Player: A best friends to lovers hockey romance Read online

  Player

  A best friends to lovers hockey romance

  E. Cleveland

  Player

  Copyright © 2020 by Eddie Cleveland

  Editor:

  Proofing with Style

  Proof Readers:

  Jessica Fraser of Finishing by Fraser

  Diana Morelli

  Cover Design:

  Eddie Cleveland

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Playlist

  1. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

  2. Adorkable Bordering on Awk-weird

  3. The BJ That Blew Up My Life

  4. Porn Books & The Poon-Blaster 3000

  5. Eggs & Sister-fuckers

  6. All About the Benjamins

  7. Adult Happy Meals

  8. The Bartering System

  9. Gods of Pussy

  10. 50 Shades of Sex Aliens

  11. Perfect Drunk Food

  12. Banana Waffle Blues

  13. Yin and Yang

  14. Rule-Bending

  15. Sex Tutor

  16. Pussy Amnesia

  17. The Morning After

  18. Case of the Mysterious Hymen

  19. This is Everything

  20. Kinks and Quirks

  21. Sisters from Different Misters

  22. Fuck Buddies

  23. Friendship Tattoos

  24. Giant Pillow Heads

  25. Spit or Swallow

  26. The Night Before

  27. Cold Beer, Warm Girls

  28. Those Hashtags

  29. Mistakes and Lies

  30. The Stink of Baggage

  31. Blurry Lines and Blank Spaces

  32. The Final Lesson

  33. Conscious Uncoupling

  Epilogue

  A Sneak Peek of ‘GUCCI’

  BONUS SCENE

  Also by E. Cleveland

  Connect with E. Cleveland

  About E. Cleveland

  Introduction

  Player.

  I will never call him that.

  It doesn’t matter if he’s one of the youngest team captains in college hockey. Or that he’s a legend on skates.

  And, yeah, I know it’s a double entendre. I’m well aware of his reputation for hooking up with half the girls at Westbury. I’ve had a front row seat to the bunny parade.

  Still, I won’t call him Player. That’s not who he is to me. That’s never who he’s been to me. He’s Noah Foster. My best friend. The boy I grew up with. The guy who knows me better than anyone.

  Well, except there is one secret I’ve never told him. I haven’t exactly been open with him about how I’m a 21-year-old, card carrying member of the V-card-club.

  But, when Noah needs me to tutor him for his exam, I get an idea. What if I teach him a little science, and the Player teaches me how to play?

  Playlist

  Nice To Meet Ya - Niall Horan

  Circles - Post Malone

  That’s My Kind of Night - Luke Bryan

  Accidentally in Love - Counting Crows

  Never Surrender - Corey Hart

  Can’t Hold Us - Macklemore

  Rumor Has It - Adele

  Jackie Chan - Tiësto & Dzeko ft. Preme & Post Malone

  1

  No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

  Noah

  “Wow, that was… wow,” the bunny, who’s name I’m not proud to admit I forgot, smirks at where the blanket covers my junk, like she’s studying what’s underneath with X-ray vision.

  “They shouldn’t call you ‘Player’,” she smiles up at me.

  “Oh no? What would you call me instead?” I watch her think it over, she makes a big show of it, twirling her hair and loving the attention.

  “Your nickname should be ‘Thick Stick’,” she looks really proud of herself.

  “Thick Stick?”

  “Yeah,” she answers. I scroll through a list of possible names in my mind. Sophie? No. Mary? That’s not it either. It’s not like it really matters. We both know this was a one-off. Puck bunnies are more interested in hopping into bed with as many hockey players as they can. It’s like a status thing. Whoever fucks the biggest stars on the team wins.

  “You think the guys should have based my hockey nickname on my dick?”

  I can imagine a world where bunnies give players the nicknames. Instead of names like Player, Gucci, Griz, Canuck and Blaze, we’d be calling each other stuff like Thick Stick, Mushroom Tip, Turtleneck, Miracle Grow and Donkey.

  “With a cock that big, it deserves a nickname,” she purrs. “I can skip my classes and spend the day here, in bed, with you.” She gives me a sultry, half-lidded gaze that I’m sure she’s used on many hockey guys.

  Thump-thump! “Foster? Quit humping, you’ve got class in fifteen!” One of the guys I share Hector house with, Gucci yells at me. The old wood door that normally does a great job of muffling all the antics that go down at our house parties does nothing to soften his voice.

  I jolt up in bed and the bunny, Emily? No, that’s wrong too. Fuck. Anyway, she grabs at the blanket. I figure she’s going to cover up in case he bursts in here, but she leans up on her elbows so her big tits spill over the edge. “Come in,” she calls out.

  The door swings in and Gucci doesn’t even give her a glance. From the corner of my eye I can see her pouting as he lasers on me, his face serious and his eyes narrowed. “Player, holy fuck man, get your shit together. You’ve got biology in fifteen minutes. Professor Comb-over is already gunning for you and you fucking know it. Get dressed.”

  “I can’t get there in fifteen minutes, there’s no point.” I shrug. “Besides, we all know he’s gonna flunk my ass now. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Griz is gonna drive you. And what are you talking about? No point? Listen, if you don’t pass his class, you’re done, man. No more hockey. No more Hector house. No more bunnies,” he finally acknowledges… Ashley! That’s it, I’m sure of it. She lights up like he crowned her as the queen. She sits up a bit taller, tosses her shoulders back and her tits bounce as she juts her chin out with pride.

  He’s right. I’ve gotta show up. I can’t give up. Even if the odds are stacked against me. “I’ll be ready in five.” I nod and Gucci gives me a skeptical look, his eyes sliding over to the bunny and back to me.

  “You better be,” he warns me before closing the door.

  “Sorry, you’ve gotta go.” I jump out of bed and try to figure out where I left my phone. I can hear Kaylee blowing up it up already and class hasn’t even started yet. I don’t need to see the screen to hear all those exclamation points. Clothes first, phone after.

  Click!

  The distinctive camera shutter noise makes me turn back to Ashley. She hasn’t moved from my bed. At all. In fact, she looks comfy fucking cozy just nestled against my pillows while she takes pictures for her trophy board. She’s holding up her phone, not the least bit interested in getting dressed. She’s probably texting her friends about her latest conquest. “Hey, I need you to get going, I don’t let girls stay in my room when I’m not here.” I pull on some boxer briefs and a fitted gray shirt and she huffs but doesn’t put up a fight.

  These girls know the drill, they use us as much as we use them. Puck bunnies show up at parties not really caring which guy they go home with as long as it
’s a name they can brag about later. The better player you are on the ice, the more play you get off the ice. My nickname suits me. I didn’t choose it, but Player sums up my life pretty good. The chick whose name I’m eighty percent sure is Ashley finally gets out of my bed and puts her clothes back on. I find some clean socks and pick up a crumpled pair of jeans from the floor and get them on.

  Running my fingers through my hair, I try to make myself a little more presentable. After Friday night, the last thing I want The Comb-over thinking about when he looks at me is bed-head or sex-hair or any of that shit. Not that it matters. I’m sure I could slick my hair over into a side part and wear a priest costume and he’ll still see the guy he chased out of his daughter’s bedroom.

  Like I fucking knew he has a daughter. A daughter who goes to college here. A daughter who lives with her parents. Not that any of it matters… I’m fucked. I groan, hanging my head. After my grades last year, I’m already on academic probation. If I fail this class, Gucci’s right, I’m done here. The fact that I brought this team to the championships last year won’t save me. Neither will being team captain. My NHL dreams will be over. All because my stupid, drunk ass went home with a bunny that turned out to be the professor’s daughter.

  What a stupid way to lose it all.

  “Don’t worry, I’m out of here.” The blonde walks up to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe we can meet up after your classes?” She looks hopeful.

  “I don’t think so, but I had a nice time.” I try to keep it polite. She knows and I know how this works. She gives me a can’t-blame-me-for-trying shrug. “Me too. I know you’re in a rush, do you think one of the other guys can give me a drive home?” She fluffs up her hair in the mirror and smoothes her clothes down over her generous curves.

  Subtle.

  “Sure, I’ll see if someone can give you a ride.” I nod. “Let’s go.”

  We make our way down the curved wooden staircase in the center of our huge, five-bedroom house.

  “Let’s go, let’s get a movin’!” Gucci is yelling at me from the bottom.

  Griz is all ready to go, his keys in hand, his shoes on. Gucci hands me my shoes and I slip them on. He’s got my book bag in his hand and slides it over my shoulder like a mother getting her kid ready for the bus in the morning.

  “You ready?” Griz looks at me.

  “As I’ll ever be.” I sigh.

  “A-hem.”

  Oh yeah, the bunny. “Gucci, do you think you can give her a ride home?” I jerk my head at him, and he looks her over with a sly smile. Of course, he does. Gucci could’ve easily gotten my nickname if he didn’t already cement his. On the ice, he kills himself at every single game, working harder than anyone I’ve ever met. Except me, of course. Off the ice, he fucks like he’s still trying to earn a medal or something. It’s not unusual for him to go home with more than one girl at a time, and they’re only too happy to share.

  She’s looking at him with the same glint of opportunity in her eyes, so I think it’s all set. “Yeah, I’ll give you a ride.” He smirks.

  She’s smiling right back at him, like I didn’t have my dick in her twenty minutes ago. Not that I care. We both got what we wanted out of our hookup. Why shouldn’t she set her sights on a new goal? She’s young, single and pretty. I’m not judging how she has her fun. I’m no angel either.

  “I’m Ashley.” She tilts her head and gives Gucci a cutesy smile. I’m already old news. I give myself a mental high five for remembering her name though. Even if it did take a few guesses.

  “Reed,” he introduces himself, “but everyone calls me Gucci.” There’s that signature smirk he gives all the girls. And, from the looks of it, it’s working.

  “Why Gucci?”

  “Because I’m like a custom-tailored Gucci suit. High-end. Designer.”

  I roll my eyes. Yeah, that’s why we called him Gucci. Not because he got so hammered the first week on the team that he grabbed some lady’s Gucci handbag off the bar and filled it with his insides.

  “Everyone set? Let’s go,” Griz barks at me like a drill sergeant and I jolt back to life and head out the door and right into his shiny Escalade that his rich parents bought him.

  Normally, I’d hate that guy. The guy who never wanted for anything because mommy and daddy could buy every little thing he ever wanted. Griz isn’t a spoiled asshole though. He lives his life the same on and off the ice. He’s got our backs no matter what.

  Luckily, the drive is short, because I’m supposed to have my ass in a seat in less than five minutes. Hector house is off campus, but barely. We’re in a swank neighborhood right outside the main gate of The University of Westbury filled with turn of the century New England houses and mostly hockey boys. As team captain, I get to live in one of the most ballin’ places available to students.

  “Listen, you’ve got to talk to your professor man to man,” Griz starts lecturing me. Between his hulking size and his huge, thick beard, it’s hard not to feel like I’m a kid being dressed down by their disappointed dad.

  “Yeah? And say what?”

  “Apologize. Fucking grovel if you have to. It isn’t only your life you’re gonna screw up. If you get kicked out, the entire team is gonna suffer.”

  “Here, how’s this?” I clear my throat and arch my eyebrows up to the sky, “I’m sorry that the last time you saw me, it was when you were chasing me out of your daughter’s room with a broom in your hand. You got a couple good shots in there, by the way, my hip is bruised up a bit from where you whacked me. Anyway, I hope we can put this behind us and you can keep our unspoken and unethical agreement to pass me just because I play for the university team.”

  “Yeah, that might need some more practice,” Griz shakes his head, his eyes twinkling. “I’ve gotta feeling that won’t fly.”

  “I’ll work on it.” My phone dings and I pull it out, glancing down at the screen. There’s a bunch of missed messages from Kaylee all pretty much saying the same thing.

  Kaylee: Where ru!?!

  Me: On my way, save a seat!

  Kaylee: ur late

  Me: lost track of time

  Kaylee: I bet. What was her name?

  Me: …Ashley? I think…

  Kaylee: ur a pig. Get here soon!

  “That better not be a bunny, man. You’ve gotta focus, I’m serious,” Griz peers over at me and turns down the main campus road. Girls giggle and stare as we drive past, not that they can see us through the dark, tinted windows, but everyone knows who drives this car. Griz can be mad at me for an honest mistake if he wants, but he could’ve easily made the same one. It’s not like he’s some kind of celibate monk while the rest of us are out there drowning in pussy. Girls go crazy for his big, tattooed beast vibe. And let’s be honest, he eats it up.

  “No, it’s Kaylee. She’s holding a seat for me.”

  “Oh,” he goes quiet. “She’s a good one.” He gives me a side glance, “Don’t fuck that up.”

  “We’re not like that. Never have been.” My jaw is tight.

  I don’t need lectures on not jumping into bed with my best friend. Kaylee has been by my side since we were in elementary school. I remember when she was the girl with short hair and braces. She had the unfortunate nickname “Kansas Kaylee” because of how flat her chest was back then. Sure, she’s a grown-up and filled out in all the right places. Truth be told, she’s a knockout now, but there are some lines you can’t cross. No matter how tempting. Because, once you do, there’s no going back to the way things were. There’s no reset button on fucking your best friend, and I’d rather die than mess up what we’ve got.

  “Good, keep it that way.” Griz pulls up to the lecture hall and I jump out. “Hey, Player?” he calls out as I’m about to slam the door.

  “Yeah?” I lean in.

  “Make this right, man. We can’t lose you.”

  “I’ll give it my best shot.”

  2

  Adorkable Bordering on Awk-weird

&nbsp
; Kaylee

  Where is he? Looking over my shoulder, I scan the rows of the lecture hall, searching for a face I could describe perfectly with my eyes closed. Not because of his rugged, squared-off jaw covered in just enough scruff that you’d think he missed a couple days of shaving. Not because of his thick, masculine eyebrows that frame his smouldering eyes. They’re dark and soulful. And apparently looking into them makes every girl on this campus lose their minds, not to mention all their clothes, whenever he gives them attention.

  Is he good-looking? Sure. However, he’s more than that. He’s a kind of swaggering sexy that people part a path for in the halls. He’s got that boyish, charming smile that gets him out of trouble and into girl’s beds. He’s practically a giant, and not only because of his towering height. He took the Warriors to the championship game last year for the first time in a decade and then delivered. I guess that makes him a college legend, but to me he’s still the skinny kid with a little gap between his front teeth who couldn’t even stand on skates when I first met him.

  Noah’s a big man on campus, he’s probably destined for the NHL where he’ll have more money and girls than he knows what to do with. In my small corner of the universe, he’s more than a hockey player. He’s more than the millions of dollars I’m sure he’ll earn one day. And he’s a hell of a lot more than a pretty face. He’s my closest, oldest, dearest friend.