Jockblocked: A Novel (Gridiron Book 2)(38)

I run a hand through my hair. I don’t know what’s going on with Ace. He’s usually not like this. Yes, I know he has sex, and I know he has plenty of girls on campus after him, but I could have sworn he had real interest in Stella last semester. Now he’s acting like a manwhore without a conscience, and that’s just not him.

Something is wrong with Ace, but short of stalking in there and pulling the girl off of him, I can’t really address it with him tonight. Or, I guess, it’s morning. I pull out my phone to check the time. It’s nearing two in the morning. I have a ten o’clock class. I’ll deal with Ace tomorrow but for now? I just want a damn place to sleep.

If my apartment wasn’t being fumigated and if breathing pesticides wouldn’t kill me, I’d go home. But I’m stuck here. Somewhere in this place has to be a place for me to crash.

I trot downstairs and find the living room empty. It’s not my first choice, and half the house is still out partying, which means I could fall asleep only to be woken up several times as Ace’s roommates straggle home, but I don’t have many more options.

A couple of raised voices coming from the porch catch my attention. I quietly approach the front door to see who’s arguing, only to jerk back like a character from a bad spy movie when I see Matt and Jack.

Shit. I’m totally not prepared to deal with Matt so soon. The imprint of his body is fresh in my mind. I might still be a little drunk from his kiss. I need some time and distance to build up an immunity to him so I can see him and not want to tear off my clothes and his.

I peek through the sidelight. Whatever Matt is trying to sell, Jack isn’t buying. His arms are crossed and his jaw is set in a hard, unhappy line.

What did Ace say this morning? Better than former National Championship player demoted in favor of true freshman recruit.

Surely he wasn’t referring to himself? Surely…I yank open the door and the two shut up the moment they see me.

“What are you doing here?” I accuse.

“I live here,” Jack says with a grin. It’s a fake grin. There are worry lines around his eyes. The suspicious kernel that formed when I first saw the two arguing starts to take shape.

“This is about Ace, isn’t it?” When the two don’t answer, I reach out and jab my finger into Jack’s chest. “Your quarterback is losing it. He’s drunk, screwing random girls, and acting like a teenager with her first bout of PMS.”

Jack raises his hands. “I’m too drunk to deal with this right now.” What a fricking lame-assed excuse. Jack’s as sober as a judge on Monday mornings. “Good night, Lucy.” He leans down and gives me a kiss on my temple. “Nice jammies.”

I look down at my Harry Potter pajama top and matching shorts. “They are nice,” I yell at his departing back. I turn my irritation on Matt. “What’s wrong with my jammies?”

“Nothing’s wrong with your pajamas, Goldie, but I’m definitely not a fan of your socks. Where’d you get those?”

“Goldie? What happened to Luce? One nickname’s not good enough for you?”

“You looked like a fairy tale tonight with your hair up like that.” Matt spins his finger toward my head. “Are you trying to avoid my question about your socks?”

“What is your obsession with my socks?” I lift one foot up. “These are my dad’s.”

“Then your socks are fine.” There’s a banked heat in his eyes that makes it hard for me to meet them without blushing.

“Speaking of Ace—”

“I wasn’t actually speaking of Ace,” Matt interrupts. “I was speaking of us. You and I and how you’re really heartbroken that we were interrupted before we could take a few more risks. Me, too.” His voice thickens seductively. He steps forward, and I step backward because it’s two hundred and fifty pounds of male coming at me, and he keeps coming until the door is closed behind him. “But we can patch our bruised hearts by seeing each other tomorrow night.”

“I’m busy.” I cross my arms, in part to ward off his charm and in part to keep from grabbing his shirt and whipping it over his head.

“Yes, studying, but you can’t study all the time, and you aren’t studying now.” He pulls gently on my crossed arms, dragging me across the wood floor until there’s hardly a breath between us. “How was the reward, Goldie? And don’t tell me it didn’t exist because you’d be lying. I was there. I felt you. I swallowed your sexy little gasps, and I felt you grind—”

“Okay!” I throw my hand across his mouth. “I felt something. Something good.” His eyes gleam in the night. He’s like this big cat just waiting to devour me, and worse? I want to be devoured. “But it’s late, and my head is muddled. I can’t think or sleep.”

I know I’ve just admitted to him that I can’t stop thinking about him, that he’s actually keeping me up at night, but the words tumble out of me. And once they’re out, I have a certain sense of relief. The tension had been building and building, and it had to come out.

His whole face softens beneath my hand. He presses a small kiss into the palm and then pulls it gently away from his mouth.

Still holding my hand, he asks “Why aren’t you in bed, Goldie?”

“You know why.” It’s embarrassing. “Because Ace brought a girl home.”