of a goddess. Blonde hair slicked into a high ponytail that highlights her perfect facial features. Bright blue eyes fanned by long lashes, her nose a gentle slope that leads to a pair of lips that make me immediately wonder if they would be as soft as they look against mine. Or even better, wrapped around my cock as those big, sky blue eyes are fixed into mine.

Goddamn, Ryker. I chastise myself.

Remember the plan. Eat, sleep and breathe hockey this year.

You have no time for blonde goddesses, no matter how tempting they might look.

Women are nothing but trouble and you’ll be better off remembering what forced you to transfer.

I have no clue where this voice of reason comes from, but that’s good advice if I ever heard any.

The thing that my rational side hasn’t taken into account though is that our motto for this year—Eat, breathe and sleep hockey—doesn’t need to start until we set foot on campus.

This is a transitional moment that technically isn’t part of my senior year.

I know hanging onto a technicality might sound hypocritical, but if you’d seen the perfect specimen glaring at me right now, your cock would stir in your jeans too. Or you’d get wet, I’m all for equal opportunities and love is love and all of that.

I’m all for whatever rocks one’s boat and believe me this girl? I’m actually feeling a little like the Titanic right now.

And like the Titanic , I crash and burn from the get go .

As my eyes rove over the perfect girl in front of me, I notice the consequences of my bumping into her.

A giant smudge of lipstick that goes from the corner of her mouth almost all the way to her ear. It looks like she has a creepy half smile on her face.

“ Why so serious? ” I can’t contain the snicker that bubbles to the surface when my brain suggests that the lipstick smudge makes her look like The Joker from Batman.

I know that was definitely the wrong thing to say—I’m not that clueless—but I’m not prepared for the way those perfect lips tighten into a flat line.

“I believe the words you were looking for are ‘I’m sorry,’ after you moved like a bull into a China shop and made me ruin my makeup.”

God, she’s even hotter when she’s mad.

That must be why rather than uttering those three little words she was looking for, my dumb ass self ups the ante. “I would apologize if we were in the bathroom. But this is hardly the place to refresh your makeup. My mom says that putting your makeup on in public—like when you’re in your car, waiting at a red light—is un-lady-like.”

She waves her lipgloss wand toward me, brandishing it like a weapon. “Are you calling me white trash?”

Fuck, the blue of her eyes has gotten darker and the way her chest is jutting forward as she scolds me?

I’m digging her. And judging by the definite stir downstairs, my entire body is digging. Or it would like to do some digging into her.

Lewd, I know.

“I would be careful with that lipstick,” I smirk, taking a step back and looking for a way to turn this around and maybe ask her if I could buy her a drink. Or take her to the bathroom for a quickie, whichever she wants to do first. “You don’t want to accidentally jam it in my eye while you’re so… agitated. ”

Is that a glint of amusement in her blue eyes, or am I just imagining it?

“Trust me, your eye isn’t exactly where I was thinking of jamming it.” She bites out.

Spicy.

I like her more with every passing second.

I think we’ve obviously established by now that I have a death wish, because I can’t help but provoke her. “Classy.”

I’m disappointed when she doesn’t react to my latest dig, despite the fury in her eyes.

“Get out of my way, seriously. I’ve had a long flight and I’m already starting to feel the jet lag. This isn’t the time to piss me off.”

I do as she asks but hover around the check-in desk just long enough to “overhear” that she has a first class booking and that she’s headed to Star Cove on my same flight. The only thing I can’t quite catch is her name because an announcement is played right when the check-in agent greets her.

Anyway, remember when I said that sometimes the universe sends you a sign that despite all your troubles, everything is gonna be alright?

Seeing the hottest girl ever just before I begin my celibate year of eating, breathing and sleeping hockey is definitely one of those signs.

That quickie in the bathroom?

It’s totally happening, if I manage to turn things around.

You can say anything about me, but perseverance is my greatest quality.