Jock Romeo (Jock Hard 6)

“How long have you two been together?” he wants to know, still not walking away. “He doesn’t look like your usual type.”

“What’s my usual type?” she asks.

“Popular and cool.”

Popular and cool? I laugh, tossing my head and hair back. What are we, in middle school?

Who gives a shit about popularity at this age?

This guy.

This guy gives a shit about popularity, and for a brief second, I wonder what kind of chance a guy like me stands with a girl like Lilly who dates idiots like this.

He might be big, but it’s obvious that Kyle Gordeski is harmless.

Lilly snorts at him before I have the chance.

“My type is really none of your business,” Lilly tells him with her chin up.

“We just broke up.”

His arguments are godawful, and quite frankly, I’m having secondhand embarrassment on his behalf.

“You cheated on me with so many girls I lost count. So don’t be a hypocrite.”

He turns bright red, and I doubt it’s from the alcohol he’s holding in the plastic cup. He looks at me, studying me. I wonder what is going through his mind as he stares at the nerdy dude with his ex-girlfriend—it’s certainly no scene from Revenge of the Nerds, but maybe that’s what I was anticipating.

Kyle is way calmer. I actually give him kudos for not arguing more.

As if on cue, a girl walks up and takes him by the arm, trying to drag him away. She has big hair and big boobs and is wearing a skirt that’s shorter than Lilly’s. “Come on, Kyle, we’re starting a game of beer pong.”

He shakes her off with a curse. “Jesus Christ, Kami, I’m in the middle of something.”

The girl pouts. “You said…”

“Wow.” I hear Lilly clicking her tongue. “This timing couldn’t be any more perfect, could it? You better go, Kyle—you have a game of beer pong to play with Kami, and you’re killing my buzz. I want to spend time with my boyfriend.”

Kyle hesitates, unsure. Not wanting to walk away, giving it one last-ditch effort. “Lilly, I…I’m really sorry.”

“I’ve moved on.” Her grip tightens on my waist. Fingers squeeze. “Don’t worry about me, I’m great.”

Is she though?

If she was great, she wouldn’t have texted me to come tonight, would she? I might not know much about women, but I know enough.

Kyle stands there, beer in hand, staring at Lilly, looking a little…ill. Regretful.

A feeling I’d feel if I let a girl like her get away.

Er.

If I cheated on a girl like that.

What sort of fucking moron does a thing like that? Cheats on a girl like Lilly? She’s…

A keeper.

The kind of girl you take home to your mother.

The kind of girl who doesn’t think your strange great aunt is bizarre, who thinks your dad is funny and your brother is endearing.

That’s the kind of girl Kyle cheated on.

“Bye, Kyle.” Lilly’s tone implies ‘Buzz off and get the hell out of here’ without actually saying the words ‘Piss off.’

He relents, chewing on his bottom lip as he gives her one last look.

One last look as she goes up on her tiptoes, pressing her mouth against mine, wrapping her arms around my torso.

She kisses me, hands burrowing beneath the hem of my thick hoodie, fingers skimming above the waist of my jeans.

I flinch, body shuddering.

It tickles but it doesn’t, the contact of her palms on my skin. Unexpected and bewildering.

I’ve kissed girls before, obviously I have, if Britney and girls from science camp count—I remember it being sloppy and uncoordinated with lots of fumbling.

Oh, and braces.

Lilly’s mouth is not sloppy and it’s not uncoordinated and we don’t have braces. Not anymore.

I open my mouth and her tongue meets mine, tentatively at first.

Holy shit, I’m making out at a house party.

In public.

Another first for me this year.

Lilly’s lips are soft and her tongue is exploratory, hesitant to push itself inside my mouth. Nothing about this moment feels very friend-zone-like to me, but I’m not going to shoot myself in the foot by pulling away and telling her so.

My hands go around Lilly’s waist; I pull her close, lifting her into me, hands sliding down her backside of their own accord then squeezing her ass.

Her hand slides up my chest and to my face, cupping my cheek as she kisses me, head tilted so our noses don’t bump.

“Lilly,” I whisper as I back up—step away slightly.

“Hmm?”

“Are you…drunk?”

She pulls back, dazed, lips puffy and no longer as glossy as they were when she left the house.

She’s scowling.

“No I’m not drunk—why would you ask me that?”

Because you wouldn’t ordinarily kiss me. Because you pressed your boobs against my chest. Because we are not dating and we’re at a drinking party and might I remind you that you kissed me?

I say none of these things; she sounds insulted by my question and looks hurt.

Shit.

“I just…” I spread my hands wide, palms up now that she’s completely stepped away from me, leaving my body to continue to hum and buzz.