The Jock: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (North Woods University Book 6) Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by Beck & Hallman LLC

  Edited by Kelly Allenby

  Cover by Black Widow Designs

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Blurb

  1. Blair

  2. Cage

  3. Blair

  4. Cage

  5. Blair

  6. Cage

  7. Blair

  8. Cage

  9. Blair

  10. Cage

  11. Blair

  12. Cage

  13. Blair

  14. Cage

  15. Blair

  16. Cage

  17. Blair

  18. Cage

  19. Blair

  20. Cage

  21. Blair

  22. Cage

  23. Blair

  24. Cage

  Epilogue

  Bonus Epilogue

  Hating You Sneak Peak

  Also by the Authors

  About the Authors

  Blurb

  All it took was one frat party for me to notice her. Blair Jensen. Gorgeous nerd with a sharp tongue and give-no-shits attitude. The moment she sneered jock at me, I was captivated.

  Then she poured a beer over my head and walked away like I was nothing. Nobody turned down Cage Wilder, nobody.

  She bruised my ego and embarrassed me in front of my football buddies, turning me into the laughing stock of the team, so I made a bet with them.

  At the time, I didn’t know how much I would regret that bet. Now the only question is, can I fix what I broke?

  1

  Blair

  This is not my scene. I repeat to myself three times as I walk down the sidewalk and toward the row of houses Arabella told me to meet her at. She said it was a small gathering, intimate. I should’ve known better. It was a house party she’d invited me to, at the football frat house to be exact. Every part of me wanted to turn around and run back to my dorm, but then I heard my mother’s nagging voice at the back of my mind.

  “This is your one chance to make friends, to explore. Take chances, sweetheart.”

  So here I am, taking chances.

  The fall air had a chill to it that I could feel in my bones as I forced my legs to move. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I will the cold away and trudge forward. I’m only wearing a thin sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants. I don’t dress up.

  Now I kind of wish I had. Music blares from four houses down, and I can hear the heavy thump of it from where I’m standing and see people spilling out onto the road. The house is like an overfilled bag bursting at the seams.

  As I stare at the crowd ahead, their bodies getting closer, I mentally run through my options. I could turn around, walk back to the dorm and tell Arabella I was sick, or I could walk into that frat house, smile, drink, socialize a bit, and then leave. There is no harm in dipping in and out. I don’t have to stay long.

  Stopping for a moment, I let myself weigh both options fully. As badly as I don’t want to go into this party, I know I have to. I desperately need to make friends.

  I have Jude, yes, but she has a boyfriend and a baby. My other best friend, Mia, is at Blackthorn Elite, forced to attend the prestigious school because of her rich father.

  All there is here at North Woods is me, and Jude, my old roommate, now married to the man of her dreams.

  So when Arabella who is somewhat popular, invited me to come, I said yes.

  Gritting my teeth, I decide to go through with showing up and continue walking down the sidewalk. The sound of laughter and talking meets my ears as I grow closer to the crowd of people. They’re all holding red cups and smiling, looking as if they’re having a great time. If you can call getting trashed and waking up with a hangover fun, I guess.

  No one looks at me or says anything as I skirt by them. This is definitely not a small gathering. Smoke permeates the air, and I choke back a cough as I walk up the steps of the two-story house.

  Stepping onto the porch, I’m met with stares from three guys who I’ve never seen before. They look older, too old to be in college, that’s for sure, and the way their eyes move over me, makes me shiver.

  Ignoring them, I walk into the house and stop dead in my tracks just over the threshold. There’s a ping pong table in the center of what used to be a dining room, the infamous beer pong game taking place, with a group of guys and girls huddled around it. In the living room, all the furniture has been pushed back to the walls, to make space for a makeshift dance floor. There are small clusters of people everywhere, and two girls making out on the couch.

  Frozen in place, I’m not even sure where to go next.

  Run, Blair. Run out the door.

  For someone as smart as me, you would think it would be easy to navigate a party, but there’s a major difference between being book smart and knowing how to be social. I’d rather be reading a book, interacting with fictional characters than talking to real people. That’s just how I am. Plus, fictional characters don’t judge you or make you feel like complete shit.

  Like a ghost, I move deeper into the house. My eyes dart over each person’s face as I search for Arabella or anyone that I might know while still trying to act as if I’m not completely out of my element. I smile, but it is forced and probably comes across like a shark showing its teeth, I can’t imagine how I look.

  Most of the girls I see at this party are in skirts, or tight jeans with crop tops, that show their bellies and hips. Their makeup is on point, their hair curled, each strand in its place, and I’m over here, looking like a homeless person. Yeah, I should’ve stayed home. I don’t belong here.

  Just as I pass into the kitchen, I see a keg with three huge guys tending to it. They’re huge, muscled, and obviously athletes, their arms alone are as big as my thighs. Looking away and to the counter, I see liquor bottles everywhere.

  There is a liquor for every drink you could possibly conjure up, I’m sure. Two guys rush past me, almost running into me and out the French doors, leading into the back yard. A football whiz’s past my head, and one of them catches it, giving me a wink.

  I shake my head because I’ve seen that face before.

  It’s plastered on every North Woods University football flyer.

  It’s spoken in whispers and moaned by more women at this school than I care to know.

  Cage Wilder. The infamous playboy and football god. A total and complete jock through and through. Guys like him are all about using their good looks, charm, and the fact that they can run and catch a ball to their advantage.

  Men like Cage remind me of every man my mom has ever been with. Selfish and too focus on themselves to care about anyone else.

  Jesus. I need to stop being so judgmental. Guilt festers in my gut. I feel like an asshole now, even if what I’m thinking is true. I’m just about to turn around and leave when a brunette in a denim skirt and belly shirt runs into me. Her eyes are painted with silver glitter and bloodshot. Her lips are red, and when they pull up into a half-smile, she flashes me white teeth.

  “Can you hold this for me?” she slurs, shoving her red glass into my hand. I blink, taking it without even thinking. I mean, it’s either take it or let it fall to the floor, and that would be kind of rude.

  She walks past me on unsteady feet, and I shake my head as she disappears, walking
into the living room.

  “Okay then,” I say under my breath.

  Turning back around, I see a head of auburn hair bobbing through the throng of people outside. There’s only dim lighting out there, so it’s hard to make out if that’s Arabella or someone else, but it’s the first sight of someone that looks like her that I’ve had all night. Rushing out the patio doors, I look out onto the lawn. The cold air kisses my cheeks, and I shiver. There are more people in the backyard than there were in the house. A few of them look toward me with curious expressions, while others don’t even blink at my presence.

  The drink the chick gave me earlier is still in my hand, so I use my free one to tug out my cell phone. I type out another text to Arabella, even though she hasn’t answered my last two, and hit send. Looking up from my phone, I find the guys that were tossing the football standing in a small circle a few feet away.

  All three of them are staring at me, each perfect in their own football frat kind of way, but it’s the one with midnight black hair and piercing green eyes that gets my heart racing. My brain tells my body not to react to this man’s presence, but my heart still thunders inside my chest.

  Cage isn’t just gorgeous, he’s perfect. His body looks as if it’s been chiseled from stone, his jawline looks sharp enough to cut stone, and the only imperfection is his nose, which has a slight crook. He looks like he should be gracing the cover of GQ magazine, not playing football at NWU.

  It’s obvious he’s an athlete. Tall, huge, with a frame that could fill up a room. His muscles are toned, his biceps bulge beneath his shirt. He doesn’t wear anything special: a pair of jeans and a long sleeve dark blue Henley.

  He’s nothing special, gorgeous, yes, but nothing worth giving up the world for, and still, to most girls, he’s considered a god. To me, he’s nothing but a jock.

  Cage’s eyes pierce mine, seeking me out, testing the waters. I grit my teeth and shove my phone back into my pocket, ignoring him altogether. Ignoring the racing of my heart in my chest as well.

  Giving his friends a smirk, he walks over to me, walks isn’t the correct word. More like saunters. He oozes confidence and shows off his dazzling smile, which I’m sure makes all the girls lose their minds. Not this one.

  “You look a little lost.” He chuckles. His voice is deep and has a timber that could easily mesmerize you if you sat and listened to it long enough.

  “I’m fine,” I mutter and adjust my glasses on my face. He moves closer, leaving only a few feet of distance between us.

  “Are you looking for someone?” A cocky grin pulls at his firm lips.

  I breathe deeply through my nose and will my heart to stop beating so wildly. It doesn’t help, though, because air isn’t the only thing that fills my nostrils. His manly, heady scent follows too. Jesus Christ, he smells like spice and cinnamon. Like a rich liquor that you know will leave you feeling warm all over.

  “I was looking for my friend, but it’s obvious she isn’t here.” I shrug and take a step back to put some space between us.

  “Hey, you don’t have to leave, you can make other friends. I’ll be your friend.” He winks, just like he did earlier, and a sourness fills my gut. He doesn’t want to be my friend, he wants to get into my panties, and no matter what he says, there is a difference.

  “I know your type, and I’m not it. I’m not easy, and I don’t sleep with jocks.” I sneer the last word and wrinkle my nose in disgust at him. I want to drive the point home, and I don’t care if it makes me look like a bitch.

  Cage raises a dark brow. “You don’t sleep with jocks?” He chuckles softly, his eyes flick over my body with disapproval, and suddenly, I feel self-conscious. Only this asshole could possibly make a girl feel and think less of herself. “You don’t look like you sleep with anyone. In fact, I’ll bet you’re a virgin. A nerdy virgin at that.”

  “You’re wrong.” I curl my lip, rage bustling through me.

  He leans into my face, his minty breath fluttering against my red hot cheeks. “Right. ’Cause if you had been fucked before, you wouldn’t be so uptight right now, and you would definitely sleep with me. Admit it. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Squeezing my hand, I hear the sound of plastic crunching and realize I’m still holding the red solo cup full of beer. I don’t even think, I simply react. If I acted as smart as I am, I would’ve realized that starting something with Cage Wilder wasn’t a good idea. He was popular, a god among mere mortals, but in my eyes, he was just another asshole trying to get laid.

  Lifting the cup, I tip its contents right over his head, watching as the frothy beer coats his dark hair and drips down onto his shirt.

  Those dark eyes of his fill with shock, then anger, and his hands, which were relaxed at his sides just a moment ago, clench into tight fists. Maybe I should be afraid, but I’m not. I’m not afraid because Cage has everything to lose if he were to react.

  “You aren’t right, but even if you were, even if you were my last and final option of a man to screw, I would never pick you, Cage Wilder,” I growl and toss the cup to the ground.

  “You’ll regret this,” he sneers, his voice is rough, gravely, and I don’t doubt I will. I’ll be the talk of the school once this gets out, but at least I stuck up for myself. At least I put him in his place.

  Behind him, his friends burst into a fit of laughter that carries across the space and into my ears.

  You’ve been iced.

  Shit, Wilder got a beer poured on his head.

  They snicker, and I can feel others looking at us, their eyes burning into my skin.

  “We’ll see about that,” I say as I turn and walk back into the house.

  I don’t look over my shoulder. I don’t stay anything or talk to anyone else.

  I leave the party and walk back to my dorm, feeling alone, but righteous.

  Cage might be the world to other girls, but he’s nothing to me.

  Cage

  Slamming the gym locker closed, I grab my duffel bag from the floor. The last two weeks have been tortuous, conditioning day and night. Practicing. The constant pressure my father puts on me. It’s a miracle I don’t have gray hair and wrinkles. I spear my fingers through my dark hair, shoving the sweaty strands back.

  My best friend, Murphy, struts toward me, a towel slung around his tapered waist.

  “Any luck snagging the chick with the cold heart from that party we went to two weeks ago?” he asks, stopping me in my tracks.

  Blair Jenkins. Even thinking her name gets me in a bad mood. I still can’t believe she poured a beer over my head. The audacity. I’m pretty sure it had everything to do with the fact that I called her out on being a virgin. A nerdy virgin. Okay, maybe it was an asshole thing to say, but she was being a bitch when she said she didn’t sleep with jocks. As if I would miss the scoff at the end of her sentence. Even though she was technically my enemy now, she was all I could think about. Pushing back her layers, dipping inside her to see if my assumptions were correct. She looks nothing like my usual catch, but change was good sometimes.

  “I don’t know if I want to anymore.” I had more important things going on. I needed to focus on my plays and my academics, plus, I had chicks readily available to fuck, and ones that I didn’t have to work for like I knew I would have to do with Blair. Pussy like hers would come with a price, and I wasn’t about to pay up.

  “Too big of a challenge?”

  I scoff. “Nothing is too big of a challenge for me. I could definitely melt her icy heart if I wanted to–”

  “Wilder!” Coach’s gray-haired head pops out the window of his office. His eyebrows are downturned, telling me everything I need to know. “I need to see you in my office before you head out.”

  Oh, great.

  “Sure thing.” I nod, turning to Murphy, who is smiling like a smug fucker, I say, “We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Yeah, you’re not off the hook yet. Go see what the Coach wants. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Swinging my
duffel bag over my shoulder, I walk into Coach’s office with a bad feeling in my gut. I’m not sure what he wants to talk to me about, but something tells me it’s not going to be good. Getting called into his office is never a good thing, everyone on the team knows it.

  “Wilder, close the door and sit your ass down,” he growls, pushing his glasses up onto his face. Yup, definitely not good.

  “What’s up, Coach?” I sink down into the seat in front of his desk.

  He grabs a piece of paper off his desk and tosses it at me. I don’t move to grab it, knowing he’s going to explain whatever is on it.

  “Your grades are shit, that’s what’s up. You know I can’t let you play if you are failing classes. Academics always come before sports, Cage. You need to get your shit together before I’m forced to bench your ass, and we both know you’re better on the field than on the bench.”

  I suck a sharp breath into my lungs and nod my head shamefully. It’s even worse than I thought. Not only do I suck at school, now football is at stake. I knew I was struggling, but I didn’t think I was doing so badly that I was putting my football career at risk. Fuck me. My father will kill me. Literally, kill me if he finds out.

  “I’ll do better.”

  “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions, his head tilted to the side, disbelief reflecting in his dark gaze. “You have a plan, do ya?”

  I smirk. “No, but something tells me you do–”

  “Damn right, I do. See, you’re not dumb, Wilder, you just need a little push in the right direction. I set you up with a tutor. Best on campus. Got a 4.0 average. I’m not saying that’s where you need to be at, but please, just make a passing grade. I need you on the team, boy.”