You’ll Just Know （5）

" So, can I, like, text you?"

JT, sitting on the side of the bed, reached down to the floor for his pants and began pulling them on. The girl, who he'd just railed senseless, came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Because," she whispered into his ear, "that was seriously some of the best dick I've ever had."

JT smirked at the praise he'd received on more than one occasion, breaking away from her grip and standing up. "I don't, um, necessarily think that's a good idea. I mean, this was fun, but, like, I've got a lot going on…"

"Ugh. Whatever," she grumbled, rolling away from him and getting out of her bed to get dressed. "Should've known. Fucking hockey boys."

He had spotted the blonde staring at him outside of his dorm when he was on his way in from practice. After making some small talk and finding out she lived in the building as well, he decided it'd been far too long since he'd had an orgasm that wasn't self-inflicted. He'd quickly showered, then headed to her room on the second floor.

Now that he'd gotten what he'd come for, he pulled on his Penn State Ice Hockey t-shirt, which had number 27 and his last name on the front, and glanced over as she stood posing in just her bra and underwear. "You sure I can't text you? I mean," she crooned, dragging her fingertips slowly down the front of her body, "no bullshit. It'd just be for sex."

JT snickered, stuffing his feet into his Crocs and heading toward her door. "I know where to find you," he said, opening it.

"Wow. You run from everything this fast, DiMara?"

He paused for a moment, contemplating saying something nasty, but remembered what his therapist said and decided against it. Instead, he just nodded a few times. "It was nice to meet you," he said, leaving without so much as a slight glance backward.

Walking down the hall toward the stairs, he raked his hands through his hair and exhaled, throwing his head back briefly. He'd been on campus for a grand total of three days and already hated every waking moment.

His first practice with the team yesterday had been a disaster. Some of the guys, mostly the newbies, had been nice to him, but he'd already earned the nickname "Red" from many of the upperclassmen. And a few of them had decided that, since he wasn't going to be playing games this year, he was pretty much useless.

"They'll come around," one of the sophomore d-men, Colton Carter, told him as they'd stood waiting to take the next defensive drill. " They're just…they take this shit super serious, since most of them are either trying to get signed or already have been."

"Yeah, I, uh, kinda noticed."

"How about you? You got any eyes on you?"

JT had shaken his head, dragging the toe of his stick mindlessly across the ice in front of him. "Not many teams lining up for an academic redshirt with a reputation for being a royal pain in the ass. Hoping to clean up my image a bit this year, lay low, stay outta trouble. You know?"

His teammate nodded. "Yeah, I've been contacted by a few teams, but the most serious interest has been from Winnipeg. Well, from their AHL affiliate, the Manitoba Moose. " He snickered. "The Moose. What a gay name for a team."

JT had felt an immediate flash of anger, his eye beginning to twitch. "Can you maybe, like, find a better adjective?" he'd asked through gritted teeth.

Colton's demeanor immediately shifted, as he fumbled over his words. "Yeah, I…sorry, man. Are you? Gay? I mean, shit. It's no big deal…"

"DiMara, Carter, you're up!" Coach Emerick yelled from the bench.

"I'm not…ugh, fuck!" JT had groaned, frustrated, as he raced after the puck behind the net and proceeded to completely screw up the drill, causing a few of the other guys to scream at him.

D1 NCAA hockey?

Not off to a great start.

As if that wasn't bad enough, there was the matter of his roommate and fellow first-year teammate, Ryker McCreery.

They'd spoken over text and social media before the semester started, and it had gone OK. But living in a 250-square-foot room with someone was a whole different ball game than shooting the shit via text and sending each other hockey memes.

Ryker was everything JT wasn't: smart, neat, level-headed, focused. The 18-year-old was attending Penn State on a full academic scholarship for astrophysics of all things and he had no ambition to play hockey professionally. He'd made the D1 team on a tryout because he played all throughout high school and "thought it might be fun to travel and stuff."

And, like everything else, he was really good at it.

The two had gotten into it briefly the first day after JT had left a mess in the bathroom. Ryker had calmly asked him to pick his things up off the floor so he could shower, a reasonable request that had effectively set JT off.

"Oh, so this is how it's gonna be? You're gonna police everything I do? What are you, my fucking dad?"

"I…JT, I just asked if you could pick your shit up so I could…"

JT had stormed into the bathroom, shoved Ryker out of the way, and snatched up his belongings, shaking them in his face on the way out. "There. Better?" He'd tossed them onto his own bed, then continued, "Is that OK? Can I leave my shit on my own bed, or is that gonna piss you off, too?"

Ryker shook his head, then said calmly, "Listen here, Bruce Banner. You need to chill the fuck out, for real. If we're gonna live together and play together, you're gonna need to take some deep breaths or something."

"Yeah? And you're gonna need to suck this dick," he'd said, grabbing his crotch, then shrugging. "Fuckin' nerd."

"Would it get you to calm down? If so, I'll seriously consider it," Ryker had said with a wink before turning back toward the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

This had left JT frozen, because not only was Ryker annoying, but he was also a goddamn smokeshow . Dark, messy hair, dark eyes, black glasses, and a chiseled jawline with a body to match. Not even 24 hours and JT was already jerking off to thoughts of shoving his cock into his new roommate's ass.

He opened the door to his dorm room, hoping it'd be empty so he could grab a short nap before heading off to meet his new tutor in a few hours, and was greeted by the welcome sight of a freshly showered Ryker, wearing only a pair of boxers and drying his hair with a towel. JT rolled his eyes, but not before scanning every inch of his roommate's killer body.

"Banner," Ryker greeted him.

"Nerd," JT shot back, flinging himself onto his bed and resting his forearm across his eyes.

"You seemed like you were having a better day today out there than yesterday. You looked great on the PK," his roommate told him, hanging up his towel on the doorknob.

"What exactly about my body language suggests that I'm in the mood to talk to you right now?"

"Fine," Ryker replied, followed by a few moments of silence before he started up again. "Are you going to the party tonight?"

JT exhaled, exasperated, and sat up on his bed. "Guess we're doing this, huh? I don't know. Carter told me about it, but like, I'm not sure if…" JT trailed off.

"I think it'd, um, be good for you, bond with some of the guys off the ice, you know?"

"Yeah, right," JT scoffed. "They hate me, man. I'm just the pathetic redshirt. They all think I'm a fucking joke."

Ryker shook his head. "Nah. They're just…I mean," he he sitated. "Nevermind."

"No, what? They're what?"

"Well, they feel like maybe you're a little, I don't know…standoffish."

JT feigned surprise, widening his eyes and pointing at his chest. " Standoffish ? Moi?"

"Well, make an effort then," Ryker told him, bending over and reaching into the bottom drawer of his dresser to get some sweatpants. JT gulped, admiring his ass.

There was nothing about this kid that wasn't absolute perfection.

"It's not…it's not that easy, man," JT replied as Ryker lay down on his own bed, still shirtless. "I don't really do the whole bonding thing. Not my style."

"Then maybe you need to make it your style."

"Yeah? And maybe you need to put on a shirt."

Ryker laughed. "Sorry. May want to avert your gaze. If you stare directly at them, it's like looking at the sun," he teased, running his hands along his abs. "So, you wanna head over together tonight? Grab something to eat first?"

"You, like, don't take a hint, do you?"

"Listen, Banner. I'm gonna break you down, pull you outta this little protective cocoon thing you got going on, OK?"

"Oh, you think so?"

"I know so. You wanna have fun. I can tell. You put on this front like you're some hard ass, but I see right through it. It's gonna be a long year if you don't open up."

"So, you're an astrophysics nerd with a minor in psychology. Cool. Speaking of," JT said, checking his phone calendar and making sure he'd set an alarm for his first session with his new therapist on Friday. If it weren't for his therapist recommending he set phone reminders that beeped and buzzed a zillion different ways, JT would have never made it anywhere, ever.

"So, tell me something about you, JT DiMara," Ryker said, rolling onto his back and bringing a knee into his chest for a hamstring stretch. "I'm curious to know what makes you tick."

JT wanted to tell him to fuck off, to mind his own business.

Instead, he blurted out, "Both my parents are dead."

"I'm sorry," Ryker said softly, switching legs. "My mom died when I was 15. I get it."

"I was 15, too, when I lost my mom," JT instantly replied, even though everything in his brain was telling him to shut up. "And 12 when my dad died. And I'm fucking angry about it. I go to therapy, but I…I deal with a lot of anger. It's kinda why I don't bond with people easily. I don't like hurting people, and somehow, that's always what ends up happening. It's better if I just…keep to myself." He looked curiously at Ryker. "Do you? Have anger about your mom?"

"Nope," he replied calmly. "I mean, I did for a bit. But there are things in life you can control and things you can't. That was something I couldn't control. I choose to focus on the things I can ."

"Alright, where can I get some of whatever shit you're smoking?"

"Not smoking anything. It's just a mindset I've adopted. She wouldn't have wanted me to waste my life being angry. So, I don't."

Those words caused JT's breath to hitch, as he recalled one of the final conversations he'd had with Amara before she died.

"Promise me something, baby."

"What's that, Mom?" he'd said, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Promise me you won't waste your life being angry. You've got so much to offer this world. I know none of this is fair, but you owe it to yourself to be happy. And you can't be happy and angry at the same time. You have to let it go, OK?"

"I don't know how, Mom."

"You'll figure it out. It's a mindset. And do me a favor? When you meet the right people, the ones who wanna help you, don't push them away. Things might look…a little different with them, and some people might judge, but fuck ‘em.

"There are some really crappy people in this world, JT. Some of them are just awful. But there are some really amazing ones, too. So, when you find them, let them help you. And help them, too."

"How do you, like, know you've met one of the amazing ones, that it's not just bullshit?"

"You'll know, baby. You'll just know."

When JT snapped back to it, he realized he had tears streaming down his face. He swiped at them bitterly, and the next thing he knew, Ryker was sitting right next to him on his bed, an arm wrapped around his lower back. "You good, Banner?"

JT nodded. "Yeah, I'm…fine. Hey, I'm gonna get in a quick nap before I head out to meet up with my tutor. But, um…" He hesitated, then finally said, "What time did you, uh, wanna grab dinner before the party?"

Ryker smirked. "Told you I'd break you down."

"Ugh, whatever," JT huffed, rolling away from him and smiling. "Put a fuckin' shirt on, Nerd."

?? ?

JT made his way into the Pattee and Paterno Library, which was about a 10-minute walk from Bigler Hall, and stopped at the welcome desk to get directions to the Central Atrium, where he'd agreed to meet his tutor.

He looked around nervously when he spotted a dark-haired woman sitting by herself at one of the study tables sipping a coffee and scrolling through her phone. He quickly pulled up the picture of her on his phone that he'd snagged off her Insta and decided that it was her. When he was about 10 feet from her, she turned in his direction and their eyes met.

Yeah, this isn't gonna work , he thought to himself as he stared at one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. She had soft facial features, curves for days, and dark eyes that seemed to pierce right through his own, making him instantly question everything about this very moment as she stood up and made her way toward him. "JT?" she asked, extending her hand.

He nodded, reaching out to shake her hand and trying to play it cool. "Hey."

You need to focus right now. Focus on the conversation in front of you, please.

"Hey. I'm Audrey Winston. It's really nice to meet you. Here," she said, motioning toward the table and pulling out one of the chairs for him. "Why don't you, uh, have a seat?" He did, and she tripped as she made her way back to her own chair before toppling onto it and laughing. "That's…lovely. Don't worry, I tutor much better than I walk, apparently."

They spent some time comparing their schedules, which, between her online classes, his classes, hockey practices, and both of their therapy sessions, required more strategy than a game of Risk. They finally decided to meet for an hour each on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays, at least for the next two weeks and reevaluate his needs after that.

"So," she said, waking up her laptop and watching JT fidget and continuously scan his surroundings. "I have the syllabus pulled up for each of your classes. It looks like rhetoric and composition and introduction to American literature, is that right?"

Her voice caused him to focus his attention back on her as she brushed a piece of hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. "Um, yeah."

"Looks like they've got you reading Gatsby in a few weeks. You're in luck. That's one of my favorite books. Know it like the back of my hand. Do you have a favorite book?"

JT scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't think I've ever read a book in my life. I'm not…like, you don't understand how much work this is going to be for you. I am really stupid."

"Don't talk like that," she scolded him immediately.

"Well, I am."

"No, you're not."

"OK. I give it a few weeks before you give up on me."

"I don't give up on people, JT. Especially those I'm entrusted to help."

"Well, you probably should. Everyone else does."

Audrey shrugged. "Well, I'm not everyone. And you're not stupid."

"How can you say that? You don't even fucking know me," he shot back, beginning to get irritated. "Seriously. You, like, don't know a damn thing about me."

Who the hell did this fine ass woman think she was, anyway?

"Alright, so this is how it's gonna be?" she asked, annoyed with him. "JT, I'm…here to help you, OK?"

"Nah. You're here because Ty's paying you a shit ton of money to be here."

"You're right," she agreed, taking a sip of her coffee before crossing her arms and staring at him. "And I need the money, just like you need to pass your English classes. And if you keep it up with this attitude, it's only gonna make it unbearable for both of us. So," she said, leaning in toward him and lowering her voice, "why don't you drop this little hard ass, tough guy act and actually let me help you?"

He leaned in, putting them within inches of each other's faces. "One, it's not an act. And two, you're, like, really pretty. Do you know that?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "So typical."

"I'm sorry?"

"Typical hockey boy, trying to flirt your way out of trouble."

"Well?" he asked, sitting up and crossing his arms. "Is it working?"

"No. I'm immune to your kind."

"My kind? Uh oh. Someone got her heart broken by a hockey boy. Or, nah, lemme guess: reformed puck bunny?"

Her face reddening, she immediately grabbed and closed her laptop, stood up, and stuffed it into her bag. "We'll meet Sunday to begin work on your position paper and go over the analysis of "The Tell-Tale Heart . " I suggest you read it," she told him coldly.

"Hey, um," he said, standing up as well. "I'm…sorry. I was just messing with you. I didn't mean…"

"Oh, and we're not meeting here again. I've watched you this entire time and you have the attention span of a gnat. I'll come to your dorm so your distractions are limited. Text me your dorm name and room number." She began to walk away from him, but he called her name, causing her to turn around. "What?"

"I'm a dick, OK? But, like, seriously. Thank you, you know? For agreeing to help me. I…kinda need it."

She pursed her lips and shrugged. "Like you said, kid. It's good money. Anyway, see you Sunday."

And with that, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen was gone.

"You'll know, baby. You'll just know."