Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (39 page)

“
T
his is stupid
,” I yell, not even really hearing myself.

“WHAT?” Roxie screams back at me as we shoulder our way through the crowd towards the kitchen.

Aggressively loud rap music blares from the frat-house living-room stereo as a swath of sweaty, drunk college jocks and frat boys push, shove, and drunkenly cavort around us.

“THIS IS STUPID,” I yell again, this time directly into the ear of a girl I vaguely recall seeing in my government class. She winces at my yelling and gives me a stink-look.

“Sorry,” I mouth, as Roxie pulls on my arm and drags me through the crowd.

“I know, I know,” she says as we move out of the packed living room and into the
somewhat
quieter kitchen.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” I say with scowl.

Roxie makes a face. “Which one do you want? Because your dad just won his first college football game, and even though I don’t really get that, it seems like it’s a big deal?” She grins, “Or that your hot, soon-to-be stepbrother is the biggest name in college sports right now and was a big
part
of that win?”

Roxie smiles at me, wagging her eyebrows. “
Or
that we get to drink free beer all night? Pick one, but whichever one it is, keep in mind that I’m a pretty awesome friend for coming along to this debacle.”

I make a face. “Thanks for that, actually.”

She shrugs as she grins at me. “Eh, not totally altruistic. I’m on the prowl, so let me know if you see any confused and dissatisfied-looking straight girls.”

I snort. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled. This does suck though.”

“Oh, agreed, but it’s a football party, and like it or not, your family
is
football around here.” Roxie wrinkles her nose and nods in the general direction of some guys wearing shirts with no sleeves. They’re drinking beer out of holes punched in the bottom of cans as their friends make vaguely masturbatory hand motions around them.

“Dude, sports people are fucking weird,” she says with a shake of her head. She pushes her way past some frat guys and sticks her hands in the tub of ice sitting on the kitchen table. “Anyways, shitty beer?” She winks, offering me a freezing can.

“Thanks,” I push every ‘good girl, follow the rules’ thought from my head as I crack the top and take a sip like a normal person. Hey, this
is
college - I’m allowed to do stuff like this.

Stuff like letting Dalton finger you in the football team weight room?

I’m blushing bright red when Roxie nudges me and we both turn to watch as a group of meatheads across the room start slapping each other on the ass over their ability to drink from a can unconventionally.

She frowns. “So…yeah, I’m gonna go mingle. Come find me when you want to steal some beers and leave.”

I quickly sip from the can to cover my guilty look as she moves off into the crowd, leaving me to wonder for the tenth time what the
hell
I’m doing here.

I turn and start to make my way out of the kitchen and away from the cluster of meatheads when my eyes suddenly land on King Manwhore himself, surrounded by his harem of groupies, on a couch in the living room. It’s eye-roll worthy, really. It’s nauseating seeing all these vapid little sorority girls
draping
themselves all over him and giggling at every little thing he says. It’s as if the
chance
of being able to touch him or taste him or sleep with him or just generally be near his greatness is the highest form of relationship status they could ever hope to achieve.

I’m about to keep ragging on them in my head when I remember that three nights ago,
I
was that girl.

I drown that particular thought in beer and turn to find another way out of the kitchen.

“Well
hey
there cutie.”

I whirl and look up at the guy who’s just bumped into me from behind - no sleeves, sweaty red face, and what I imagine is beer all down the front of his shirt.

“Heeeeey yourself” I say, smiling thinly. “Nice meeting you,” I roll my eyes and turn away to find Roxie.

Suddenly, there’s a firm grip on my arm tugging me back hard.

“Awww c’mon now, honey! You don’t remember me? We’ve met before.” Beer shirt is holding my arm, hard, and leering down at me like yanking on girls’ arms is his smoothest move.

It probably is.

“Henderson,” he says it like his name should mean something. “I helped you move with your brother.”

Oh, right. The football meathead.

I shake my arm loose of his grip. “Oh, yeah. Great, thanks.”

His eyes slip down my body in a way that has me shifting uncomfortably. “Um, you
do
know whose daughter I am, right?”

Henderson leers at me, beer breath washing nauseatingly across me. “Oh I’m a fan of
all
daughters, actually,” he says with a wink like he’s being extra suave.

I roll my eyes. “Well, that’s…
gross
, but I’m going to save you the headache.
Bye
.” I jerk my arm out of his grasp.

“Bitch,” he hurls back as I walk away. I roll my eyes.

I need to get out of here.

I’ve made my appearance - I’ve done my familial duty to my dad and Dalton. But this scene is
awful
, and it’s time to find Roxie and go home.

“Well, well, as I live and breathe.”

I feel the grin on my face in spite of myself at the voice behind me.
That
voice I recognize.

“Hailey Garrison, at a
frat
party? For a
football
game?” I turn to see Dalton making a comically shocked face. He fans himself dramatically. “Well I do declare, this is
quite
out of character.”

I stick my tongue out at him. “Oh shush, I’m here for appearances, for my dad.” I shrug. “Oh, congrats by the way.”

“Thanks.” He grins at me, “You know, that almost sounded sincere.”

“It might be the best I’m going to manage.”

He laughs, “I’ll take it then. Actually, I’m pretty impressed to see you here.”

I shoot him a look. “You’re the one who told me to get out more.”

Dalton grins. “Makes me wonder what else you’d do if I asked.”

I can feel my cheeks burn as I force myself to meet his eye. “I
could
leave. Actually, I was about to anyways.”

“Aww, so soon?” He flashes that stupid damn charming farm boy smile at me. “I’ll be good if you stay.”

His eyes suddenly drop to the can of beer in my hand and he raises a brow.

“What?”

“‘What?’
is that I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.”

I very purposefully take a swig of the beer. “My dad put you up to that?”

“What do you think?”

His eyes drop to the front of my tank-top, and then down to the skirt. But it’s not at all like the once-over I just got from his teammate. This look isn’t creepy, or leering.

It’s
fierce
, and
hungry
.

‘Makes me wonder what else you’d do if I asked.’

His jaw tightening in that way sends a charge through me as he lowers his gaze slowly going up and down my body.

God, what am I? FLATTERED that manwhore Dalton is checking me out? Hardly makes you a special little snowflake, girl.

“You know, maybe you
should
go.”

I frown. “Oh yeah? Why’s that? Afraid I’m going to mess up the game you’re running on those three hussies on the couch?”

He grins, “You know, you’re pretty damn cute when you’re jealous like that. Brings out the color in your face or something.”

I flash him a fake, phony smile.

“And in any case, no, I’m not at all worried about ‘my game’, thanks. But you’re dressed like
that,
” he nods with his chin at my outfit.

I scowl. “And what’s wrong with how I’m dressed?”

He suddenly leans into me, and I gasp as I feel his breath across my neck. “Fucking
nothing
is wrong with how you’re dressed, darlin, trust me,” he growls into my ear, sending a shiver down my back.

“Problem is, I’m not the only one that notices.”

I laugh. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means frat houses are fucking meat markets, and there’s a lots of guys here on the hunt. And you?” His eyes run up and down me again in that way that sends illicit, inappropriate flashes of heat through my body.

“Darlin, you look like prey.”

I blush furiously, but I force myself to roll my eyes. “Oh, jealous, Dalton? Can’t stand it when a girl dresses up and it’s not for you?”

He snorts. “Cute, but I’m just looking out for dear
Paul
.”

My eyes quickly dart down to my beer thinking of the other day at the gym and my imaginary infidelity with my imaginary boyfriend. “Well,
thank you
for keeping an eye on me, but I’m fine.”

“Hailey-”

We’re interrupted by this little blonde girl rushing up and throwing her arms around Dalton as her friends crowd in and start snapping selfies.

“Oh my
God
, you were
sooooo good
tonight, Dalton!”

I raise my eyebrows and shake my head at him over their heads as he glares at me. “I told your dad-”

“Dalton, will you sign my tits?” A fourth girl runs up, a beer slopping in her hands as she yanks her shirt up as everyone around us cheers.

I meet his eye. “Congrats on the win, Dalton.”

He shouts my name again, but I’m already headed out of the room.

O
h
, yes.

I sigh, yanking my panties back up as I reach back and flush.
This
is why I shouldn’t drink, apparently. It’s not because I get drunk or silly, it’s because I can’t even
get
drunk or tipsy because even one beer makes me have to use the bathroom every nine minutes. Thankfully, the bathroom on the second floor of the frat house was free of the line the one downstairs had.

I catch my face in the mirror as I’m washing my hands and grin in spite of myself. Okay, I’m not having
as
terrible a time tonight as I thought I would. Because like it or not, I always seem to have this little
glowy
feeling inside every time Dalton and I have one of our little banters.

But still, it’s time to get Roxie and get the hell out of here.

I swing the door open, and that’s when I walk
right
into Henderson.

“Well well! Can’t keep your hands off me huh, babe?” He leers, beer stink and sweat nearly overpowering, and I wrinkle my nose and go to push past him.

He doesn’t budge, and I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m pretty sure I told you to fuck off, downstairs,” I spit at him.

He grins again and shrugs. “Little hard of hearing I guess,” he says, his eyes firmly on my breasts.

“Well, I’ll enunciate this time.” I shove both my hands against his chest and push him away from me. “
Fuck. Off-
”

BAM.

I’m suddenly against the hallway wall, the full weight of him pinning me there as he grips my arms hard.

“You need to learn to talk a little nicer,
cutie,
” he spits the last word out at me, his crooked-tooth grin leering at me as he chuckles. I can feel my blood pounding in my ears, panic rising as I realize how tight his grip is.

And then it’s cold, black fear that grips me even tighter. I want to kick, I want to scream, I want to fight.

But my body goes rigid, my voice caught like ice in my throat.

Henderson leans in close. “I think you and I would have a lot of fun once we got to know each other, you know.”

He leers at me horribly. “Real loud down there - nice and quiet up here,” he says with a wink.

Without warning, there’s a sound like a bomb going off behind him, and suddenly, Henderson is wide-eyed and lurching away from me.

Dalton
.

Dalton Cole - his face a mask of utter rage and his eyes fuming - looks at me briefly before he grabs Henderson by the neck and bodily
throws
him against the wall.

Henderson hits it with a crunch, grunting as he slumps to the ground, and Dalton is on him like a wild animal.

He’s got the asshole by the throat, hauling him up and shoving him back against the wall with a crack. His arm hauls back before he slams his fist across Henderson’s face. Again, and again, and
again
.

I’m dimly aware of Roxie charging through the crowd massing around us and dropping to her knees by my side. She’s yelling, but it’s like her voice is underwater somewhere. And I can’t even turn away from watching Dalton in full god-of-thunder-mode shoving Henderson to the floor and kneeling astride him with a primal yell. He starts to pound on the guy, his face enraged and his eyes on fire.

“Hailey!”

I snap my face to Roxie as she shakes me again, screaming my name.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?!”

I nod, looking quickly at her then back to Dalton before I look at her again. “Rox, I’m fine.”

I turn back to look at my protector, my white knight beating the snot out of the creep on the floor. I can’t look away. There’s something just…
animal-like
about my sudden and overwhelming attraction to him, seeing him like that.

“He saved me,” I manage to whisper out as I stare.

Shit, is this what shock sounds like?

Dalton finally stops and looks around at the crowd that’s quickly filling the upstairs hallway. The music downstairs is off.

He slowly gets to his feet and looks down at his teammate, moaning on the ground.

“YOU. STAY. THE. FUCK. AWAY. FROM. HER.” He roars each word, the asshole on the ground flinching at each and every one.

Dalton turns and helps Roxie bring me to my feet.

“Are you okay?” His arm is around my back, holding me steady as his eyes burn into mine. There’s no grin on his face this time, only this dark, savage look of concern.

I grin dreamily at him feeling the room start to spin. “I…I’m-”

And then all that adrenaline hits me all at once, and I feel my legs start to give out.

“I’m fine.”

Dalton catches me, and suddenly I’m being lifted off the ground in his arms. Part of me wants to fight him and tell him to get his hands off me, because I feel like that’s something I
should
say to Dalton.

But I let it go and melt into him, my face in his chest.

I’m dimly aware of Roxie’s face - full of concern and hovering over mine. And I’m aware of Dalton carrying me downstairs and then outside - the warmth of his chest, his smell, the strength in his arms.

We’re barely past the steps of the front porch when I look up at him woozily. “Ferris Bueller, you’re my hero.”

Yup. I say that. To Dalton.

And then I pass out.

Smooth.