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Once inside, the events of the night catch up to me. I trudge back to my room, stripping down to my boxers and collapsing down onto my bed. From start to finish, tonight was a total shitshow. The only highlight was feeling Abby Jane’s plump ass brushing against my dick.Fuuuuck.In a flash, visions of her hot little body come rushing back.

I sink farther into my mattress, and like an ESPN slow-mo replay, I savor the memory of us dancing. Dragging my right hand down my abs, slipping it beneath the band of my boxers, I imagine us no longer on the dance floor, surrounded by other people, but in my bed, with her pink hair fanned out on my black fifteen-hundred thread count sheets as I rock into her hot, tight…NO! Stop.I will not jerk it to thoughts of fucking Abby Jane.

Pissed and horny, I jump up from my bed and stalk into my bathroom, cranking the shower as cold as it’ll go. Stepping beneath the icy spray, I lather up my body wash, scrubbing away all thoughts of her and this backassward night.

Four dayslater and I’m still pissed about the Friday before. Somehow, she’s managed to weasel her way under my skin. Then again, I’ve always had a soft spot for Abby Jane. Even after we drifted apart and she turned into some emo-goth freak, I never let the guys make fun of her. There’s just something about her, and while I haven’t thought about her much since we graduated high school, suddenly she’s the only thing on my mind.

I’m like an addict. Over the weekend, I crept on her social media—even her fucking Pinterest account. I may as well turn in my man card, becauseJesus.

Naturally, West caught me cyberstalking her fine ass, and he has no plans of letting me live it down anytime soon.

“Still hot for tutor?” he asks, slathering his bagel with cream cheese at the kitchen island.

“Fuck off,” I mutter, moving around him to pour myself a cup of coffee.

“No can do, cuz. Never thought I’d see the day where Abby Jane had you wrapped around her little finger again.”

“I’m not wrapped around shit.”

“Maybe not, but I bet you wouldn’t object to her luscious lips wrapped around your cock.”

For some reason unknown to me, his words piss me off. I slam my mug down onto the counter, some of the steaming liquid sloshing over the rim. Crowding his space, I push him into the countertop, knocking his breakfast to the floor.

“What the fuck?” he bellows.

“Talk about her like that again, and I swear to God…”

“You’ll what?” he sneers, getting right back up into my face. “Jesus, Brock. Do you even hear yourself? Do you hear how riled up you are over her?”

Feeling annoyed—though whether at his observation or my actual feelings, I’m unsure—I back up and mumble, “Not riled up.”

“Whatever you gotta tell yourself. Have fun at tutoring tonight. Be sure to practice safe education.” I reach out to smack him upside the head, but he skirts around me, snickering, leaving me to clean up his bagel from off the floor.

While I don’t have actual classes on Tuesdays, I do have weight training for an hour in the morning—yes, golfers lift too—and I typically play thirty-six holes of golf with a guy or two from the team after lunch.

Today I’m out with Hayes, a freshman on the team, and we’re on our second pass of the back nine when he pipes up. “So, last week I saw you at the library with some pink-haired girl covered in tatts.”

In no mood to talk about her, especially to them, I scrub a hand over my face. “Your point?”

“Just wondering if she’s single. She may not be the kind of girl you bring home to Mom, but she’s damn sure the kind you want in the sheets.”

Carefully, calmly, and quietly, I stow my driver back into my golf bag before pivoting to face him. With an eagle eye, I appraise him, taking stock. Scrawny, ginger, and barely five-ten, with his thin lips stretched into a pervy leer…I find him lacking, just like any self-respecting woman—especially Abby Jane—would. He lifts his fist to me, like I’m gonna bump it in support. Kid’s got another thing coming.

“Talk about her—or any woman—like that in front of me again, and I swear to God, I’ll tee my ball up on your dick.” Seemingly, my threat has stunned Hayes into silence, and I useit to my advantage, hopping into the golf cart and leaving his ass to walk back.

Back at the clubhouse, I have just enough time to get showered and changed before heading to meet Abby Jane at the library. Just like last week, we pull up almost at the same time, and before I can even get down from my truck, she’s glaring at me like she’d like to cut my nuts off and feed them to me.

CHAPTER 7

AJ

I thoughtI was over the events of Friday night, but seeing Brock now, I know I’m not. In fact, I’m fuming. In addition to being a cock-blocking little weasel, he’s also just like our parents—full of double standards and judging others like his shit doesn’t stink.

We meet at the front of his truck, and he sighs. “You still mad?”

“Damn right I am.” Without waiting for a reply, I march up the steps toward the huge oak door.

“Let it go, Abby Jane,” he calls after me, and I spin to face him.