Jock Rule

by Sara Ney

  “The night we learn Sasquatch has no patience for morons. Which is everyone.”

  Kip

  “That guy is going to be your boyfriend—just follow my rules.”

  “Which rules? The rules we made up to keep you in line or the ones you’re about to pull out of your ass?”

  She has no faith in me, none whatsoever. “The ones I’m about to pull out of my ass.”

  Teddy crosses her arms over a perfect set of tits, and they push up into the low neckline of her black, off-the-shoulder top. It’s tight, tucked into a pair of jeans, a simple pair of black boots skimming her kneecaps.

  Understated and sexy, not that anyone here will notice.

  Don’t get me wrong, she looks pretty tonight, but she’s still a tad too unassuming, with that I require dinner, a drink, and long-term commitment before I’ll let you fuck me vibe, despite her efforts to the contrary—despite her obvious attempt to look sexy.

  “At least you’re honest.”

  “It’s my only virtue,” I admit, setting down the red cup I was handed on my way into the house tonight.

  If I’m going to be playing matchmaker—correction: if I’m going to be her hairy godmother—I’ll need to face this whole thing sober.

  If you thought the idiots who lived and partied here were annoying sober, imagine how annoying they are when they’re drunk.

  Though they’d be easier to tolerate if I got piss-ass drunk along with them.

  Half the time, I want to plant my fist right into the faces of a majority of these dickless morons, so I need all the sobriety and inhibition I can manage.

  I can’t believe I’m trying to set Teddy up with one of these douchebags; it’s such a shitty thing for me to do, knowing what I know about them. Take Ben Salter, for example—the creep is almost flunking half his classes, only able to maintain his enrollment status by sleeping with any and every TA who will fuck him.

  Male or female.

  And Derek Lawson? Last year he was on meds for the various STDs he claims originated from public toilet seats. Right. Sure.

  Another two are spoiled, pompous, trust fund babies.

  Granted, technically, I’m one too, but I don’t go parading my parents’ money around, flaunting it like a little asshole. My parents might be loaded, but I’m not a completely classless fuck.

  Only some of the time.

  “What do you think of my outfit?” Teddy asks from below.

  “It’s good.”

  “Just good? I had to borrow this shirt and these boots from my friend Tessa—I don’t have anything that shows skin.”

  “Yeah, it’ll do.”

  “Wow, okay—thanks for the vote of confidence. I thought I looked nice.”

  “You do. Relax.”

  “What the hell, Kip? You know I’m not good at this, and you said you’d tell me if my outfit was shitty.”

  “It’s not shitty—you look cute.”

  Her hands are on her hips now as she faces me, red-faced and disgruntled, the lines between her brows deep. “Whatever. Can we just get this over with so I can go home?”

  “Don’t be a quitter, Teddy.”

  “You know what? I put in a lot of effort tonight and you… That hurt my feelings.”

  “What did?”

  “God, why are you so clueless?” She throws her arms up, defeated. “When I asked how I looked, you said ‘It’ll do.’ That was so freaking mean.”

  “Hey, don’t get upset. I can barely see you down there, shorty. Is that a dress or a shirt? I can’t see the bottom.”

  “Shut up.” She relents, giving in to a laugh.

  “Seriously, Teddy—you do look really cute. Don’t listen to me. I’m an asshole, remember?”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

  “Agreeing with you isn’t one of the rules.”

  “Rule Eleventy…”

  ***

  TEDDY

  “You’re hovering.” He has been on my ass since I got here, grunting and snorting throughout every conversation I’ve tried to have.

  “No I’m not.”

  “Oh my god, Kip, yes you are. Who is going to talk to me when you’re shadowing me like a lurker—it’s weird. We said three feet, but could you please go away!”

  He hasn’t left my side all night, and he’s definitely come closer than the mandated agreed upon footage. I can literally feel the heat from his body on my back.

  “You don’t have to get all pissy about it. I’m trying to help.”

  “How is tailing me going to help? You’re scaring people away—and not just the girls. No one wants to talk to me.”

  “Shut up, I am not scaring anyone away—Tyler Wheatly had no problem coming over.”

  I huff, crossing my arms. “To talk to you. You’re huge—no one even notices I’m down here.”

  “I notice you’re down there.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you don’t count.”

  I catch his long sigh. “I can see down your shirt, you know. Of course I’m going to trail you all over the room. It’s not a bad view.”

  He can see down my shirt? “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”

  “Teddy, I can see down everyone’s shirt—it’s not like your tits are the only show in town tonight.”

  “I don’t know how to reply to that.” I glance down at my chest, at the lackluster cleavage peeking up above my modest neckline. “I barely have any skin showing.”

  “Bullshit. If those were popping out any farther I’d see nipple.”

  The nerve of this guy! “You told me to wear something that would show off my boobs! I even put on a push-up bra, and trust me, the straps are digging into my skin. I should find the bathroom and take it off.”

  That does the trick, and he backpedals. “I changed my mind. A guy should want you for your brains, not your tits. Pull up the shoulders on your shirt.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” My palm goes up and I pop it in his direction to shush him. “Know what? I can’t deal with you right now.”

  “Well you’re going to have to, because we have an ironclad agreement.”

  “Agreements are meant to be broken.”

  “Iron. Clad.”

  “Ours was made over eggs and sausage—I was hungry and tired. That has to count for something—duress, maybe?”

  Arguing with him is worse than trying to have a serious discussion with a drunk frat boy—out of hand and impossible.

  I poke him in the bicep to get his attention. “Did you have to be such a jerk to Mariah before?”

  “Yes.” Nonchalant and unapologetic, Kip leans against the wall. “She deserved it.”

  When I arrived with my roommate not too long ago and we found Kip waiting for me on the far side of the room, Mariah wasted no time leaning into him, crooking her finger so he had to lean down to hear what she had to say. I watched, dismayed as her lips grazed the shell of his ear, followed by her tongue. Watched as his glower deepened with every word she spoke until he straightened up and told her she was a shitty human.

  To her face.

  “She was hitting on me.”

  “No she wasn’t. She was just flirting.” In her special way. “She’s always like that.”

  I mean, maybe she was hitting on him. I have no way of knowing; Kip refuses to tell me what she whispered in his ear…before licking it.

  “She was hitting on me, Teddy. Not flirting.”

  I poke him. “What did she say to you?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  He’s right. I don’t.

  But I kind of do?

  “Maybe you misunderstood her?” God, what am I saying? Even I know whatever she said to him, there was probably no way for him to misinterpret.

  “Teddy, she was hitting on me, knowing you were here to meet me. She licked my fucking ear and bit the lobe—that is fucked up.”

  She bit his ear lobe?

  I blanch.r />
  He’s right; she did know I was coming to hang out with him and she did it anyway. Licked him. Bit him.

  A little knot loops itself around my stomach and tightens. Squeezes into a dull ache that moves to my chest.

  Kip’s truth hurts.

  “But she knows it’s not like that with us.”

  He studies me, stroking his beard. “Did you tell her that?”

  No.

  I don’t have to say it out loud—he can see it written on my face, and he smirks, one corner of his lips tipping up…I think? His beard is covering his mouth, only the bottom lip jutting out in an irritated fashion. Briefly, I can’t help but wonder what his top lip looks like, if he has an arched bow, if the rest of his mouth is full or thin.

  I give him a once-over, starting at his booted feet, moving up his long stretch of leg. Glancing over his red shirt and unzipped blue sweatshirt. The tan skin. The hair.

  He’s kind of…

  A sight to behold.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” His brows are raised. “Please stop.”

  His tone makes me laugh, and I jump at the opportunity to change the subject.

  “You look like Thor, for heaven’s sake. Thanks for doing yourself up tonight.”

  “Doing myself.” I can hear his chuckle over the sound of the music. “Sounds about right.”

  “You’re so immature.”

  “You’re so welcome.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment, Kip.” My eyes land on the royal blue hair band around his topknot. “How the hell did you get your hands on a scrunchie?”

  “My sister is an asshole and sent me a box of them, okay? Because of my man buns.” He fingers the scrunchie in his mop. “I thought this crushed velvet one suited the occasion nicely.”

  “First of all, how do you know that’s crushed vel—you know what? Never mind.” I squint up at him. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Our debut as a team.”

  “Jeez, please don’t call it a debut. I predict this will be our one and only hurrah.”

  “It’s a debut—unless you have a better word for it?”

  “No, I don’t.” Frustrated, I throw my hands in the air. “Because we do not need to be calling it anything! My god, why are you like this?”

  Kip cocks a brow. “Okay, now you’re starting to sound like my sister.”

  “Someone I bet I would really love from the sound of it. Tell me more.”

  “I’d really rather not. She’s a pain in my ass.”

  “Is she tall?”

  “I guess? Five ten or something.”

  “Whoa. Are you parents tall?”

  “My dad is, not my mom.”

  “Hmm.” I consider this. “So it’s like a family of giants.”

  “Basically.”

  Just then, we’re interrupted for the first time in an hour—since we’ve been here, it’s just been the two of us entertaining ourselves with beer, banter, and small talk.

  The guy is tall too—though not as tall as Kip—and handsome, in a pretty boy kind of way, a gash in his lip lending a rugged air. Hair tussled, he’s got on a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and jeans that look like they could stand to go through the wash.

  “Hey Sasquatch. What’s up?” He gives me side eye and a smile, holding up two red cups.

  “Not much, Lynwood.” Kip steps forward, inching farther into what’s supposed to be a three-foot chasm, chest bumping my back.

  I step away.

  He follows.

  Dammit!

  “Who’s your friend?” the guy asks.

  “This is Teddy.”

  Lynwood smiles. “Like the bear?”

  “No, dipshit.” Kip is already irritated, and his friend has only been standing here for about seven seconds. “Like the name.”

  Oh lord.

  Lynwood ignores Kip, turning to me; giving me all his attention. It’s weird, in a way, his brown eyes shining a little too bright. His smile a little too wide. Wolflike.

  I don’t think I trust him.

  “Teddy, I’m Steve.”

  I shyly brush a lock of hair behind my ear. “Hi.”

  “Jesus,” I hear Kip grunt, and I want to elbow him in the abs—then I remember rule seven. I’m not allowed to punch him in the gut. Crap.

  I need him to stop acting like a dick.

  “You thirsty, Teddy?”

  I hand Kip the cup in my hand and return my gaze to Steve. “Sure.”

  He hands me one of the two red cups he brought over.

  “Thanks.” I go to put it to my smiling mouth. Aww, how thoughtful of him to bring me a drink.

  But it’s yanked out of my hand and away from my lips.

  “What the hell, Kip?” He is such a savage.

  “Give me that.”

  He plucks the cup from my grasp, hands it back to Steve, and then looks down his nose at me.

  Sniffs indignantly before flaring his nostrils. “Rule number eighty that everyfuckingbody knows: never accept beer from a dude handing it to you at a party. Ever. It could have drugs in it.”

  My brows shoot up—I hadn’t thought of that. Then again, Kip has been with me most of the night and I haven’t had to. He’s the best watchdog a girl could have.

  Steven’s lip curls up. “What the hell, Carmichael?”

  “I’m not saying you drugged her, dipshit—I’m talking generalities.” Kip side-eyes Steven, shooting me a pointed look. “But still, I mean…he could have.”

  “You are so unbelievably fucked up, man.” Steve huffs.

  “What-the-fuck-ever, dude—she should know better.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  The curse words keep coming as they begin to argue, in the middle of the living room, for the entire party to see.

  “Piss off, Lynwood.”

  This sure escalated quickly.

  “You think you’re tough shit because you’re ten feet tall, but you ain’t shit.”

  Kip’s nostrils flare. “How about you walk away—she’s too good for you anyway.”

  “Fuckin’ A, Carmichael. I wasn’t even interested in her to begin with. Look at her, Jesus—she looks like a kindergarten teacher.”

  Wait—what does that mean? Did he just imply that I was homely? My mouth drops open—I’ve never been insulted to my face before.

  “What did you just say?” Kip moves forward, chest practically bumping Lynwood’s if not for their drastic height difference. “How about you watch your fucking mouth.”

  “I’ll say whatever the hell I want, you giant freak.”

  “Get the fuck out of my face,” Kip thunders.

  “Not a problem, asshole.”

  Kip rolls his eyes, tired of the conversation, appearing so bored I expect him to check his fingernails. “You called me an asshole already, you asshole.”

  Steve storms off, weaving his way back through the crowd, and I watch his brown head bobbing above the throng until it disappears from sight.

  “What. Just. Happened?”

  “Not worth your time. He’s an idiot.”

  Obviously.

  I clear my throat, trying to appear unruffled and unaffected, even though Steve Lynwood’s drunk, biting words will haunt me the remainder of the evening: I wasn’t even interested in her to begin with. Look at her, Jesus.

  What the hell did he mean by that?

  “Okay, well he’s the third idiot you’ve scared away tonight.”

  “Uh, yeah, because they’re all fucking idiots.”

  “I’m sure not all of them are…”

  “Nope. They are.”

  “Including you?”

  “Especially me.” Kip lifts the red cup in his hands, putting it to his lips. I watch his throat constrict as he swallows then lowers it, crushing the entire thing in his giant claw. “This party blows, and so do these guys.”

  I rub my chin, tapping it. “There’s a blowjob joke in there somewhere.”

  “Please don’t ma
ke it—the last thing we need is me thinking about you giving blowjobs.”

  “If you knew this party was going to blow then why are we here?”

  “We’re here because you need practice.”

  “Or, I can just find a nice guy in one of my labs, because this…apparently this is not my scene.”

  “Or you broaden your dating pool by swimming outside the dork pond.”

  “Stereotype much?”

  “Yes. Don’t you?”

  I scoff. “Pfft, no.”

  “Liar—you stereotyped me.”

  “Well…how could I not? Look at you—you look like Bigfoot’s cousin.”

  “Bigfoot isn’t a real person, Theodora.”

  “But if he was—”

  “He’s not.”

  “For the sake of argument—”

  “He’s not though, so we can’t argue about it.”

  “Kipling, I swear on all that is holy—”

  This agreement is never going to work, and why on earth I thought it would is completely lost on me.

  I open my mouth and tell him, “You’re fired.”

  “What?”

  “This isn’t going to work. You’re too confrontational, and you’re not going to like anyone who talks to me—plus none of these guys are my type. So you’re fired.”

  “I’m free labor—you can’t fire me.”

  “So we agree this isn’t working? And that we’re done.”

  “Fine. Can we just stop arguing now and go to my house?”

  He wants to leave? Fine by me, I’ve spoken to almost no guys anyway, haven’t had the chance to flirt, and haven’t seen my friends all night, either.

  I’m exhausted.

  “You want me to come over?” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice. He wants me to go to his place—again? I thought he didn’t like people there.

  He gives me a wide-shouldered shrug. “Sure, why not. You already know where I live—not that I want you dropping by unexpectedly.”

  As if I’d do that. “Like I’d be able to find it on my own.”

  “Whatever. Just get your shit and let’s bounce. This party sucks but I’m not tired. We can watch a movie or play a game or something.”

  Play a game?

  “Yeah okay, I could do a movie. And we can leave now, because I didn’t bring any shit. I could stand to run home to grab some sweats, though.”

  Kip jingles his glittery car keys. “Sure.”

  “Then let’s go.”