Jock Row (Jock Hard 1)

“Jeez Mom!” Is nothing sacred?

She shrugs. “I’m just pointing out the obvious. Your timing always did suck.”

“Anddd that’s our cue to leave.”

Scarlett and I make haste, fingers laced together, hustling to find the ship’s amphitheater.

We’ve been here ten minutes when I first start to doze. On stage, costumed crew members dance across the stage, a large forest scene hanging in the backdrop. The shadow of trees loom, backlit by blue lights, and honestly, I don’t have a clue what the fuck is supposed to be going on.

My parents live for this shit.

I, however, am bored as fuck, and I lean back in my seat, legs spread, head hitting the wall so I can close my eyes.

I yawn.

Tune out, mind wandering.

Wonder what’s going to happen when we get back from this vacation, back to school. I’ve never done anything in half measures, and I’m not starting with her.

When we get back, I’m going to tell her I love her and hope we can make this relationship work.

Scarlett catches me stifling a yawn with the back of my hand, giving me a little poke in the ribs. Leans over to stage whisper, “Should we go? You look tired.”

I am beat—but so is she.

Still, I shrug, not willing to end her fun. “Only if you don’t want to stay.”

Her eyes study me in the dark. “We can go. I’m okay heading up to the room.”

Thank God. “You sure?”

“Definitely.” A nod. “Yes.”

“All right.” I stand, grabbing her hand, leading her down the theater aisle in the dark. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

We sneak out, dashing to the elevators, pressed to the mirrored wall of one when ten people cram in with us. I catch her eye above half a dozen heads, wiggling my eyebrows. Feel for her hand behind an old balding dude, tickling her palm with my forefinger.

Together, we exit on the eighth floor, strolling down the narrow hallway, bumping into each other every few steps, laughing. Flirting.

When we reach the door, I pretend to have forgotten the key inside the room, and Scarlett smacks my arm when I finally fish it out of my back pocket.

Anticipation thrums through my body as I swipe the keycard in front of its censor on the door, the little green light granting us entry with a blink, blink, blink.

“You going to take a shower?”

“I have to—I feel so gross.”

“Ladies first.”

“Thanks.” She skirts around me, gathering up her stuff. Removing her necklace and other jewelry, setting it all on the desk. “It won’t take me long.”

“No rush.” I flop down on the bed, arms resting behind my head, watching her fuss, crossing my legs at the ankle. Casually learning her tells. The little things about her that will have me lying in bed at night fantasizing: her slender wrists and the way she rubs them after removing her bracelet. The way she purses her lips when she looks in the mirror at herself. How short she is compared to me when she unbuckles her wedge heels, but not when we’re lying horizontally on the bed.

Scarlett begins pulling little black bobby pins from her hair, setting them one by one on the table, loosening the braid. Uncoiling it from the crown of her head.

It falls down her back, wavy and full. Wild.

“Is there any way you can leave it like that?”

“My hair?” She turns, touching the strands with the tips of her fingers. “Do you like it like this?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty.”

Pleased, she continues padding barefoot around the room. Asks me to unzip her dress. Grabs fresh underwear and pajamas from the tiny cabin closet, disappearing into the bathroom, running the shower and using the toilet.

For ten minutes she’s in the bathroom, taking off her makeup and doing whatever the hell it is girls do in the bathroom, door clicking open at the eleven-minute mark.

My girl is prompt.

White towel wrapped around her head as a turban, she’s got on that pitiful excuse for pajamas: sheer, white tank top—the one I can see her nipples through—the pink bottoms with sheep, and not much else.

I wonder if she knows I can see her tits through that top, but far be it from me to point it out.

I’m an athlete, not an idiot.

Peeling myself off the bed, I grab my shower shit and vow to get in and out in as little time as possible.

Five minutes.

Tops.

“Be right back.”

***

“Are you excited about tomorrow?” Scarlett asks when I slide back into bed, dressed only in a pair of black boxer briefs.

We’re hitting the beach in the morning, renting snorkel gear and swimmin’ with the fishes—so to speak.

“If you’re asking if I’m excited about seeing you in a swimsuit, the answer is yes, I’m excited about tomorrow.”

“Did you have fun today?”

“Eh, it was all right. I enjoyed spending the day with you, but man, I am so fucking tired.”

“It was a long day—the drive with your parents was fun.”

I give her a side eye; the two-hour ride was torture, not fun.

“What part of my mother’s inquisition, exactly, did you enjoy?”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.” She laughs, pulling up the sheets to hide her smile.

“Scarlett, my mom had a list—an actual fucking list she was asking you questions from. How did you not think that was weird?”

“It was harmless, but you don’t think she’s going to…ya know, put my answers in any of her books, do you?”

I toss my head back and laugh. “Oh ho, oh yeah—she’s definitely putting that shit in her books. Somehow she’ll find a way to make it work.”

Scarlett pushes the coverlet down, rolling to her side, bending her arm and resting her cheek there. “It was a good day. Tomorrow is going to be better.” She’s quiet for a few beats. “Have you ever brought anyone on a vacation with you?”

“No. Have you?”

“No, and besides, we never really took many family vacations to begin with. I do go on the trips through the science department, but that doesn’t really count, does it?”

She shifts, the straps of her tank top slipping a few inches down her right shoulder. My gaze fastens there briefly then drags itself reluctantly back to her eyes.

“Are we a couple?”

“Yes?” I hope that’s the answer she’s looking for.

“And…other stuff?”

Other stuff. Fuck yeah to other stuff.

“You’re my friend, Scar. I feel like the physical part is the natural next step. Plus, I want to bone you so hard it’s becoming both physically and mentally draining.”

“I don’t even know how to respond to that,” She giggles.

Laughing is a good sign, right?

I swallow the lump forming in my throat, pressing on my Adam’s apple, to make it go the hell away, so I can say what I’m about to say.

“You know the night you went to dinner with your friends from bio lab? I knew I wanted to be more than just your friend.”

“How?”

“Don’t you ever just look at something and know? I just…did.”

I fell in love with her that night.

Gag.

“I can’t believe we’re having a relationship talk.” My mother must be rubbing off on me, dammit.

“I love that we’re talking.”

Love.

There’s that word that’s wreaking havoc in my damn chest. I wish she’d stop saying it so my heart would stop racing.

Scarlett

“My mom said I should talk to you more about this stuff more often.” He averts his eyes, watching the ceiling as he speaks, a lopsided smile plastered on his face. “Feelings and shit.”

He’s pleased with himself for opening up to me.

Truthfully, I am, too.

“Oh?” I feign ignorance. “Did she?”

“Yeah. Both my parents are a wealth of infinite wisdom. Today when we got on the boat, my dad told me to use my common sense this weekend and wear a condom.”

Condom, condom, condom.

My body temperature skyrockets, and I brush my gaze toward the thermostat. How hot do they have it set in here, anyway?