Jock Rule (Jock Hard #2)(33)

“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.”

His tone makes me laugh, and I jump at the opportunity to change the subject.

“You look like Thor, for heaven’s sake. Thanks for doing yourself up tonight.”

“Doing myself.” I can hear his chuckle over the sound of the music. “Sounds about right.”

“You’re so immature.”

“You’re so welcome.”

“That wasn’t a compliment, Kip.” My eyes land on the royal blue hair band around his topknot. “How the hell did you get your hands on a scrunchie?”

“My sister is an asshole and sent me a box of them, okay? Because of my man buns.” He fingers the scrunchie in his mop. “I thought this crushed velvet one suited the occasion nicely.”

“First of all, how do you know that’s crushed vel—you know what? Never mind.” I squint up at him. “What’s the occasion?”

“Our debut as a team.”

“Jeez, please don’t call it a debut. I predict this will be our one and only hurrah.”

“It’s a debut—unless you have a better word for it?”

“No, I don’t.” Frustrated, I throw my hands in the air. “Because we do not need to be calling it anything! My god, why are you like this?”

Kip cocks a brow. “Okay, now you’re starting to sound like my sister.”

“Someone I bet I would really love from the sound of it. Tell me more.”

“I’d really rather not. She’s a pain in my ass.”

“Is she tall?”

“I guess? Five ten or something.”

“Whoa. Are you parents tall?”

“My dad is, not my mom.”

“Hmm.” I consider this. “So it’s like a family of giants.”

“Basically.”

Just then, we’re interrupted for the first time in an hour—since we’ve been here, it’s just been the two of us entertaining ourselves with beer, banter, and small talk.

The guy is tall too—though not as tall as Kip—and handsome, in a pretty boy kind of way, a gash in his lip lending a rugged air. Hair tussled, he’s got on a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and jeans that look like they could stand to go through the wash.

“Hey Sasquatch. What’s up?” He gives me side eye and a smile, holding up two red cups.