1. Savannah

1

SAVANNAH

If you had told me I’d be naked and underneath my older brother's best friend having the best orgasm of my life by the end of the weekend, I would have prepped myself a little more. Maybe gotten my eyebrows waxed or, better yet, my downtown region. You can never be too prepared for a good roll in the sheets with your childhood crush, but here I was, checking off that box with unwaxed everything.

Let’s back up just a bit, and I’ll tell you exactly how I found myself underneath the sexy hockey player.

“Savannah,” my boss, Liz, calls from just outside the doorway to my classroom.

“In here,” I answer. She might be my boss, but she’s also one of my best friends. We hit it off when we both started teaching here at the School for the Deaf six years ago. I was a fresh-out-of-college teacher, and Liz was already a good decade into her career. Our age difference didn’t matter much when we realized we were both certified Swifties and loved everything about helping shape the minds of little kids, especially those who use their hands to communicate.

“I need your help finalizing the setup of the silent auction room. We just had some unexpected donations dropped off, and I’m scrambling to get them added.”

“I’d be happy to help,” I say as I stand from the kidney bean-shaped table in my classroom. I twist my torso left, then right, trying to stretch the kinks out of it from sitting for so long while prepping supplies for lessons. “What do you need me to do?”

“The items need to be added to the computer, then tags made and placed on the tables.”

“I’m on it,” I say, snagging my laptop and following her out of my room. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“I’m so ready for this fundraiser to be over and done with. Don’t get me wrong, I always have a good time, but it drains me of all my energy.”

“I know, but it is so worth all the money it brings in for the school.”

Liz nodded. “And we desperately need it this year. Our cushion account is shrinking faster than I’d like for it to, but with the recent repairs needed to the HVAC system, it wasn’t something we could avoid.”

“Hopefully, the added donations will help boost the fundraising efforts, and we’ll be in a better position than before the system broke.”

“From your lips to the donors’ ears and pocketbooks.” Liz chuckles.

We walk into the office, where I find multiple baskets sitting along the wall. “Do we know the estimated value of each of these?” I ask.

“Yes, they gave us this list that details each one, along with the value,” Liz says as she hands over a manila envelope. I open the top flap and pull out the paper. It’s very detailed, which is extremely helpful. My eyes widen as I scan the list.

“All of these came from the Fusion?” I ask.

“Yes, we had reached out, hoping for maybe a family pack of tickets to a game, and they said they’d get something put together. Never in a million years did I think they’d bring us ten separate baskets!” Liz explains.

“Most are listed as the players’ favorite things, so it looks like they had some of the fan favorites involved,” I say as I scan the names on the list. My eyes stop when I see Graham Webber’s name, reading over the contents of his basket twice.

“What’s that smirk for?” Liz asks as she bumps her hip against mine.

“I kind of know one of the players, and he’s got a basket included.”

“You what?” Liz exclaims.

“Graham Webber is my older brother Lucas’s best friend.”

“How have you never told me this in our six years of friendship?” Liz gapes at me.

I just shrug my shoulders. “I guess it never came up. It isn’t like he’s my friend. He’s, like, ten years older than me,” I say.

Liz just blinks at me—she’s ten years older than me. “Oh, so you’re saying he’s old, like me,” she deadpans.

“You aren’t old.” I roll my eyes at her. “I just never really got to know him. Lucas was out of the house by the time I wasn’t the ‘annoying little sister’, so I really didn’t get to hang out with him and his friends much. I was also busy with my own things at that age.”

“So all these years when we’ve brainstormed people to get donations from, he never crossed your mind?”

“He really didn’t. I kind of forget that he lives in the same city as I do. Like I said, we aren’t friends. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even recognize me. I think I was a teenager the last time I saw him in person.”

“That man is fine as fuck. I can’t believe you haven’t had a crush on him all your life.”

“Who’s saying I didn’t?” I quirk an eyebrow in question.

“I knew it!” Liz smiles big. “What’s stopping you from going after him now?”

I shrug. “I’m sure he has a girlfriend.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Liz says as she looks at something on her phone. “There’s not a woman or man to be found on his social media pages. Not that he posts much, but it’s void of a significant other that I can see.”

“If you’re so interested in his love life, why don’t you slip into his DMs?” I ask Liz.

“Because you’re his best friend’s little sister. You know that’s my favorite romance trope. I could have a front-row seat to watch one unfold right before my eyes.” Liz taps her fingers on the back of her phone like she’s scheming up something before she starts giddily typing away at her phone, a Cheshire cat-grin filling her face.

“What’s that look for?” I ask.

“Oh, nothing.” She tucks her phone into her pocket. “I have to get to a meeting. Thank you for taking care of the baskets for me. I’ll see you later.” She marches out of the office before I can question her any further. Something tells me she’s up to no good. I don’t know what that is, but I have a feeling I’ll be finding out soon enough.