Schooling the Jock (Nerds Vs Jocks #1) - - Eli Easton Page 0,34
It’s not pretty. Mom makes them cocoa with only a little molasses and a lot of good stuff they need. It keeps them happy without driving them over the edge.”
Dobbs held up three fingers.
I gave him a look. “I thought you said there were two.”
“I lied. Who’s the Jesse, Jesse, Jesse girl? Carol?”
I shrugged uncomfortably and stared at my hands. “From my high school. We dated for a while, mostly because she was a cheerleader and I was, you know, football.”
Dobbs muttered something that sounded like Miss Corn Crop.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“It was never serious. She married somebody else.”
Dobbs looked dubious. “I pity her husband then. She seemed pretty excited about Jesse, Jesse, Jesse.”
Again, that slight edge to his voice. And I realized that he used to always sound like that when he spoke to me. It was more notable now because he’d been, well, friendlier. As if I were a real person and not just a dumb jock and a burden.
Whatever. I wasn’t going to tell him Carol was divorced and prove his theory. So, I changed the subject and told him a little about the high school’s football team, the Panthers, and how everyone in the area was obsessed with it, and how we’d won the regionals my junior and senior year, and how that had helped me get that Madison scholarship.
I was rambling, which was unusual for me especially when the subject involved myself. But it was a safe topic. And maybe being in Mercy Creek made the memories all come back for me. Like I could blink and I’d be in high school, grabbing a salad at the diner before a game.
Carol brought the food, and I asked her to pack up a couple of fish sandwiches and coleslaw for Mom and Eli. Having bread and something made with mayo felt like the heart of decadence to Eli but was still pretty healthy.
One bite of my Julie Ann burger and I closed my eyes on the taste of the juice, cheese, sauce, and a nice slice of tomato. Between no money and staying in top shape, I never ate food like this. Sheer perfection.
Dobbs gave a low, dirty chuckle. “You’re an easy man to please.”
“What?” My eyes flew open.
“Whoa.” He held up both hands. “No judgment. I just mean, you’re moaning over a burger, my man.” He wiped sauce from the corner of his mouth. “Though I’ll admit, this is one damned drool-worthy hunk of beef.” He winked at me. “And I ought to know.”
“Mmm,” I said. How was that for a brilliant comment? I could feel my face flame, and I focused on dipping my french fries in ketchup.
Jesus. The thought of Dobbs with a hunk of beef….
With any random hunk of beef.
With my hunk of beef.
I swallowed something the wrong way and coughed. I had to take a drink of water to keep from making an idiot of myself.
Dobbs watched me. Could he see right through me? Did he know what I was thinking?
He licked his lips. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to put you off your food. I’ve got so much mouth, sometimes it takes over my brain. You’ll get used to it.”
Something about the idea that I’d be around Dobbs enough to get used to anything about him gave me a warm feeling. Weird.
But then the hunk of meat remark crept back into my mind. He’d thought that him talking gay shit put me off my food. Well, maybe it did. But not for the reason he supposed.
I looked up and met his gaze. I wanted to say something, to tell him. This was the perfect moment. I could so easily toss something out like, Dude, I’m gay. I don’t care if you talk about hunks of beef. Like it was no big deal.
But we were in Julie Ann’s diner, surrounded by my neighbors, people who knew my folks, knew me. Besides, while Dobbs might not be as much of a shit as I’d thought, I didn’t trust him not to talk back at school. And if I ever did come out at Madison, it’d be on my own terms. Not because of a Poin.
He took another bite of his sandwich, chewed, then said, “Sorry about what I said at the general store too. I didn’t think about what a simple admission like that would mean in a town where the one guy who came out is notable for his rainbow decal. Man, it’s a tough room for us LGBTQers.”