Page 60 of Fighting Jacob

My shrug sparks his agitation more than soothing it.

“I know a lot more than you think I do.” He smacks me over the head with his newspaper another two times before spinning on his heels and exiting my room even faster than he entered it. “Get dressed so you can move your now piece of shit car out of my driveway!”

I stand frozen in place, staring at my doorway in shock. I had no clue he knew Noah and I participated in drag races years ago. Well, Noah didn’t compete; he just sat in the passenger seat while I did.

I mosey to my drawers to grab a pair of boxer shorts when Noah snickers, “Is it safe to come in?”

“Yep.”

He makes it two steps into my room before his hands shoot up to cover his eyes. “Fuckin’ hell, Jacob! I asked if it was safe.”

Loving his mortified tone, I swivel my hips in a circular motion. “Helicopter, helicopter, helicopter.”

My cock stops swinging when Noah snags a football off my desk to peg it at my back. Air rustles between my lips when it smacks me in my right rib.

With my hands cupped around my mouth, I fake explosion noises. “Mayday, mayday, I’ve been hit.”

Noah tries to maintain his prissy attitude, but his broad grin gives away his true feelings. With my attitude not at its best the past six months, he’s loving the return of my playful personality... even if it arrives with my cock hanging out.

“What are you, five years old?”

When I nod, he shakes his head before bending down to pick up the football.

“If the singing gig doesn’t work out for you, you could take up football again. Your right hook is still as hard as fuck.” I strengthen my assurance by rubbing my aching ribs.

“Serves you right for swinging that thing around.” He doesn’t need to nudge his head at my crotch for me to understand his meaning.

After flashing him a cheeky grin, I put on my pants. Although Noah was quick to shut down my comment, I can see his mind ticking over. He tried out for quarterback when he was a junior. He was successful, but no amount of skill could force him to fall in love with a sport he wasn’t passionate about. Noah’s passion has, and always will be, music.

His placement on the team was fun while it lasted, though. During practice, when I was on the offensive line and Noah was the QB, I kept letting our opponents slip past me just to witness Noah getting slammed. It didn’t take him long to catch on to what I was doing. If you look hard enough, I swear I still have an imprint of a football on my back from when my ruse finally caught up with me.

Even though football wasn’t Noah’s thing, he played half a season, then Michael died, and he stopped coming to practice altogether. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him touch a football since that day.

After putting my football back in its rightful place, Noah sits on my bed. “Your dad is pissed.” He waits for me to nod before adding, “When did you tell him about us racing in our teen years?”

“I didn’t. I have no fucking clue how he knows.”

Noah eyes me curiously before notching his shoulder up. “Then I guess we better move your car before he returns to give us one of his famous lectures.”

I shadow his chuckling ass out of my room.

It fucking kills me, but after going over my car with a fine-toothed comb, we tow it to the local wreckers. A car once worth thousands of dollars pockets me only five hundred dollars for scrap metal. It will have me thinking twice about street racing from here on out.

Huh?! Who am I kidding? Where’s the fun in that?

On his way to rehearsal, Noah drops me off at Hank’s so I can squeeze in a workout. I put in a solid three hours before hitting the showers. As I switch off the faucet, I hear my phone ringing. I shuffle across the tiled floor, trying not to slip ass over tit to answer my call before it goes to voicemail.

Just as I dig my phone out of my gym bag, it stops ringing. “Fucking typical,” I murmur to myself.

As I dress, my phone dings, announcing I have a voicemail. Curious, I quickly throw on my shirt before seeing who it is.

“Hey, Jacob. It’s Casey... Are you free tonight? Call me.”

After lowering my phone from my ear, I stare at the screen, trying to figure out who the fuck Casey is. It’s not a common name, but for the life of me, I can’t recall her.

It takes me getting dressed, leaving Hank’s, and waiting for Noah to pick me up before recognition dawns. I met a Casey a few weeks ago at Mavericks. She was a Rise Up fan. If I remember correctly, she has perky tits and striking blue eyes. To start with, she seemed a little shy... until I offered her a ride home. Then it was like unleashing a tiger. We didn't slide past second base, but she was more than eager. It was only me removing the bat from her hand before she got close to home plate that stopped us. I probably wouldn't have if our hookup were occurring anywhere but in my car. That place was sacred to me. I don't know why. It's clear Lola moved on months ago, so why the fuck am I sanctifying any place we hooked up?

With my blood still hot with annoyance, I return Casey’s call. She answers on the very first ring, like she was waiting by the phone. “Hey, thanks for calling me back.”

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