Jock Rule

by Ney, Sara

  Ronnie: You LIKE THIS GIRL?????? For real. No bullshitting.

  Me: Have you been listening to a thing I said?

  Ronnie: You have said NOTHING. You’ve had her over TWICE and you’ve hung out on Fridays and THAT IS ALL YOU’VE GIVEN ME. You throw NO BONES.

  Me: Yes, I fucking like her.

  Ronnie: Mom is going to freak. You know that, right?

  Me: Mom isn’t going to find out yet, VERONICA.

  Ronnie: Fine…but when it’s time to tell her, I get to leak the information. Deal?

  Me: Deal.

  THIRD SATURDAY

  “She cleans up nice and makes me want to bang her.”

  Teddy

  “What’s with the dress?” Mariah is leaned against the door to the bathroom, studying my reflection in the mirror as I apply another coat of mascara.

  Makeup I’d asked her to help me with an hour ago.

  She said she was too busy, yet here she is, standing there in yoga pants, hair tossed up into a messy top knot, clearly not doing anything productive.

  She could have helped me.

  “I have that banquet tonight. The one where I’m receiving my grant.”

  “A scholarship thing?” I can see her eyes roaming up and down my back. “It looks like you have date.”

  I draw in a breath, not sure how much I want to tell her about Kip, or how she’ll react. She knows nothing; not since the night she whispered in his ear and propositioned him.

  He still hasn’t told me what she said, but what else could it possibly have been?

  “It’s a bit of both, I guess?”

  “Are you going with someone?” She’s interested now, studying her nails in that way she does when she’s pretending not to care. Feigning disinterest when she’s insatiably curious.

  It’s such a bitchy thing to do.

  Why can’t she be happy for me?

  “Yes. I’m going with someone.” I purposely omit details, knowing it’s going to drive her crazy not knowing who my date it.

  One of her hand flops over, wrist holding it out. “Well? Are you going to tell me who it is, or what?”

  “You know Kip Carmichael?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s taking me.” Or I’m taking him. Whichever.

  “Sasquatch is your date?”

  “Yes.”

  If sarcasm could form a laugh, Mariah pulls it off. “A guy named Sasquatch is taking you to your engineering banquet. Nice one, Teddy. Way to raise your expectations.”

  The applicator wand of black mascara pauses over my lashes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  No one has anything bad to say about Kip, other than a few guys who think he’s an asshole—so I don’t know why Mariah has that look of disgust on her face.

  Or is it something else?

  “You sound…” Jealous. Bitter. “Petty.”

  “I’m not being petty. Like I care who your date it. It’s one night; it’s not like you’re actually dating the guy.”

  I say nothing, instead, resume my primp session by uncapping a tube of mauve lip tint.

  “Unless you are.” She’s standing up straight now, arms crossed, a slight glare across her brow. “Are you dating him, Teddy?”

  “I think that’s what I’d call it, yeah. I’m dating him.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since…” I count back a few weekends, trying to figure out the timeline. “A few weeks.”

  “A few weeks! What the hell, why didn’t you say anything?”

  I laugh, careful not to smudge my lipstick. “Why didn’t I say anything? Are you serious? You haven’t noticed I haven’t been home the past three weekends? I could have been dead somewhere—you never even text me anymore.”

  “If I had known you were screwing Kip Carmichael, I probably would have been more worried.”

  I turn to face her, aghast. “And why is that?”

  “Because. He’s deplorable.”

  Deplorable? I laugh again. “I can’t believe you right now. What do you have to be jealous of?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Then why would you say that about my boyfriend?”

  “So he’s your boyfriend now?” Mariah’s own laugher comes out cold. “Two seconds ago you were just dating.”

  “Who are you?” I whisper. “I have done nothing but be a good friend. This entire year, you’ve been horrible—honestly, Mariah, you care more about parties and guys than you do about me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.” I’m grateful for these heels when I stand at my full height—grateful for the added inches, so my roommate and I see eye-to-eye. “Tessa and Cameron are always happy for me. They lent me these clothes.” My hands sweep down my body, over the fabric of my dress. “They offered to come help me get dressed. You? Said you were busy, and you’re not doing anything but watching TV.”

  “I have homework,” she argues.

  “It’s Saturday. Since when do you study on the weekend?” The answer is never. “And how many times have I dropped everything for you? To help you. To do your makeup, or borrow a car so I can drive us places, or spot you money—money I do not have—for something when I’m broke. I always find a way, Mariah. Always. You never do the same for me anymore.” I take a breath. “I don’t know what I did to make you resent me, but I’m sick of your shitty attitude.”

  There. I said it.

  “Wow, Farmer Ted—tell me how you really feel.”

  My nostrils flare at the moniker I hate so much; neck bristles. She knows I hate it and used it on purpose.

  “I just did.”

  We glare at each other, in the small bathroom of our apartment, but something in her gaze—the way she’s watching me a bit warily gives me pause.

  Softens my stance a little.

  I cock my head, waiting—because I know there’s something she wants to say.

  “Everything is so easy for you.” Mariah says it slowly, in a low tone of voice.

  It’s not what I’m expecting her to say, not at all.

  “Are you insane?” I blurt, damn certain my eyes are bugging out of my skull. “Nothing comes easy for me. What are you talking about?”

  Her eyes go wide too. “Are you kidding? Why does everything work out for you? I fuck everything up and you always come out smelling like roses.”

  What the hell is she going on about? “You’re confusing me, Mariah.”

  How is this girl jealous of me?

  My mother works two jobs, and we’ve lived above a bar most of my life. I have a grant, which means I won’t have to get another job this semester, but it wasn’t always that way. For three years I’ve gone to school and worked, never having time off. I have to buy all my clothes discounted, or borrow them from friends.

  I’m not sexy, or glamourous, or tall—like her.

  Her parents are still married; her dad never ran out on her mom. Middle class, hard-working, and supportive, Mariah never wanted for anything.

  What the hell is she resentful of me for?

  “I’m flunking out, okay? My grades suck and I got put on academic probation at the end of last year—I thought I would raise them and not have to tell anyone, but that hasn’t happened. I’m still below a two point oh.”

  Far be it from me to point out the fact that if she did more studying than partying, she might not be in this predicament.

  “My parents always thought living with you would help my study habits, but obviously it hasn’t.” Her laugh is rueful. “I’ll probably have to move home and go to Community College— if I even get accepted.” She blows out a sigh, fingers tugging at the bun in her hair. “I have no love life. Guys are assholes, and none of them text back when they say they’re going to—and here you have this awesome, popular guy chasing after you. You got this grant, so you can at least afford the next year of tuition, and—“

  “What does this have to do with me?�
�� I interrupt, still not following. “Because it sounds like you’re blaming your problems on me, and I have zero to do with any of them.”

  I refuse to be anyone’s scapegoat.

  She ignores my question, continuing the pity party she’s invited me to. “I thought I could handle casual sex, but that isn’t working out for me either. I want…I’m sick of feeling used.”

  “Then maybe you should stop sleeping with a new guy every weekend.” It slips out before I can stop myself and four eyes widen from surprise—hers and mine.

  Oops.

  “How do you know I’ve slept with a different guy every weekend?”

  “I don’t?”

  “Let me guess; Kip told you.”

  My silence speaks volumes.

  “How nice for you. Gossip from Jock Row.”

  “We don’t sit and gossip about you. He just mentioned it once.”

  Mariah’s face is an unflattering shade of red, from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

  “This all started before I met Kip, Mariah. You can be jealous or blame me for what’s going on, but we both know none of this has anything to do with me.” My hands are on my hips, confrontationally. “If you don’t show me some respect, I’m moving out at semester—if you’re not suspended first.”

  I brush past her, satisfied to have shocked her.

  For the first time in our friendship, I’ve got the upper hand—and I’m keeping it.

  Kip will be so proud of me.

  ***

  I’m outside my apartment waiting for Kip; it’s warm enough tonight that I won’t freeze while I stand here—certainly not as cold as his house was the night his furnace went out. The memory puts a smile on my lips and I press a hand to my lower stomach.

  Ugh. These butterflies…

  My heart is still beating wildly from my argument with Mariah; I can’t believe it took me so long to stand up to her. It actually felt incredible—a giant weight lifted off my shoulder that I finally said what I’ve been wanting to say— provoked by the fact that she couldn’t have cared less that I was going out, didn’t offer to help get me ready though I’ve spent countless hours doing her hair and makeup in the past, like her personal stylist.

  All she would have had to do was offer to help.

  So easy. So simple.

  The past few weeks have really opened my eyes to what kind of friend she has become. It makes me sad to know we’ve grown so far apart that I no longer trust her, but at the same time, I’m excited about the new friends I’ve been making lately. I have more in common with Renee and Miranda, two girls I just met yet and have been getting calls and texts from all week, and they even made a spot for me today at Kip’s game.

  I have more in common with them than I do with the person I’ve spent the past three years living with.

  I finally see that now.

  My heels click on the pavement as I impatiently readjust my stance, the strappy leather shoes another loan from Cameron. The dress is also, a short, aqua blue shift with white trim and embroidered white flowers around the halter neckline.

  I feel cute. Pretty.

  Can’t quite quell the nerves bombarding me as I stand here, impatiently waiting on Kip.

  This will be our first date.

  The first time he’s going to see me really dressed up, wearing high heels and a fancy dress.

  I fiddle with the gold hoop in my ear, glancing up when a tall, blond guy begins a steady stroll up the sidewalk to my apartment complex, heart racing a little when his face comes into the light.

  He’s so handsome I dip my head, embarrassed to look directly at him, afraid I’ll get caught ogling, especially when I’m waiting on someone else.

  Dark jeans. Brown dress shoes that shine under the lights. Baby blue polo shirt under a dark leather jacket.

  I step aside so he can pass, brushing back my hair to busy my hands, tucking my purse more securely under my armpit.

  And there go those damn butterflies.

  Only…

  He doesn’t pass by me.

  He stops.

  Reaches down and puts his hands on my shoulders, leaning in and, “Oh my god, what the hell do you think you’re doing!”

  Yes, I realize I’m shouting, but that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re assaulted on a sidewalk in front of your own damn home.

  “Get your hands off me!”

  “Teddy, calm down,” the hot guy’s voice instructs.

  But I don’t calm down—I elbow him in the gut.

  “Oof. Relax babe,” the guy croaks out, slightly bent at the waist. “It’s me. Relax, it’s me.”

  Me who?

  “I’m calling campus security. And…and I have a—a boyfriend you know, a really big one. He’s huge, and he’s going to kick your ass when he gets here. He’ll be here any minute.”

  “God you’re cute when you’re threatening to kick my ass.”

  That voice.

  That laugh.

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  “Kip?”

  That handsome face contorts, amused. And so handsome. “Who the hell did you think I was?”

  “A rapist.”

  “Do I look like a rapist to you?” I’m so intent on studying him, I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.

  He looks hot. He is hot. Like—there are no words for it. He’s clean shaven, and his hair has been trimmed into way too trendy of a cut, short on the sides and longer on the top, combed back and styled—expensively.

  Where do they even have salons around here that can cut a guy’s hair like that?

  Kip spins in circle on the heel of his highly polished leather shoes and wipes a hand across his smooth, freshly shaven chin.

  There’s a cleft there, and a slight dimple in his cheek.

  Sweet mother of all that is holy.

  “What do you think?” He spans his arms wide, inviting me to give him a once-over.

  “I—I…I don’t know what I think.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” The poor guy looks genuinely confused, while I…am genuinely confused.

  “Why did you do this?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

  “What kind of question is that? I did it for you.”

  “For me? Why?”

  “Help me out here for a minute, Teddy. We’re going somewhere nice, so you can receive an award—did you really want to show up with a dude they call Sasquatch, or did you want to show up with someone who looks respectable?”

  Respectable is an understatement. Kip looks classy, refined, and out of my league.

  I hate that I’m feeling this way; it’s not his fault. It’s my insecurities.

  Shocking me like this certainly did not help, though, not when the banquet begins in less than an hour.

  How am I supposed to sit next to him at the dinner table without staring? I won’t be able to help myself; it will be like trying to ignore an exotic animal that’s right beside you, purring.

  “Why would you do this to me tonight?” I blurt out, unable to stop myself.

  Kip looks stunned. “Do this to you? I don’t get it—what did I do?”

  “This.” I gesture wildly. “The hair. The beard.”

  “I shaved? Got a haircut? For you?” He’s staring down at me like I’ve grown three heads.

  “Right before my banquet? How am I supposed to concentrate now?” I grip my purse and throw my hands up, frustrated—mostly with myself and my reaction to the situation. “I’m so freaked out right now, Kip, I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

  He tries to put his hands on me again, resting those big, beautiful palms on my bare shoulders. “Babe, it’s me. Just…different.”

  Oh god, he just called me babe—sensory and emotional overload.

  “Different? It’s different, all right. God, Kip. I can’t even look you in the eyes right now.”

  They look clear, deeper and richer than they’ve ever been, shining down at m
e. Baffled.

  Hurt.

  Irritated.

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little bit? Most girls would be happy their…person shaved. My sister said you’d be thrilled.”

  I am one hundred percent overreacting, but knowing that isn’t stopping my mouth from saying things I shouldn’t be saying in tones that shouldn’t leave my lips.

  “I didn’t fall for this guy. I fell for the other guy. This is too much for me. I’m sorry if I’m being weird, but—you have to cut me some slack here. You completely ambushed me.”

  “I cut my hair and shaved.” He’s not impressed with my argument, tone flat. “I didn’t dye my beard pink and get a tattoo, for fuc—” Kip takes a deep breath, hands digging deep into the pockets of his jacket. “Do you not want me to go with you, Teddy?”

  I suddenly feel like the biggest bitch on the face of the planet, making him feel like total shit because of the way he looks. He looks nice—that’s my issue? That he looks too handsome? That he’s too good-looking?

  Apparently, I need therapy, not a boyfriend.

  Jesus, Teddy, get a grip.

  “I know I’m being unreasonable, and I’m…sorry.” I steady my breath. “I’m sorry.”

  His arms go around my waist, pulling me in. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just go and have a good time tonight, yeah?” Kip smells divine, his smooth jawline skimming mine, nuzzling my cheek, rubbing up and down. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” his hypnotic voice murmurs.

  God, it does. It feels orgasmic.

  I go to my tiptoes, eyes fluttering closed as aftershave, freshly shaved skin, and his warm breath assail me all at once.

  But I feel like I’m hugging a stranger.

  And I wonder if I’ll get over it before I ruin everything.

  ***

  KIP

  Teddy has been acting weird all fucking night, and it’s starting to piss me off.

  I’ve never had this problem with a girl before, never had one keep me at arm’s length because of the way I look.

  How fucked up is that?

  If I was butt ugly, it would be one thing. But I’m not.

  Girls have been chasing me around, trying to trap me into relationships since adolescence, and the one girl I finally decide to let catch me?

  Treats me like a fucking pariah.

  I thought she’d be happy, for fuck’s sake, not act like I betrayed her by being attractive.