Jock Row, #1

by Sara Ney

  She scuttles away.

  “Was I being rude?” I deadpan.

  “A little?”

  I let out a sigh. “Look, we have shit to talk about, and I don’t want to keep getting interrupted.” I glance toward the front counter. “Now that waitress is going to bitch about what an asshole I am, and no one will bother us. See how that works?”

  Scarlett’s lips part.

  “It sucks, and I’m sorry. I was a dick, but we’re leaving for break in two weeks and I just found you. I’m being selfish.”

  She’s the only thing I’ve been thinking about since she left for home, and I’ve been jerking off to images and the idea of her every night, ever since.

  My wrist is actually sore; I had to get it wrapped this morning by the athletic trainer.

  Her eyes go wide, lashes fluttering. “Just found me?”

  “Yeah.” I reach across the table, grabbing her hand. “How the hell am I supposed to freaking enjoy winter break without you? Friday nights are going to suck.”

  “I…hadn’t thought about it.”

  “I have. Being home sucks. What day do you leave for the holidays?”

  “When do you leave?”

  “We have a mandatory team meeting with the coaching staff the last night of classes. I’ll get a conditioning schedule from the trainer, see PT one more time, then fly home that Sunday.” I pause, grab a fistful of sandwich, and shove it in my mouth, take a big bite and chew.

  The servers might be a pain in the ass, but goddamn this sandwich is good.

  I moan, stuffing it farther into my mouth, rolling my eyes.

  “God, Rowdy, have some manners!” She laughs, coughing, reaching for the water in front of her to clear her throat. “Stop it or I’m going to choke and die.”

  “Too good, can’t help it.” I caveman my voice, chomping down. “So, when do you leave for winter break?”

  Down goes her water glass. “Well, I get done with exams early, so I’m leaving on that Wednesday.”

  Two more weeks until we won’t see each other until January. Winter break is going to seriously suck; my parents are going to drive me nuts, and I won’t get to see Scarlett. The idea of it is so fucking weird, considering we’ve spent the past six weeks’ worth of Fridays together.

  Teasing and talking and making out like teenagers.

  It’s been awesome.

  “What are you doing while you’re home?”

  Scarlett shrugs. “Me? Working if I can pick up hours. It’s hit or miss when all the college students flood the town during their breaks. What about you?”

  My shoulders shrug. “I don’t know, whatever my mom has planned—it’s different every year. We don’t have a big family so it’s really uneventful, really fucking boring.” I finally take another bite of sandwich. “My dad bitches every year about all the tourists in town, and this year they mentioned wanting to skip town.”

  “It’s Florida! What could be better than that?”

  “A last-minute cruise? It’s so cheap leaving from the port in town since we don’t have to fly to get there. Its less than an hour to the coast.”

  “That sounds like heaven.”

  “I can’t wait to sit on my ass.”

  “You sit on your ass?”

  “Well, no. I’ll still work out, hit the gym and shit.” My eyes rest on the dark hair falling over her right shoulder, quickly doing a scan, hitting all the points of her body. Delicate shoulders. Blue eyes. Gracefully shaped hands.

  This is stupid.

  I’m Rowdy fucking Wade for Christ’s sake. I’ve played in stadiums full of thousands of people—I don’t get nervous, and I sure as hell am never at a loss for words.

  Scarlett smiles, offering up a piece of her muffin. “You want some?”

  I suddenly want it all.

  “You know,” she says, peeling off the muffin liner. “This holiday is going to suck and it’s partly your fault, being from Florida and all. I mean, who chooses Iowa over the Sunshine State?” She scoffs, envy filling her teasing tone.

  I hesitate, weighing my words. “Why don’t you come home with me?”

  Scarlett laughs, tipping her head back, the fabric of her shirt straining across her tits. “Go home with you—ha ha, very cute.”

  Shit. She thinks I’m joking, and my stomach drops.

  “It’s not the worst idea in the world.”

  The idea takes root in my brain, and I immediately accept Mission: Get Scarlett to My House in Florida Over Break.

  Plenty of couples do that, right? Visit each other and shit? It’s not unreasonable for her to come down for a vacation, is it? Spend time with me, get to know my friends? Meet my parents?

  I’m not going to sugarcoat it: I’m fucking crazy about this girl.

  Plus, she loves the ocean and I have the ocean, so why not give it to her? If she doesn’t see the logic in that, then she’s more unreasonable than I thought.

  “You don’t seriously want me coming home with you.” She’s stirring her soup. “Do you? I mean, we just started…you know, hanging out.”

  “I don’t want to be just hanging out, remember? Long haul?” I clarify. “I want to date you—just so we’re clear.”

  “You want to be exclusive,” she deadpans.

  I shift, uncomfortably. Why is she watching me that way? Like I’m an alien from another planet? “Yeah—that’s what we both want, right?”

  Her hesitation only lasts a split second. “Yes.”

  “Then why are you staring at me like that?”

  Scarlett giggles. “Because, I just—this is crazy. This whole thing is nuts. I really like you, it’s just never been this easy with anyone before. Guys can be such dicks, and I guess I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s too easy with you.”

  “Too easy—that’s a good thing, yeah?”

  “Yes. That’s a good thing.”

  I sit up straighter in my seat like a Golden Retriever wagging my tail, excited to have pleased my owner, recognizing Scarlett’s words as praise.

  “I told you, I hate games.”

  Her eyes are shining. “You like our games though.”

  “Fuck yeah I do,” I mouth silently, raising an eyebrow. Jeez she’s sexy. “True or false, you want to sleep with me.”

  “You’re so annoying,” Scarlett groans.

  “Answer the question.”

  “True.” She shrugs, noncommittal, slurping the soup off her spoon.

  I grin wolfishly. “True or false, you find me attractive.”

  “Put a leash around your ego’s neck, jeez. Of course I find you attractive—who doesn’t?” Scarlett crosses her arms, eyes stretching heavenward toward the ceiling. “True or false, you want to sleep with me.”

  I like this game more now that she’s cooperating. “True.”

  “True or false, you find me attractive.”

  “Also true.”

  Scarlett laps at a dollop of whipped cream heaped atop her hot chocolate, the froth slowly melting, steamy in her mug.

  She licks it, cradling the mug, taking another sip from the edge with a tortured groan.

  “True or false,” Scarlett begins tentatively, fiddling with the spoon resting in her soup bowl. “It’s normal for a girl to be a virgin at the age of twenty-one.”

  Uh…say what now?

  “I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer that.” I might be an asshole sometimes, but what someone does inside the bedroom is their own damn business. “It hardly matters if someone is a virgin or not.”

  “True or false: virgins freak you out.”

  I scoff. What the hell kind of question is this? “No?”

  “Pick one Sterling: true or false.”

  “False—clearly. I’ve never had sex with one, but it doesn’t matter if someone is a virgin or not. It’s not a virus.”

  “What if that virgin was me?”

  I laugh a little too loudly, causing a table nearby to crane their necks and look over. “You’re not a v
irgin, quit fucking around.”

  Scarlett blushes, dipping her head so I don’t see her flaming red cheeks. “Maybe they called me Cock Blocker back at the house for a reason, did you ever think of that?”

  I scowl now, unamused. “Don’t you dare call yourself that—and no, they were calling you Cock Blocker because they’re pricks and they were bored, not because of anything you did wrong.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Well don’t. It’s not funny.” She hasn’t touched her soup, and it must be getting cold. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I am, but my nerves just kicked into overdrive.” Instead of eating, she runs her palms up and down the legs of her pants, as if wiping off sweat. “I have something to tell you but I’m doing a terrible job spitting it out.”

  I sit back, my legs spread wide under the table. Waiting. “I’m a rock, Scarlett. You can tell me anything.”

  “Right,” she says slowly. “I just don’t want to disappoint you because I know the kind of girls you’re used to and it’s not the kind of girl I am.”

  “I decide what kind of girls I’m used to.”

  I have no idea what she’s trying to tell me, but I can tell it’s important and clamp my lips shut; I’m one step away from telling her I’m falling for her in the middle of a damn sandwich shop, just to calm her nerves, to take that worried look on her brow and turn it into a smile.

  She looks both determined and panicked and like she might want to throw up, still fiddling with the edge of her napkin.

  “I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t like you, but I do want to have sex with you so I think you should know what you’re getting into.” She sighs nervously, crossing her hands in her lap. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

  “What is it? Do you have an STD?”

  A nervous laugh bubbles out of her chest, erupting into a half laugh, half sob.

  “Scarlett—are you pregnant?” Jesus Christ, please say no.

  Another laugh, this one louder. “Would you stop? No, I do not have an STD, and no I’m not pregnant. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Sooo many things.”

  Scarlett takes a deep breath, voice low.

  I watch her—the way she’s avoiding my eyes, and the ruddy tint of her cheeks…

  “Scarlett, are you a virgin?” I ask it slowly—carefully—setting my sandwich back on my plate. Rest my hands on the table and wait.

  How is she a virgin?

  She’s beautiful and clever and chatty. Smart, with a sassy mouth on her. Slightly perverted—a total bonus. Says what’s on her mind and doesn’t bullshit anybody. And when she looks at me, whatever shit I’m dealing with? It disappears.

  All I want to do is be with her.

  I couldn’t care less if she’s a virgin or not—I’d still want to fuck her seven ways from Sunday.

  In fact, it’s fucking awesome.

  Scarlett’s eyes are downcast as she spoons soup past her puckered lips, the blush on her cheeks more prominent because of her white shirt.

  “Are you?” My voice is almost at a whisper, affording us more privacy, but I lean closer so she can hear me. “Is that why you didn’t want to have sex the other night?”

  She fidgets with her napkin. “It might be.”

  I can feel my expression softening. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because we were just making out. I didn’t think it would be that…crazy. I didn’t think I would want to so fast.”

  “That kiss was the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life.” It made my fucking toes curl—makes them curl now just thinking about it.

  She stills. “It was?”

  “Yes. My fucking mouth was tingling all night after that kiss.”

  “Mine too.”

  “And I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to, but I won’t lie and say it didn’t kill me to stop.” I run a hand through my hair. “You…”

  Her eyes dart around the restaurant, checking to make sure no one idles nearby. Mouth puckers, sipping the soup off her spoon, and the round little O has me staring stupidly.

  “I what?”

  “Never mind.”

  The last thing I want to do is start word-vomiting poetic bullshit at her. Not now. Not yet.

  Everything that comes out of Scarlett’s sexy mouth has me squirming in my seat.

  “I can be your sex camel,” I joke.

  “My what?”

  “It’s not ideal, but I could probably go a really long time before we have sex without dying, like a camel can go without water.”

  “Oh my god Sterling.” She laughs. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t want to wait—I’ve waited long enough. What I’m asking you is…are you okay with the fact that I’ve never slept with anyone before?”

  I’ve never been anyone’s first before. The idea gets me excited.

  “Why would I be disappointed no one has thrown their dick inside you before?” Is she being serious?

  I also sit and wonder about what it will be like breaking someone’s hymen. Shit, that’s what it’s called right?

  “You know I wouldn’t have any idea what I was fucking doing, right?” Do I handle her with kid gloves or just go at it?

  “Don’t sit there and tell me with a straight face that you’re a virgin, too.” She snickers. “Because I’ve heard a few stories about you through the grapevine.”

  “God no, I’m not a virgin.” I scoff. “But I’ve never, you know—had sex with one either.” How does that even work? “What if I fuck it up?”

  “You won’t.”

  “Jeez, what if it’s a bloody mess?”

  The look on her face is priceless, and I wish I hadn’t said that last part out loud.

  “I seriously cannot with you right now,” Scarlett practically hisses with a laugh. “Can you please you lower your voice before I hyperventilate?”

  Lower my voice? We’re practically whispering already. “How much lower can it be?”

  God she’s adorable when she’s embarrassed.

  “Do I get to play doctor with you now? Doctor Wade, Sex Therapist has a nice ring to it.” The idea gets me excited.

  “Like—you’d diagnose my virgin status?”

  “Yeah, after doing a thorough physical examination.” I pause to think, all jokes aside. “After we get back from break, we can, you know…discuss it more?”

  Scarlett nudges her bowl and mug aside, making room to rest her elbows on the table, leaning into me, rising up over the table.

  “How much are you going to miss me over the break?”

  “Honestly? Like fucking crazy.” More than I’ve ever missed anyone, and she’s still sitting right here in front of me. In fact, I’m guaranteed to spend the entire freaking vacation jerking off to the fantasy of Scarlett in nothing but snow boots, a lacey thong, and a winter hat—the one with the little gray puff on top. Goddamn it’s cute.

  “We’re not going to see each other for an entire month.” I shuffle my feet against the wooden floorboards like an amateur, self-conscious and exposed. “How do you feel about that?”

  “I’ve gotten so used to having you around.”

  “I know.”

  We study each other from across the table.

  I study her, then rise out of my seat, planting a quick kiss on her lips. Sit back down and raise my hand so the waitress will see me and bring the check.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  We make quick work out of paying our bill, mostly because I scared the shit out of the waitress before. She gets us cashed out quickly and we’re back in my truck within minutes.

  On our way to her place, the stretch of silence between us comfortable, smiling stupidly at each other the entire drive.

  When I pull up to her house, I put the car in park. Let it idle, radio playing quietly in the background, wanting to invite myself inside but not wanting to be pushy. Not after that sex talk we just had back at the restaurant.


  Scarlett unbuckles.

  Watches the road ahead of us, staring down the empty street, her backpack still in my back seat.

  Finally, a car drives by slowly, and we both watch it pass before she speaks.

  “Of all the people in this world I would have paired myself with, it would never have been you,” she says quietly. Slowly. Thoughtfully, tilting her head only slightly to glance in my direction. “You’re really wonderful.”

  Jesus, my fucking heart—the little bastard—swells up. I’m not supposed to feel this way so fast—it’s been what, six, seven weeks? Thirty? Ninety? Feelings don’t happen this fast—not to me.

  I’ve never fallen in love with anyone, ever.

  Is that what this is?

  These fucked up knots in my stomach and late nights spent staring at the bloody ceiling? Counting stars because I can’t sleep? Tossing and turning, checking my phone every goddamn second of every day we’re not together?

  I can’t fucking believe it’s happening now.

  With the girl from the front porch.

  Cheeseball bastard.

  Sap.

  Take it slow, my brain tells me.

  Run with it, and run as far as you can go.

  I’m an athlete—a champion.

  I play hard and jock harder, and these little games I’ve started with her?

  I’m playing to win.

  SEVENTH FRIDAY

  “The Friday Before I Have to Spend an Entire Break Wanking Off and Jerking it to Porn.”

  Rowdy

  I didn’t realize those two weeks between Thanksgiving and the end of the semester would fly by so damn fast.

  It doesn’t help that ninety percent of our time was spent cramming for finals, packing, and preparing to head home.

  Luckily for my lips and dick, the other ten percent with Scarlett was spent making out on every surface of her house we could. Her place is the best, private. No roommates to interrupt or share her with.

  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.