Jock Romeo (Jock Hard 6)

“So you have the same thing every single weekend?”

I remove her plate while she sits there, rinse it in the sink, and put it neatly inside the dishwasher for the next load.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a thing. I should probably cut the umbilical cord, but it doesn’t suck having food prepared, does it?”

“What do you mean, cut the umbilical cord?” she asks as I wipe my hands off on a dishtowel then fold it over the edge of the sink.

“Just that…” Let’s see, how do I put this without making myself sound like a gigantic pussy? “Um. My mom is…”

“Controlling?”

“No. She just…” I wave my hand, in search of the right words. “I don’t know, she’s a stay-at-home mom, and I suppose she’s attached to my brother and me. Even though she has Aunt Myrtle there giving her grief and causing trouble, Mom acts like she’s lost a limb with me gone.” I shrug. “It won’t kill me to go home every now and again for dinner, you know?”

Lilly nods. “That sounds nice. I don’t know if you remember me describing what my mom is like, but it’s almost the exact opposite. If I went home, she’d feed me a carrot and make me practice backflips on the lawn for dessert.” She sighs loudly, tapping on the water glass with a fingernail. “Guess we can’t all win.”

I do remember her describing her mom even though it’s been a few years, basically a momager who tries to control every aspect of her daughter’s life. I also remember Lilly telling me she came to a school as far as she could possibly get to escape her mother’s constant meddling.

I have meddling family members too, but in an entirely different way.

She pushes her chair back from the counter and stands. “Do you need me to do anything? The dishes? I feel bad that you fed me after finding me asleep in your bed.”

That’s right; I’d almost forgotten about that. About her finding the bracelet and my embarrassment about it.

“No. Gosh, don’t worry about it. The dishes are already in the dishwasher and there’s nothing to clean up, so we’re good.” I glance out the side door through the glass at the dark night and check the time. “It’s well after nine…you should probably get going.”

“Are you trying to imply I need a good night’s rest?”

“Maybe. Sleeping is my favorite.”

“I thought math and science were your favorite.”

“Sleeping is my third favorite.”

We both laugh and I walk her to the front door, pulling it open and leaning on the frame.

“Thanks again.” She’s looking down at her feet, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s feeling shy. Feeling as awkward in this moment as I feel because it’s almost like we were on a date and aren’t sure how to end it.

Which is ridiculous, obviously.

“No worries.” I remember myself and the reason she came by in the first place. “Thanks for putting Humpty Dumpty together again.”

“Huh?”

Has she forgotten her joke already? “Uh, the award?”

“Oh! Duh.” She puts a hand to her forehead and taps it.

After she’s gone, I still stand in the doorway watching until her red taillights disappear down the street, her blinker indicating a right-hand turn. Slowly close the door and lock it, returning to the kitchen to continue tidying up so that when my roommates return, my leftover containers aren’t still sitting out. I don’t doubt for a second that Jack would plow through the remaining spaghetti—and I wouldn’t blame him if he did. That shit is delicious.

* * *

LILLY

What a strange night.

I can’t say it was the most fun I’ve had since school began, but it came pretty darn close. We didn’t do anything—I spent most of the evening by myself, sleeping in Roman’s bed, of course. But the talking in the kitchen and eating while he stood by…

Was different.

Nice.

Dare I say…pleasant?

No pressure, no hassle, no expectations.

That doesn’t happen often when I’m with a guy; then again, I don’t often come in contact with young men who are like Roman.

Polite.

Respectful.

Sure, not all guys my age are idiots. Plenty of the athletes on the football team have their shit together—they have to. But there is an arrogance that comes along with being a football player on a team whose games are televised every week with millions of people watching from around the world.

It creates guys who sometimes expect to be the center of attention. Guys who assume the dominant role in the relationship. Guys who think they can do no wrong.

At least—that was Kyle.

It was all about him, all the time, and many of his teammates were the same way. The trouble is, I’m surrounded by them. The cheerleaders train in the same facility, go to the same physical trainers, see the same doctors, eat in the same cafeteria as all the other athletes.