Jockblocked: A Novel (Gridiron Book 2)(50)

Besides, the sex would be good exercise. It would actually be healthy for me to sleep with him. It would be good for both my mind and my body. If I did him just once, I’d be taking only a tiny risk. The smallest. The minutest. It’s almost not even a risk to be with him once.

Unless you become addicted, whispers my internal risk advisor. I order her to shut the hell up.

“Maybe you don’t need that book tonight.” I take a bold step forward and pluck it out of his hands.





18





Matty




I’m speechless. She’s literally rendered me completely without speech.

“Just for tonight?” I manage to croak out when her confident look starts to falter under my stupid, stupid silence.

“What else do you want?”

Fuck, so much, Goldie, I think, but so I don’t scare her off, I say, “I’d like to date you.”

“You told me you were a shitty boyfriend before.”

I’m not the wordsmith she is. I want to put my true feelings out there as best I can, but I’ve never had to say anything like this before. Not even to Megan did I articulate my feelings, but looking back that’s probably because I didn’t have many beyond, she’s a nice girl and a good lay.

I’ve had plenty of sex since then but nothing like the kiss in the kitchen. Nothing like Lucy. Her golden hair shines with its own sort of light, and I can’t stop myself from curling a wayward lock around my finger. “Yeah, I freely admit I sucked at the boyfriend thing before, and you have every reason to think I’m going to fail at this, but I’m going into my senior year. I’ve been doing the practice, school, game thing for three years now. I think I can add in a girlfriend to the mix without throwing everything off.”

“I don’t know.” She hesitates. “A date?”

“Yep. Movie. Dinner. Long walks on the snow-covered sidewalks since we’re in the Midwest and not the coast and it’s winter.”

She’s silent too long, and I don’t have the first clue what’s going on in her head. I’m hopeful she’s going to say yes, but the longer I get nothing, the more worried I become.

“Admit it. You’re curious. Our kiss was hot the other night,” I remind her. So hot that I’ve been thinking of it nonstop.

“My friend Sutton says players like you only have one night stands because your enormous egos can’t handle knowing that you aren’t good in bed.”

“Your friend Sutton has never slept with me.”

“She’s one of the few then.”

I walked into that one. “Then you owe it to yourself to give me one night and see if I’m worth it. One night to see if we’re even compatible. How about that?”

If she won’t agree to a date, then I’ll have to use tonight to convince her that whatever risk grade she’s assigned to me is outweighed by the rewards I can provide.

Dusk settles in, and the newly lit campus lights give her a fairy glow. Goldilocks, you’re sleeping in the right bed tonight. Her eyes fix on my face, and she studies me for at least two long breaths. She ends her inspection with a firm nod.

Her somber face switches instantly, and she gives me a brilliant smile. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, one night.”

She takes the lead, marching briskly toward her apartment. “Do you have condoms?” she asks. “Because I don’t.”

“If I say yes, are you putting a check in the con column?” I ask warily.

“No, it’d save us time. Otherwise we’ll have to stop somewhere.”

“Maybe we should stop anyway,” I suggest because I only have the one. I’ve carried a condom in my wallet since I was twelve. My mom gave me the first one after I had my first embarrassing wet dream, and she found me shoving my sheets into the washing machine.

“Why? Don’t you have any?” she asks.

“I only have one.” I emphasize the number. Her eyes widen.

“You think we’re going to need more than one?” She laughs.

Some guys’ nuts might have shriveled up. I view this as a challenge. “Goldie, we’re going to need at least three.”

“No way,” she scoffs, but as she realizes I’m not kidding even a little, her laughter turns to skepticism. “Really?”

I resist rubbing my hands together. “You can keep count.”

We stop at the store and buy a box of condoms. The clerk smirks and starts to make a dumbass comment but between Lucy’s withering look and my warning glare, he wisely rings us up silently and tucks the box into a brown paper bag.

“I forget sometimes that you’re a world-class athlete,” she mentions as we climb the steps to her apartment. “And sex is an athletic event. You know Paul Brown believed women shouldn’t be allowed around his Cleveland team because they sapped the players’ energy.”

“First, the only athletic event I’ve been involved in for the last couple of weeks has been seeing how much I can drink in one night and second, please, I want you to sap my energy. I want you to sap me until I’m dry.”

“You can stop now,” she says repressively. “I get it.”

I guess my dirty-talk skills need work. We stop at her door. As she fits her key into the lock, she says, “I have roommates, so you’ll need to be quiet.”