Jock Reign (Jock Hard 5)

Jack shifts in his chair, causing his knees to bump into my knees and the flush on my face to get hotter.

Why didn’t I dress cuter this morning?

I’m wearing torn-up jeans and a hoodie, nothing flirty or girly about it, and my hair isn’t faring any better; I’ve tossed it into a messy bun. The one concession? Large, gold hoop earrings.

Jack eyes me from across the table, his leg still pressed against mine below it.

“Are you playing footsie with me?” I dare to ask.

“What’s footsie?”

Oh god. Do I have to explain? “It’s…footsie is…it’s…maybe you should just google it.”

I don’t think he actually will, but he does, reading out loud from his phone. “The dictionary says playing footsie is to secretly touch another person’s foot with one’s own foot as a way of showing sexual attraction.” He glances over at me before continuing. “Oh, brilliant. They’ve provided an example. ‘He was playing footsie with her under the dining room table.’” Jack sets his cell back down on the table. “Sounds accurate.”

I wish he’d stop teasing, but I also wish he wouldn’t.

“Are you just flirting with me because you know I’m not interested?”

“You’re not interested.” He crosses his strong arms and assesses me from his vantage point, not three feet away. “All right. If you say so.” I turn just in time to see the server weaving her way over to stand next to our table, her tablet poised to take his order. “Am I staying or going?” he asks, leaving it all up to me.

I don’t know what to tell him because I don’t want to hurt his feelings or embarrass him in front of this server, but I also know he cannot sit here and spend any more time with me. It’s a waste of his and mine despite the beating of my heart inside my chest.

“Do what you want.”

“Fine.” He gives the server a cursory glance. “I’ll do four eggs, two pieces of wheat toast, jam, and four sausages.”

“How would you like your eggs?”

“Poached, please, since I can’t have them scotch or dippy.”

He smiles over at me.

The server nods. “Anything else?”

“Hot tea, please—Earl Grey if you have it.”

How cozy this is turning out to be…

Guess sitting here with me is what he wants, lording over my heart and distracting me further with his big, brown eyes and combed hair and square jawline.

“I can move to another table when my food comes.”

That almost has me rolling my eyes. “There are no available tables for you to sit at.”

“Outside then,” he suggests magnanimously.

Okay, now he’s just being ridiculous, knowing I’m not going to send him away or make him eat outside on a bench. The whole idea of it makes me laugh, this little manipulation of his that isn’t going to work on me.

Too late, it already has…

He’s so absolutely adorable.

And if the universe had set things into motion any other way, perhaps I could freely let myself like him back, but the reality is, that is not the case. Not with Kaylee lingering in the background.

I do not need the girl drama.

I’ve never been one for it, never engaged in any kind of theatrics with either of my roommates (and believe me, they’ve tried to pick many an argument over trivial bull crap), but perhaps that’s even the reason they chose me as their third. Kaylee and Lilly argue and get into fights with every other one of their friends except for me. But as I pointed out before, I am not any competition for them. They have no need to be jealous or envious of me—they are the pretty ones. They are the popular ones.

Jeez, it’s just like high school 2.0.

Except I didn’t know them in high school. The three of us met our freshman year here at school, in the dorms we were all required to live in, during a resident life meeting. They were both on my floor—Lilly four doors down and Kaylee right across the hall—and I remember I had to use the vacuum cleaner to suck up all the dirt before decorating and Kaylee borrowed it after me…then Lilly…and we were the three with the tidiest rooms.

After that, we leaned on each other for random things. Hung out when most people were partying. Joined an intramural volleyball team together that played out in the quad.

Have I known them for years and years and years? No.

Do I have a long history with either of them? Also no.

Do I still feel some obligation to relinquish Jack to Kaylee because she “saw him first”?

Yes.

That is just the girl I am.

When Jack gets up—rising from the table—I half expect him to make his way toward the bathrooms. They’re close by, down a short hallway off to the right of me, but that’s not where he goes.

Instead he closes the small distance between us, coming around to stand behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. Leans down, brushing my hair aside.