Jockblocked (Gridiron Book 2)

by Jen Frederick

  “Crap.” I’m making a bigger mess than what I started with. As I’m gathering the stuff, I spot my name on one of the papers. An awful sensation starts churning in my stomach. With trembling fingers, I pick the paper up. Two notebook sheets with precise printing—the kind you see on architectural drawings—are headed with my name in big block letters. I scan it. It lists my major, where I work. That I have two roommates.

  I’m only bringing this to you because I think it’s right.

  My work schedule at the Brew House is printed out. Wednesdays, Thursdays, five to close. Saturdays, open to noon. All of my classes are listed as well.

  Lucy Watson, junior.

  Major: Public Policy

  Job: Brew House

  Extracurricular: Mock Trial

  I rip open the folder, but the only thing in it is a sticky note with seven scrawled names. I nearly vomit when I make out the first one. It’s a guy from the Sigma Chi frat that I hooked up with in my freshman year. Four other names are either of boyfriends I had or hookups. Two I don’t know.

  I look down at my body with horror. I’m wearing Matty’s shirt. The shirt of some guy who has spent weeks romancing me for no apparent reason. Just out of the blue, a guy who hates coffee, shows up at the coffee house. Flirts with me. Follows me.

  I tear the shirt off, my tears wetting the fabric as I struggle to get it off me. I can’t stop crying. The water drips out of my eyes and splashes onto the paper, smearing the ink but the words are all embedded into my brain.

  In all the different risk scenarios I had played out in my mind, not one of them had ever, ever included a betrayal like this. That he might cheat on me? Yes. That he might forget me? Also yes.

  But those were normal. Those were things anyone could overcome. But this? The pain slices through me. I wrap my arms around my waist and bend over to hold it in, to keep myself together.

  How could he do this to me? How could he be so sweet? Should I have somehow guessed? Wasn’t it really odd how he’d sit through those wedding shows without complaint? Ace wouldn’t do that and we’ve been friends for over a decade. And how he was so patient with me? How he didn’t make fun of my cautiousness?

  I pull my backpack from the desk and onto the floor because I don’t yet have the strength to get up. My hands are shaking so much it’s hard to open the zipper, and it takes a couple of tries. I shove my dossier into it. Matty doesn’t get to keep this. He doesn’t get to keep any of these.

  I look around for my clothes. My panties are lying obscenely in the middle of the floor, mocking me. I snatch them up and stuff them inside my backpack too. God, I have to get dressed and get out of here. Come on! I shout to myself. Stop sniveling and get out of this hellhole!

  Dimly, I can hear myself making awful sounds. I hold a hand up to my mouth to silence the moans before anyone can hear me. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to go.

  Matty breaks into the room and rushes over to me. “What’s wrong, Goldie? Did you fall and hurt yourself?”

  Fall and hurt myself? Yeah, I guess I did. I flinch when he lays an arm around my shoulders. I can’t stand his touch. It makes me sick.

  “Are you injured?” he says in concern, trying to turn me around so he can inspect me.

  And suddenly I’m enraged. He’s concerned I’m not going to do his dirty work.

  “You’re just going to accept my no?”

  “I have to, don’t I?”

  Right. He’s just going to accept a no. I knew that sounded like a trick when he’d said it, but I wanted it to be true, so I accepted it. I didn’t listen to my internal warning system. I threw away all my careful assessments and what happened? I let Matty eviscerate me. He couldn’t have done a better job of tearing me apart if he’d put my heart through a wood chipper.

  “Don’t touch me,” I snarl and scuttle backward. My feet hit my jeans. I drape them over my lap. Behind me is a blanket, and I wrap that around me, too. If I had to rip down a curtain, I’d do that as well. Anything to cover myself up.

  “What’s wrong, Luce?”

  Matty is wearing a completely bewildered expression, as if he doesn’t have the first clue what’s going on. As if he and his little team didn’t completely research every facet of my life. I was just another challenge for them to conquer.

  “How’d you get picked?” I ask. “Draw the short straw? Was it hard to abstain from fucking a different girl every night, or did you do that anyway while lying through your teeth about being only turned on by me?”

  God, all the lines, all the things I fell for. I couldn’t be more humiliated if I had to walk through campus nude. That eight minutes of silence I experienced my freshman year? Even that didn’t make me feel as low and dirty and awful as I do now.

  “What are you talking about?” he barks out and then, as if realizing he’s supposed to be nice to me, he gives me a strained smile. “I’m sorry, but I’m working blind right now. I know you’re angry, but I don’t know why. Is it about the Ace thing? Because you seemed to be okay with it.”

  “Seemed to be?” I say. To my disgust, my words come out shrill and quavery. “Before today I didn’t know how long you’ve been plotting this out. How you and whoever went around and compiled a more thorough background check than the FBI. When did you figure out that Ace and I were friends? Was it that first night you came to the Brew House? Was it before then? After? When?” I’m screaming at the end. Literally screaming. I stand up and start dressing. It doesn’t matter what he answers. I’m not going to believe him.

  I can’t believe I slept with him. I can’t believe I let down all my defenses. I can’t believe I didn’t listen to myself. I knew he was a risk. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.

  But I let him talk me into bed. Hell, I jumped into bed with him. I told him it was for one night and then went back for seconds and thirds. We’ve been carrying on this charade for nearly three weeks! He was so damn clever.

  “I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about!” Matty yells back. “If you’d tell me, I’d give you an explanation. Hell, I’d apologize, but I don’t know what the fuck is going on!” His hand goes to the back of his neck. A classic Matty sign of frustration.

  I struggle into my T-shirt and then stomp over to my backpack and pull out the folder. I thrust it into his hands.

  “This. This is what I’m talking about. You knew my class schedule, where I worked. That I was in mock trial. You even have a list of my fucks! I’m surprised you don’t have my goddamned medical records in there. Or did you know all along I was diabetic and were planning on using that against me, too?”

  Matty’s face pales. He flips open the folder that is empty except for the note stuck to the back flap. He reaches in and crumples it up. Then the whole manila folder folds in on itself as he fists his hand. “Goddammit, no. I didn’t use any of this shit. I didn’t even know you and Ace—” He breaks off. “Fuck, I hate saying your names together in one sentence. I’m so fucking lost on you that I get irrationally jealous when your names are linked together because you don’t belong to Ace. You belong to me.”

  “I don’t belong to anyone. Least of all you!” I jab him in the chest.

  That was a mistake. He grabs my hand and pulls me into his arms, banding his muscle, bones and tissue around me like strong rope. I struggle, but he doesn’t release me. We look ridiculous. Like some black-and-white silent film villain and weak maiden.

  “When did you know?” I choke on the words. “When did you know? Did you intentionally seek me out? Did you sleep with me to persuade me to talk to Ace? Did you?” I pound my fists on his chest, and he stands there and takes it. I pound and pound and pound and scream and cry until I’m too exhausted to say or do anything else but collapse in his arms.

  He picks me up and carries me to his chair by the window.

  “I didn’t know,” he says in a strained voice. His arms are loose around me, but he’s tense everywhere else. Ready, I suppose, to capture me if I try to flee again.
Right now I’m drained. “I didn’t know until a day or two before you came to stay at Ace’s place.”

  “Before we had sex,” I mumble into his chest. When I gain my second wind, I’m going to get up and leave.

  “Yeah, before we had sex.”

  “So you used me,” I say dully.

  “No, goddammit. No. I fucking…no.”

  “What were you going to say?” I feel like I’ve heard everything at this point and believe nothing. Nothing that I don’t see with my own eyes, at least.

  He’s quiet for a long time. His chest rises and falls as he takes these giant gulps of breath, as if he’s preparing for something big. He better tell me the truth. I hope that’s what he’s gathering his courage to do.

  “I think I’m falling in love with you. So, no—I did none of those things you say I did. But I don’t blame you for thinking them. I didn’t ask for that stuff to be done, and I’m sorry it was. But I’m not sorry I met you. I’m not sorry we made love.”

  “Love?” My head’s spinning now. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, even if it is on Matty’s lap, because I’m seriously confused.

  “Yeah. I mean, do I know what love is? Probably not, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I grin at odd times during the day like a goddamn fool when I come across something you said or did. Sex with you is off-the-charts amazing. Kissing you. Just kissing you make me horny as hell. Other women walk by and I know in the past, pre-Lucy, I’d be attracted to them, but now they are like oatmeal to me. Bland and uninteresting. You’re the sugar in my life. So yeah, I’m falling in love with you.”

  I have no response to that. We haven’t known each other for that long. Only a few weeks. It doesn’t make sense to me.

  “I know it’s crazy, right?” he whispers into my hair. “For Masters, he said it was immediate. First time he saw Ellie, his wife, he told me the earth moved. I didn’t realize the earth was moving when I saw you the first time. I didn’t realize everything in my life was changing because it happened slowly. One meal, one conversation, one kiss at a time.”

  My cheeks are wet again. I’ve never had anyone say these words to me before. I don’t know if they’re false. They don’t feel false. But can I even trust my instincts anymore?

  He sighs again, and the breath ruffles my hair. I dig my face into his chest because I don’t want to talk. I don’t have the words for what I’m feeling right now. Happy, angry, sad, confused, elated. They are all inside of me, fighting for domination. The cocktail of strong emotions is making me dizzy and weak.

  Matty rubs my arms slowly. “I swear to you on a stack of Holy Bibles, my grandmother Betty’s grave, and the Outland Trophy I won for last year’s season that I did not know who you were when we met at the Brew House or when I ate with you at Crowerly’s. I knew who you were when I found you baking cookies that night at Ace’s place, but I slept with you because I wanted you, not because of Ace. I hate that you have a relationship with Ace. It makes me jealous as fuck. And I’m not thrilled I’m in this position with Ace, but Coach laid it on me.”

  For some reason, this sets off my bullshit meter. I push away from him so I can see his face.

  “Coach told you?” I ask with some skepticism. “And you just do it?”

  Matty raises his eyebrows. “I’m guessing your mock trial is set up a little differently but in football, your coach is your daddy, the Holy Trinity and the President of the United States all wrapped up into one foul-mouthed body. If he asks you to murder someone, you respond with ‘Should I use a knife or a gun?’”

  “That sounds healthy,” I say sarcastically.

  “It’s just the way it is,” he admits. “But he has us for four years, or in my case five since I redshirted, but for the time that we’re here, he owns us. We’re his chess pieces on the big green board.” Matty leans back against the cushion and stares at the ceiling. “I think that’s why college coaches suck as pro coaches. Here we do everything he says, but once you’re out and making money, he doesn’t have as much control.”

  Matty tips his head and points his startlingly blue eyes directly at me. “I’m not going to lie to you. I sat in the back of that room when you delivered that closing thinking how you were the perfect person to deliver the message to Ace because you’re so amazing. If you came to me, with a passionate and reasoned argument like you delivered, I’d do just about anything. So yes, in all honesty, I did use you but not in the way you’re accusing me.”

  I suck my lips into my mouth and mash them between my teeth. “I’m so confused. I don’t know what to think or do right now.”

  “You don’t have to make any decisions, but I’d like a chance to prove myself to you.” His gaze doesn’t waver, and I can’t see anything but sincerity in his eyes.

  “How?”

  “I won’t bring up Ace again.” He shakes his head slowly. “I’ll be honest. I feel like I’m outkicking my coverage. Not only would I want you to be my lawyer, but I’m not sure I’m worthy of being your boyfriend.”

  “Is that what you are?” I ask. My heart is telling me to believe. I’ve lived my whole life being careful. Do I want to be careful again? I think back to the agony I felt when I thought he’d betrayed me. Thought? As in past tense? Had I forgiven him? Was there anything to forgive? “My boyfriend?”

  “Damn straight I am.” He squeezes me. “I’m buying a letterman’s jacket and you’re wearing it.”

  I laugh against my will. Matty’s too good at finding the cracks in my armor—as if I even have armor against him. “They don’t have letterman jackets at Western.”

  “It’s the internet age. I’m sure I can find some seller somewhere to whip me up one. We’ll have matching jackets. Mine can say ‘property of Lucy Watson’ and yours can say ‘property of Matty Iverson.’” He leans back again and looks off into the distance as if envisioning us in some weird Grease production wearing his version of promise rings. “I like that. You think you’d be open to getting a tattoo of my name on your ass?”

  “No. No. And also no,” I reply firmly.

  “Yeah, I thought that was a bridge too far. But I’m getting you that jacket and you’re wearing it and you’re going to like it.”

  “I am, am I?”

  “Yeah.” He looks down at me pensively, his grin fading away. “I’m really sorry for hurting you. This thing between you and…” He won’t say Ace’s name, and somehow his jealousy, no matter how wrong it is, soothes my battered pride. “It’s a tangle, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have genuine feelings for you or that we can’t be together.”

  “When I saw my name and all of that stuff, I felt violated. I don’t want to feel that way again.”

  “It was shitty. No excuses.”

  “Don’t hurt me. Don’t make a fool of me.”

  “I won’t. I’m not playing here. You’re not a game to me.”

  I draw a shaky breath. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until those words came out of his mouth.

  He draws my stiff body against his and holds me there for a long time until I relax. He doesn’t make any move to take off my clothes or kiss me or try to use my attraction for him against me, and that goes further in soothing my hurt than even his words do.

  “The Outland Trophy? Why not the National Championship?”

  “Because the Outland Trophy’s an individual award. I can’t swear on a team achievement, Luce.”

  Well, duh. I chuckle. He laughs, and it seems like we’ve weathered the storm.

  27

  Lucy

  Matty convinces me to skip classes, which I rarely do, but I only have two today, and I’m über responsible every other day of the year. I’m wrecked emotionally from this morning and wouldn’t be able to pay attention anyway.

  There are a few guys on defense I haven’t met before, and Matty introduces me around. Hammer tries out some web lists he’s working on after I tell him that “spa day” as a euphemism for sex doesn’t work.

  “I’m workin
g on an article about the top ten foods that look like dildos,” he says as he works the controller to launch a shot on goal. I block him easily. I played a lot of this with Ace when we were in middle school and junior high. I haven’t forgotten my skills.

  “Ew, no. I’m not sticking a cucumber up my lady passage.” I dribble past him, break a few of his players’ ankles, and score.

  “Sausage casing?”

  “Gross.”

  “Shit. How are you so good at this?” He looks over at Matty. “This isn’t fair. You bring a ringer into our house to stomp me?”

  Matty shrugs and shoves a carrot into his mouth. His refrigerator is surprisingly full of things I can eat without much worry. Lots of non-sugary vegetables. Some vegan dip. It’s really impressive. I don’t have a lot of extra money to keep my fridge stocked with fresh goodies like this. Matty even shoved me out of the kitchen and told me to go play with Hammer while he prepared everything.

  I’m enjoying being pampered. Maybe this is a spa day.

  “Let’s switch gears,” Hammer suggest. “How about ‘perfumed palace’”?

  “Better.” I pop a cucumber slice into my mouth.

  “Scented cavern?”

  “Cavern borders on rude.” I flick my thumb over the toggle and steal the ball.

  “What do you think of ‘secret garden’”?

  “Way to ruin my favorite childhood book.” The ball goes sailing into the corner. Hammer and I race to get it.

  “Och, lassie, you needn’t worry naught for nothing,” Matty intones.

  I set down my controller. “What was that?”

  “Yorkshire accent,” he says with mock offense.

  “Sounded like a southern accent with a touch of Canadian. In others words, not Yorkshire.”

  “So no dirty talk with an accent?”

  “No.”

  “Ohh, you guys do the dirty talk?” Hammer crows. “That’d be a great article. Say a few lines for me,” he orders.

  “No!” I give Matty a stern look that says if he opens his mouth right now, I’m shoving the entire vegetable tray in it.