Jockblocked: A Novel (Gridiron Book 2)(32)
I don’t point out that the story is about the best friend and not Matt but I get Ace’s point. Matt is exactly that expensive purse. I give up on offering up excuses for him and instead, pat myself on the back for relegating him to the bad for me column along with carbs and too much liquor.
“Speaking of girlfriends, what’s going on with you and Stella? I’d think she wouldn’t be thrilled about the blonde in your bedroom.”
“Eh.” He shrugs carelessly. “Stella’s always unhappy about something. Why do you think she’s sleeping with me?”
“I don’t know. Because you like each other?”
He looks at me in disbelief.
“What?” I throw up my hands. “Why is that such a stupid statement?”
“Stella and I hooked up because she lives to piss off her dad, has a weird fetish for quarterbacks, and knows she’s not going to break my heart when she’s done with me”—I open my mouth—“or vice versa,” he finishes.
I snap my trap shut. Apparently they have an enemies-with-benefits arrangement. I mean…
“Say it.” He sighs and gestures for me to start talking.
“Sorry! But I thought you had real feelings for her. That one night we hit up that new club along the East River last semester, Stella spent the whole night talking to the basketball guy and you went home in a bad mood.”
“My mom had called to tell me Rascal was sick, remember?”
Rascal was Ace’s dog. He passed away soon after that call.
I nod, but remind him, “You looked more pissed off than grief stricken.”
“Can we just drop it? I want to talk about how you and Ives hooked up.”
“I didn’t hook up with him!” I protest but feel myself turn an alarming shade of red because last night I had a pretty dirty dream.
“Then why are you asking questions about him and defending him?”
I curl my hands into fists so I don’t give in to my urge to slap Ace silly. “You’re the one who brought it up! I told you I hadn’t seen him, and then you decided to tell me some awful story about two of your teammates. What’s going on, Ace?”
“I told you it was nothing,” he says curtly. At my frown, he mumbles an apology and heaves himself to his feet. “I’m going to shower and get ready.” He sniffs his shirt. “I stink. Pick out something for me to wear, will you?”
I guess we’re done with Stella and Matt. Tight-lipped, I do as he asks. There’s no point in pressing him because he’s not going to say anything until he’s absolutely ready. I rummage through Ace’s things and find a clean pair of jeans and a royal blue long-sleeve T-shirt with a waffle texture. After tossing the clothes inside the bathroom, I unpack my things.
Ace wanders out, dressed in the clothes I picked out, his wet, brown hair looking darker than usual.
He stops by the bed and traces the raised letters on the mock trial packet. “You don’t even like football players. You once told me that dating a football player seemed about as exciting as dating a block of cheese.”
“Are you still on this?” I rub my temples. I can feel a headache coming on. “I’m not going out with him and you’re right. I find most football players to be boring. You all have tendency to talk about only one thing, which gets boring after a while.” Except the two nights we talked, Matt didn’t say one word about football. I was the one who brought it up. God, am I ever going to get him out of my mind? Stop it, I order myself and refocus on Ace. “I love you, Ace. And I love all of your friends, but all you guys do when you get together is talk about the game. Different routes. Throwing down the seam. The seam? Really? Who thinks of these names? They’re all so sexual.”
“Guys think of them. That’s why they’re sexual. And if you think we’re bad, you should watch some wrestling. They have moves like ‘going out the back door’ and ‘rear naked choke hold’ and the ‘camel clutch.’ ‘Running up the seam’ is innocent compared to all that shit. Besides, guys only have one thing on their mind.” He points a finger at me. “Remember that.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. I’ve gotten this lecture from Ace once a semester since he discovered sex. “What about food? Isn’t food important?”
“Only in the context of getting more sex. Proteins to keep it up.”
“Ewww. Can we not talk about dicks and hard-ons?” I shudder. I hit him with a pillow, which he wrests easily from my grasp. He might only be the quarterback but he’s still damn strong.
“Have you taken your medicine?” He jerks a chin toward his desk where my box of needles, medication, and blood tester rests.
“Not yet, Dad. But thanks for the reminder. I haven’t done this for the last ten years by myself or anything.”
He shrugs off my testiness. “Just making sure.” He abruptly, and wisely, moves on to a different topic. “Are you sure you don’t want me to say something to that Heather chick?”
“And say what?”
He pats me on the head. “Dunno. Stop making my best friend’s life miserable. I know you aren’t a fan of conflict.”
I give him a hug and realize he’s just looking out for me. “No, it’s too late. We’ve already spent the money on the registration. Is everything in life so expensive?”