Chapter 5: The Hockey Captain Who Washes Panties

Asher's POV

Three in the morning. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking I'd lost my goddamn mind.

The scene from the locker room played on repeat in my head like some kind of virus. Her cold stare, and her... bare skin.

And the feel of her hand gripping mine, pressing it against her chest.

"Fuck."

I cursed under my breath, sitting up abruptly and grabbing the bottle of cold water beside me, taking a long swig.

It didn't help.

Every time I closed my eyes, I could even smell that faint scent on her.

I'd known Serena for over a decade.

As Julian's best friend, I'd spent nearly half my summers at the Kincaid estate.

In my memory, Serena was always that girl who'd tilt her chin up and look at me like I was some kind of barbarian, the Kincaid princess.

I despised the way she acted like she was above everyone, resented how she always seemed so perfectly flawless.

But what drove me insane was that every time she looked at me with that disdainful gaze, my body would have this urge to pin her against a wall and tear through that facade.

When I found out she wasn't actually Julian's sister, I thought I'd finally gotten my chance.

I thought I could legitimately get payback for Julian, for poor Chloe.

I could crush this fake princess under my heel and watch her cry and beg.

But what happened instead? My gaze drifted involuntarily toward the balcony.

Two hours ago, I'd been standing at the sink like some kind of pervert, bringing those panties up to my nose on impulse.

They still carried her scent, that sweet, warm smell that belonged to her.

"Shit..."

I cursed quietly, my legs going weak as I leaned against the sink.

The bulge in my sweatpants had been painfully hard for a while now, straining obscenely against the fabric.

I closed my eyes, my mind flooded with images of her in the locker room, spreading her legs and guiding my fingers inside.

I roughly yanked down my sweatpants and gripped my burning erection.

With my other hand, I wrapped that thong around my most sensitive tip and started pumping frantically.

I'd promised Julian I'd make this vain woman pay at Blackwood.

I was his best friend, I was supposed to be on their side.

But what about now?

If Julian knew my head was full of images of the girl he used to call his sister spreading her legs, he'd kill me.

"Serena..."

I gritted my teeth, breathing heavily in the empty bathroom.

I kept telling myself to snap out of it. This was Serena, the cruel woman who'd bullied Chloe, the woman Julian hated most.

But my hand only moved faster, my palm rubbing against the shaft through that thin lace, and I found myself imagining in the filthiest way that it was her tight, wet heat clenching around me.

"Ah...!"

With a groan I'd suppressed to the breaking point, my whole body convulsed and thick ropes of cum shot out.

The emptiness after climax and the crushing self-loathing hit me all at once. I looked at the mess in my hand and felt like a hopeless pervert.

All I could do was turn the tap back on and wash that pathetically small piece of fabric three times over with ice-cold water, like a madman.

It was cold water, but my palms felt like they were on fire.

Finally, I dried it, folded it neatly, and when the hallway went dark, snuck it back into her room like an idiot.

I must have lost my mind.

Early morning, I'd just changed into my practice gear when I heard a few teammates huddled in the corner, laughing lewdly.

"Holy shit, that body's insane."

"She usually dresses so conservative, didn't expect her to be so hot under those clothes. Look at those legs..."

"She owes three million now, heard she's even doing maid work. You think if we pay up, we could get her to try on our jerseys too?"

I frowned and walked over, snatching the phone from one guy's hand.

On the screen was a viral post on Blackwood's forum.

In the photo, Serena was wearing my jersey, her long pale legs exposed, walking out of the hockey rink.

Someone had clearly snapped it from the parking lot.

My head exploded with a buzzing sound.

"Captain, did you hook up with her last night?" The guy was still grinning stupidly. "How was it? Is a fake heiress more wild than those socialites..."

The thought of every bastard on campus seeing her like that, imagining what I'd seen last night, made something snap inside me.

I didn't say a word, just grabbed him by the collar and slammed him to the ground.

The loud crash silenced the entire locker room instantly.

"C-Captain..." He was terrified, stammering as he looked up at me.

"Say it again. I dare you."

"I... I was just joking..."

"Shut your mouth." I warned through gritted teeth. "Anyone makes another joke about her, I'll break his jaw. Got it?"

I let him go, threw the phone at his chest, and stormed out of the locker room.

It wasn't until I was outside that I realized what I'd just done.

I was protecting her? I was actually protecting that woman?

I grabbed my hair in frustration. I was supposed to hate her.

But just thinking about other guys looking at her that way made me want to gouge out their eyeballs.

I pulled out my phone and opened the contact with no name saved.

My fingers hammered at the screen so hard I nearly cracked it. Then I typed the one thing I never thought I'd say to her.

---

Serena's POV

"Don't go to tonight's charity auction."

Morning, macroeconomics lecture. I was walking into the lecture hall when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

The room was packed, but as I made my way down the aisle, students shifted away, leaving a wide circle of empty seats around where I'd sit. Everyone was looking at me strangely, whispers buzzing in my ears like flies.

I didn't bother acknowledging them, just pulled out my phone and opened the messages.

"Those people don't have good intentions. They just want to see you embarrassed."

"If you need money, you can talk to me."

I looked at the screen and raised an eyebrow.

Asher Hays.

This rabid dog had learned to show concern?

I typed back leisurely: "Is the captain worried about me?"

A full five minutes passed before he replied: "Can you act normal for once."

I let out a quiet laugh and typed back: "No."

I put my phone away and looked up just as Chloe walked over from the front row. Several girls followed behind her, glaring at me indignantly.

"Serena." Chloe stopped at my desk, her voice pitched just loud enough for everyone around to hear.

Her eyes were slightly red, looking pained.

"I saw the photos on the forum... I really didn't think... if you needed money, you could've told me. You didn't have to go to Asher too..."

She bit her lower lip without finishing the sentence, but the implication was enough for everyone to fill in the dirtiest possible scenario.

"Oh my God, how does she have the nerve to show up to class?"

"Right? Coming out of the men's locker room dressed like that, she's shameless."

"Chloe's too kind, actually caring about someone like her."

The murmurs around us grew louder.

I leaned back tiredly in my chair, watching Chloe's performance in silence.

When the tears in the corners of her eyes had glistened enough, I slowly stood up.

I was a good head taller than her, and she instinctively took half a step back.

"Chloe." My voice was calm. "

By your logic, if wearing a jersey with someone's name on it means what you're implying, then the tens of thousands of Blackwood hockey merch sold every year would make this campus one giant brothel."

The girls who'd just been insulting me turned various shades of red and white.

I picked up my assignment from the desk and walked past Chloe, who stood frozen in place.

"Also."

I paused and glanced back slightly. "Drop the fake concern. You don't pity me. You're just jealous that even when I have nothing, I'm still the center of attention."

I placed my assignment on the TA's desk and walked out of the classroom under everyone's shocked stares.

Eight PM. Blackwood University, Alumni Hall.

Tonight was the school's annual charity auction. I wore a very simple black slip dress. No jewelry, no designer labels, but the cut fit my waistline perfectly.

I'd just reached the steps outside the hall when I saw Asher leaning against a black SUV.

He wasn't wearing his jersey today, but had on a black motorcycle jacket instead, an unlit cigarette between his lips, his expression sour as if someone owed him millions.

When he saw me approach, he straightened up, his brow furrowed.