Schooling the Jock (Nerds Vs Jocks #1) - - Eli Easton Page 0,7

on the other hand, are going to be hamstrung with two useless players.” He waved his hands in the air and took on a mincing voice. “Ooh, there’s a ball flying toward my face. Whatever shall I do?”

“Hey, we have plenty of guys who know their way around a ball in our house!” Dobbs insisted. Then he raised a sardonic eyebrow at his own unintentional double entendre.

Do not think about Dobbs and balls. Do not think about Dobbs and balls.

The crowd was now laughing aloud at the insults. People were actually taking videos. The whole confrontation was headed straight for Snapchat, or worse, Instagram. I just hoped the dean was a social media Luddite.

Rand said, “Why don’t you Poindexters put your money where your mouth is? I bet you…I bet you the cost of our kitchen repairs that our players do better on your team than your players do on ours.”

Huh?

Jax and Dobbs looked at each other. The crowd started chanting, “Bet, bet, bet!”

I tugged on Rand’s arm, and the four of us ALA brothers stepped back and huddled.

“Hold up a minute, Rand,” I said. “Do we have ten grand in the house account? Because I’m not gonna be coughing up hundreds of dollars for this.” This was a terrible idea. Unlike some of the house bros, like Tray and Rand, my family wasn’t swimming in money.

“Don’t worry,” Rand said confidently. “We’ve totally got this. Like Tray said, their stupid game is trivia. How hard can it be?”

“Yeah, Jesse. Anyway, I dig it!” Tray’s eyes were lit up in that happy-Tray way for the first time today. “If there’s no skin in the game, they’ll give us any old guys. But if there’s a bet, they’ll have to pick their best players.”

“That assumes they have any decent players,” Rex snorted.

Tray shrugged. “Isn’t there a swimmer in their house? And I see a few of them at the gym.”

Rand nodded. “Good thinking, Tray. Mainly, though, I just want to make that Dobbs eat his words. He’s such a little prick. So, we’re agreed?” He held out a fist.

Tray and Rex nodded and bumped it, so I reluctantly did too. He’d never answered my question about where the 10K was gonna come from if we lost. But the group broke up, and Rand faced the SMTs. “So are you guys in or are you chicken?”

“We’re in,” Jax said steadily, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, we’re in,” Dobbs agreed. He smirked in a suspiciously smug way. It took me a moment to realize why. They’d just made a bet that would get them out of paying for the kitchen if they won. And if they lost? They’d already been going to pay for the kitchen anyway.

I bit back a groan. So far, Poins 1, ALA 0. But I couldn’t humiliate my bros in front of the crowd by saying that.

“Cool. We’ll let you know who we’ve picked for your team tomorrow,” Jax sneered.

“Ditto,” Rand growled.

The SMTs turned and started to walk away. Weirdly, Dobbs gave me another glance, and I shivered, which was fucking stupid. Meanwhile, people in the crowd were placing side bets. Great. Not only did we have to put up with two nerds on our flag-football team, now the whole school would be watching. I kept hold of Tray and started walking toward the student union that housed a cheap restaurant/cafeteria where I took most of my meals that weren’t served at the frat house. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

He pulled back. “Not there, man. They make garbage and call it gourmet. Let me take you to Randy’s.” Randy’s was Tray’s favorite place since it served up a lot of healthy comfort food that attracted the ladies, which in turn attracted Tray.

“Can’t. I’ve got a class in forty-five. You go. I’ll catch you later at the frat meeting.”

“You sure? They serve fast. You’d only be a little late.”

“Ha. Even you can’t pitch lurve to a new female in half an hour and eat too. No, go have fun. I need to study anyway.”

He shook his head in long-suffering friendship but flashed his white teeth. “I’ve been known to break records for drive-by charm.”

I snorted, waved a hand, turned, and jogged toward the student union. Tray hadn’t lied. The food was craptastic, but I could afford it on the small living stipend my scholarship provided. If I wanted more spending money, I needed to get a job, and even though football was over for a few months, my