How (Not) To Date A Jock

EMILY

Why was she here?

The fraternity house was crammed past its limit, yet they kept shoving new people inside, squishing them like sardines. The music’s volume had reached a deafening level, and everything she touched was sticky or wet; she was not sure which one she preferred.

Alcohol was flowing left and right, red cups were being passed around like candies, and people were getting louder as they drank more. Nobody was paying attention to where they were going and simply bumped into each other, elbows digging into ribs and hands slapping everywhere.

This was not her scene.

She made a point to avoid parties, and she had managed to stick to it this long. She had her schooling that required all of her attention, and this was not a distraction that she needed or even enjoyed.

The humidity of the summer caused the air itself to stick to her skin on top of everyone’s layer of sweat.

“Emily,” warned Tracy as she glared at her friend. “Please try to have some fun.”

The day before college.

That was when Emily’s boyfriend decided to end their relationship. That led to Emily living a very sheltered life during her first semester, forgoing all of the experiences one should have when they move on to college.

Apparently, Tracy was done waiting for her to get over it, as she would so lovingly put it. Monday would mark the beginning of their second semester, and Tracy said she refused to let her best friend waste away for another moment because, according to her, Emily saying she disliked parties wasn’t a valid reason since she had never been to one.

But she didn’t need to go to know. She ~knew~ she didn’t like them. She was more of the ~introvert~ type.

“It might be fun.”

She doubted that. “Tracy, can’t we just go back to the dorm?”

“Emily, if I see you sit on that damn blue chair one more time, I will lose it.”

“But—”

“Two hours.”

“What?”

“If after two hours you’re still this desperate to go, we’ll leave.” Emily was about to speak, but Tracy stopped her by raising her hand to silence her. “But you have to try. Really try.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Fine.” The only reason she was even agreeing to this was Tracy. Her friend had been there for her through highs and lows, and well—she probably owed her that much.

Victory flowing through her blood, Tracy displayed a large smile. She turned around until she spotted the table she was looking for: the alcohol. She grabbed two red cups and handed one to Emily while keeping the other for herself.

“Drink up.”

“Tracy,” she protested.

“Ah-ah-ah!” she warned with a judgy finger pointed at Emily. “You said you would.”

“Need I remind you I failed my physical and ~drinking~ isn’t going to help me?”

As luck would have it, her kinesiology program required her to pass a physical aptitude test. Emily failed the running part. Why was this necessary? Why did they have to torture her?

So, she had until the end of the semester. Make-or-break.

“Seriously? Chips and staying in your bed is awesome for your health, but the drink is the deal breaker? Come on. You can’t use Cole or school to get out of things.”

Emily sighed as she stared at the weirdly pinkish liquid swirling inside her plastic cup. The last months had left a bitter taste in her mouth—the breakup, the start of school, the broken dreams.

They were supposed to get an apartment together, near the school, and then suddenly, Emily had found herself with nowhere to go. Tracy had luckily gotten a room alone on campus and offered to share with her, saving her butt.

Cole had been her first and only boyfriend. Everyone had always gone on and on about how ~they~ were supposed to go the distance… Then he blindsided her and dumped her.

She had seen him once or twice since, but—he was ~fine~. And she struggled to be normal in his presence after they spent five years together only for it to end like that.

Part of her thought, maybe if she gave him space, maybe if she let him be, they would find their way back to each other. So, Emily used that mindset to avoid the dating scene altogether.

Yes, she was a coward.

The moment Tracy had said the word frat, she had said no. Fortunately, it was not Cole’s frat, and she hoped that meant he would be nowhere to be seen. Wasn’t there supposed to be rivalry between fraternities?

She hoped so.

“One sip.”

And one it was.

She brought the rim to her lips, the taste already disgusting her, but she did not stop. She allowed the liquid to burn her throat as it made its way down, and she grimaced the whole time.

One down.

A gazillion to go.

“It’ll be fun.”

That remained to be proven.

Minutes turned into nearly two hours, and despite the loud music, Tracy’s fruitless attempts, and the drinks… Emily’s level of fun had not risen any higher. Her head had gotten a lot woozier, but except for that, she was not feeling at ease.

No, instead she found herself angry. It was not as though she was attempting to be a lurker in the corner, but…this whole party made her realize that all she had was Tracy. She did not know anyone—she had never been to one of these parties before.

People shouted words, played games, greeted each other—and she was not part of it. Her first semester had involved her locking herself away in her room. Even Tracy knew half the people present, and she was not even a party girl.

Everybody had been busy making a life for themselves and socializing, and she had been…alone.

At this point, she could not tell the difference between her regret and the bitterness that came with the amount of alcohol she drank.

She felt bad.

To top it off?

Now she had lost Tracy.

It had taken Emily nearly twenty minutes simply to locate a bathroom, and during that time, her friend had slipped away from her. The quicker she found her, the faster they would be out of there.

If Tracy wanted to remain, she would not argue, but she had to get out of there. She was uncomfortable, out of her element, and—and she felt like a moron.

And yes, Tracy had been right about these parties.

She could see the appeal; she honestly could.

But that only worked for someone who had many friends and a social life.

It did not apply to her.

Yes, it was 100 percent her fault. But, really, she didn’t know how people did it. She didn’t have the ~thing~ that allowed her to approach people with ease. Was that ~her~ fault?

Maybe.

Her eyes darted into the room, trying to locate her best friend, searching every head for a dark-haired ponytail and a shiny white skirt. Unfortunately for her, she found a different kind of shiny.

Red hair. Her heart stopped beating, time froze, and while her throat clammed up, her toes curled. Her gaze darted as she clutched her hand; it was him. Everything around her stopped moving except for the image of him walking in—with someone.

Someone that was not her.

His hand was wrapped around a girl’s fingers, the red fingernails sticking out. She had porcelain skin, perfect long blond hair framing her face, and piercing brown eyes.

He had a girlfriend. But—he had not been ready. He wanted to live his life freely, see the world—

He did not want her.

It was not about the world. It was not about finding himself and knowing what college was all about.

All that was a load of crap.

It was about ~her~.

Her heart dropped to her stomach while her mouth slacked. Her eyes were void of any emotions as she found herself voiceless, not even able to form tears. She needed to get out of there.

She did not care how, she only knew she needed to flee the scene before she was found out. She began walking backward, her back hitting different people. He was staying by the door; she could not make her escape.

He would see her, and if he saw her, she would die. She was a hunted deer trapped with no escape. She could run away. No, she could not. If she ran, she would attract his attention, and he might…he might say her name, he might chase her down…and she could not.

Not right now.

She watched as he turned his head—and she panicked.

“Yo, Cole.”

Oh for— he was coming her way. Many ideas flashed through her mind, but none of them would work.

“Hey, watch it.”

She reacted to the voice since this time the comment was directed at her. She was unable to see the speaker’s face but took notice of his brown hair as he looked away from her and resumed his conversation with his friends, the incident now past him.

He was near a wall.

A wall could work.

Walls were good for hiding.

Hiding—she could hide.

Her brain was struggling to form a full idea, the alcohol slowing her down. She was scattered, only focusing on the present moment and trying to figure out a way out of this impossible situation.

Anything was better than facing Cole. Emily did not think twice about it as she grabbed the guy’s arm and tugged him in her direction.

“What—”

“I’m really sorry,” she slurred out. Wow, what happened to her speech? “I just—my ex is here. And I can’t. I—help me.” She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes.

The alcohol affected her brain, and she could not make a clearer sentence than this. She hoped it would be enough.

It was all the warning he received before she grabbed the hem of his blue T-shirt and crashed her lips onto his. At first, he felt tense against her body, and her small hands kept the cotton fabric tightly held as though to prevent him from fleeing.

After a beat, she felt him relax, which helped her do the same. It was insane; she was insane. His large hands found her hips, and he gripped her firmly before she felt the wall against her back. He backed them into the corner, his tall frame towering over her as he took control of the kiss.

His lips moved smoothly against hers, washing away the taste of alcohol from her mouth. Warmth radiated from him, increasing the feeling of buzz she experienced from the alcohol.

It felt like he was crushing her with his much larger body as his tongue wrapped around hers.

Her cheeks turned red, her body became like lava, and she found herself leaning her head back as his hands moved upward, squeezing her hips. Dizzy. That was the word.

For a moment, it all stopped: the party, the incoming doom.

The kiss lasted a few more moments until finally, she felt him pull away from her, leaving her lips glistening and swollen. Her eyes were half-lidded as she tried to make out his face, taking notice of his blue eyes.

As she did so, she saw the blond hair far behind his head. He had gone past her—and he had not noticed her. The sight of Cole walking away gave her a cold return to reality.

“Thanks.”

It was all she had time to say before she dashed away from his view. She bumped into a few people—and objects—on her way out, but she made it. Tracy be damned, she would text her.

Never again.

As she walked away from the front door, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand—they were still moist from previous ministrations.

She had kissed a stranger.

Scratch that.

She had kissed someone for the first time since Cole.