The coach for the Carter U supporters set off five minutes before the coach for the Carter U players, a fact which has had Hunter blowing up my phone every thirty seconds with photos of our bus’s rear end.
HUNTER: your driver is going way too fast
FALLON: we are literally on the highway. what’s he supposed to do? go slow?
HUNTER: you’re riding with us on the way back
FALLON: wait. please tell me that the supporter coach leaves tomorrow, same time as the team coach?
A deafening silence has me checking the bus slip that Hunter gave me last week.
The supporter coach leaves tonight, whereas the team’s coach leaves tomorrow morning.
Oh my God. How did I not think to check this?
FALLON: I can’t ride with your team Hunter! wtf!
Hunter sends me a photo of the inside of the team’s bus with the caption: which seat do you want? you’re with the captain so you get first dibs.
Then he sends me a smiley face that makes me groan out a laugh.
“Oh my God,” I mumble, pressing my fingers into my forehead. I can tell from his texts that he’s got that hot smug grin on his face.
Suddenly nervous about the warm fuzzy feeling in my belly, I click the button at the top of my cell and turn my phone off for the rest of the ride.
I wriggle my hands up the sleeves of my cardigan and smooth out the pleats of my skirt with my new sleeve-paws.
I’m sat beside Winter, Caden’s girlfriend who doesn’t even attend Carter U, but seeing as Caden bought her ticket the college is none the wiser about her being here. She’s spent the past twenty minutes trying to share candy-floss flavoured grapes with me, peeking at me sideways as my face probably turns more and more green.
I’ve never been great with long distances.
She glances at me after my little outburst with my cell and she laughs as she watches me shove my phone into the bottom of my bag. I didn’t actually see Hunter before the bus left the Carter U lot but I watched from the window as Caden kissed goodbye to his girlfriend. They’re such a visual contradiction that I found it hard to look away.
Winter twizzles a soft pink curl around her fingers, curiosity shimmering in her eyes as she watches me.
“Wanna use mine instead?” she asks, holding her phone out to me with her earphone cord dangling over my arm. “If you wanna listen to music or something.”
The gesture is so trusting and thoughtful that I feel a small bloom of warmth in my chest.
“I’m okay, honestly,” I rasp, stifling a dry-heave.
She smiles at me as she slips her phone inside her bag, nestling it beside a literal full-sized Holy Bible. She crosses her legs towards me, and nudges at my shoe with the pointy toe of her cowgirl boot.
“We’ll only be on the road for, like, another fifteen minutes. You get car sick or something?” she asks.
Wow, my face must be really green.
“Mm-hm,” I admit, breathing shakily. “I’ve been doing long distances since I was a kid but my body never got used to it. When I was on the cheer comp team and we used to go cross-country? I’d be the girl lying in the aisle, trying not to pass out.” I laugh at the memory, fanning my embarrassed cheeks with my hand. “The driver actually had to pull over one time so that I could recalibrate my body. It felt like I couldn’t breathe which, obviously, is not ideal.”
Winter laughs and gives my shoulder a little nudge. The action almost makes me retch, and she gives me an apologetic laugh while handing me her bottle of water.
“You need a good distraction, is all,” she says as I sip the water like my life depends on it. Right now, it feels like it does. “I used to get it too, but when I started travelling with Cade it honestly went away. When I’m not riding with him I just listen to music. Long songs that I know all of the lyrics to. I’ll listen to the ten minute version of ‘All Too Well’ twelve times and suddenly I don’t want the two hour road-trip to end.”
I glance over to her, hearts in my eyes. “You’re a genius,” I tell her.
She pats delicately at her soft pink blow-out. “It has been said.”
Fifteen minutes later the coach is pulling up at Larch Peak University’s D1 hockey rink and the second that my feet hit the ground the players’ coach is pulling up right next to ours.
The door slides open and the guys begin to slowly dismount, eyeing us casually as they saunter to grab their gear from the side compartment. As soon as Hunter muscles his shoulders out of the doorway his eyes find mine and a smile tugs at his lips.
My jaw drops to the floor when I see what he’s wearing.
He quickly grabs his gear from the pile-up and then he’s leading me around to the side of the bus so that he can kiss me without his teammates watching.
“You’re wearing a suit,” I whimper, as he tugs my body up against his. His pecs are so big that the buttons of his shirt are literally straining.
“Yeah,” he grunts, kissing at my mouth. “Protocol.”
Before I can tell him that he’s the hottest man I have ever seen, he grips one hand at the back of my neck and leashes his fingers through my hair, angling me so that he can kiss me deeper. I moan quietly as he slips his tongue around mine, and he uses his other hand to stuff something into my palm.
I pull away panting so that I can look down at it.
It’s a bag of Jelly Babies.
Hunter’s molten eyes meet mine and I instantly know what he’s thinking about – us at the movies, Jelly Babies spilling all over my lap.
Suddenly my face is on fire.
“There’s a couple of hours before the game starts,” Hunter states, his voice gravel rough as his eyes rake me up and down. “Get those down your neck.”
My eyes go wide, my skin aflame, and I realise that this is a side of Hunter that I haven’t seen before. He’s in full-on game-day mode.
It’s so intimidating that I can barely breathe.
“Okay,” I say breathlessly, tucking them into my bag for safe-keeping.
I feel his large palm stroke at my ponytail, making my cheeks burn even hotter.
“Nice bow,” he grunts, eyes on the cheer bow in my hair.
“I wanted to support,” I say back to him, feeling a little self-conscious. It’s in Carter U’s colours to match the team’s hockey gear.
He flashes me a satisfied smirk, which makes my belly pound and flip.
“Good,” he murmurs. “I want these Larch Peak fuckers to know exactly who you’re supporting.”
His hand tightens around my ponytail before he smoothes his palm down the length of it. Our gazes lock together, and heat licks in my abdomen.
Seeing Hunter in his suit for the first time – a tradition for Division I athletes at Carter U when they’re doing tournaments like this – reminds me that, while I’m no longer doing sport competitively, Hunter is, and this game could be a really big deal for him.
I know that he’s intending to go pro when he graduates and I’m guessing that the higher Carter U ranks in the college league the better his potential NHL team will be. He’s already the captain at a Division I college which clearly proves how powerful he is, but the sight of him and his team looking like they’re going into battle is enough motivation for me to give him as much support as possible.
And right now he looks every bit the bad boy hockey player that girls love to assume he is.
But I’ve spent three years being the good girl cheerleader, and now is the perfect time to put it to use.
Hunter spent our entire last semester supporting me, and it’s time to return the favour.
I stand up on my tip-toes, wrap my arms around his neck, and his expression immediately softens into a contented boyish smirk. I press a little kiss to his sharp tan cheekbone before leaning further up so that I can whisper in his ear.
“Is now a good time to tell you that I brought my pom-poms?” I ask teasingly.
Hunter chuckles and scrubs at the back of his neck, his cheeks turning ruddy. He looks around to check that no-one is within hearing distance and then he towers over me and murmurs, “Really?”
I give him a tiny nod and he drops his eyes, smiling shyly.
“Jesus, baby,” he rasps, rubbing his thumbs into my belly.
“After you win, I’ll show you how I use them.”
His eyes burn into mine, his throat muscles rolling, and after a beat he smirks, pressing a firm kiss against my lips. “Baby, I’ve been needin’ you for so long that you won’t be able to hold onto those pom-poms when I finally get my hands on you.”
I let out a whoosh of air, way out of my depth, but then I’m biting back a smile as Hunter gently kisses my cheek.
Hunter Wilde is the most beautiful contradiction I have ever met.
“Carter U?” a voice suddenly calls from the entrance doors to the Larch Peak U rink. “Your team is free to head into the changing rooms now.”
I tense up a little as I glance at the guy in the doorway. He’s kitted out in the home team’s gear, evidently a player on their roster, and he looks kind of pissed off at having been assigned door duty.
The Carter U team eye him with varying levels of unfriendliness as they trudge past him. Some jerk their chin at him but, if anything, that just seems to piss him off more.
Hunter looks completely disinterested.
I try to pull out of his arms and Hunter’s attention snaps back down to me. He realises that we’re going to be separated until his game is over and his hands on my waist immediately tighten.
“I’ll find you straight after the game,” he murmurs, low and husky. I lean up so that he can kiss me and he grunts hard as he rubs our tongues together. He must feel my slight tremor of nerves about watching him play his crazy brutal sport again because when I pull away he says quietly, “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna win, no problem.”
I nod up at him, trying to hide my little wave of anxiousness. “I know,” I whisper. “You’re amazing, you’re going to win.”
He watches me intensely for a moment and then in the next second he presses his forehead against mine, a move so gentle that I gasp at the contact. Hunter sighs and something painful blooms in my chest. It’s so intimate that it hurts.
“Yo, didn’t you hear me?”
I feel Hunter’s back muscles swell underneath my fingertips, before he turns his head over his shoulder to where the guy on the opposing team is still standing at the door. His arms are folded across his chest and his face is bright red.
He looks like the kind of guy who shotguns a lot of energy drinks.
Hunter lifts up, releasing me from the cage of his chest, and stands to his full height, showing the guy at the door exactly what he’s dealing with. A guy who’s built like a damn monster truck.
Hunter stares at him wordlessly until the other guy scoffs and looks away. Then he turns around to me, his boyish sweetness replaced by the competitiveness of a Division I athlete.
He pulls open his bag, grabs his jumper, and he stuffs it into my arms, a heated look darkening his features. He tips his chin at it and says hoarsely, “Wear that for me during the game.”
I can’t help but think back to the first time that he gave me his jumper, and the fact that he told me that he would find a reason to give it to me again.
Hunter Wilde is a man of his word.
I bite back a smile as I clutch his soft jumper against my chest and then I lean up for one more kiss, showing Hunter exactly who I’m going to be supporting tonight. He grunts and licks his tongue against mine, once, twice, until my arms are locked tight around his neck and I wish that I never had to let go.
“Okay,” I whisper, nodding as he kisses my cheeks. “I promise.”
