Jourdan Mathews has a secret, and she knows she needs to take this one to the grave.
* * *
Her life was never complicated: a college student with a close family, good friends, and a plan for her future as a doctor. Had that night had never happened...
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The Athletic Center at Boulder is one of the nicest buildings on campus—a testament to the copious amount of funding that the university receives for its prestigious athletic programs. I mean, the CU Events Center, where the basketball team has all their home games, used to be known as the COORS Events Center because it'd been built via a hefty donation from the beer company.
As I step through the doors, I appreciate the warm air, taking my hands out from where they'd been balled in my coat pockets to avoid the biting winter air outside. It had snowed heavily last night, campus covered in a white blanket that made it resemble a picturesque Christmas card.
The snow prompted my friends and I to plan a sledding trip to Chataqua Park since today is Saturday, and so now I'm here, picking Ryder up after morning practice before we head up to the park where everyone else is meeting us.
We said sledding, but both Ryder and I wanted to snowboard a bit too, so I'd thrown our boards in the bed of his truck, which he'd let me drive while since he'd stayed over at my place last night and walked to campus this morning.
I turn down the long hallway towards the player's locker rooms and cock my head slightly when I see two figures strolling towards me. I recognize them as Ryder's teammates, the first one I know—Dawson, but the second I can't quite place.
"Mathews!" Dawson cheers, waving to me as I approach him and a tall, lanky guy with bristling ginger hair. Both appear younger, I know Dawson is a sophomore, but the other guy must be too.
"Hey," I say, smiling as I pause in front of them, craning my neck back to look up at them. Fucking athletes, they always make me feel like a midget.
"You lookin' for Harris?" Dawson drawls and I nod.
"I'm Keaton," the ginger-hair guy pipes up then. "By the way."
"I'm Jourdan," I offer. "Ryder's girl—"
"Oh, we know who you are." Keaton grins. "Big Harris won't shut up about you."
I feel a blush color my cheeks then. A smile of amusement stretching across my face at their nickname for their captain 'Big Harris', I wonder where it'd come from and why I'd never heard it before.
"Can you blame him?" Dawson smirks at me, wiggling his eyebrows as his blue eyes look me up and down.
I'm tempted to snort with laughter.
Leave it to Dawson Bamford to attempt to check me out even though I'm wearing thick snow pants, heavy boots and a down jacket that didn't reveal a single inch of skin or line of my body. I essentially look like a large pillow.
I'd met Dawson when he'd come over for dinner a while ago and based on everything I'd heard from Ryder and from Dawson himself, he's the biggest flirt you'd ever meet. And he can get away with it too—with the kind of dreamy good looks that had panties melting the second he smirked in their direction. But what he has in charm and appearance, he lacks in street smarts, because apparently, he got himself into a lot of trouble with ladies as well.
