Jock Road (Jock Hard) - Sara Ney Page 0,26

floor, releasing. Pushing. Releasing. Pushing.

Controlling our movements, allowing us the chance to talk.

My eyes stray up her leg. Knee. The hand resting there.

Gold bracelets, gold ring circling. Long, delicate fingers. Nails painted a soft pink.

She taps one finger, and I blink, eyes finally reaching hers again.

Charlie is biting down on her lower lip, barely concealing her smile, head doing that little shake as if to say, I don’t even know what to do with you right now.

“I still don’t believe it.”

She’s back on the virgin subject again—though I don’t think we ever left it.

“How did we get on this topic?” I ask, for lack of anything else to say.

“You blurted it out.” Pause. “You’re worse than any girl I’ve ever met who wanted to tell someone a secret.”

“I am not.”

“Yeah, ’fraid so. You just couldn’t keep that information to yourself, could ya?”

“Sorry. Don’t know why I fuckin’ said it.” Other than I’m a moron.

Charlie thinks, forehead wrinkling in concentration. “Is it hard?”

I almost choke on the beer I just took a swig of. “Excuse me?”

“Not doing it—has it been hard?”

Ummmm…yes it’s been hard.

My dick. Not having a place to put it. Waiting.

Hard.

“Sure.”

She waits for more but there is none. “Care to expound on that?”

“No.”

With a side glance, she gets more comfortable on the swing, leaning back and letting her legs dangle. “It’s not easy for girls either.” Charlie examines her fingernails. “I’m not a virgin, but sometimes wanking off with my own fingers just doesn’t cut it, know what I mean?”

This time I do choke on my beer, bubbles lodging in my esophagus and causing me to cough just to clear the airway. I cover my soaking mouth with the inside of my elbow, shooting her a menacing glare.

How fucking dare she bring up masturbating?

“Care to expound on that?” I ask, once I can breathe again.

“No.” I can see her cheeky grin in the dark, white teeth shining under the dim porch light. “No I do not.”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

“Oh relax, it’s not like I gave you any of the dirty details, like how many fingers I use—or don’t use.”

“What?”

“You should see the look on your face.”

I lean back and huff out a sigh. “Whatever. I’m sure it looks like the one you gave me when I said the V word.”

“Virgin. When you said you were a VIRGIN.” Jesus Christ, she’s practically shouting it. “There it is again.” She laughs, pointing at my face until I swat her finger away with my hand, clamping my fist around her index. Place it back on her lap and cover her palm with the flat of mine.

“Could you not?”

“Pfft. It’s not like anyone would believe me anyway. Jackson Jennings Junior, a virgin? As if.” She doesn’t try to move away or withdraw her hand. “Besides, no one is paying any attention—I could shout it from the rooftops and not a single person would look up.”

She’s got a valid point; the students around here are so fucking full of themselves, their social media feeds, and their own business that they probably wouldn’t notice some girl screaming at the top of her lungs on the top deck of a house.

They’d film it on their phone, though, thinking she was going to jump.

Sick.

“Still, if you could keep your voice down, that would be great.”

“You’re not embarrassed, are you?”

I wasn’t, no—not until I brought it up. It’s the one secret I have, if you don’t count how shitty my life was growing up with two parents who resented each other. A mother who resented me, a father who only cared about winning.

And the fact that I’m in Iowa and not at Clemson or Alabama or Notre Dame? He hates it, but choosing Iowa was the one thing I had control over. I felt comfortable here during the campus visits and clicked with the team members I met, and to me, that was more important than any championship.

I needed a place to feel at home, and Iowa was it.

“I’m not embarrassed to be a virgin. It’s a physical act that means nothin’, just like runnin’ sprints or doin’ a few push-ups.”

Charlie’s brows shoot up. “Now you’re just being stubborn. If you thought sex meant nothing, you’d have done it by now.”

True, I would have.

Maybe.

“Are you worried at this point you’ve let your virginity go so far that you’d be bad at it?”

“Please stop saying the word virgin. And no, I don’t think I’d be bad at it.” I snort. “Please, I fail at nothin’.”

“You don’t