Jock Row (Jock Hard 1)
I stomp my foot, frustrated. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”
“I’m stubborn? Uh, okay.” He mutters Jesus Christ under his breath like it’s an oath, the bright light from his phone illuminating his sharpening features.
I backpedal.
“I’m sorry. I just…” Feel helpless out here on the porch. “This night isn’t going anything like I planned. I haven’t been to a party in forever and I just wanted to have fun tonight, that’s all.”
“I bet…” he beings slowly, “when you were in high school, you were one of those girls who used to raise their hand during class to ask the teacher for extra credit.”
The “So?” slips out, and I groan while face-palming myself.
“So? No one liked those girls.”
My chin hitches up a notch. “I bet you were one of those jocks who barely passed their classes and cheated off of girls like me.”
He spreads his arms, wingspan wide. Grins wickedly, his entire face lighting up. “Yet here I am with a full ride to college. Do the math on those odds.”
Resigned, my body sags against the side of the house, the fabric of my jacket snagging on the wooden siding. “What am I supposed to do until my friends come out?”
I swear he winks at me. “Again, not my problem.”
“Did you just wink at me?”
He rubs his face with the knuckle of his left hand. “No. I obviously have dust in my eye.”
My head hits the house when I tip it to laugh. “Liar.”
“Pollen?”
We regard each other from our spots across the porch until he quietly asks, “Want me to walk you home?”
He is so transparent. “So you can get me out of here quicker?”
He laughs to himself, chest constricting. “Pretty much.”
“You’re twice as big as I am—no way am I letting you walk me home in the dark.” I wasn’t born yesterday, and my mother didn’t raise a fool.
No matter how cute this guy is.
“Can I point out a fun fact?”
“Can I stop you?”
“Very cute, but no.” He takes a drag from his beer. “Your friends had no problem ignoring the fact that you disappeared when I hauled you off.”
“Do you honestly think those jockholes inside told them I was being kicked out? No. They’re blissfully unaware.”
Another pull from his beer. “They probably think I’m fucking you.”
Jesus. Blunt much?
My cheeks flush. “Don’t flatter yourself. They know me better than that.”
“So you’re a prude?”
I squint, ignoring him. “Remind me again why I followed you out here?”
Answer: Because curiosity killed the cat, Scarlett. You followed a good-looking stranger out into the dark and look where it got you—on the front porch, in the bitter cold.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it—any one of those girls would have followed me out here, too.”
Oh brother, he’s modest too? “And why do you suppose that is?”
His broad shoulders shrug and damn, he must be freezing his ass off. “Captain of the baseball team. Handsome as fuck. Funny as hell.”
“I don’t…wow. I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
He gives me a tight-lipped smile. “It’s a lot to take in all at once.”
Cannot argue with that. “It sure is,” I agree with a laugh.
“Can I ask you something?” He eyes me up and down from his spot on the ground. “Why are you dressed like you’re taking a trip to Antarctica?”
I press my lips together. Part them. “For your information, smartass, I’ve been sick. I had a cold, so what was I supposed to do, wear a bandage dress to a house party? No thanks, I’m trying to get better before the break.”
He holds up his bear paws. “Hey, no judgments—I can tell you’re a really sensible girl. All I’m saying is, you’re wearing a sweater that could double as a parka, and you’re also wearing a parka.”
This time, I can’t stop the laugh from escaping my mouth.
“Why, are you cold? Cause I’m nice and toasty.” I shoot him a wide grin to rub in the fact that I’m warm and he’s not.
“You are an asshole,” he snarks. “I’m a bit nippily, no thanks to you, but I’ll live.”
“Tell you what: let’s dash inside and grab you something warm, a jacket perhaps?” I smile sweetly, fluttering my lashes. “Promise I won’t disappear into the crowd.”
His lips twitch. “I think I’ll take my chances against the impending hypothermia. I can still have kids if my nut sac freezes off.”
He taps away at the lit screen of his phone.
“Why do you think,” he asks absentmindedly, “it bothered you so bad that your friends were getting hit on but you’re not?”
“Is that what you think?”
He does a lot of shrugging, this guy. “No judgments.”
My mouth drops open, and I slam it closed before he looks up. “I was not cock blocking my friends because I’m jealous.”
“So you admit it—you were cock blocking.”
If he wasn’t so damn cute, I’d be furious right now. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“So you’re bitter because you’re completely sober?”
“I’m not completely sober.”
“So are you drunk?”
“No, of course not.” I flip my ponytail.
“You had beer?” He’s skeptical. “How many?”
“Um…” None and a half. I use my thumb and forefinger to indicate the amount. “’Bout that much?”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I can see him hiding a smile behind the glare of his phone. “You’re completely sober.”
“I’m recovering from a cold.” I fake a cough.
With those perfectly white, straight teeth, he smiles at me again, and I can’t even take it. Ugh. He’s so stupidly good-looking and getting cuter by the minute—damn him and his magnetic personality.
Look, I’m not completely delusional; I give the guy credit for not being a complete douchebag. Scale of one to ten on the Jockhole Scale? Six—and that’s only because he kicked me out.
“Far be it from me to point out the obvious, but I bet you wouldn’t be so uptight if you had a few drops of alcohol inside you. Might be more pleasant out here for both of us, yeah?”
“That’s what your friends were saying, and you know my opinion of them.”
“You’re a little uptight.” He squints over, shielding his eyes against the porch light shining in his face. “Hasn’t anyone told you that before?”
“You know nothing about me.” I reach down for the red plastic cup I abandoned a few minutes ago so I have something to do with my hands. “What would make you say I’m uptight? What’s this oh-so-accurate assessment based on?”
“Let me count the ways.” He hums, setting his beer bottle on the step, tapping the fingers of his right hand with his left, counting. “One, I’m on this porch when I could be partying because you won’t stop cock blocking. Two, you’re wearing a fucking bear rug to a party. Three, you’re drinking water. Four, you admitted to asking for extra credit in high school. Five, you won’t stop arguing.”
The smile teasing my lips couldn’t be more inconvenient.
The bastard holds up his hand, wiggling five large fingers. “All signs point to uptight.”
“Fine. I can’t even be mad, because that was all very accurate.” I raise a finger. “But first off, your buddies didn’t give me a chance to redeem myself before sending over their henchman to axe me.”
“And second?” The cheeky ass leans his head against the newel post, coyly pinning me down with a lazy smile. I try not to stare at the huge arms crossed over his hard chest.
“Secondly, your friends were lame and not at all funny. They’re lucky they’re athletes, because if not, they’d probably never get laid.”