The Studying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag 1)

“Rex, it’s nice to meet you.” Jameson’s hand goes out for a handshake and Gunderson works it like a water pump. Once, twice. Three times.

Four.

Five.

I glower. “Okay dude, that’s e-fucking-nuff.”

Beside him, Zeke makes his move.

“Jameson, Jameson, now where have I seen you before?” he asks, casually rubbing the stubble along the square jawline he hasn’t bothered to shave in days. Beefy fingers snap in her direction. “Right! Sexy Librarian. I almost didn’t recognize you without all the books. You must be a fantastic lay to have our boy Ozzy here following you around like a dog in heat—without being paid, too.”

My arms fall from Jameson’s waist, prepared to—

“I know all about you betting him to kiss me, so don’t bother bringing it up.” Chin tipped up, Jameson takes the wind out of his sails with blatant animosity.

Allison snorts and becomes the next target of Zeke’s rapid-fire loathing. “Allison, Allison, Allison. You’re another story entirely. Want to know what we call you behind your back?”

Oh shit, he’s gonna say it.

In front of everyone.

“Zeke, dude, don’t.” I put my arm out to stop him, fingers braced against his rock solid chest in protest.

He laughs, shoving me back. “Around our place we call you Fuck Buddy.”

Fuck.

“Wow. Just…w-wow.” Allison’s lip quivers but she holds her ground. “Y-you…you are rude. I should slap you,” Allison chastises him, small spray-tanned fists clenched at her sides. “I want to slap you. James, can I slap him?”

Drunk Allison is a tigress.

“I know I’m rude.” Zeke shrugs, raking those weird gray eyes down her body, stepping into her personal space, leaning in close. “I just. Don’t. Care.”

Allison takes a step back, glancing from me, to Zeke, and back. “I cannot believe this dickhead is Parker’s roommate.”

I can’t believe it either and become desperate to extinguish these flames. “Can someone find Parker? Gunderson. Go. And hurry the fuck up.”

“You are a piece of shit,” Allison shouts above the music. “Who do you think you are?”

Everyone watches the sparring match between Zeke and Allison, enthralled by the live entertainment. Someone even turns down the sound system to a dull roar.

Allison continues challenging Zeke, undaunted. “What’s your problem with us? Huh? Answer me!”

Zeke’s hot head is decidedly cool. “When you deserve my respect, I will give it to you.” His gaze sweeps over Jameson. “She is a gold-digging bet he shouldn’t have won, and you’re just a Tinder swipe.”

Arms crossed, Jameson’s laugh surprises us all. “You still haven’t paid him for the bet I helped him win, by the way,” she innocently chimes in, expression schooled. “You owe him five hundred bucks.”

Emotionless silver irises slide in my direction. “See what I mean? She’s only after your money.”

“What money?” Jameson laughs. “You’re a deadbeat. Unlike you, Oz is actually a nice guy who works his ass off for your team, and look how you’re treating the people he cares about.”

“People he cares about?” Zeke grits out through clenched teeth. “You are a waste of his time.”

“Whoa, son, show some respect.” Pat cuts in before I knock Zeke to the ground, arm braced across Zeke’s chest, forcing him to stand down. “Brother, I think you timed out. Walk away before Osborne and his girls knock yo pretty white boy teeth out yo skull.” The big black wrestler bumps Zeke with his meaty arm. “Sorry ladies. His mama never taught him no manners.”

Allison continues to stare Zeke down, pure loathing aimed in his direction as she salutes him with a solid middle finger salute. “Bye, bye Daniels. Nice meeting you.”

A retort is on the tip of his sharp tongue, but he hesitates—long enough for Pitwell to shove him toward the kitchen and away from the confrontation, women, and all people in general. Daniels turns, shuffling across the carpet into the other room—but not before shooting a glare over his shoulder.

At Allison.

At Jameson.

“He’s got a real chip on his shoulder,” Jameson says, nestling into the crook of my arm. “I wonder what his problem is. For real.”

“Abandonment issues, obviously,” her roommate theorizes as Parker finally drags his sorry ass over. Allison hiccups, recounting the entire exchange, narrowing her eyes toward the door Zeke disappeared through. “I want to scratch his dead lifeless eyes out.”

“He can be a decent guy once you get to know him,” Parker throws in diplomatically, having missed all the action.

“No—he is a major douchebag,” Allison counters. She throws her hands up. “And you! Did you hear what he called me? Maybe I should be pissed at you, too! What is wrong with you? How dare you disrespect me like that?”

“I haven’t done anything!” Parker argues, red faced.

“He called me Fuck Buddy!”

“I was in the backyard playing beer pong, babe.” Parker goes on the defense. “And I’ve never called you fuck buddy in my life!”

“That’s true, Allison. He hasn’t.” But then again, he’s also never defended her when we say it.

“Let’s just leave. This party is a train wreck.” Jameson steps out of my hold and into Allison’s for a hug. “What do you want to do?”