Jockblocked: A Novel (Gridiron Book 2) (23 page)

“So you’re just going to fuck her to make a point.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not
fucking
her. She’s my girlfriend, and while that might get your jock in a twist because you’ve been holding a torch for her for a long time, that’s just too damn bad. She’s not your girlfriend. She’s not your sister. You can’t go around tagging all the single ladies on campus you might want
someday
saying that they’re off-limits
.
Doesn’t work that way.”

“So what? You want to take away my position on the team and take away my best friend too?” he hurls bitterly.

Clenched jaw, I look at him in frustration. “I don’t want to do either.”

“But you will do both if you want, is that what you’re saying?” He sneers. “Stay away from her, Iverson. She’s too good for you.” He stalks to the door. When he gets there he turns around, “And I’m not moving from quarterback. I earned that goddamned position, and Coach Lowe will have to pry me out of there with a backhoe. You can spread that around the defense along with all your other messages.”

He slams the door behind him, his exit something out of a fricking soap opera. Quarterbacks and their fucking prima donna attitudes. I drop my head into my hands. So much for taking an easy and nice route with Ace.

I could do a better job screwing up my life, but not by much. At least I have Luce. I cling to that.

“
D
o
you have time to go to the mall with me?” Matty asks when he picks up the phone. He texted and asked if I’d call him when I had a chance, and the first opportunity I’ve had all day is my mid-evening break during my shift at the Brew House.

“Sure, you run out of Under Armour shirts and sweatpants?”

“Har har. Never heard you complain.”

“I’m more interested in what you’ve got under your clothes,” I tease.

“Tell me more.”

I lean my head against brick exterior of the Brew House and conjure up a vision of Matty sitting in his desk chair with his feet up, wearing his sweatpants and a tight workout shirt that clings to all of his muscles. “No. I’m taking a break and I don’t want to get excited.”

“Mmm. This is like a challenge. Do you think I could get you off, just talking to you? Like telling you how if I was there I’d be on my knees, kissing your pussy until you cream all over me.”

“Matthew Justin Iverson, you need to be quiet right now.” I turn hot enough to melt the snow.

He chuckles. “You’re bringing out the big guns.”

“Matthew…”

He swallows his next laugh and tries to soothe me. “I swear no more talk about your sweet pussy and my hard dick.”

“I’m hanging up now.” My panties are becoming uncomfortably damp.

“Seriously. Shutting up. My mom’s birthday is coming up in a week and I need to buy her a gift. You in?”

“Yes.” I find that’s the only response I ever seem to give him these days.

“Great. I’ll pick you up at your apartment around five and we can have dinner out by the mall. There’s a vegan restaurant not too far away.”

Now my heart’s melting. “I’ll be off in two hours.”

“Cool.” He pauses.

“What?”

“Love you, Goldie.”

He hangs up before I can respond. He’s such a devil. And I love it. And him.

He picks me up right on the mark. I bring him a spiced cider from the Brew House and give him a long, thorough kiss.

“So are you telling me that you don’t want to go to the mall?” he jokes after I let him go.

“No, that’s my ‘I love you, too’ kiss.”

His eyes gleam with warmth. “I like those kisses.”

“There’s more where that came from.”

“Yeah? How many condoms we got left?”

“We’re perilously low,” I tell him. “We should make a detour tonight.”

“Detour? Hell, it will be our first stop.”

“Before we leave, here’s this.” I present the gift I’ve been working on for the past week.

“What’s this?” He leans against the door panel and hefts the gold-wrapped package for inspection.

“It’s for you. Someone told me it was your birthday.” I sidle in beside him to look at the present.

Matty flips the package around with both hands while sliding me an amused glance. “Last October.”

I shrug. “I missed Valentine’s Day.”

“Hmm,” he muses. “That was last week, wasn’t it? Hammer was going off about how he was writing about how to give the best Valentine’s Day blow job, but I figured he was writing ahead.”

I hurry to assure him that I’m not upset because I’m totally not. I didn’t expect any Valentine’s Day present. “I hate that made-up holiday. I’m so glad we didn’t do anything.”

“You sure?”

Is he kidding? I couldn’t have a more attentive boyfriend. Yes, we don’t do a million things together because we’re both busy, but he’s there when I need him. He listens to me vent about mock trial, about the stress of midterms, about my mother. He holds my hand when I confess I’m scared of the upcoming competition and doesn’t deride me for being overly cautious.

And, most importantly, even though he goes out with his boys now and then, I haven’t seen any pictures of him with his arms around another girl, which makes me feel a little foolish for having any concerns about him in the first place.

I rise on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on his cheek. “Completely. Now open this up so we can eat. I’m starving.”

That gets him moving. These days he’s more careful about what I eat than I am. He’s always looking for vegan places, even though I’ve assured him a million times that I eat meat. That always leads to him giggling like a schoolboy. Maybe he just drags me to those places to hear me say the words
I eat meat.

He rips off the paper. Just takes his hand and tears the wrapping right down the middle and then stares. Looks at me. Then back to the frame to stare some more.

It’s a square frame and inside is his jersey from the Championship game he played and won that second weekend in January right before we met. Hammer found it stuffed in the bottom drawer of Matty’s dresser. In a cutout inset in the bottom, which took me three tries and five ruined mats before I got right, his stats for the game are listed along with the Outland Trophy he was so proud of.

“This is some present,” he murmurs, almost to himself. He admires every part of the gift, from the dark stained wood frame, to the matte glass covering, and the white mat surrounding the blue and gold jersey, the patch of the bowl game turned outward on full display. We stand outside in the rapidly dimming light. I should be getting cold, but there’s something about the way that he’s smiling that heats me up inside.

Finally, after several moments pass along with students who cast curious gazes our way, Matty’s done inspecting the gift and hits the key fob to raise the back gate. Carefully, he stows the framed jersey under a netting strapped to the floor of the trunk and then pushes the hatch closed.

He helps me into the passenger side and then rounds the front. Inside the car it’s toasty warm. On the way to the mall, he swings into a drugstore parking lot.

“I thought you forgot,” I say amused.

He arches an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? After that thing back there, I’m thinking about skipping the mall and hauling you back to the house so I can thank you properly. Stay here while I run inside.”

It’s the third box we’ve needed since we started dating a month ago.

Matty’s full of endless amounts of energy. Even though practice is in full swing, there’s not a day that goes by without a phone call, personal visit or text. Usually they all include some kind of sexual innuendo and the days we don’t see each other are just one long period of foreplay that makes it all the more exciting when we finally do get our hands on each other.

He pops back in and throws the box into my lap. I toss it between my hands, thinking about the one time Matty forgot the condom and how hot that was. I throw it back at him. “Want to stop using these?”

He jerks, his hand skittering off the gearshift to collide with the dash. He takes a deep breath and then another before swiveling his head toward me, his black hair nearly obscuring his face. I reach over and tuck the strands behind his ear.

The heat in his eyes nearly singes my fingers.

“If you didn’t want to shop, you should have just told me,” he finally says. “Because right now, there’s no way I’ll be able to get out of this vehicle without being arrested for public indecency.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He straightens and then cups my skull, pulling me close to his lips. “It’s a yes.”

After kissing me senseless, he returns to his seat and starts the Rover. I put myself to rights, pulling down my bra he had shoved up along with my sweater and buttoning my jeans I hadn’t even realized he’d loosened.

“Talk to me,” he orders as he stares into the rearview mirror and then navigates around the other cars before entering the stream of traffic.

“About what?” I’m still a little dazed from the kiss.

“The unsexiest thing you can think of.”

“How’s Ace?”

Matty shoots me a dark look. “That’ll do it.” He sighs, leans his head back and relaxes against the seat. “He’s okay. Coach hasn’t moved him yet.”

“When do you think that’ll happen?”

“When Barr gets here in the summer.” He sneaks another glance at me. “You guys still hanging out?”

“Not really. He’s texted, but we…I don’t think he’s happy.” Ace hasn’t really said anything since he stomped out of my apartment on Signing Day. Absent a few texts, our communication has been brief. He hasn’t come over to the house, and I haven’t encouraged it. It’s sad, like the last part of my childhood is being severed from me, but I can’t give up Matty just to appease Ace’s petulance.

“About us?”

“About everything.”

“Let’s talk about something else? Mock trial?” He looks over as I make a face and an unhappy sound. “Okay, striking mock trial off the list.”

“What are you thinking about for your mom?”

“I dunno. That’s why you’re here. It was either you or Hammer, and I didn’t want to listen to another of his lists.”

I smother a grin. “What are some of her hobbies?”

“Hmm. She likes to read but she already just buys everything she wants, so I’ve got to be creative.”

Matty and I decide to shop first. We stop in at a jewelry store. “How much do you want to spend?”

He shrugs. “Under five?”

I point out a couple of necklaces, lingering over one that has a circle with a small pearl in the middle. It’s delicate and lovely.

“Let’s see that one,” Matty says.

“This is a beautiful piece.” The sales lady flips open a black velvet pad and drapes the gold necklace across it.

“I think I need to see it on.” He picks it up and gestures for me to turn around.

“Your mom is four inches taller than me,” I protest, worried that if I see it around my neck, I’ll want to keep it.

“So? You both have necks right?”

I can’t argue with that. I lift my hair and Matty hooks it in the back. The gold sparkles in the brightly lit store.

“We’ll take it.” He hands over the card to the store clerk. I start to take it off, but Matty grabs my arm. “I heard you had a birthday.” His smile is bright, his words an echo of mine.

“In May.”

He tugs my hand away from my neck and curls his fingers around my own so I can’t remove the necklace. He gives a chin nod to the clerk who scuttles off to run Matty’s credit card before we can change our minds.

“What about your mom?” I ask, my hand still under his.

“I bought her a Fitbit already. I know I forgot Valentine’s Day.”

“Matthew…”

He laughs and catches me up in a hard embrace. He dips his head and kisses my neck, catching both chain and flesh under his lips. “I’ve missed all your previous birthdays, Christmases and Valentine’s Day, so this is something small. Don’t tell me you don’t want it because you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“I highly doubt that, but thank you. It is too much.” I saw the price tag, and this is definitely the most expensive piece of anything I’ve ever owned besides the laptop my dad surprised me with when I graduated.

“I wanted to.” He kisses me again, this time on the lips.

Had I ever thought Matty was a risk? I was such a foolish girl.

“
W
e’ve got a recruit coming
,” Coach announces. March has rolled around and we’re halfway through spring practice. I’m antsy for it to be over because it means I’ll have more time to spend with Luce. I’m looking forward to this summer, particularly grateful that she’s a townie and will be here with me because I’m getting tired of Coach’s shit. It’s eroding my love for the game. “You and Ace are going to show him a good time.”

I’ve spent more time in Coach’s office since the National Championship game than I had in all four years prior. I’m getting sick of the leather chairs, the nice carpet, and frankly, his goddamn face.

“Isn’t this guy a linebacker?” Ace asks sarcastically. “Mr. Texas isn’t here yet.”

Ace’s attitude toward Coach borders on insubordination. It’s definitely insolent, but what the hell? It’s not like Ace has a lot to lose. I feel sorry for him. I really do, but then I think about the shit he vomited all over me a couple weeks ago. I still can’t convince Luce to spend the night with me. She doesn’t want to hurt little Ace’s feelings, even though I sense a serious amount of distance between the two of them.

I’m guessing Ace had a throw down with her, much like he had with me. Like me, she didn’t take it well. Unlike me, she kinda cares.

There’s something highly ironic about the fact I’m pretty much begging her to stay with me but she keeps turning me down. If I want to sleep with her, I have to do it in her apartment, in her tiny-ass bed that’s about as comfortable as sleeping on my yoga mats. Which is to say, not fucking comfortable. We only do it when I’m desperate. So like three, four times a week.

“You two need to start working together. Your team is falling apart and I want you to fix it. Starting with this new recruit.”

I half believe Ace will tell Coach that the new recruit can go suck a goat, but he doesn’t.

Instead, we take Lucious Deakins—for serious, that’s the fucker’s name—the new recruit, out for dinner. He’s big bodied, and needs to lose about thirty pounds of fat and trade that in for fifty pounds of muscle. Worse? He’s got a loud fucking mouth and I’m not talking volume. The kid has a Twitter account, a Facebook account, an Instagram account, and a fucking Pinterest board where he pins pictures of food.

I hate that I’m even using the word
pin
. I could feel the testosterone draining out of me each second I had that site up on my computer.

His Twitter account is the worst. He’s been documenting every single thing associated with his recruiting trips from the snacks he received on the airplane to the sidewalk cracks outside each stadium.

Oh, yeah, and he doesn’t shut up.

“What are we doing later tonight?” he asks.

Two seconds later. “You guys bringing me strippers?”

Before I can draw my next breath. “Are they jumping out of a cake? I’ve always wanted a stripper cake.”

Jesus, does he think we’re putting on some Mardi Gras parade for him?

“No,” I say shortly.

“How about the booze. I can do a two-story beer bong.”
Call me Lucious cuz that’s my name
rubs his hands together.

I share another long-suffering glance with Ace, who smiles back at me. He’s enjoying this. “You’re eighteen. We can’t serve you booze,” I tell him.

“But…why are you taking me around then?”

“So you can get a feel for the campus. You want us to violate some NCAA rules and make it impossible for you to get a D-1 scholarship here?”

“Uh, no,” he stutters, showing a modicum of sense for the first time during the whole trip. Truth is, if we liked him, if we thought he wasn’t a total washout, then we would treat him to a few Warrior perks. But this guy isn’t worth the effort. This is our punishment.

“Good, then follow me, don’t drink, and don’t touch anyone.”

“What if they touch me?”

I close my eyes. “That’s fine. If they touch you first, feel free to touch them back, but for God’s sake, don’t offer to pay them anything. These are students, not hookers.”

Ace muffles a laugh behind his hand. I give explicit instructions to the bartenders at the Gas Station that this is an underage, loud-mouth recruit. They nod and serve him a Coke when he asks. I take a shot of whiskey because the only way I’m making it through the night is with really, really dulled senses. Numb, in fact.

There’re plenty of women in the Gas Station to make up for the lack of alcohol. I tell one of the girls to pretend like she’s spiking his drink while she pours club soda in it. A couple of other players show up and take him off my hands for an hour to play pool.

Ace leans back in the booth across from me and looks at me with assessing eyes.

I give a tired gesture. “Whatever you’ve got to say, spit it out.”

“Why aren’t you taking my back in this?” Ace asks. “You really think I’m that shitty of a quarterback?”

I sigh. I don’t know if I’ve ever really hated anyone, but I’m getting close with Coach. “No. You’re a good quarterback and I’m proud to wear the same colors.”

“But I’m not great.”

“We don’t need you to be great.” I squeeze the back of my neck. “Look, it doesn’t matter what I think. Coach has made up his mind. The kid’s coming here and he’s going to start him. He…he doesn’t like you, man.”

“Because of Stella.”

“Yeah.” I breathe out a sigh of relief. We’re finally getting somewhere. “Because of Stella.”

Ace shakes his head. “We stopped fucking a long time ago. Barely into the season. What was it? Week four?”

“How long had you been going at it?”

“Since summer. It was just a fling. The shelf life was getting stale at that point anyway. I guess I’ll just continue being the thorn in his side.”

“Why? You’re real athletic. You have great hands. Why not try for safety?” I launch into my spiel about how there’s so much more opportunity for him in the NFL beyond the stupid quarterback position. Who even gives a crap about that position anyway?

“I don’t want to play that position. I’ve got one year left to prove that I’m worth a draft pick or at least a tryout or two.”

“But if you’re not on the field, you can’t prove anything other than you look good holding a clipboard.”

“You know that the favorite player in the stadium is the backup quarterback,” Ace replies confidently. “That freshman comes in and he gets his first hit, he’s going to come crawling over to the sideline and I’ll be there to step in and save the day.”

I down another shot because that’s the only way I’m going to make it through the night between the raw-ass recruit who’s determined to get drunk and screw as many college chicks as he can, and the grand delusions of Ace.

“You don’t believe I can do it, do you?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen this fall,” I tell him frankly. “I want to win again. I want to enjoy our senior year. I want to know that we did everything we could to repeat. But I don’t know what’s going to happen. Maybe it goes just like you say. Or maybe Mr. Texas comes in and plays just well enough to keep his starting job and you don’t see squat and become a footnote in Warrior football. And I don’t want that for you, man. You’re too good of an athlete. Too good of a football player.”

Ace considers my words for a minute and then leans forward, folding his hands on the top of the table. “I tell you what, you stop seeing Lucy. You tell her that you’re done with her and I’ll move to safety.”

I choke on the vodka shot. Ace rises up and slaps me on the back, too hard to be termed friendly, but at this point I need it.

“What’d you just say?” I demand.

“You heard me.”

“I heard some words, but I don’t think I understood them.”

“No, you heard me clearly. I’ll make it easy for you, for the team. For Coach. For everyone. But, in exchange, you give Lucy back to me.

I narrow my eyes. Something isn’t right here. “You and Lucy are friends.”

“No, not really. She thinks we’re friends but we’ve always been meant to be together.”

I’ve only had three shots, but I feel dazed. He’s been denying they’ve been anything but friends and now he’s willing to trade his precious QB position for her? As if she’s a piece of property I’ve got control over?

“Ace, brother. For the four years we’ve been teammates, you’ve screwed your share of blondes, but not one of them has been Lucy. And you’ve insisted that you and Luce are just friends. I’m getting whiplash here.”

“Know how many guys Lucy has slept with?”

I can’t really say I don’t know because I have the list from Ahmed, but I don’t think I should admit that. Ace doesn’t care.

“I do. It’s six. You and her loser high school boyfriend and a few randoms in between. Know how old she was when she lost her last baby tooth?”

So Ahmed was wrong. Good thing I didn’t hunt them all down and gouge out their eyes for having seen Luce naked. “No.”

“Thirteen. She had to have braces after that. Know what she wore to her senior prom?”

“A dress?” I’m tiring of this game real fast.

“No again. She wore pants. One of our friends came out as a lesbian and didn’t want to wear a dress and so Lucy wore a tux in solidarity.”

That sounds very Luce-like. “Okay.”

“My point is that you don’t know shit about Lucy, and you haven’t spent the time to find this stuff out.”

“When she lost her baby tooth is pertinent how?” I drum my fingers on the table impatiently. Ace is getting to me a tiny bit. I don’t know all this stuff, but I can learn. Doesn’t mean we aren’t right for each other. Doesn’t mean Ace gets to claim her. That sentiment is ridiculous, and if Luce were here, she’d shove that right in his face.

“I know her. She knows me. We’re meant to be together. So step back and let her find her way back to me.”

“No.”

Ace’s fingers curl into fists, and he looks like he’s ready to launch himself over the table. But something changes his mind. Maybe the fact that we’re in the fucking Gas Station, a public place, penetrates his tiny brain. Whatever the reason, he sits back, rolls his shoulders and pretends to relax. “Fine.”

“That it?” I ask flatly.

“Not really. Since you’re determined to fuck up my life, the least you can do is drink a few shots with me.”

Is this an olive branch? I grab at it. “Sounds good.”

“
N
o shmore
.”

“You can do one more,” Ace cajoles.

“No. I can’t.” I can barely sit up. “Where’s our recruit?”

“Sarah and Lara volunteered to take him home.”

I blink at the two blondes. One’s wearing a red dress and the other is in blue, and the garments are so short you’d think we were in the tropics and not knee deep in snow. They’re from a sorority, but I can’t remember the name of it. “That’s solid of you two. Real solid.” I shake my head and it keeps shaking, like a bobblehead. I place a hand on the top of my head to stop it.

“Let’s take some pictures so the boy has some memories he can go home and brag about it to his friends.”

That’s fair. We both know he won’t be back here. Lucious jumps up enthusiastically and grabs both blondes by the waist. Ace snaps a few pictures while I pull out my own phone and text Hammer and Masters.

Me:
Dudes. I’m waisted. waisted. fck. waisted. fck. u kno wht I mean. Got a recruit. Make sure he gets home. Gas station.

I tuck the phone away.

“Come on and get your picture taken.”

“Nah.”

“Lucious wants it,” Ace says.

Turing my head toward Lucious is about as easy as steering a crane but I manage it.

“Okay. Okay.” Anything to get the girls to stop squealing. I heave my drunk ass up to their side and lean in.

“Closer,” Ace gestures. “I can’t fit you into the frame.”

“Dude, I can barely stand up.”

“Hold him up, Sarah,” Ace orders.

Sarah slides her arm around my waist. I drape my hand behind her back and rest my hand on Lucious’s shoulder. Nothing about this feels right but I can’t pinpoint exactly what bothers me. The blonde rests her cheek against my shoulder.

“Matty,” she breathes softly. “I heard you were dating someone. Is that true?”

I look down at her, thinking of how much I’d like Luce to be here, holding me up and looking at me with her big brown eyes. I can feel my own face soften. “Yeah, true. I really dig this chick. She’s smart and interesting.” And hot as hell. I can feel my jeans getting tight thinking about her.

“Ahh, that’s sweet.” The girl rises on her tiptoes and kisses me. Right on the lips.
Motherfucker!

“Uh huh. No kisses from anyone else.” I let her go and shake my finger at her. “Not cool, Sarah.”

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Matty. It was just a kiss.” The girl flounces away.

“We better get the recruit home,” I tell Ace.

“The girls will take him home,” he protests.

“Nah, he’s our responsibility. Come on.” I peel Lucious away from the lips of Blue Dress.

There’s a chorus of disappointed sounds, but somehow I manage to muscle Lucious outside and start pushing him toward the Playground.

“We don’t want to disappoint Coach Lowe,” I tell him.

“Yeah, I hear ya.” The cold air must be blowing some sense into him.

Hammer and Masters meets us halfway home and Ace peels off to his own place.

“How’s it going?” Masters asks, his wary gaze fixed on Ace’s retreating figure.

“With Ace?” I slur. “About as good as you can expect.”

And then I stumble home, type out a few incoherent messages to Luce, and pass out.