Schooling the Jock (Nerds Vs Jocks #1) - - Eli Easton Page 0,11

this year. You guys are best in the league, even with one hand tied behind your back.”

“Who gets cut?” Felix asked, looking up from the phone in his hand. “If we have to put two A-hoes on the teams, that means two of us can’t play.”

“I want to play! I’m not cut, right?” asked Sai, appearing upset.

More general grumbling and cursing.

Jax looked at me. My turn at bat. I tossed my plate with a half-eaten piece of pizza on the coffee table, stood up, and dusted off my hands.

“Right. About that—someone came to me a few weeks ago worried about their schedule around Quiz Bowl. So if that person—or anyone else—wants to be excused from the team, raise your hand.”

There was that awkward silence where no one chose to admit they wanted off the team, either because they didn’t like looking like wimps, or because they’d suddenly changed their minds. It was one thing to bitch about the time Quiz Bowl took up. It was another to be forced to withdraw.

That was okay. I knew my Quiz Bowl players, knew which ones were hardcore, the guys who, like me, would have Quiz Bowl ripped out of their cold dead hands, and which ones were, shall we say, less dedicated.

Leland spoke up. “Um. You guys know I love Quiz Bowl. But my schedule’s truly insane this semester. If no one else wants to drop, I will.”

I nodded, expecting that. Leland was a good player, but not the most enthusiastic.

“Thanks, Leland,” I said, doing my best to sound sincere. “We’ll miss you. Does anyone else want to volunteer?”

Billings and Johnson looked at each other. But I knew either they’d both drop or neither one would, and they were both on the same team—division two. No one else spoke up.

“Maybe we could talk about flag football,” suggested Jax. “Because someone we need to send over to that team might have to drop out of Quiz Bowl.”

I nodded at Jax. We were in agreement about who should go. We both looked at Dustin Banks.

Dustin was hella cute with dark hair, pale skin, and a tight little body that I honestly tried not to perv on. He’d been a diver in high school and had been on the Badgers diving team until his sophomore year when he quit. There’d been some kind of accident, but I didn’t know the details. I only knew that he’d dropped out, said he had to focus on his studies. But he still worked as a lifeguard at the Soderholm pool when it had open swim.

Dustin was the best athlete Sigma Mu Tau had, hands down. And he wasn’t on the Quiz Bowl team.

Dustin looked from Jax to me and back again. He held up his hands. “Oh, hell no.”

“Dustin,” Jax said in his best I’m-being-serious-with-you-man voice. “If we win this bet with the A-hoes, it’ll save our house the ten grand on repairs to their kitchen. And to save face, we have to give them two guys who can kick ass. You’re the only star athlete we have.”

“That’s not fair—” Dustin began.

But Jax went on. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but your fraternity needs you, Dust. And if you do us this solid, I’m willing to comp your room for the rest of the year.”

Dustin’s face contorted into the picture book definition of conflicted. His parents were both lawyers, but they were the serve-the-poor type, not the defend-multi-billion-dollar-companies type. He was always hurting for money.

“Shit,” Dustin muttered. “What kind of schedule are we talking about? I have to work.”

“We’re gonna get the schedule tomorrow,” Jax said. “But I think they have a game once a weekend.”

“Hey, maybe you’ll like it,” I put in with my best optimistic smile.

Dustin shot me a look that would have fried a lesser man. “I can’t commit to anything until I see the schedule. But I’ll try.”

“Awesome!” Jax beamed as if Dustin had just signed a contract in blood. “Now we need one more volunteer.”

I looked around the room. Everyone avoided my gaze, looking down at their nails, over at the piano, the TV, or looking for the meaning of life as spelled out in cracks in the ceiling.

I glanced at Jax, and he nodded. I opened my mouth to speak.

“Will you comp my room if I do it?” someone said loudly.

I turned to see who it was. Jax and I had discussed several possibilities. The house had guys who routinely jogged five miles around campus—Felix, Gordon, and Laz. I ran with