Preston

I’m nervous. This never happens to me. Raising my hand to knock on Bex’s door, I choke back the bile rising from my stomach. Jefferson Hall, the senior dormitory, is desolate this early. Everyone sleeps in from the parties the night before. I never get that luxury with my hockey schedule.

Bex opens the door, her hand covering her mouth as she yawns. Dressed in black shorts and a tight matching tank top, she looks too good for just waking up. She has a body made for sin. Long, toned legs I want wrapped around me as I fuck her. Nice, perky tits that will fill my hands perfectly. Plump lips with a hint of pink gloss on them that I now want her to smear all over my cock.

I’m sporting a semi just looking at her. Fuck, I have to think of something else. Her hair is down, long layers of blonde hair stopping right above her breasts. I consider throwing her over my shoulder and locking us inside her bedroom. But we can’t be late. My mom will kill me.

“Hey,” I say. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “Let me grab my bag.”

Bex disappears for a second, and then she returns with a small gym bag slung over her shoulder.

After she locks the door, we walk side by side down the deserted hall. Neither of us speak, which makes the tension in the air thicker.

Say something, Prez.

I’ve never been this weird around a girl before.

“So,” I start, thinking over what to say. “You’re gonna meet my mom. And Uncle Jameson. Just ignore any stupid comments they make. They’ve never met any of the girls I… ugh, you know.”

She laughs. “You mean dated?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’ve never really dated anyone in the traditional sense. Mostly just—”

“Hook ups,” she finishes for me.

“Yeah. Pretty much. I don’t have time to date. Hockey takes up too much of my time.”

“I hear ya,” she lilts. “Basketball is my life, too, and I’m not even trying to make a career out of it like you. I can imagine the pressure you must be under with your dad.”

I shrug. “Not so much my dad. It’s more the pressure of living up to the Parker name.”

“That must be hard.” Her fingers brush against mine, and we both look at each other for a split second, before our focus shifts to the stairs in front of us. “Does that make you work harder knowing people are comparing you to your dad?”

I nod. “My older brother followed in my mom’s footsteps. He didn’t want to be in the shadow of Alex Parker. Plus, he sucks at hockey. He’s a total bender. You should see him skate. JP is awful. It’s almost embarrassing to call him a Parker.”

She chuckles. “You call your brother JP?”

“John Parker. People still call my mom Coach, even though she hasn’t been Charlotte Coachman in twenty-five years. One of John’s first clients called him JP. Names stick in the sports world. I haven’t called him John since I was in high school.”

“How much older is he than you?”

“Five years. My parents didn’t have me until they were thirty-five. I think my mom was trying to see how long she could make my dad wait for another kid.”

“But she likes kids. I’ve read all the articles about how she basically raised Rico Serrano and nurtured his professional basketball career.”

“She did. Rico lived in the building my parents now own. She rented an apartment to Rico’s mom and coached his youth basketball league.”

“She also coached his college team,” she adds. “Your mom is so… amazing. You have no idea how lucky you are to have parents like yours.”

“I do know. Seeing how some people were raised in this city made me open my eyes to my unusual lifestyle. Listen to me, I’m complaining about living up to my dad’s legacy when I have it so—”

“Good,” she finishes. A beat passes between us, before she stops in her tracks. “Wait, where are we going? Where’s your car?” She looks both ways down the street, probably confused when she doesn’t see a luxury car in sight.

“We’re taking the subway,” I inform her. “Ever been on it?”

“Yeah, tons of times. But you’re rich. I didn’t expect you to ride with commoners.”

I laugh so hard it shakes through me. “Seriously? You have me pegged all wrong, girl. For someone who knows so much about my mom, you should know how she grew up.”

“Yeah, but you were raised with a silver spoon in your mouth. I guess I just assumed…”

“Never assume when it comes to me.” I hook my arm around her back, basking in the warmth of her body against mine. “I will surprise you every time.”

She locks onto me, her blue eyes piercing through me. “So far you have. Every time. You’re nothing like what I thought.”

“Ah, you expected me to be an asshole.” I release my loose grip on her, taking her hand in mine, as we walk down the subway steps which lead to the underground train. “Am I right?”

“Yep. You have shattered all of my expectations of the legendary Peter Preston Parker.”

I roll my eyes at her.

“What?”

“I hate hearing my full name.”

“You never told me why your parents named you after Spider-Man.”

“Because I try to forget.”

“It’s actually a pretty cool name. I mean, how many people are named Peter Parker?”

“A lot. More than you’d think. There’s a lot of comic nerds out there.”

“Oh.” She seems surprised, as if my parents were the only idiots to name their child after a superhero. “I guess there’s a bunch of Tony Stark’s running around, too. Huh?”

A smile turns up the corners of my mouth. “I’m wowed by your knowledge of Marvel characters. Jamie will love you. You better keep that to yourself, or I might lose you to him.”

She laughs. “Not a chance.”

“What else are you into? Are you a closet gamer, too?”

“Nah, not so much video games. The controllers hurt my knuckles.” She moves her hands out in front of her, pretending as if she’s holding a basketball, and then shoots the imaginary ball. “I can’t do anything to jeopardize my spot on the team. It’s hard to dribble or shoot when your hands are numb.”

“That’s why I only play on occasion. But my Uncle Jameson’s new game is too addictive to stop playing once I start. It’s like crack. This mage or wizard or whatever the fuck he is keeps kicking my ass.”

She laughs. “I can’t see you playing video games with magicians in them.”

“You have me figured out all wrong, sweetheart. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a stereotype, not fact.”

After I swipe my subway pass, and we’re on the train headed toward South Philly, we settle into two chairs toward the back.

“Okay, so what are the facts about the closet gamer hockey stud sitting next to me?” She gives me a goofy look that makes a dimple I never noticed pop in her right cheek.

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you have any other secret nerd hobbies no one knows about?”

I laugh. “Nope, just video games. And I wouldn’t consider those nerdy, anyway. Jamie’s the one who’s obsessed with science fiction and a whole hell of a lot of geeky shit I don’t even understand.” I slide my arm along the top of her chair, my fingers grazing the nape of her neck. “Now that you know all of my secrets, what are you keeping from me?”

She stills from my touch and sucks in a deep breath. “I’m too boring to have secrets.”

“I doubt that. Everyone has something to hide.”

“My mom left my dad for his best friend right before I started high school. The entire school talked about it. Hell, the entire town gossiped about my mom sleeping around and running off with another hockey coach.”

“Ouch. I had no idea.”

She shrugs. “Dad never talks about the past. He likes it to stay there… where it belongs.”

“This is our stop,” I say as the train slows.

She glances over her shoulder at the doors opening to the underground terminal.

Five minutes later, we stroll into the gymnasium, where my mom is standing at the center of the court. She clutches her whistle between her fingers and raises it to her mouth. The group of twelve-year-old boys gather around her. Their eyes are wide and hopeful.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting your mom. This feels so… I don’t know. Like we’re dating. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

I pinch her elbow to reassure her and heat pricks my skin. My God, I love touching this girl, stealing quick exchanges whenever I can. Even though I should stay far, far away from her.

“You’ll be fine,” I promise. “She won’t bite you.”

Her cheeks flush, as if she’s thinking she’d like me to bite her instead. Or maybe I’m reading too much into her every move. It’s hard not to study Bex when she’s in my presence. I have trouble taking my eyes off her.

We stop next to my mom, who spins around when I tap her on the shoulder. She pushes a few strands of caramel colored hair behind her ears, a big smile on her face. Her gaze shifts from me to Bex.

“Preston,” Mom says as she hugs me. “You’re here. And early for once.” She releases me and takes a step back, appraising Bex for a second before she says, “And you must be Bex. Preston has told me so much about you.”

No, I haven’t.

Bex stands straighter, her expression unreadable. She must be nervous, though she’s hiding it well. “Yes, I’m Bex Bryant.”

“Coach,” Mom says. “Or Charlie, or Charlotte, or even Coach Parker, but never call me Mrs. Parker.”

“Mom thinks that makes her sound old,” I add for clarification.

Bex holds out her hand for my mom to shake, her smile so wide it reaches up to her eyes. “Nice to meet you, Coach. I’m sure Preston already told you I’m a big fan of yours.”

Instead of shaking her hand, my mom pulls Bex into her arms and squeezes the life out of her. “It’s nice to meet you, too, sweetie.”

“Mom, don’t hurt her,” I quip. “Jeez, could you loosen up a bit? I don’t think Bex can breathe.”

They both laugh.

I can see it already. Mom will want me to invite Bex over for dinner so my dad can meet her, too. And then suddenly, the entire family will be there, which means my parents’ friends and their kids will all be in attendance.

“What?” Mom moves away from Bex, giving her some room. “I want to savor the first time I get to meet a girl you like. Between you and your brother, I don’t know who’s worse.”

“Bex is my friend,” I tell her.

“Right.” Mom rolls her eyes at me. “If you say so. Now, John needs to find a decent girl, and my boys will be all set.”

“We’re just friends,” Bex chimes. “I only met Preston a few days ago. We barely know each other.”

“But you must be special, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Bex’s mouth snaps shut, her expression stoic.

“Mom, would you stop freaking Bex out, please? This is kind of embarrassing.”

The buzzer sounds throughout the gymnasium, giving Bex and me a reprieve from my mother’s comments.

“Duty calls. You can sit the first half out,” Mom says to me, and then turns her back to us to rally up the team.

“I thought Jameson coaches with your mom,” Bex says.

I cup her shoulder with my hand and steer her toward the bleaches. “He’s usually here by now. Something must have come up. It must be important, because I know he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to join my mom in tag-teaming me until they embarrass the shit out of me.”

Bex drags her fingers down my forearm, the sudden contact too much for me to stand. “Don’t worry about it. My dad would do the same thing.”

“Not if it were me.”

She shakes her head. “Definitely not for you. He loves you like a son and thinks you’re the best player he’s ever coached, but he would not be as nice as your mom if we were dating.”

“Good thing we don’t have to worry about breaking his last rule.”

But I want to.

“Too bad you have trouble staying away from me,” she jokes, now acknowledging the final text I sent her on Thursday night.

Which reminds me…

“What happened to you the other night?” I flex my jaw, irritated by her dismissal. “You ghosted me.”

Her noses scrunches in confusion. “What are you talking about? I came to your game last night. I’m here now. Your definition of ghosting must be different from mine.”

“You never texted me back.”

“Aww, look at Parker getting all butt-hurt over a girl he doesn’t even like. A girl who’s supposed to be his friend.”

“Shut it, smart ass.” I shake my head, smiling. She rips them out of me whenever she’s around. It’s hard not to feel something with Bex. “You know what I mean. You never answered my text.”

Bex removes her phone from her gym bag. An awkward silence passes between us, the loud cheers around us filling the void as she scrolls through her messages.

“Oh,” she says, her eyes slowly raising to meet mine. “I didn’t think you expected a reply to your last message. But clearly, it’s important to you. I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“I like being around you,” I admit. “You’re nothing like the girls I know. It’s refreshing. Like I can be myself with you.”

She looks away from me, biting the inside of her cheek, her focus on the boys running down the court. “I like you, too. But I don’t see anything happening between us. Friends I can do… if you think you can handle being friends with a girl.”

Can I be her friend when all I can think about is ripping off her clothes? Not likely.

“I can try.” I lean into her side, pressing my lips to her earlobe. “If that’s what you want.”

She clears her throat, still watching the game play out before us. “Umm… yeah, that’s what I want.”

We’ll see about that.

If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s changing girls’ minds. Bex will give in at some point. They always do.

“Okay,” I agree. “As you wish.”