Jock Rule (Jock Hard 2)

“At least you’re honest.”

“It’s my only virtue,” I admit, setting down the red cup I was handed on my way into the house tonight.

If I’m going to be playing matchmaker—correction: if I’m going to be her hairy godmother—I’ll need to face this whole thing sober.

If you thought the idiots who lived and partied here were annoying sober, imagine how annoying they are when they’re drunk.

Though they’d be easier to tolerate if I got piss-ass drunk along with them.

Half the time, I want to plant my fist right into the faces of a majority of these dickless morons, so I need all the sobriety and inhibition I can manage.

I can’t believe I’m trying to set Teddy up with one of these douchebags; it’s such a shitty thing for me to do, knowing what I know about them. Take Ben Salter, for example—the creep is almost flunking half his classes, only able to maintain his enrollment status by sleeping with any and every TA who will fuck him.

Male or female.

And Derek Lawson? Last year he was on meds for the various STDs he claims originated from public toilet seats. Right. Sure.

Another two are spoiled, pompous, trust fund babies.

Granted, technically, I’m one too, but I don’t go parading my parents’ money around, flaunting it like a little asshole. My parents might be loaded, but I’m not a completely classless fuck.

Only some of the time.

“What do you think of my outfit?” Teddy asks from below.

“It’s good.”

“Just good? I had to borrow this shirt and these boots from my friend Tessa—I don’t have anything that shows skin.”

“Yeah, it’ll do.”

“Wow, okay—thanks for the vote of confidence. I thought I looked nice.”

“You do. Relax.”

“What the hell, Kip? You know I’m not good at this, and you said you’d tell me if my outfit was shitty.”

“It’s not shitty—you look cute.”

Her hands are on her hips now as she faces me, red-faced and disgruntled, the lines between her brows deep. “Whatever. Can we just get this over with so I can go home?”

“Don’t be a quitter, Teddy.”

“You know what? I put in a lot of effort tonight and you… That hurt my feelings.”

“What did?”

“God, why are you so clueless?” She throws her arms up, defeated. “When I asked how I looked, you said ‘It’ll do.’ That was so freaking mean.”

“Hey, don’t get upset. I can barely see you down there, shorty. Is that a dress or a shirt? I can’t see the bottom.”

“Shut up.” She relents, giving in to a laugh.

“Seriously, Teddy—you do look really cute. Don’t listen to me. I’m an asshole, remember?”

“Yes, you are.”

“You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“Agreeing with you isn’t one of the rules.”

“Rule Eleventy…”

***

TEDDY

“You’re hovering.” He has been on my ass since I got here, grunting and snorting throughout every conversation I’ve tried to have.

“No I’m not.”

“Oh my god, Kip, yes you are. Who is going to talk to me when you’re shadowing me like a lurker—it’s weird. We said three feet, but could you please go away!”

He hasn’t left my side all night, and he’s definitely come closer than the mandated agreed upon footage. I can literally feel the heat from his body on my back.

“You don’t have to get all pissy about it. I’m trying to help.”

“How is tailing me going to help? You’re scaring people away—and not just the girls. No one wants to talk to me.”

“Shut up, I am not scaring anyone away—Tyler Wheatly had no problem coming over.”

I huff, crossing my arms. “To talk to you. You’re huge—no one even notices I’m down here.”

“I notice you’re down there.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you don’t count.”

I catch his long sigh. “I can see down your shirt, you know. Of course I’m going to trail you all over the room. It’s not a bad view.”

He can see down my shirt? “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”

“Teddy, I can see down everyone’s shirt—it’s not like your tits are the only show in town tonight.”

“I don’t know how to reply to that.” I glance down at my chest, at the lackluster cleavage peeking up above my modest neckline. “I barely have any skin showing.”

“Bullshit. If those were popping out any farther I’d see nipple.”

The nerve of this guy! “You told me to wear something that would show off my boobs! I even put on a push-up bra, and trust me, the straps are digging into my skin. I should find the bathroom and take it off.”

That does the trick, and he backpedals. “I changed my mind. A guy should want you for your brains, not your tits. Pull up the shoulders on your shirt.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” My palm goes up and I pop it in his direction to shush him. “Know what? I can’t deal with you right now.”

“Well you’re going to have to, because we have an ironclad agreement.”

“Agreements are meant to be broken.”

“Iron. Clad.”

“Ours was made over eggs and sausage—I was hungry and tired. That has to count for something—duress, maybe?”

Arguing with him is worse than trying to have a serious discussion with a drunk frat boy—out of hand and impossible.

I poke him in the bicep to get his attention. “Did you have to be such a jerk to Mariah before?”

“Yes.” Nonchalant and unapologetic, Kip leans against the wall. “She deserved it.”

When I arrived with my roommate not too long ago and we found Kip waiting for me on the far side of the room, Mariah wasted no time leaning into him, crooking her finger so he had to lean down to hear what she had to say. I watched, dismayed as her lips grazed the shell of his ear, followed by her tongue. Watched as his glower deepened with every word she spoke until he straightened up and told her she was a shitty human.

To her face.

“She was hitting on me.”

“No she wasn’t. She was just flirting.” In her special way. “She’s always like that.”

I mean, maybe she was hitting on him. I have no way of knowing; Kip refuses to tell me what she whispered in his ear…before licking it.

“She was hitting on me, Teddy. Not flirting.”

I poke him. “What did she say to you?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

He’s right. I don’t.

But I kind of do?

“Maybe you misunderstood her?” God, what am I saying? Even I know whatever she said to him, there was probably no way for him to misinterpret.

“Teddy, she was hitting on me, knowing you were here to meet me. She licked my fucking ear and bit the lobe—that is fucked up.”

She bit his ear lobe?

I blanch.

He’s right; she did know I was coming to hang out with him and she did it anyway. Licked him. Bit him.

A little knot loops itself around my stomach and tightens. Squeezes into a dull ache that moves to my chest.

Kip’s truth hurts.

“But she knows it’s not like that with us.”

He studies me, stroking his beard. “Did you tell her that?”

No.

I don’t have to say it out loud—he can see it written on my face, and he smirks, one corner of his lips tipping up…I think? His beard is covering his mouth, only the bottom lip jutting out in an irritated fashion. Briefly, I can’t help but wonder what his top lip looks like, if he has an arched bow, if the rest of his mouth is full or thin.

I give him a once-over, starting at his booted feet, moving up his long stretch of leg. Glancing over his red shirt and unzipped blue sweatshirt. The tan skin. The hair.

He’s kind of…

A sight to behold.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” His brows are raised. “Please stop.”