Playing Hard to Get(25)

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because everything’s riding on this. I’ve avoided this class for the last three years, all thanks to my coaches and my counselor. She finally told me last summer that I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I’m a senior and I have to take it.” His gaze locks on mine. “Want me to be real with you right now?”

“Please.” I nod almost too eagerly. Ugh.

“I’m scared I’ll fail. I can’t risk it. And I don’t need the distraction of some pretty freshman trying to touch my junk while I ask her to go over her notes with me.” He leans back in his chair, spreading his long legs in front of himself. “Besides, I’ve made a vow to myself.”

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that an eighteen-or nineteen-year-old girl would so blatantly reach for his junk. Clearly, they’re a different kind of person than I am. Not that it’s a bad thing—they’re just bold while I’m a little more reserved. “What kind of vow?”

“I swore myself to celibacy.”





TEN





KNOX





Now why the hell did I go and admit that to my new friend Jo Jo?

The shocked expression on her face says it all. I threw her for a loop with that confession. And on the first tutoring session, too.

Way to wow her with my smarts.

“What do you mean, a vow of celibacy?” She asks the question slowly, as if she might’ve heard me wrong.

“No women allowed during the football season. I made a bet with some of my teammates.” Yes, Jo Jo. That’s just as bad as it sounds.

She’s frowning. More like scowling, though she still looks pretty doing it. She’s attractive, my tutor. Or is that the lack of female company talking? Could I already be finding anyone with a vagina attractive? It’s only been a couple of days, so doubtful.

I watch her, feigning indifference, secretly clocking her every feature. Joanna is definitely pretty. I like the freckles that dot her nose. Her lips are full and this rosy shade of pink. Dark, delicate brows and deep brown eyes that are full of curiosity at this very moment, which makes me think she wants more info about this celibacy plan I’ve got going on.

She doesn’t have a lick of makeup on, and I…like it. But she isn’t plain. I’d actually describe her as striking. Guess I like the natural look.

More like she doesn’t look like any of the women I’ve been with in the recent past, and it’s kind of refreshing.

“Did you make this vow so you could concentrate on football?” she finally asks.

“And my classes, yeah.” I love that she gets it. If I would tell any other woman my plan, they’d be confused. Like, why would I want to purposely avoid having sex for an extended period of time?

Then they’d try to grab my junk—just like I told Joanna a few minutes ago—and show me everything they’ve got. It’s how it works. How it’s always worked when it comes to me and women.

It’s kind of a relief, knowing I can avoid that this semester—this football season. I’m tired of the same old thing. I need a break.

It’s almost laughable, how much my feelings about sex have changed in such a short amount of time. I think I’ve been hanging out with the wrong kind of women. Maybe that’s my problem.

“Have you ever done something like that before?” Her sweet voice breaks through my thoughts.

I slowly shake my head.

“Did you make this vow at the beginning of the season? Like before school started?”

“No. Only a couple of days ago.”

Her lips lift into the smallest smile. “How’s it going so far?”

“You want to know the truth?” She nods. “Not so well.”

“Why not?”

“It’s like when you’re told you can’t eat chocolate cake because it’s bad for you. And then all you crave is chocolate cake. Even if you never craved it before,” I explain, staring at Joanna like she’s my proverbial piece of chocolate cake.

She rears back a little, like she needs the distance from me. “I know what you mean.”

“Yeah?” I glance down at the iPad she’s clutching. “So am I a hopeless case? Or can you help me with this class?”

I need to stop talking about sex with Joanna, because it makes me curious. What’s she like? What does she like? From the looks of her, I’d guess she’s your standard missionary type. No freak in the sheets. Might like giving blow jobs but prefers to be on the receiving end.

And just like that, I break out in a sweat. This is the last thing I need—to think about going down on Jo Jo.

Is she loud or quiet when she comes? For some reason, I can envision her yanking on my hair and screaming my name.

Or maybe that’s just my ego talking, which is normal.

“You’re definitely not hopeless.”

I jerk my gaze to hers, appreciating how easily she shifts right back into efficient tutor mode. It’s kind of hot, how serious she gets, though I shouldn’t think that way. My tutor isn’t hot. I need to keep reminding myself of that, even if it’s a lie.

“And I can help you,” she continues. “Though I’m going to need something from you in return.”