Jock Road (Jock Hard 3)

I give a little wave around my boyfriend. “Yeah—me.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yup, everything is fine. We’re just—”

“—Trying to have sex on the side of the road.”

“Jackson!” I smack him on the arm, embarrassed. “Sorry about him, he’s new at all this.”

The security guard doesn’t so much as crack a smile. “So you have a disabled vehicle on the side of the road so you an have sex in your truck?”

Jackson nods. “The side of the road is kind of our thing.”

I groan. Unfortunately, it is kind of our thing, and I wonder if we have years of anniversaries ahead of us that will be celebrated along this very stretch of street.

The thought warms me, and I scoot closer to Jackson. He looks down at his lap when I slide my hand into his. Give it a squeeze.

I love you, I mouth to him as campus security writes us each a warning for having two vehicles parked on the side of the road.

Love you, too, babe, he mouths back. Takes the tickets when they’re handed to him through the window. Balls them up when the campus patrol saunters away, tossing them into the back seat of his truck.

“Hey!” I begin. “We should save those! They’re mementos!”

“Really?” He looks skeptical. “You want to keep two slips of paper threatenin’ to tow us next time we get caught on the side of the road?”

“Yes. It’s romantic—we met on the side of the road.”

“No, we met in the cafeteria.”

True. “But I didn’t realize I liked you until I saw you on the side of the road.”

“No, you couldn’t stand me.”

Also true. But now he’s just being literal. “You and your big, dumb truck.”

“You love this big, dumb truck.”

He’s right, I do. “Come over here and give me some sugar.” I tap the side of my mouth with the tip of my finger.

Jackson snickers. “Yes, ma’am.”

Yes, ma’am.

Epilogue

Jackson

Goddamn I’m hungry.

Nothing new there; I could always go for food. Trouble is, I’m too far from home to dash there real quick, even with my truck on campus—fuck if I’m willing to lose my parking spot next to the athletic building over a snack—and I’m not jogging home for the frozen burrito I’m craving, even if it would burn off the calories.

Like a bear sniffing out food after a long winter, I skip the athletic dining hall—that’s too far too because this is an emergency.

The on-campus cafeteria for regular students will have to do.

I turn my nose up at the thought, dreading the flat hamburger patties and stale lettuce I’ll surely find when I get there. Chicken sounds appealing; so do a few fatty hot dogs.

I quicken my pace, not sure where this fucking joint is located; I haven’t eaten there since…well, since I stole Charlie’s food the first day we met.

Still. She’s here somewhere; I just have to…

My eyes scan the union, in search of my girlfriend, and when I find her, I weave my way through the crowded dining hall, sneaking up behind her.

Stand gazing down at the crown of her pretty blonde head. Grin as her foot impatiently taps on the tile floor, meet the eyes of the kid grilling behind the counter.

He inwardly groans, recognizing me, doing his best to ignore the furtive, hungry glances I’m making toward the chicken and burger patties sizzling on his cooktop.

Go away, dude, he’s telling me.

I don’t go away.

I’m too fucking hungry. Plus, my girl is standing here, hungry, too.

When a patty is ready, the kid palms it, slapping the chicken into the center of a bun. Closes it, wraps it securely in foil. Extends his arm, holds it over the counter and into my waiting grasp.

I snatch it, immediately unwrap it, and shove the first warm bite into my mouth.

Holy shit, it’s pretty damn good.

“Hey! What the hell—that was mine!” Charlie whips around, eyes already narrowed, daggers aimed at my chest. “You asshole!” She laughs, smacking me on the arm. “Give me a bite.”

My girlfriend opens her mouth so I can feed her.

Playfully, I turn to walk away. “You snooze, you lose.”

She grabs me by the waistband of my mesh track pants and tugs. “Oh no you don’t, pal. You owe me.”

“Owe you for what?” I take another bite, holding my hand out for the next sandwich coming off the grill then handing it to Charlie. She takes it, rising to plant a kiss on my jaw.

“You owe me an orgasm.”

“I do?”

“Have you already forgotten the last time we tried to have sex, when your roommate walked in on us?” Charlie’s brows go up as she reminds me—for the third time this week—that Rodrigo came in “looking for a pencil” while we were having sex.

“Who even uses pencils?” I muse, stuffing the chicken into my gullet.

“Exactly. Who?” Charlie drones on, walking toward the exit and pushing through the glass doors, out into the courtyard. “And the time before that, we were busted by the campus police.”