Schooling the Jock (Nerds Vs Jocks #1) - - Eli Easton Page 0,66
full steam. Hot—literally and figuratively—and fun. But he was nervous about getting caught, so after that, I followed his no-sex-at-the-gym rules and behaved myself in the steam room. Still, there wasn’t nearly enough places or times for messing around.
The weekend after Milwaukee, we held Quiz Bowl practice with both teams in our living room both Saturday and Sunday. We used buzzers, two tables, and Jax as the moderator—the whole nine yards. I figured the more we could make it feel like a real match, the better. Jesse was much improved over his performance in Milwaukee—though not enough to make Felix happy. Even PJ pulled a few answers out of his ass. I still found PJ obnoxious.
But the ALAs had a house party Saturday night so Jesse felt obliged to go to that. At our house, we watched a few rounds of Jeopardy and then had a Die Hard marathon. It was fun hanging with my bros. Everyone made up silly Mystery Science Theater 2000-style comments during the films. Sai’s were so lame they were extra funny. And Billings and Johnson could quote the dialogue by heart.
I noticed Hedgehog—aka Sean—was kind of quiet and appeared to wince with pain when he moved around in the lounge chair he was reclined in.
When we went up to our room, I watched him shuffle around like he was made of glass. He stripped his shirt off, gasping and moaning as he did so. His fish-belly-white torso didn’t look any fitter, but he sure was in agony.
I sat down on my bed. “Dude, what the fuck? What the hell are the A-hoes doing to you over there?”
Very gingerly, he laid down, keeping his back as stiff as possible, and whimpering when he had to bend his knees. When he was prone, he sighed. “It was shoulders and back today. And legs yesterday.”
“And what? Being poked with red-hot irons the day before that? Are they trying to kill you?”
I was pissed. Yes, Hedgehog had volunteered for the flag-football team, but he was a nice guy. He didn’t deserve to be tortured by those assholes. They were probably laughing behind his back. Or even to his front. “Listen, Sean, you don’t have to do this.”
Hedge turned his head—very carefully—to look at me. He looked puzzled. “What are you so mad about?”
“They’re trying to kill you!”
“Nobody’s trying to kill me, Dobbs. I’m just out of shape.”
“Yeah, well, newsflash—you can’t go from zero to three-sixty in one day. Muscles don’t work like that.”
He grumbled something I couldn’t quite hear.
“They pushed you too hard! Now you’ll be out of commission for a week.”
“I’ll be fine tomorrow after a couple of aspirin and a good night’s sleep.”
That made me laugh. “Yeah, no. I once did a marathon walk for charity, and I couldn’t move for a week. You look like you’re in way worse shape than I was then.”
Hedge looked up at the ceiling, not moving. “God. Even my eyeballs hurt.”
That made me laugh. “No shit? Maybe a hot bath would help.”
He considered this. “Descending into the tub and out again seems unrealistic. Thoughtful of you to suggest it though. Appreciate it.”
I shook my head. “Who did this to you? Are you still training with Bubba?”
Hedge got a silly little smile. “Yeah. He says he’s my personal trainer.”
I remembered Jesse saying Bubba wanted to be one. Apparently, it was not the guy’s calling. Unless he could line up a client list of sadists. “Well, tell Bubba he’s doing it wrong. If he makes you do too much too fast, he’s just gonna set you back. It has to be more gradual.”
“It’s not his fault. I…” Sean blushed. And when Hedgehog—a red-haired, freckle-faced Irishman—blushed, it was like a desert sunset.
“You what?” I pressed.
“I didn’t want to look like a wimp in front of him,” Hedge admitted reluctantly.
Daw. I kind of wanted to tease him about that. Because way to fry your own bacon, be hoisted on your own petard. Ego meet instant karma. But Hedge was already paying the price for his pride.
“Dude,” was all I said. But he was already snoring.
By the following Tuesday, with the steam room no longer an option, I was seriously jonesing for some private Jesse time. I finally convinced him to study in my room that night after football practice. I told him Hedgehog would be out—and I made sure that was the case, advising Hedge strongly to go to the library. He said he already had plans, which was fine by me.