Hard Knox

by Nicole Williams

  “You,” he said quietly just outside my ear. “I see you. And I see me. Together.”

  My stomach was misbehaving. My knees were as well. Actually, almost every one of my body parts was misbehaving. His mentioning it made me think it made me want to . . .

  “And that image makes you want to reach for the brain bleach?” I said, hoping to cut the tension with the blade of humor.

  After a moment, Knox sighed. He shoved back to return to his place beside me. “I wish it did,” he said, almost more to himself than to me.

  To distract myself from the thoughts and urges rushing through me, I turned my attention to the kegs. As I scanned the beer line for a familiar freshman face, my gaze landed on a different familiar face—one who was staring at Knox’s and my handcuffed wrists with almost-narrowed eyes.

  When Beck saw he’d caught my attention, he waved and mouthed, “What’s up?”

  I replied with a smile and a shrug, and he started cutting through the crowd toward me.

  “Do you need any help?” Knox asked, the rough notes gone from his voice.

  When I glanced at him, it was like nothing about fuck buddies or fantasies or pressed-together bodies had just happened. “Yeah. Point out the freshmen in the beer line, and I’ll be a happy girl.”

  “Happy? You?” Knox shook his head. “Now this I’ve got to see.” Inspecting the line, he pointed at different people and listed off names.

  I should have pulled out my notepad to jot down names, but I was too preoccupied with dropping my mouth open.

  “You’re getting this, right?” he asked. “Because this is not the oozing happiness I’d been hoping to see from you.”

  “How do you know these people’s names and what year they are?” I could understand him knowing who some of the girls were, but most of the people he’d been listing off were guys.

  “I make it a point to know.” He hardly seemed to notice the girl stuffing something into his pocket. “If you want to be this great reporter, you should make it a point to get to know people’s names and things about them.”

  “Yeah, but why would you?” What I really wanted to ask was Do you know these guys because you sell date-rape drugs to them?

  “For plenty of reasons,” was his informative answer.

  “Evasive answer, take two?” I said with a roll of my eyes.

  He didn’t get a chance to reply before some girl with tatas the size of the Tetons meandered up and latched onto his arm—the arm I wasn’t chained to.

  Beck slipped up beside me, with his signature smile and designer polo shirt in place. “I gotta say, of all the girls I’d imagined would wind up handcuffed to Hard Knox, you’re the last one I expected.”

  “I like to consider myself equal opportunity when it comes to who I let myself get handcuffed to.” I smiled at him and tried to pretend Knox and Tetons weren’t whispering to each other about what I guessed they were whispering about. Whatever image he’d had of him and me together was erased from his head now.

  “Really though, Charlie, what’s the deal?” Beck glanced at Knox, his face twisting. “First I find you getting cozy with him last Friday night, then I hear you went to his place later that night, and now this?” He waved at the handcuffs with his beer. “You moving on from me to him is giving me a serious ego crash.”

  “Oh, please. Even if your ego took a crash, it’s like a dozen planes higher than the rest of ours, so I think you’ll be okay.” I nudged him to ease my words, but really, they weren’t far off the mark. While a decent guy with a promising future, Beck wasn’t exactly known for his humility.

  “You’ve got me there.” Laughing, his pinkie twined together with mine. Beck’s voice lowered as he scooted closer to me. “I guess what I’m really trying to get at here is be careful. Knox Jagger isn’t just some guy who wears leather boots and scores more than the rest of us. He’s dangerous.”

  That had been apparent to me since the first time I’d laid eyes on him. “What kind of dangerous?”

  Beck inhaled, cinching his pinkie tighter around mine. “The kind you don’t want to find out about personally.”

  “Well, if it isn’t Beck Farrell.”

  Knox’s voice made me flinch. My pinkie wound free of Beck’s.

  “You really can do more with your mouth than just grunt and growl,” Beck replied, crossing his arms.

  “If you really want to get me all riled up, you could just jot your phone number down on your panties and stuff them into my pocket like the rest of the girls.”

  Tetons had vanished, but I almost wanted her back for nothing more than as a distraction. “Easy there, boys. If you’re trying to convince me who’s got the most testosterone, I’m convinced it’s a tie.” I gave Knox a raised eyebrow, which he seemed to ignore. I hadn’t known Beck and Knox knew each other, but it was pretty clear they hated each other’s guts.

  “What’s the deal, Jagger? Go through all the girls on campus and hoping to bang the last one you haven’t?” Beck practically snarled with a glare at the handcuffs connecting Knox’s and my hands.

  “So it’s true. Jealousy really is an ugly thing,” Knox said, followed by a yawn that only pissed Beck off more.

  “I’m going to kick your ass.” Beck got in Knox’s face although, given the height difference, he was still a few inches away.

  “What? Instead of kissing it like you’ve been doing the past year?” Knox shoved Beck back a step.

  “Leave Charlie alone. There’re enough booty calls out there to keep your schedule filled. Don’t make her one because you want to claim the title of popping her cherry.”

  Heat crept up my neck from both embarrassment and anger.

  “You really are a piece of shit, you know that?” Knox said.

  Beck held out his arms. “It takes one to know one, big guy.”

  A few students had noticed Knox and Beck’s standoff and were moving closer.

  “You and Charlie used to be a thing, right?” Knox asked Beck, wagging his finger between him and me.

  Beck nodded.

  “But you’re not anymore?” Knox continued.

  After a moment, Beck set his jaw and shook his head.

  “So she’s a smart girl.” Knox shot me a tilted smile before appraising Beck like he was something to be squashed. “Why don’t you let her live her life instead of being pissed she’s not in yours anymore?”

  In all the time I’d spent with Beck, I’d never seen fury roll off of him like it did now. He’d always seemed so mellow and easy-going, but tonight he was someone else—a person who was trembling from the adrenaline pooling into his limbs.

  “How about we settle this thing right now, Jagger? Take off the cuff, leave Charlie here, and meet me outside. We’ll see if you’re still smirking then.”

  My gaze swept from Beck to Knox and back again. For Beck to have a chance against a guy who was taller, heavier, and probably didn’t feel right if he went to bed without having gotten in a fight, Beck would need a lion-sized dart gun. If he thought he could beat Knox with his fists, he needed brain replacement surgery.

  “Three things there, lamb chops.” Knox held up three fingers. “One, I’ll still be smirking when I go to my grave. Two, getting into it with you isn’t a fight; it’s like playing patty-cake. And three”—Knox flashed his fingers an inch from Beck’s face—“I’m already with the girl. What kind of half-wit do you take me for that you think I’d leave her behind to go outside and fight with you over her? She’s clearly shown her preference.” Knox held up our handcuffed wrists. “And it isn’t for you.”

  Beck’s eyes narrowed even more, smoke about to billow from his nostrils. “I don’t take you for a half-wit. I take you for a quarter-wit on your best day. The only reason Charlie’s with you right now is because you’ve brainwashed her into thinking you’re this swell guy. I’m not going to wait around for her to learn the hard way that if it wasn’t for what resided between their legs, you wouldn’t give a damn about any of the girls you’v
e lured into your life.”

  I wasn’t sure what Knox planned to do next, but I wasn’t waiting around to find out. I squared myself in front of Beck and tried not to make my glare too potent. I knew that, in his mind, he was just standing up for me and “protecting my virtue,” but he’d crossed a line.

  “Let’s get it on record that I’m impervious to being brainwashed, lured, indoctrinated, or anything else of a Stockholm Syndrome-like nature,” I said. When Knox stepped up beside me and tried to get between Beck and me, I pushed him back a bit. Surprisingly, Knox fell back. I continued, “And while this whole whose-dick-is-bigger contest has been a blast, the game’s over. It’s time to go your separate ways.” I motioned Beck away, hoping he’d back down before he wound up walking around with a Knox-fist-sized bruise on his forehead for a month.

  All he did was step closer. “Who came out the winner in the dick-measuring contest?” It looked like the only place Beck was interested in going to was an early grave.

  “I did.” I circled my finger before thrusting it into my chest. “Obviously. Now should we leave or are you going?” I attempted to soften my words with a small smile, but Beck didn’t seem to notice.

  He looked like I’d just slapped him across the face before he backed into the crowd. “Wise up, Charlie. Before you get knocked up.”

  “That was beautiful. Was that Hawthorne or Poe?” My final words were lost as Beck disappeared into the ocean of bodies.

  Knox stepped up beside me, still chuckling. “I’m pretty sure it was Jackass.”

  “Oh, yeah. You’re right.”

  Knox looked as if he hadn’t just been threatened, insulted, warned, and in the male equivalent of a cat fight. He seemed as unfazed as he had when we’d meandered into this cesspool.

  “I wonder what’s gotten into him. He’s normally a pretty chill guy.”

  Knox stared at the spot where Beck had disappeared. “I think it’s pretty obvious what’s gotten into him.” Before my eyebrows could pull together, Knox added, “You. He wants you back, and it’s driving him insane that you’re spending time with me. Imagine what he’d do if he found out you stayed at my place last Friday night.” When I lifted my brows at him, he added, “In as innocent a way as two members of the opposite sex can be under the same roof, of course.”

  I elbowed him. “He already knows. I think that’s why he went all Jets to your Sharks.”

  “How did he find out? I haven’t told anyone.”

  “And the only person I told was my roommate, and she’s pretty much the opposite of a gossip, but this is college, Knox. There’s no such thing as keeping a secret here.” I waved at the cluster of people around us who looked disappointed they weren’t walking away with a little blood splattered across their shirts. I bobbed my head, plastering a smile on my face. “So how about we get back to having an epic time at this epic party?”

  Knox cringed. “Please never imitate a sorority sister again. That will haunt me for years. And as long as Beck Farrell stays away from me, I’ll get back to enjoying the party.” He lifted our joined hands. “Or at least the company.”

  “Beck’s not so bad. Really, he’s a pretty decent guy,” I said.

  Knox huffed a sharp note. “The day a person like Farrell is considered a decent guy is the day I’m pulling the plug on this fucked-up world.”

  “Wow, don’t hold back. Tell me what you really feel.”

  Knox was still studying the place Beck had been with narrowed eyes. If I hadn’t been handcuffed to the guy Beck had just declared war on, I might have gone after him to make sure he wasn’t driving a bat through a car window or throwing his fist through a sheet of drywall. But since I couldn’t chance bringing those two together again, I stayed put. Beck could manage.

  “How about if we just stop talking about the asshole? Better yet, let’s pretend he doesn’t even exist. Think you can manage that?” When another girl slid up beside Knox to slip something into his pocket, he didn’t even notice.

  “Why do you hate him so much?” I asked.

  “Hate? I hate gum on the bottom of my shoes. I hate mustard. I hate when it rains right after I wax my truck. What I feel for that knob goes way beyond hate.”

  Really, if he clenched his jaw any harder, he would break something.

  “Like way beyond to the land of loathing?”

  “Like way beyond to the land of no word fitting. That’s how I feel about Beck Farrell.”

  Since I didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening tied to a fuming ball of muscle, I angled in front of him and waited for Knox to look at me. “Beck who? I don’t think the person you’re talking about even exists.” I waved my free hand dismissively. “So why don’t we kick this party off by you fetching me a drink?”

  Knox lifted our wrists. “Unfortunately, I can’t fetch anything without you fetching it with me.”

  “I’ll survive.”

  Giving the spot behind me one last glare, Knox steered me toward the college watering hole. On my own, I couldn’t have cleared the way through the mass of bodies, but Knox Jagger created a large wake wherever he went.

  “What’ll it be?” he hollered back when we’d made our way to the front. “Piss Ice or Piss Light?”

  “Hmmm, both are equally tempting.” I tapped my chin at the kegs in front of us. “But I think I’m feeling wild and will go for a water.”

  Knox’s brow went so high that it almost disappeared into his hairline. “A water? If I asked one of these guys for a water, I’m not sure they’d even know what I was talking about.”

  “Then I guess it’s time they get an education.” When Knox laughed, I crossed my arms—or I crossed one arm. “Hey, the last time I ordered a Piss Light, it came with a side of roofie. Not eager to relive that special moment.”

  Knox stared at me, his eyes gleaming as though he was amused by what I’d said. Or was that pride . . .?

  “Now how can a person argue with that?” Stepping up to the closest keg, Knox clamped his hand over the shoulder of the guy manning it. “The lady wants a water. You know, that clear liquid that’s tasteless, odorless, and doesn’t have a proof? What doctors claim is supposedly good for us and that we should drink more of it. Think you can find me one?”

  The guy at the keg was frozen, staring at Knox like he’d just escaped the insane asylum and was clutching a scalpel. “A water? Like for real?”

  Knox looked to me for confirmation. When I nodded, he shrugged at the guy.

  “Sucks to be cuffed to the only girl drinking water,” the guy said as he bent down to grab something tucked under a table.

  When Knox looked at me again, it wasn’t a glance. It was a stare so penetrating and never-ending, I caught myself squirming.

  When he noticed me squirming, his mouth curled up on one side. “Sucks to be me.”

  “Sorry, Knox, the thing’s dusty, and if water comes with an expiration date, this one’s probably way past it. But it’s clear, tasteless, and hopefully still odorless.” When the guy held out the bottle, I took it from him.

  “And what’s best of all”—I had to give the cap a good yank to break the seal—“untampered with.”

  The kid handed another bottle of water to Knox who broke it open and cheers-ed it against mine before taking a long swig.

  “I didn’t take you for the paranoid type, but it’s probably a good idea given your pantyless fan club,” I said. “Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s a miracle you haven’t been roofied at every one of these things. I suppose the problem lies in how they’ll move you once you go down.” The only way I could imagine those lollipops moving Knox was with a crane. “Logistics are everything.”

  Knox rolled his eyes as we headed back to our observation wall.

  “You can have a beer or ten, you know,” I added. “As the water-carrying party-goer, I promise to be your DD if you get shit-faced. It’s the least I can do since you cuffed yourself to me to tally lines under names all night. Not exactly the way you’re used to
attending a party, I’m sure.”

  Right then, a mocha-skinned girl with rockin’ red lips slipped her equally rockin’ red thong into Knox’s pocket. Again, he didn’t seem to notice. That the guy had become oblivious to beautiful women slipping racy-lacies into his pants while throwing him naughty looks was a testament to just how many times Knox Jagger had been through the routine.

  “You know how much of that stuff it would take to get me shit-faced?” he said with an unimpressed look. “I’m size Hulk, and the heavy stuff—the Piss Ice—is like five percent alcohol. I could chug that whole keg and still be fit to drive.”

  “So do you even drink at these things then?” I tried to imagine him with a beer cup, but I couldn’t. Until last weekend, the only thing I’d thought about when I pictured Knox Jagger was an over-worked penis being responsible for increasing the national average of the number of girls guys sleep with during their college years. Whether he was or wasn’t holding a beer cup hadn’t been on my radar.

  “Sometimes, but not usually,” he said, staring into the crowd without seeing. “I save my drinking drinking for when I’m alone.”

  Those totally random and raw confessions from Knox kept me reeling. Everything about him read as Fuck off, but here he was, admitting something that few people would admit to their closest confidant, let alone some person they’d only met last week.

  Knox nudged me gently. “Hey, why the serious face? Did I just say something I shouldn’t have?”

  “Only that admitting what you just did pretty much means you’re going to wind up in a twelve-step program one day,” I said, distracting myself with the lid of my bottle.

  “I’m not an alcoholic,” Knox said, followed by a noise that was something between a huff and a laugh. “I don’t drink to forget. I drink to remember.”

  I waited for him to say something more, to expand on that confession bomb, but he stayed quiet. “Yeah, you’re going to have to explain what that means,” I finally said, angling myself toward him.