Two Jocks Next Door: A Bad Boy MFM Romance Page 4

“Then at least give me a rating on a scale of one to ten.”

  "Twenty.”

  “Shut up.”

  “No, really. It was, like, better than anything you could ever imagine."

  “Excellent. It should be that good.”

  I sit back up. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because those two have plenty of experience. They… they have a reputation. You know about it, right?”

  I gulp. I know about them being players—and not just on the field. The whole campus knows. I just prefer to not think about it. The thought of them with some other girl makes my vision turn red.

  “They’re probably with another girl now,” I whisper. I sound crazy and jealous but I can’t stop myself.

  “I don’t know about that.”

  I look at her in interest.

  “I’ve never heard about them hooking up with a girl at the same time,” she explains. “But they could do it regularly and keep it on the down low.”

  I twist my fingers together, not sure what to think. If the tryst with me was an outlier it makes me feel a bit better. Wanting badly to feel like I’m special is pathetic, but there it is.

  “I didn’t think I would feel this way,” I explain.

  “You’re into one of them?”

  “I don’t know them. I’ve only talked to them a few times. The answer has to be no. But the sex… Oh my God. Lily, I think I’m addicted.”

  “There it is. You’d be an idiot to not get with them again.”

  I take a shaky breath. "I still don't know."

  “What’s stopping you?”

  Good question.

  Is it the fear of being denied? Or is it more? Could getting with Connor and Kade a second time end up making things worse? What if I come away from a second time with them feeling even more insane? What if there is no end to wanting them? Say my desire for them just gets stronger… What then?

  Suppose I do develop an emotional attachment to one or both of them. If we start having a regular thing will I be able to deal with my feelings?

  Do I really have the strength to eventually forget about them? Or should I save myself the pain and delete Kade’s number now?

  “I’m afraid,” I admit. “Of everything.”

  7

  Kade

  “Hey Kade,” some cheerleader says with a smile. I nod at her and watch while she saunters her way across the field.

  Someone grunts from right next to me. I look over to see Connor check her out. He licks his lips.

  I scowl at him. “Remember what Coach says.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he rumbles. “Don’t shit where you sleep.”

  “Right. Don’t screw the cheerleaders. The drama ain’t worth it.”

  “I wasn’t looking at her for that. Those legs kinda look like someone’s.”

  “Like whose?”

  “Tracey-Ann’s. No?”

  I don’t answer. Connor keeps telling me about Tracey-Ann every chance he gets. It’s been grating my nerves all week. He really needs to learn when to quit. I start walking for the locker room. The cold air punctures my lungs and makes them burn. One more practice and we’ll be off for Christmas break.

  I wish I could say I’m looking forward to the holidays as much as anyone else, but I’m not. I don’t miss Texas. Getting drafted into UT was the best thing to ever happen to me. It got me away from that shit hole corner of the world I used to call home. The locker room is shrill with laughter and jokes. Everyone’s in a good mood. The noises twist my gut. I strip as I walk and hit the shower.

  Connor jumps in right next to me. “You heard from Tracey-Ann?”

  I keep my eyes on the soap as I lather it in my palms. “Why would I?”

  He laughs. “Whatever. You enjoyed her it as much as I did. You’re probably checking your phone every ten minutes to see if she’s hit you up.”

  I shoot daggers at him. Tracey-Ann was the best fuck I’ve had in a long time and sharing her made the experience ten times better, but Connor doesn’t need to make assumptions about what I like or don’t like. He also doesn’t need to make me the butt of his joke. He knows I hate that.

  “Since when do you bang girls more than once?” I ask. “You’re the guy who said that if you know a chick’s middle name you know her too well.”

  He shrugs. “I’ve done girls more than once. It’s happened.”

  A lump forms in my throat and I swallow it down. I’ve been thinking about Tracey-Ann. A lot. I haven’t hooked up with any girl since her. In my book, three weeks with no sex is insanity.

  But the rest of the girls in this town suck balls. I’ve been through every type Knoxville has to offer and then some more. The women here are whiny or trashy. Or both.

  Tracey-Ann is neither of those things.

  She’s easy to get along with. She goes with the flow and doesn’t complain.

  I look around to make sure no one is close enough to hear our conversation. I’m not ashamed of what I do, but I don’t need other people knowing my business.

  “Let’s call her up,” I say, leveling my gaze at Connor.

  He shrugs. “Do it. She was awesome.” He starts whistling and scrubbing his pits.

  The building could be falling down around us and Connor would still be walking around with a shit-eating grin on his face. His carefree attitude annoys me sometimes, but I've also come to depend on it. Connor and I have been buddies for a long time. We'll still be close in ten or twenty years.

  He’s pretty much the only person I can say that about.

  “It’s just because she’s the best I’ve had in a while,” I clarify.

  Connor raises an eyebrow. “Okay.”

  The tone of his voice isn’t right. “What?” I demand. “What’s the problem?”

  “Nothing. I’m down with having her over again. You don’t have to explain things to me.”

  “And you don’t have to wash your balls while you’re talking to me,” I snap, looking away.

  “Oh, we’re going to talk about that? While we’re on the topic, how about some manscaping in your area? You’re starting to look like an Ewok.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Or Chewy’s cousin.”

  “You’re a geek.”

  He thrusts his face under the shower head. “I haven’t hooked up with any other chicks,” he says through the water spray.

  “Neither have I.”

  “Knoxville girls, man… They’re too eager.”

  Heat springs in my cock. Tracey-Ann was eager, but in the right way and at the right time. She was careful to contain her desire, to keep it in check until we were behind closed doors. She was a freak, but only for us.

  “I’ll call her,” I promise. “We’ll make her ours again.”

  And then we’ll leave her begging for more.

  8

  Connor

  I roll my window down and shove my head out of it. “Woo-hoo!” I yell at the passing houses. “Dallas, baby, we’re back!”

  The window rolls up and hits my chin.

  “Whoops," Dad sarcastically says. "Sorry, Connor. I didn't know you were there."

  I pull my head back into the backseat and let him roll the window all the way up. “Very funny old man. You were trying to decapitate me for real, weren’t you?”

  His hands on the wheel, he shrugs. "Your mother still likes you. Unfortunately, I can't kill you off just yet."

  “It’s cold,” Kade grumbles from the other end of the seat.

  “It’s cold,” I mimic in a high-pitched voice.

  His eyebrows push together like two angry caterpillars performing a mating dance.

  “What’s your issue?” I ask.

  “Nothing.” He turns his face away.

  I stretch my feet out and keep looking out the window. Since I’m not Kade’s therapist, it’s not my job to track his moods.

  Dad pulls into the parking lot of the grocery store nearest our house. “Twenty minutes off the plane and you two are already fighting
. You should have been born brothers.”

  I stick my tongue out at Kade just to be funny but he doesn’t look my way. He’s had a major pole up his ass today—a thicker one than usual, I mean.

  “What are we stopping for?” I ask Dad.

  He pulls into a parking spot. “Eggnog.”

  “I thought you made that shit fresh.”

  “Nope. I just tell everyone I do. And it’s not shit.”

  “Not what I meant. Sorry, old...”

  “Don’t even.”

  “I just mean old in comparison to a newborn. That’s all. Not in comparison to everyone. Hey, men are living into their nineties now. Did you know...”

  He cuts me off. “You boys coming in?”

  “I’ll stay here,” Kade grumbles.

  I give it a second of thought. “Yeah, me too. Get me some beef jerky?”

  Dad climbs from the car and ambles across the parking lot.

  “Grocery store beef jerky is full of chemicals,” Kade says.

  “Chemical jerky is better than no jerky. What’s eating your ass? And don’t bother saying nothing.”

  His mouth twitches. “This dumb town.”

  “We’ve only been back for a few minutes.”

  “And I’m already tired of it.”

  He crosses his arms and stares straight ahead. He looks like a toddler about to throw a tantrum.

  “It’s more,” I say. “Can’t just be being back home. You weren’t like this the last time we came here. How come you haven’t texted Tracey-Ann?”

  His jaw ticks. “I’ve been thinking it over.”

  “There’s nothing to think over. We already talked about it.”

  “She’s not like other girls.”

  His sentence rings in the car. It sounds like a cheesy line from some eighties teen movie.

  “She’s cool,” I agree.

  He doesn’t respond. The conversation is closed for now. I know better than to waste my time trying to get Kade to talk if he doesn’t want to.

  He’s silent the rest of the way home. Since Christmas isn’t for a couple more days he’s wrangled himself some time with my family. Mom and my sister, Kris, are home, and so is our cousin, Miranda.

  The three of them surround me and Kade the second we walk into the kitchen.

  “Looking good, Kade,” Kris winks.

  I make a scene out of pretending to choke. “Gross.”

  It’s no secret that Kris has a crush on Kade, though she’s four years older than him. At least now they’re both legal adults and her infatuation isn’t too creepy.

  “Where’s Danny?” I ask my cousin as I give her a hug.

  “Working the night shift.” She smiles tightly. “Lots of accidents around the holidays. Nurses are in demand. Y’all thinking you want to go four wheeling?”

  Kade and I exchange a quick look.

  “Hell yeah,” we both say.

  The best thing about Miranda marrying Danny is the farm they inherited right outside the city. Surrounded by woods and fields, it’s the perfect place to get out to and get your hands in the dirt.

  An hour later and the sun is setting on the edge of Dallas. The sky bursts with a cold gray and dark blue. I pull my four-wheeler up to where Kade’s is parked near the dirt road and kill the rumbling engine.

  He stares at the sky.

  “We going out tonight?” I ask. “We could hit Krook’s, pretend we’re back in high school. Maybe we can get one of the waitresses to show us her bra out in the parking lot.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Miranda told me they’re showing that movie chicks like, what is it? That Nicholas Sparks thing. The one with the guy and the girl, and he leaves or something and then comes back.”

  “That’s every Nicholas Sparks story.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t realize you’d read all his books.”

  He turns his face away from me.

  “The place will be filled with girls,” I point out.

  “I’m not interested.” His eyes slowly swivel onto mine.

  I pull my toboggan lower over my ears. The cold bites at my fingers and creeps under my clothes like a pervert. “Man, what’s up? You’re usually all serious but this is different.”

  Thinking he’s probably not going to answer, I pull my gloves out of my pocket and slip them on. At least I tried. Kade has moods. I’m used to them. He can be a lot of fun, assuming he lets himself be, but those times are few and far between.

  I’m not really sure what made us best friends, other than football. Maybe opposites really do attract. I do think we’d still be close, football or no football. Meeting at Junior Varsity tryouts and getting drafted to the same college three years later were just cherries on top of an inevitable friendship.

  “There are things you don’t know about,” Kade says.

  I freeze and stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

  He looks away. “Let’s just get back to the house.”

  His four-wheel truck roars to life and plows through the dirt.

  “Fucking Kade,” I hiss as I turn my key.

  9

  Kade

  My father spears his baked potato like it’s personally offended him.

  If you’re going with his twisted logic, maybe it has.

  He digs into the potato with his knife and fork, cutting jagged pieces and sending potato flesh flying onto the tablecloth.

  “I saw your footwork in the last game,” he says.

  The words are spoken to the table, but they’re for me.

  “You teleported to Knoxville?” I coolly ask.

  He lifts his face to shoot me a withering look. “I know how to use the TV.”

  “Good for you.”

  He shoves a piece of steak in his mouth and angrily chews. “You’re lagging. You need to work on your agility. That kid, Del Rio, he’s a much better linebacker than you. If you don’t step up you’re going to get overlooked at the NFL draft. They’ll go right for him and leave you behind. And then where will you be, huh?”

  “I guess I’ll get to fulfill my true dream, which is come back home and live here with you.”

  His fingers curl around his cutlery.

  I go on. I’m too worked up to stop. “I’ve heard pro football’s not all it’s cracked up to be. The money’s not actually that good and you don’t get to sit at a desk all day at all.”

  With Connor not around, I have a tendency to become snarky in his place. Maybe it’s my way of missing my only real friend.

  At the other end of the table, my mother coughs. I glance her way, but she’s purposefully paying attention to her tumbler full of vodka and not me. She takes a drink that should burn her throat. It doesn’t. She’s used to downing potato liquor like her life depends on it.

  My parents are both ridiculously indirect. It’s a wonder they even somehow spoke for the first time. How they agreed to get married is beyond my comprehension. My dad probably slid a ring across the table and she put it on. No words are necessary.

  I can’t be here any longer. I’m suffocating.

  “I’m going to Connor’s.” I stand up and carry my plate across the living room.

  “What time will you be home?” Mom asks.

  I halt in the kitchen doorway. My throat burns. “You suddenly care?”

  Heavy silence meets my words. It wasn’t a rhetorical question, but it might as well have been. Just once it would be great if she made a real effort to show she gives a damn.

  My gut twists. The silence is like a knife slicing my insides up, the absence of any words maybe worse than hateful ones.

  At least if my mom yelled she’d be paying me some attention.

  I drop the plate in the sink. “It’s New Year’s Eve.”

  They don’t deserve a further explanation. I grab my coat and text Connor as I book it out the door. I start walking in the direction of his house, eager to just get away from my own.

  My breath makes icy clouds around my face. My stomach and ch
est ache and my hands curl into fists. I work on making sense of things, but it can’t be done. Each time I’m home it’s the same. My dad tears into me about what a failure I am and my mom makes her sweet, sweet love to whatever the poison of the moment is. I can’t imagine getting along with my parents.

  And I no longer want to. I had to suffer through eighteen years of being raised by them. I deserve a break.

  Headlights swoop across the road next to me and a truck slows down. The horn honks and Connor throws open the passenger's side door. I climb into his dad's truck and slam the door behind me.

  “Let’s get fucked up,” I say.

  Connor whoops. “That’s what I’m talking about. My boy is ringing in the new year right!”

  I don’t remember where this party is, and I don’t care. I need to get away and I need to forget. There’s nothing like alcohol to help with that.

  “Shit,” Connor says. “I left my phone at home.”

  “Leave it.”

  “Naw, I can’t. How else am I gonna take pictures?”

  “Pictures of what?”

  “The night. Everything.”

  “Take a picture with your fucking mind.”

  He pouts. “You sound like you’re one hundred. Maybe you should go join my parents at the community center’s party.”

  “Fine, fine. Let’s go get it. Let’s just make it quick. I needed a shot an hour ago. Now, I need the whole bottle.”

  Connor’s house is empty. The tree still stands, bits of wrapping paper laying here and there. Since getting to Dallas, I’ve spent one night total at my parents’ house. Once Connor and I recover from tomorrow’s hangovers I’m heading over there, getting my bags, and calling it quits.

  Next Christmas break I’ll stay with Connor’s family. I’m not masochistic. I have my own life and don’t need to put up with crap.

  Knoxville may have its lame aspects, but it beats the hell out of life in Dallas.

  I follow Connor up the stairs and to his bedroom. Clothes cover the bed and a third of the floor.

  I kick some pants out of my way and settle in the armchair by the window. “Your maid has the day off?”