Jock Reign (Jock Hard 5)

The counters are laminate but clean and—

Oh shit.

Is that Jack’s mouthguard?

What’s it doing here at the house? Is this his only one, or is it a spare?

Why would he have random spare mouth guards lying around, Eliza? Use your common sense.

I’m not an athlete—how the hell would I know?

Chewing on my bottom lip, I deliberate then check my phone for the time—his game would have started by now, but he wouldn’t be that far into it, and if I hurry…

On foot?

Maybe check the garage for a bike?

Yes, yes—I’ll check the garage for a bike and can cut my time in half.

Look at me being a good roommate and coming to the rescue!

Flying through the house to the door nearest to the garage, I hit the remote for the large door, and it raises at a glacial pace. Spy a high-tech-looking bicycle leaning against the wall of a carefully constructed home gym, benches, free weights—the whole works. It’s like a mini Lifetime Fitness in my own backyard!

Dang.

How did that escape my notice?

Jack is a crap tour guide, that’s why.

Shit. I don’t have time to stand around gawking—I have to get this mouthguard to the field so his beautiful teeth don’t get knocked out of his skull.

Uber.

I can Uber—that will get me there the quickest, though it’s going to cost me a few bucks.

I use the app to catch myself a ride, locking up the house on my way out, jogging down the short driveway, marveling at how pretty and picturesque this neighborhood is compared to being near campus.

Definitely need to take more time to explore, perhaps this Sunday—have plenty of time now that I’ve lost half the friends I had here.

Time to make new ones, I suppose.

Jack’s my friend now, too—I like him. He’s funny, smart, and witty. Makes me laugh for sure. Cute.

Just cute, Eliza? Please.

He’s handsome and…and…debonair.

Not the point.

One should not fixate on the attractiveness of one’s roommate, especially when one is trying not to develop a big, giant crush on him.

The car pulls up and I hop in after checking the license plate, knee bobbing up and down as the driver slowly makes his way toward the park.

I could jog beside the vehicle faster than he’s going.

When we’re finally at the park, I’m out the door before he can come to a complete stop. Sure, I know that’s not safe, but I am in a rush. No time to lose. The longer I wait, the more of a chance Jack has to get his teeth pummeled by an errant elbow.

I’m doing my civic duty.

No time to spare.

He is slightly difficult to spot amongst all the giants on his team. There is certainly a type among rugby players: big, brutish, and bearded. Jack is the tidiest one of them all with his side part and clean-shaven face, the polo shirts and crisp clothes he most definitely irons.

Ah.

There he is.

My roommate and the guy who saved me from being homeless this semester, standing on the outskirts of the field, shrinking back near the bench, arms folded over his massive chest.

I speed-walk in his direction.

Lift my arm to wave it, wishing I were able to be a bit more subtle but choosing to give a small shout instead.

“Jack!” I wave my arm again, wave my hand in an attempt to get his attention so I won’t have to walk into the thick of things and embarrass myself further.

As if I were a worried girlfriend or doting mother.

Jack spots me in no time. Of course he does—I’m wearing the only clean hoodie I have in my closet.

Bright.

Yellow.

Anyone with a functioning set of eyes would notice me standing on the sidelines, waving around a guy’s mouthguard piece. Whatever they call it.

“Jack.” I shout again though there is no need. He started stalking over as soon as he saw me, waving back and smiling quickly—a smile that fades into a frown.

He’s embarrassed that I’m here; he doesn’t want me to watch him playing like shit.

Well too bad—does he want his teeth knocked out? Does his mother?

No.

I’m doing him a favor.

He trots over, closing the distance between us. “Hey.”

I hold out the plastic—and probably riddled with germs—mouthpiece. “You left your thing at home.” I give said thing a wiggle. “It was on the counter in the laundry room, and I worried you’d need it.”

“I would if I were playing,” he scoffs, popping the mouthguard into his mouth, wiggling it around until it fits. “Thanths.”

I jam my hands into the pockets of my hoodie with a curt nod, watching as he jogs back to the sideline slowly. Watch his ass as he strolls away. His hamstrings.

Calf muscles.

Whoa, back up, this train of thought is not allowed.

I spend a few more minutes admiring him, basking in the fact that this handsome boy is my friend and roommate. Basking in the fact that he wants more, but he was willing to sacrifice that more to help me out.