Jock Hard

by Ney, Sara

  My favorite spot to grope her is the kitchen; if I grab her by the hips, I can lift her high enough to plant her sweet little ass on the countertop, where she’s just the right height so I can step in between her legs…

  I get turned on by the smallest things, too, like watching her make me a sandwich. Watching the nape of her neck as she stands at the sink. Observing her doing anything domestic gives me the biggest fucking boner.

  Had me wedging myself more than a few times in front of her, scooping her up, wrapping her legs around my waist, and kissing the shit out of her.

  God I’m going to miss her.

  Somehow, I convinced her to stay until I have to leave—not that it was too hard. The second she started to protest, I kissed the argument right out of her. Took her to dinner and made staying a few more days worth her time.

  And when I drive her home?

  Every cell in my body is well aware that I’m not going to see her for thirty days.

  My heart gives another squeeze, chest tight. Lump in my throat.

  “Let me walk you to your door.” A nod.

  Her sidewalk is annoyingly short, and we’re at the front door in a matter of seconds. Scarlett pauses, back pressed against the doorframe, gazing up at me, she’s so damn beautiful.

  “Want to come in?”

  I want to—God knows I do. “I better not. If I come in, you know I won’t be able to leave, and I have to be up for my flight at three in the morning.” Not to mention a shit ton of other things to accomplish before I go.

  “I’m leaving pretty early, too.”

  My hands cup her face, buried in her hair. My thumbs brush her jaw, back and forth, then over her bottom lip.

  Pink nose. Long lashes.

  Deceptively sweet dimple.

  She’s nothing like I thought she’d be that night I dragged her onto the porch, nothing like that girl running her sassy mouth, arguing to get back inside.

  Man am I glad I kicked her ass out, because now this ass is mine.

  “Have fun in Florida,” she says against the palm of my hand, miserably.

  “Not possible.”

  “Yeah right. It’s my dream vacation.”

  “You’re my dream vacation,” I croon, trying my damnedest to sound sexy.

  It has the opposite effect.

  Sounds so fucking dumb that Scarlett starts laughing.

  And not that cute, flirty little laugh I love so much—no, it’s the loud, obnoxious one that makes me want to tackle her to the ground and stick my tongue down her throat.

  “I can’t.” She gasps. “I’m your dream vacation? Really Rowdy? Oh god, it’s so cheesy I can’t breathe.” She wheezes in the cold, white puffs steaming out her mouth.

  “Okay, that didn’t come out the way it sounded in my head.” “That was terrible. Don’t quit your day job.”

  “Would you stop laughing?” I frown. “I’m trying to be serious for a second.”

  “I know, I know, but come on…”

  I shut her up the only way I can: pull her in until our lips meet and her saucy tongue is inside my mouth.

  It’s cold, but she’s warm, and we stand like this on her front stoop, making out like I’m dropping her off at the airport.

  Wrapping my arms around her waist, pulling her flush, our jackets making it impossible to get any closer.

  “You going to start coming to my games when we get back?” Like a good girlfriend.

  “Yes.” She’s breathless, raised on her tiptoes, kissing my chin. “And I know so much random baseball trivia, it’s going to knock your jock off.”

  I don’t tell her she already has.

  EIGHTH FRIDAY

  “The Friday Where I Try to Get Her in a Swimsuit.”

  FIRST FRIDAY OF WINTER BREAK

  Rowdy: You know, I’ve been giving this sex thing a lot of thought. Like…a LOT a lot of thought.

  My heart races at the sight of his name on my phone, as it does every single time he messages me or calls.

  I sigh, content, tapping open his message, hunkering down deeper into my bedding. It’s freezing outside, winter in full force, the seven inches of snow that dumped on us last night lending a chill to the house. My father insists on keeping the house cool, so I’m always cold, and the weather makes it worse.

  The thought of Rowdy warms my body considerably, and I smile, replying.

  Me: That’s the LEAST shocking thing I’ve heard you say since meeting you.

  Rowdy: I laid in bed last night, and it dawned on me: I get to be the first guy to bang you.

  Rowdy: [GIF attachment: camel walking through the desert]

  Rowdy: Get it? That was my sex camel reference.

  Me: [GIF attachment: disappears into shrubbery]

  Me: I got that, loud and clear, you goof…

  Me: What are you doing right now?

  Rowdy: Plotting

  Me: Plotting what?

  Rowdy: In due time, Ms. Impatient. Missing me yet?

  Me: Yes—I was just about to message you to thank you for the present. It was so sweet of you to send me seashells, they’re beautiful. I can’t believe you got me a gift.

  Rowdy: I went to the beach and picked them myself. My parents thought I was nuts.

  Me: lol Why?

  Rowdy: I haven’t been shell seeking since I was five, that’s why. And here I am, six two, bending over every two feet to pick shells up off the ground. Had to get there early to beat all the competition.

  Rowdy: And the beach is an hour drive.

  Me: Oh stop, it is not.

  Rowdy: You love the ocean, Dimples. Of course I went to collect shells for you.

  He is ridiculously thoughtful.

  Me: I’d kiss your face so hard if you were here. I really miss you.

  Rowdy: Promise?

  Me: Yes. Right below your sexy mouth.

  I love his lips.

  Rowdy: You know how many times I’ve wanted to suck on your dimple over the past few days? Like two hundred.

  Me: Uhhhhhh…I don’t know what to say to that, lol

  Rowdy: It’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen besides your ass.

  Suddenly, the FaceTime notification on my cell starts chiming, buzzing and ringing, and I fumble, knocking my phone to the floor. I grapple for the charging cord, reel it in like I’m fishing, and scramble to click on the nearby lamp.

  It’s Rowdy.

  It’s ten o’clock on Friday night, eleven o’clock his time. “Hey.” His handsome smile is a wicked, welcome sight.

  “Hey.”

  I wipe the sleep from my eyes, propping myself up by the elbows so I can study his face.

  “So, this is what you look like when you’re in bed, eh?” Oh god.

  Shoot me now.

  “That shirt is not what I thought you’d be wearing.”

  I glance down at it: a tank top that says I licked it so it’s mine. My mother hates it, so I have to wear a sweatshirt over it when I go down to the kitchen every morning for breakfast.

  “What did you think I’d be wearing?”

  “I don’t know—one of those cat onesies?”

  “Shut up.” I laugh, snuggling down deeper into my pillow. “I don’t own a cat onesie.”

  My onesie is a sloth, obviously, but he doesn’t have to know that.

  His broad shoulders are bare, tan collarbone smooth, and the way he has his phone angled does nothing to afford me a better view of his assets. Dammit.

  “So I’ve been thinking,” Rowdy starts with no preamble, leaning against a navy blue wall in a room I assume is his bedroom. “You doin’ anything this week?”

  Am I? I rack my brain, going through the plans I made for the rest of the month, pulling the baby blue cotton sheet farther up my chest.

  “Just going through my closet and taking whatever I don’t wear anymore to the donation center.” Man that sounds lame. “That’s about it. My dad might want to go skiing at some point before I leave because we just got a ton of snow.�
�

  Rowdy’s face scrunches up at the mention of snow. “What about next weekend, like, Friday?”

  “Hanging out with some friends who are home. What about you?”

  He repositions himself on his bed, bending an arm and resting it behind his head to prop himself up, my eyes roaming to his armpit—good lord, even his damn armpit is sexy with its patch of light brown hair. The cords in his thick neck strain, and I get a semi-decent shot of his chest. I was right, it does have a smattering of hair…

  “…so that’s what they’re doing this year instead of staying in town,” he’s saying as he moves the phone an inch and I get a clear shot of the television in the corner.

  I didn’t hear a word of anything he just said.

  Too busy staring at his sleek skin and brown hair and into his green eyes.

  “I…um, can you please repeat that? Was that a question?”

  He smirks. “Something distracting you, Scarlett?” Flexes his pecs and biceps. Even his collarbone is mouthwatering.

  “I was telling you my parents decided to head out of town— they’re taking a short cruise.”

  “Wait.” I sit up. “They’re leaving you home alone for the holidays? That’s so sad! And so very Home Alone of them.”

  He is unperturbed, yawning. “My dad’s friend hooked them up with a killer deal. He works for the cruise line in their food service division, so I’ll be home alone, but hopefully not for long.”

  “Don’t tell me—you’re going to throw a kegger while they’re gone.”

  He doesn’t respond right away, instead staring through the phone into my eyes until he has my full attention. Green eyes, black sooty lashes.

  “Come to Florida.”

  “I’m sorry?” Surely I must have misunderstood him.

  “Pack a bag and come down.” He sucks on his bottom lip, and it glistens when he’s done, damn his sexy face. “Come see me. Please.”

  I emit a weak little laugh, my stomach dipping into a clumsy curtsey.

  “Rowdy, that’s crazy. I can’t up and fly myself to Florida.”

  “Why not?

  “Because…because it’s crazy!” Is it? Spontaneous and fun and adventurous, that’s what it is.

  My heart speeds up, warming to the idea. Wanting to say yes but not wanting to appear too eager. Florida! With Sterling.

  Nope. No. I can’t do it, it’s nuts.

  “Why is that crazy? I want to see you—this vacation is too fucking long and it’s total bullshit.”

  I can’t help laughing, even though he’s being serious. Because he is being serious. Hope and excitement and disbelief spear my heart like a thousand arrows.

  “I checked flights,” he rambles quickly before I can interrupt. “They’re cheap right now because it’s so close to the departure date.”

  He already checked on flights?

  “Even so…” I sound weak—so so weak.

  He’s stretched out now across his pillows, arm still above his head, bicep still bulging. Eyes mischievous.

  “Coral reefs, Scarlett. Sand. Ocean life.”

  I scrunch up my face; he’s not fighting fair anymore.

  “Okay, now you’re just being mean. How close are you to the ocean if we had to drive?”

  “Gainesville to the coast? An hour. I promise I’ll take you snorkeling even if the beach is shitty.”

  I sit up, mind racing. “Wait, you were being serious? You drove an hour to pick seashells?”

  “Yes.” He’s impatient now. “Can you focus on the trip here?”

  I press on my stomach to quiet the nerves. It rolls and protests expectantly. “Rowdy, why are you doing this to me?”

  “Because I’m a selfish asshole and I want to see you.”

  The heart inside my chest goes from constricting to thumping wildly with excitement and happiness and a whole list of other things I will categorize later when I don’t feel like hurling my guts out from nerves.

  “Sterling…”

  Jeez, what would my parents say if I hightailed it down to Florida? Not that I’d ask them for money to buy a ticket, but still—I’m twenty-one. Going to see a guy on break is insane, right? Would my dad let me do it?

  You don’t need permission, Scarlett, you’re an adult…

  “You know you want to. I can tell you’re thinking about it.” He lowers his voice, and it’s soft and silky. “I know you are.

  “Well of course I want to! Who in their right mind wouldn’t?!” But just because I want it doesn’t mean I can do it.

  Can’t I?

  “Before you flat-out tell me no, would you do me a favor and at least talk to your parents? Be spontaneous with me, Scarlett.”

  Be spontaneous with me.

  Nevertheless, I huff. “Peer pressure isn’t going to work on me Sterling Wade.” My chin goes up. “Besides, I’m an adult—my parents stopped bossing me around when they started making me pay rent.”

  That’s right: you don’t need permission, you’re an adult.

  “Then what’s stopping you from saying yes?”

  I stare at him through one eye, squeezing the other one shut dubiously.

  “Where would I sleep?” To my own ears, I sound breathless. His grin is crooked, white teeth shining. “Guest room?”

  He sticks his tongue out like he’s just swallowed a bug.

  Even making that face, he’s good-looking. “The guest room, huh?”

  “Donald and Hannah Wade said you can sleep in my room if you want to be surrounded by all my trophies.”

  Heart, meet throat. “You actually asked your parents if I could come down?”

  “What? Did you think I was going to surprise them with some random girl I picked up at the airport? Of course I told them about you.” He yawns again. “For your information, my mother spent an hour creeping on your Instagram. She didn’t want me to bring a cleat chaser into the house.”

  His mother was looking through my pictures? Oh god.

  “By the way,” he adds nonchalantly, “she thinks you’re adorable.”

  “Adorable,” I deadpan.

  “She thinks you’re adorable. I think you’re sexy.”

  “Wait, you follow me on social media, too?” How did this never occur to me before? I follow him but hadn’t thought about him following me, and apparently I missed the notification.

  I flush.

  His brow furrows. “I mean…yeah?”

  I shake my head; this whole situation is entirely surreal.

  “I still think this whole thing is nuts.” I say it slowly, trying to convince myself but failing miserably.

  Rowdy senses the weak chink in my argument and takes advantage. Cajoling with that low voice of his that makes my skin shiver.

  You don’t need permission, Scarlett, you’re an adult.

  “You want to say yes, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the problem? Don’t you have a passport? Because a regular ID will work, too.”

  “I have a passport…”

  “Then say it,” he murmurs. “Say yes, baby.”

  “Yes, baby.” I can’t even tease with conviction—I want this trip so bad.

  “Stop fucking with me, Scarlett. Be serious for a second.”

  The poor boy, his eyes bear a guarded expression I’ve never seen from him before, and it occurs to me that he’s vulnerable. There is nothing about his gaze that says he’s messing around with me. Rowdy is dead serious; he wants to see me. He’s eyeing me so intently, I have to glance away toward my closet.

  I bite down on my bottom lip. “You must miss me, huh?”

  “Yes,” is his emphatic reply. “All I fucking want is to see you.”

  My nod is small but firm. “All right.”

  He goes still. “Wait—so you’re coming?” “Yes.”

  Brows shoot up. “Yes?”

  “Yes, Rowdy—YES.” How many times do I have to say it? “I’ll come down to Florida.”

  Oh god, I’m doing i
t! I’m going to freaking FLORIDA.

  “Mom!” Rowdy suddenly shouts, holding the phone out, and I notice for the first time that his bedroom door is open. “Scarlett is coming to Florida!”

  From somewhere within the recesses of his parents’ house, I hear a female voice shout back. “That’s nice, sweetie!”

  I’m going to meet his parents! I’m going to see the ocean!

  I’m going to see Sterling.

  That’s when I freak out—on my bed, kicking my legs like a maniac. Beneath the covers, exuberant and excited, the sheets flying all over the place as I squeal. And kick and toss and turn and squeal some more, wanting to scream for my mother, who’s probably in bed reading a romance novel.

  “Did you know…when you kick your legs like that, your boobs bounce? Thanks for wearing a tank top.”

  I can’t even be mad at him for being a perv.

  “I’m coming to see you,” I whisper, wanting to pinch myself. Wanting to kiss his face through the phone. “I’m coming to Florida.”

  If I keep saying it over and over, it’s more real by the syllable. Rowdy’s grin is easy and beautiful.

  Arrogant.

  “Wow. That was way easier than I thought it would be.” He breathes a sigh of relief, running a big, tan hand through his hair. “That took less than ten minutes—you’re way too fucking easy. We need to work on your negotiation skills. Thank god you’re not a business major.”

  “You asshole!” I giggle. “You knew I was going to say yes the entire time you were hassling me!”

  “Yes, but I’m an asshole who’s taking you to the beach.”

  Suddenly, I can’t contain my excitement. “This is going to be the best winter break.”

  I kick my covers again, like a child who was just told they’re going to Disney World in the morning.

  “Pack your shit, baby, and I’ll book your plane ticket. I’ll pick you up at the airport next Friday.”

  Friday, Friday, Friday. Our lucky day of the week.

  “I’ll buy the ticket tonight and send you the flight information.”

  My nod is trancelike, a blissful stupor, and I’m drunk with excitement. Rowdy and I peer at each other, through the miles, over the phone, goofy smiles impossible to contain.

  “I should get some sleep,” he says at last. “I’m running a half marathon at five in the morning with a friend from high school.”