Schooling the Jock (Nerds Vs Jocks #1) - - Eli Easton Page 0,63
let out a soft breath. “The thing is, it was freaking hard, and the Poins saved my ass, or we never would have won. I’ve got a buttload of work to do before the next meet.”
PJ glanced up with a slightly wild look in his eyes. I ignored him. “And no thanks very much for getting me into this huge project I sure as fuck didn’t need.” I stomped up the stairs, but I felt like at least half a hypocrite. I sure could have done without the extra work, but I had to be more than a little grateful to the guys for hooking me up with Dobbs—even though they’d hate the idea that they had.
After I unpacked the little bit of shit I’d taken with me, like the pajamas I never wore, I moved Brett to the side and settled down on my bed to study. I had to wrangle my brain that wanted to lie there and remember the feel of Dobbs’s cock, but I forced myself to focus on the pages as I idly petted Brett’s big furry head. Quiz Bowl might be important, but getting As in my classes was still job one, and I had to be up early to do my run and gym morning.
An hour later, PJ came in smelling like food. He let Brett out to explore other venues. PJ perched on his unmade bed. “So, it was tough, huh?”
I looked up from my book. “Yeah.”
“Those questions in the practice are bitches.”
I nodded. “When you’re in front of two tables of brains and a bunch of moderators, trust me, it’s worse. Those questions sound like they’re being spoken in tongues.”
He stared at his bare foot that was curled in front of him. “Maybe we should quiz each other?”
“Can’t. You’re in division two, and I’m in division one. The Poins told me our question packets are completely different. Find one of the guys to read the questions for you. Borrow a buzzer from the SMTs. I have to practice with the dudes on my team.”
He looked up through his eyelashes, all sly and PJish. “Dudes like that guy Dobbs?”
I gave him the icy eyeball. “Yeah, PJ, Dobbs is the head of the freaking team. He’s got the most to lose if I screw up, so he’s devoting a lot of time to trying to prevent that from happening. You have issues you’d like to discuss?”
Nothing really intimidated PJ much, including me. He grinned. “I guess I’m just jealous I don’t have a Dobbs of my very own.”
“Then find one. Get one of the Poins on your team to help you, PJ. If you fuck this up and the Poins tell the dean that you blew it off and didn’t try, it’ll be bad for the whole house. Shit, man, you volunteered. I was coerced. Step up and show us what you can do.” Frowning, I looked back down at my book. End of role modeling for the evening.
A minute later, our door closed behind him. But his suspicious attitude made me itch. Dudes like that guy Dobbs? He didn’t mean anything by that. At least, that’s what I wanted to believe.
My early morning smile about cracked my face.
As I jogged down the freezing walkway dressed in my lined running sweats at five freaking a.m., having seen virtually zero percent of my brothers moving around, I spied Dobbs perched on a fire hydrant in front of the house. He wore a knit hat with a fuzzy ball on top over a balaclava ski mask that covered his face like some mysterious veil, but he pulled it up to give me like-for-like. Teeth from ear-to-ear.
I jogged up to him. “Nice hat.”
“Hey, I’m from Minneapolis. We know winter.”
I batted at the fuzzy pom-pom. “The best part.”
He lowered his voice, but said, “Aww, you just like playing with my balls.”
I barked a laugh so loud it should have wakened the neighborhood. “Come on. Today’s a gym day, so I’ve got to get going.”
He stood, and side by side, we jogged down the plowed and salted street. The salt made wet crunchy sounds under our feet. After a few minutes of adjusting to the speed and breathing, he started barking questions at me, and we kept that up for the next half hour. We passed a couple other runners who looked at us, startled, and it must have been funny if you could hear, What is the capital of Lichtenstein? coming out of the runner’s mouth.