Jock Romeo (Jock Hard 6)

She looks at me. “How so?”

“I don’t know…isn’t it easy for you to get dates? Guys must ask you out all the time, whereas zero people ask me out, ever.”

Lilly’s snort is unladylike. “There is a huge difference between someone asking you out on an actual date as a possible love match that has long-term potential versus someone asking you out with the intention of sleeping with you. The problem is it’s hard to tell what that intention is until you’re sitting with someone across the table.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, a guy will ask you on a date, but what he actually means is: I’m trying to screw you.”

“Why would a guy take you on an actual date if he’s only trying to screw you?” That makes no sense to me at all.

“Because it’s rude to say ‘I want to bang you’ to someone’s face—he pretends he’s asking you out because he actually likes you and might care, when in fact that’s not the case at all. Does that make sense? A guy can be on a dating site with no intention of dating you at all.”

“Doesn’t it get expensive going on all those dates when you just want to have sex with someone?”

“I use the term date loosely. Mostly it’s a drink but not food. So is that a date? Maybe, maybe not. Do they want to chug down a beer and then take you back to their place? Almost always.” Her fingers pluck absentmindedly at the strap of her purse. “My cousin is our age—he told me once he doesn’t do actual dates because it’s a waste of money. He will only do coffee or a drink, and sometimes he goes Dutch.”

“Dutch? On a first date?”

“Right, because if he goes on three dates in a week—and by dates, I mean ‘sex’—that gets super expensive.”

“I’m not even sure what to say.”

“Yeah—same.” She’s looking out the window now at the lake we’re driving alongside, the glowing lights from the shore homes reflecting in the water as we pass. “This is so pretty.”

“We’re not far, ten more minutes.”

As if on cue, her stomach growls, and she giggles. “You didn’t hear that.”

Mine growls too. “My growling stomach cancels out your growling stomach.”

“Agreed.” She pauses. “Man, I hope there’s garlic bread even though I’ll stink for a few days after I eat it.”

“You’re still stuck on the thought that garlic makes you stink, huh?”

“Of course I am. Garlic, onions, artichoke, chives—you name it. No amount of deodorant helps, and I have no idea why I’m saying this to you. You’re going to think I’m disgusting.”

I think Lilly is a lot of things, but disgusting isn’t one of them.

She probably smells like roses and sunshine most of the time, and nothing can convince me otherwise.

“I don’t think you’re disgusting,” I tell her with a smirk, entering the city limits of the town where I grew up, stopping at a corner near the high school.

“Is that where you went to high school?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d you like it?”

“It was fine.” We turn right at the next traffic light. “I did a lot of studying so—not very social. Probably not like you.”

I’m assuming she was very popular as a cheerleader and all. Lilly is so outgoing compared to my introverted personality. She dances and cheers in front of crowds of thousands of people whereas I spend most of my time in a lab with goggles on.

Typical nerd.

“I don’t know about that. I’m one of those introverted extroverts—do you know what I mean? I would rather be home snuggling than out shouting at people, rah, rah, rah, and all that. I’ve been forced to come out of my shell over the years, though not by choice. Not always.”

“That makes sense. Over the past few years, if I have an exhibit or debate or a championship where I have to defend a thesis to earn a scholarship or grant, I’ve had to force myself to be more outgoing. Occasionally I’ve even practiced in front of the mirror, speeches and the like.”

“I can see you doing that.” Her smile is warm as she watches me.

“When I was in Great Britain, I led a study group, and every week I got it going with conversation starters. It was a huge challenge for me because of my shyness—oftentimes I would have to Google questions to ask because I could never come up with any on my own.” I chuckle at the memory.

It’s not easy being an academic who would rather run tests and experiments than chat with a group of people.

Luckily those people were in the same boat as I was, not caring to socialize. Our commonalities were what made us enthusiastic—others who were passionate about their thesis or graduate studies would light up like a Christmas tree when discussing whatever scientific breakthrough they’d discovered.