The Boyfriend Zone by Jillian Quinn

The image of Bex Bryant in the locker room has left a permanent imprint in my mind. Her tight spandex shorts that rode up her ass didn’t hurt. I can still feel her fingers on my skin and imagine her wide, blue eyes staring up at me.

I walk through campus with a few of my teammates, who I’ve known since we were babies. Tucker and Trent Kane, known as the Kane twins on campus, are on my right. They get in so much trouble together, always confusing girls and professors by switching places. It’s all a game to them. Tucker, the big mouth, yells across the street to a group of sorority girls and whistles at them.

“Didn’t you hook up with them last year?” I ask him, knowing he moves on from girls faster than he takes to lace a pair of skates.

Tucker runs his fingers through his spiky blond hair, confusion scrolling across his face. “I don’t know. Did we?”

I laugh as Tucker speaks for both him and Trent. They make the rest of us look like saints.

“I didn’t,” Drake Donovan chimes in. “There’s no reason we can’t share, Prez.” He says the last part with a wink.

My closest friends call me Prez. Jamie started it when we were younger, and the mysterious ‘z’ that’s not in my name somehow became part of my nickname. Almost no one calls me Preston, and no one who wants to live calls me Peter.

“Hard pass,” I tell Drake. “I don’t want Trent or Tucker’s sloppy seconds.”

Drake is the son of Carter Donovan. He’s one of the best goaltenders in the division. At six-feet-seven, Drake still has a few inches on me. He’s built like his dad, a giant whose muscular body blocks the net. But don’t let his size fool you. It doesn’t slow him down one bit.

Jamie laughs. “You better look for girls on another campus then.”

Jameson O’Connor, Jr. is the grandson of Mike Turner, a legendary hockey player and former manager of the Philadelphia Flyers. His dad, Uncle Jameson, is also my mom’s best friend. Our parents met in foster care when they were kids and raised each other. In some ways, Jamie and I are like brothers.

We grew up with skates on our feet and on the ice together, knowing what it’s like to have famous parents. Our upbringing was strange compared to our classmates, but it’s also what bonds us.

“Did Coach Bryant’s daughter look different to you?” I ask Jamie. “I didn’t recognize her at first.”

He shoves a hand through his short, brown hair. “That girl was Coach’s daughter? No way.”

I nod. “Yeah, that was Bex Bryant.”

“Damn,” Drake says. “What happened to her? The last time I saw her, she looked like a little girl.”

Trent scratches the light stubble along his jaw. “She has tits now. Nice ones.” He pauses for a second. “Why? You like her?”

I don’t respond at first. Do I like her?

I shrug. “She’s hot. I’d fuck her.”

“She has nice legs,” Drake says.

“Nice tits,” Jamie adds.

“But she’s Coach’s daughter,” I shoot back. “He would flip his shit if I went anywhere near her.”

“Right, right,” Trent says.

“If you were smart, Prez, you would stay away from Bex Bryant. Coach will kick your ass.”

I snort. “I’d like to see him try.”

“You don’t want to get on his bad side,” Drake interjects. “We need all the playing time we can get this year if we want to get into the NHL.”

He’s right. No girl is worth jeopardizing my future. Contrary to belief, I can’t make a pro team just because my dad had talent. I have to prove I can hack it too. And I have big shoes to fill. So do the rest of my friends.

Drake taps me on the arm, pulling me out of my thoughts. “I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat before we head home. We’re out of food.”

“That’s because you ate it all,” Tucker growls.

“I want pizza from Gio’s,” Drake says.

I turn to Drake and shake my head, disappointed. “Our first game of the season is three days from now, and you want to eat junk food already?”

He holds up his middle finger with a stupid look on his face. “Kiss my ass, Cap.”

He calls me that because I’m the captain of our team.

I roll my eyes at him.

“Stop being such a hard ass, Prez,” Trent groans. “What’s one slice?”

“You take your captain duties way too serious,” Drake says. “If Trent and Tuck can have a beer every night, then I can eat pizza.”

“Fine,” I grunt. “If we lose on Friday, or you look like shit on the ice, I’m blaming all of you. All you do is jerk off.”

“More like jerk each other off,” Jamie jokes.

I laugh.

“Don’t be a dick.” Drake punches Jamie in his arm.

Jamie flinches from the hard hit and returns his gesture. “Asshole.”

This is a typical day for us.

We live in the same house together, eat most meals together, work out and play hockey together. Our lives are so intertwined we never have much space. Some days, I want to beat the living shit out of all of them just so they’ll give me some room to breathe. But they are family. And family sticks together.

“One slice,” I tell Drake. “You were sluggish at practice.”

“Easy for you to say, Prez.” Drake gives me a nasty look. “You could eat ten pizzas and never lose an ounce of muscle.”

I ignore his comment. It’s not as easy for me to stay in game-ready shape as he thinks. I have to work my ass off. Living up to the Parker name is hard enough. Everyone compares my hockey stats to my dad. The pressure to be as good as him, or even better, is often suffocating.

We cross the street, headed toward Giovanni’s Pizza.

“What were you talking to Coach’s daughter about?” Trent asks. “It looked intense.”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right? That didn’t look like nothing to me.”

“I told her she was in the wrong locker room. And that she had a weird name.”

“So do you,” he challenges.

“That’s what she said.”

Jamie slaps his hand on his thigh, laughing.

“Real smooth, Prez,” Drake says. “Like you have room to talk about weird names, Spidey.”

I punch him in the arm, almost knocking him off balance. “Call me that again and watch what happens.”

I hate being named after Spider-Man, all because my dad lost a stupid bet to Uncle Jameson before I was born. There was no way I would tell anyone my name is Peter Parker. The reactions I got when I was younger were enough to make me think twice about going to college with that name. To save myself from further humiliation, I use my middle name. It’s easier than explaining my life to strangers.

“Coach will rip your dick off if he catches you looking at his daughter like that again,” Trent says. “Don’t think we didn’t notice you eye-fucking the shit out of her.”

I wink. “Good thing he didn’t catch me.”

“Coach loves him,” Jamie counters. “He treats Prez like a son. I’m sure he’d give him a pass to hit that.”

“Now, I really can’t fuck his daughter… seeing as how that would make us related.”

He laughs, opening the door to the crowded pizzeria for me. “You got me there. But seriously, if you like her, I bet he wouldn’t care. He’d make an exception for his team captain.”

Would he, though? Doubtful.

We step inside to wall-to-wall booths filled with college kids. Some people are sitting at the bar that runs along the right side, shoveling slices into their mouths. Gio’s is the local hangout for most people on campus. The pizza shop is almost always open, making it the perfect place to come when you’re drunk and need a quick bite to eat.

“Great, nowhere to sit.” Drake glances around the room and rubs his stomach. “Maybe we should get our pizza to go.”

“Nah, we can stand and eat,” I say.

Tucker points at a table of familiar girls. “I’m sure they would make room for us.”

I shake my head. “Been there, done that. Stay away from the redhead. She’s bat shit crazy.”

“I’d hit that,” Drake says.

Tucker makes a gagging sound. “I don’t do Parker’s sloppy seconds,” he says to mock my comment from earlier.

Jamie shrugs, unaffected. “Prez has good taste in women.”

“It’s called standards, something Tucker and Trent don’t seem to have.”

We stroll to the counter about to order when I hear Coach Bryant call my name. I look over my shoulder. He’s with his daughter in a booth by the window. She stares at me with a slice of half-eaten pepperoni pizza in her hand. Grease drips down the right side of her mouth, but she doesn’t seem to care. I like this girl. Bex doesn’t give two fucks. Most girls would have blushed by now and wiped their face. Not Bex. Zero fucks given.

I walk over to their table, flanked by Drake, Tucker, Trent, and Jamie. Bex bites into her pizza, now ignoring me.

Coach slaps the seat next to him. “Sit with us.”

“Thanks for the invite, Coach.” I wave him off. “But we don’t want to crash your dinner.”

“No, that’s nonsense. I insist.” He looks to his daughter for confirmation. “Honey, you don’t mind, right?”

Bex shrugs and slides along the bench, moving her plate across the table with her. She finishes her slice and then wipes her mouth with a napkin.

“Have you guys met my daughter, Bex?”

“Not until she ran into me in the locker room earlier,” I admit.

Her eyes widen as if I said something wrong.

Coach cocks a curious eyebrow at her.

“I lied about coming in through the side entrance,” she says to clear up his confusion. “I didn’t even know there was one until today.”

His cheeks flush once he realizes she walked through a crowded locker room full of naked men.

“It’s okay, Dad. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

His eyes grow so wide they could pop out of his head, but he keeps his cool in front of us and rebounds quickly. “We’ll talk about this later, Bex.” His focus shifts from his daughter and back to me. “We have plenty of pizza left. Join us.”

Bex rolls her eyes at him. “Um… no, we don’t.” Then she peeks up at me. “Get your own.”

Coach’s face turns bright red. “Bex, don’t be rude.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She holds her palm to her chest and glares at me. “Did I hurt your feelings, Mr. MVP?”

My friends laugh at her. Coach isn’t happy, though.

I clamp my hand on Coach Bryant’s shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s all right, we were just grabbing a slice for the road.”

Coach sighs, deflated. “I’m sorry about my daughter’s behavior. Bex is not normally like this.”

She flashes an evil grin in my direction.

My friends are right about Coach Bryant treating me like a son. He has shown me special treatment since freshman year when he was still the assistant coach. He pulled me aside at the first tryout and told me I had something special and not to waste it on women or booze. Ever since, he’s been more than a coach to me.

“You can sit.” Bex smacks the open space next to her with her palm. “But you have to get your own pizza. I don’t like to share my food.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.

She’s beautiful without even trying, still in the same shorts and fitted jersey from earlier. Her blonde hair falls in messy waves over her breasts. Her face is free of makeup, her lips chapped with a minor cut on the right side.

Bex doesn’t seem to care what anyone thinks of her. With just the right amount of sass, she’s the woman I need in my life. It’s weird to think it, but she reminds me of my mom who’s as strong as they come.

“We’ll be back.” Tucker says to Coach. He pulls me away from the table. “Dude, you were staring at her a little too hard,” he adds, once we have some distance.

We stop in front of the counter, and Tucker orders a slice for each of us.

I pull out my wallet, assuming these cheap fucks aren’t paying. Not like they can’t afford it. They have hefty trust funds too.

I hand a twenty to the man behind the register, my body angled toward Tucker. “I wasn’t staring. Would you fuck off about it?”

“She’s trouble,” Jamie says with a smirk. “I can see it already.”

“I’m not even going there,” I spit back. “Coach’s daughter is out of the question. Even you assholes know that.”

Drake laughs. “Yeah, but you’re not one to turn down a challenge.”

He’s right. I learned that from my dad. If Bex were anyone other than my favorite Coach’s daughter, I would have been all over her. I love her attitude. Other than my parents and coaches, no one ever challenges me, especially not women.

We grab our food from the counter and head back to Coach’s table. Bex glances up at me, this time without a mouth full of food. Wide blue eyes stare back at me, a defiant smirk on her lips.

Fuck, I’m in trouble.

Jamie is spot-on about this girl.

“One of you can sit next to me,” Bex says, her focus on me. “There’s plenty of room on your side,” she says to her dad. “No need to make a Bex sandwich. I wouldn’t want to break one of your rules.”

His rules?

Now, this I’m dying to know more about. Coach has rules for his daughter or his team? I make a mental note to find out whatever I can about Bex. I’m sure she has social media accounts. She also has friends and teammates who will give me dirt.

Realization sparks in Coach’s eyes. “Tucker and Drake sit over here with me. Jamie and Trent pull up two chairs from that table over there.” He points at a table with unused wooden stools.

We drop our plates to the table and get comfortable. Bex made everything so damn awkward, but leave it to Tucker to make small talk. He has a big mouth—like his dad.

“So…” Tucker says to Bex. “You’re on the women’s basketball team? I hear you’re good.”

She nods. “I’m a shooting guard.”

I lift the greasy pizza from my plate. “Like my mom.”

“Bex has a little crush on your mom,” Coach says, and she swats at his hand, telling him to be quiet.

I turn to look at her, a smile on my face. Maybe this is my way into her closed-off world. “You have a thing for my mom?” I can’t even get out the words without laughing.

Bex shields the side of her face with her hand. “Dad, seriously, you’re so embarrassing.”

“What?” Coach Bryant seems unfazed. “It’s true. Bex has been studying your mom’s crossover for years. She was planning to go to Villanova, too, until I persuaded her to come along with me to Strick U.”

To the sports world, my mom is Coach, one of the best agents in the business. Her face has been on covers of magazines, her deals talked about for years. She saved my father’s career, and then she saved him too.

“Do you want to meet her?” I offer. “I help her coach a little league basketball team at a rec center in South Philly if you want to come along for the ride.”

Anything to get some alone time with this girl. I’ve never brought a girl home to meet my parents. My mom will go nuts over Bex. She’ll probably have my Aunt Sydney planning our wedding by the end of the month. I don’t care.

I’m used to people wanting to meet my parents. It comes with the territory of having a famous family.

Bex slowly lowers her hand from her face, and our eyes meet. “Um… yeah. I would love that. Thanks, Preston.”

Now it’s Preston. Not Mr. MVP.

“I’ll pick you up on Saturday.” I remove my cell phone from my pocket and hand it to her. “Text me your address.”

She adds her number to my phone, texts me her address, then slides it along the table to me. Her smile is so wide it reaches her eyes.

It’s almost too easy.

I slip the phone back into my pocket. “Be ready by seven.”

Her eyebrows rise in confusion. “In the morning?”

I laugh. “Yeah. The first game starts at eight thirty. My mom has a thing about being late.”

A moment of silence passes between us before her dad interrupts. “Bex is starting this year.” His voice oozes with pride. “It’s about time that coach of hers wised up.”

“Oh, yeah. How come just this year?” Drake mumbles with his mouth full of food.

“Because my coach had a massive hard-on for Vicki Peterson. Stupid skank.” She says the last part under her breath.

I knew Vicki. Every guy on campus did. Bex isn’t wrong about the skank part. Almost every guy on our team went a round with her. If the rumors last year were true, her coach did too.

“Bex!” Coach’s eyes and mouth widen in shock. “Don’t talk like that about your teammates.”

“Former teammates,” she corrects.

He frowns. “Whatever.”

“Everyone knows Vicki’s been passed around more times than the Larry O’Brien Trophy.”

I try not to laugh and fail. Soda shoots out from Drake’s nose from laughing so hard. Even Coach Bryant joins us because Bex’s comment is funny as shit.

Bex shrugs. “It’s true. I was happy to see her go. Players shouldn’t get special treatment because of how they look in a uniform.”

Coach pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighs. “Either way, I’m proud of you, honey.”

I shove the last bite of pizza down my throat, needing to get out of here. The longer I sit next to Bex, the more I want to touch her again. Her bare legs are close to mine, her black shorts riding up her thighs. She’s tall, built like a basketball player, and now because of her comment, I keep stealing glances down her top, wondering how her tits would look in my jersey.

“You guys ready?” I ask my friends.

Drake licks the grease from the corner of his mouth and slides off the bench, giving Tucker some space to get up. Jamie follows suit, lifting our plates from the table. He’s a neat freak, and the only reason our house isn’t a total wreck.

“It’s been real, Coach.” Tucker waves. “Nice meeting you, Bex.”

“You, too.” She looks as though she wants to say more, pausing for a second. “Sorry, but which one are you? I get you guys confused.”

Tuck frowns.

Coach points at Tucker and Trent, followed by Jamie and Drake, introducing them. He must have assumed she already knew us.

Coach refocuses his gaze on his daughter. “You’re coming on Friday, honey. Once you see them play, I’m sure you won’t forget their names.”

She tips her head to me. “I already know this one.”

“That’s because I’m hard to forget,” I quip, provoking a slight smile from her lips. “Later, Coach.”

“Practice bright and early tomorrow,” he says.

I nod. “Bex, it’s been a pleasure.”

She smiles, a real one this time.

I leave Gio’s with the same stupid smile on my face, all because of the tomboy with no filter. At least now I have her number… and a date.