Cocky Score (The Hawkeyes Hockey Series)
Cocky Score: Chapter 11

“Where would you like the box labeled ‘cookie sheets’?” the mover asks.

I look up, mid-text from responding back to my mom. I avoided her calls last night since Briggs spoke to both of them last night while we were at the bar. Now that we’re a “couple”, he can speak for both of us, right? I guess not, because by 6 a.m. this morning, she was blowing up my phone again, asking how this whole dating thing came to be, if he makes me happy, and what our plans are for Thanksgiving. Evidently, nagging moms are immune to champagne hangovers when it comes to prying the truth from their offspring.

I love the woman dearly, and I hate to lie to her. Hopefully she won’t be too mad when the truth comes out that Briggs and I have no real plans to unify our families through wedded bliss.

I can already hear my father’s firm voice when I finally tell them. “Autumn, you’re making your mother cry. Would it kill you to just marry Briggs to make her happy?” Sorry, Dad, Briggs can have his pick of any woman, and he’d never pick me. But his plea wouldn’t be completely selfless for my mother’s benefit. My dad would also be angling for Briggs’s season tickets.

“You can leave that on the kitchen island,” I tell him and then head toward the hall to figure out which bedroom is mine.

The first door I see is wide open with two large duffle bags labeled The Hawkeyes on the side and Briggs number #48 stitched above it. I guess I know which room Briggs is taking. It’s a decent size room with an ensuite. I continue walking down the hallway and replace the other door at the end of the hall and to the left. I nudge the door open in surprise to replace this room is bigger, with a walk-in closet and ensuite. I can see the freestanding white soaking tub in the back corner from here. Why would he leave this one for me? Did he assume they were both the same size?

I hear footsteps headed toward the hall from the living room. I look over to replace Briggs with another bag in his hands, heading into his room.

“Everything okay?” he asks from down the hall, peering past the door jam of the second bedroom.

“Uh, I think you put your stuff in the wrong room. This one is the master.”

“I’m only here two-thirds of the week since we travel for games, and women have more shit than men usually. I figured you could use the space.” He shrugs. “Plus, you’re in this predicament because of me,” he says, his eyes casting down slightly.

“It’s not because of you,” I say in an attempt to reassure him.

“Even so. I thought you’d be more comfortable.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but it is a big deal.

He’s practically twice my size. He could use the extra space too.

“Well… thank you.” My heart flickers at the sweet gesture.

I watch as he smiles quickly, drops his bag inside the door and then heads back toward the movers.

I thought the movers seemed like a bit much, but The Hawkeyes offered to pay to have a moving company move over whatever I might need for the time Briggs and I are bound together.

The apartment they rented us isn’t far from the stadium. I’ll be able to walk to Briggs’s games, and since keeping up the girlfriend facade is crucial, I’ll be expected to attend all home games. They didn’t have to twist my arm. I’m beyond excited to get to sit in Briggs’s box seats and watch my favorite sport and my favorite player… er, I mean my favorite team.

I walk inside and head for the closet. It’s large, the size of a tiny bedroom, but my heart jumps at the sight of something already hanging up inside.

It’s a jersey. A Conley jersey… in my size.

I push my rolling luggage upright, pull the jersey off the hanger quickly and run my fingers over the fabric. Did Briggs do this? I head out of my bedroom to replace Briggs.

When I replace him talking to the movers, I start walking toward him, and he turns when he senses someone headed his way. He sees the jersey in my hand and smiles.

“I figured you already have a weathered old jersey that you sleep in every night with my name on the back. I thought you could use a new one for the games.” A devilish grin stretches across his face.

“You would assume that, wouldn’t you? You’re right about me sleeping in a jersey… but it’s Kaenan Altman’s jersey that’s all tattered up in my top drawer,” It’s a lie, but he laughs anyway, and I finally see a piece of the old Briggs I haven’t seen since we were kids. “I can’t believe you think I’d wear your jersey. Cocky much? It’s any wonder how you get that jersey over your massive head,” I tease.

“You’re right. It is massive.” He grins, directing my vision down to his crotch by staring down at it.

I shake my head and try to hold back the laughter trying to bubble out of me.

“No thanks. I’ve already seen it,” I say, making a quick spin and start heading back toward my room.

I hear Briggs’s heavy steps jogging to catch back up to me, “Hold on, when was this?” he says, jumping in front of me and blocking my progression toward the hallway.

“Remember that summer, your junior year, when Isaac pantsed you at the pond behind your house?”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Isaac and I pantsed each other regularly to embarrass the shit out of each other. Particularly when we had an audience.”

True, those two were also hazing each other.

“Okay, well, I was there for one of those times then,” I say, trying to turn to his left and get around him, but he counters, blocking me with a grin.

“So you already know how impressive it is.” He smiles down at me as he takes a step closer and hovers over me.

The mover walks up to Briggs with an invoice and a pen and offers it up to Briggs in a nonverbal request to sign that they completed their job. Briggs nods and takes the invoice, scribbling his autograph on it.

“Oh…” I say, locking my eyes on Briggs and give him a look of fake empathy. “Is that what you’re still working with? I figured once you hit puberty, it would all… you know… fill in for you.”

The mover’s eyebrows practically hit the ceiling, and he turns swiftly to head back out of the door with the signed invoice from Briggs in hand. He’s heard enough, and he knows when it’s time to leave. Although, I bet he’s heard worse while moving people from house to house. Moving can be a stressful business.

I can’t hold back my grin from ear to ear. Besides, Briggs Conley has one of the nicest members I’ve ever seen in real life, even if I was barely a freshman and all the way on the other side of the pond with a few of Briggs and Isaac’s friends. It doesn’t matter what I say, though; Briggs knows he won the genetic lottery with that thing. Whether or not he’s gifted with using it remains a mystery. A mystery I never plan to solve… unfortunately.

I pick up where I left off and swerve around him, heading for my room.

“Very cute,” he says, following me down the hallway. I take a left into my doorway. “But you already know how filled out it is. However, if you’d like, I can show you how nicely it fills in,too,” he says, stopping at the door jam and leaning his shoulder against it as I continue further into my bedroom. He’s just teasing me, trying to make me blush, and maybe it’s working, but I won’t give him the benefit of knowing.

“Why don’t you clear the idea with my brother first, then let me know what you two settle on? In the meantime, I need to shower. Moving is a sweaty business,” I say, headed for the huge bathroom.

“You know he’ll kill me if I bring up you and my cock in the same sentence.” I laugh as I unzip my hoodie and toss it onto the dresser that stands beside the bathroom door against the wall. “So give a man his last dying wish and let me join you,” he teases.

Or at least, I think he’s teasing.

I turn around while standing inside my bathroom, taking the bathroom handle in my hand and smile at him. “All right then, come on,” I say, opening the bathroom door a smidgen wider as a welcoming sign.

A giant smirk breaks across Briggs’s face, and he takes one step inside the master. I quickly give him an “I gotcha” grin.

“Oh… I mean… I knew you were kidding?” Briggs says, not taking any more steps into my bedroom and rubbing the back of his neck.

Is that a little embarrassment warming those cheeks? It can’t be.

“You look better above ground.” I tease.

“Right.” He nods.

Then I close the door slowly while I watch him stare back at me, tucking his hands in his pockets and smirking.

I turn back to the massive, tiled walk-in shower and flip up the water to scalding hot, a quick daydream flashing before my eyes of Briggs storming through the door and hauling me into the shower with him, undressing me and showing me just how incredible his cock can fill me.

“Have a good shower,” he calls back.

He still hasn’t left my room.

“Thanks,” I yell over the shower water, “see you at the stadium later. I’ll be one of the many girls wearing your number!” I joke.

“Yeah, but you’re the only one I’m taking home tonight!” he yells back.

Warmness fills low in my belly and radiates between my thighs at the way he says it, even though he probably meant that only literally because now we live together.

Then I listen for the sound of his feet as he finally walks out of the master bedroom, closing the door behind him.