Jock Row (Jock Hard 1)

“Ugh, it tastes so good.” Beneath the dim light of the porch, she offers me a smile, biting down on her lower lip. “I didn’t know I needed this.”

I take a long drag of my own to occupy myself, chugging down half the bottle in one gulp. Wipe my mouth, leaning against the house, letting the silence fill the space.

“So.” I smack my lips.

“So.” She smacks hers.

“Do you think this is boring?” I muse after a few long seconds of silence. “We’ve only been out here twenty minutes.”

“We could play a game if you want.” Scarlett studies me, mimicking my pose as she takes a position against the porch balustrade. Crosses her legs at the ankles, ass balanced on the rails. “Want to play Never Have I Ever?”

“Isn’t that a drinking game?”

“I think so?”

“But we’re not drinking.”

“Do you want to play the game or sit here, bored out of your mind?”

“Fine, but you start.”

“You have to take a drink if you have done the thing, even though we’re not drinking alcohol.”

“Thanks, wise ass—I know how to play Never Have I Ever. Can I just point out one fatal flaw with this whole thing? Pretty soon you’re going to have to take a piss, and it’ll have to be in the yard.”

She nibbles her bottom lip, squinting down at the overgrown bushes. “Damn, good point. I guess if I have to pee, I’ll deal with it.” She cranes her neck, staring off into the dark. “It’s not like I’ve never had to pee outside before.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I’ve seen guys peeing off this very porch, so it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

I get the party started. “Never have I ever peed outside.”

We both sip from our bottles.

She clears her throat. “Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.”

Neither of us drink.

“Really?” Scarlett is clearly astonished by this revelation. “You’ve never gone in the water buck naked? Why does that surprise me?”

The answer seems obvious, but I enlighten her anyway. “Not a fan of public shrinkage.”

Her laugh fills the yard, head tipped back, mouth smiling. “Fair enough.”

I stare at her dimple, long and hard, before blowing a puff of air into the night sky. “Never have I ever made out with a stranger.”

I take a drink. Scarlett does not. “You’ve never kissed a stranger? Not even drunk-at-the-bar making out? I thought everyone has done that.”

“Negative ghost rider.” She thinks for a few seconds. “Never have I ever wet the bed.”

I groan out loud.

Take a chug of my water bottle as my stomach growls.

Scarlett laughs, the sound echoing in the cold night air. “Do not tell me you were a bed wetter.”

“No! Jesus, keep your voice down!” I glance around to make sure the few stragglers aren’t listening. “I mean, I might have had a few accidents as a kid.”

“Just as a kid?”

“Fine.” My lips purses. “I may or may not have gotten too hammered once or twice and pissed myself in recent years, but that’s hardly the same thing.”

She laughs again, hitting her head against the support beam holding up the porch with a wince.

“Ouch!” She giggles, rubbing the spot through her hat with a few fingers.

“You okay?” I stop myself from reaching out…touching her leg.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her mouth is still grinning. “Your turn.”

“Hmm,” I hum. “Never have I ever…” I tap on the floorboard. “Never have I ever gone commando.”

Surprisingly, we both drink.

Huh. “Now you’re telling me you walk around with no underwear on?”

Her shoulders rise and fall within her jacket. “Sure, all the time.”

That’s a fun tidbit of information I latch onto, filing it away in my spank bank under Cute Shit Scarlett Does.

“Never have I ever caught my parents having sex.”

We both laugh, drinking, and Scarlett cringes at a thought, musing. “I don’t even want to visualize it. I was twelve, and I had friends over and everyone heard them doing it. Can you imagine the horror? It was so loud and so terrible, hearing my father grunting—like, couldn’t they have waited?” She physically shudders. “My friend Nicole still brings it up to this day.”

“I walked in on mine once on a Sunday morning. I’ll never fucking forget it. I think I was fourteen and wanted pancakes—now my parents refer to having sex as making breakfast.” I shudder too, dramatically, at the visual of my father pounding my mother doggy style. “Can we please change the subject?”

“Okay, okay—never have I ever ridden a mechanical bull.”

I pause, bottle poised at my mouth. “That is so random.”

“But have you done it?”

“Have you?” My brows rise when Scarlett takes a drink from her cup, wiggling her brows. “Really? When?” My tone tells her to prove it.

“At the county fair. My friends bet me twenty bucks I couldn’t ride it for eight seconds. They had the carnival guy crank up the dials on that stupid thing—I thought I was going to die.” She pretends to flip her hair. “Piece of cake.”

I stare at her, dumbfounded and a little bit turned on. “I’m having a hard time picturing you riding the mechanical bull at the county fair.”

“Why?”

“I just am.” My stomach grumbles again, loud enough that Scarlett overhears it complaining. “Goddammit I’m getting hungry.”

“Do you always complain about it?”

“Yes.” I shoot her my most menacing hangry look. “I have to consume a shit ton of calories per day to maintain this physique.”

I realize how conceited I sound, but it’s true. This body takes a ton of work, and it’s not always a walk in the park sustaining it.

“Want to hand me my bag?” Scarlett points to the black bag she dumped on the ground earlier, lying limply on the porch near the door.

I give it a shove in her direction with my foot.

She ignores the rudeness of my gesture, losing an entire arm as she digs through it. “Lucky for you, I happen to have a few snacks with me.”

This perks my stomach up considerably as I pat it with the palm of my hand. “There, there, it’s going to be okay pal—the nice lady brought snacks.”

“What are you hungry for? I have granola, protein bars, a bag of pretzels, and those hazelnut dipping stick things.” Scarlett continues rooting around. “And one pack of fruit snacks shaped like Scooby Doo.”

My eyes get wide. “You’re turning me on.”

“My preparedness is turning you on? You’re so weird.”

She produces the promised protein bars, extending two in my direction, giving them an appealing little shake. Enticing. “Chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin, take your pick.”

“Both?” I extend a palm and wiggle my fingers like I’m about to pick up a baby, because she brought the good shit—bars with actual protein. “Come to daddy.”

We both bend forward far enough to meet halfway, far enough that Scarlett can slap the bars in my open palm then rifle through her bag again.

“I think that’s all I have for protein bars.”

“No, don’t worry about it—these are awesome. Thank you.”

“Tha—” She stops. Laughs. “Oh my god, I almost just thanked you for staying outside with me.”

As I’m tearing open the silver wrapper on protein bar number one, I glance over. “For the record, this isn’t ruining my night, Scarlett—these parties are so fucking played out.”

Jamming half the oatmeal raisin bar in my mouth, I bite down. Chew. Swallow. “Why did you come tonight if you thought you’d be sitting outside?”

“I didn’t have anything going on and thought maybe…” Her bottom lip juts out. “Thought maybe I’d wear you down with my sparkling personality and charm.”