Page 70 of The Bro-code

It doesn’t feel right when all I can think about is Bay Woods.

It doesn’t even make sense that I should feel this way. Not only do I owe nothing to Bay, I always make it crystal clear to my hookups that all that’s on offer is a good time and possibly multiple orgasms. I love to make women come and I have a natural talent for it.

Setting the boundaries from the start usually ensures that we both have a great time and there aren’t any hurt feelings when everything is said and done. Unless your name is Candace, apparently.

That’s also why I tend to keep every hookup as a one and done, so there’s no chance of misunderstanding.

What happened with Candace is proof that repeat performances are dangerous.

I get up from my desk, studying isn’t gonna happen today. After the way our team meeting ended earlier, I know that how I feel doesn’t matter.

If the bunnies aren’t gonna budge, I need to find someone to step in and help me end this horrid losing streak.

Maybe kissing someone else, having someone else suck me off, will help me get rid of this unhealthy obsession with Bay Woods.

I nod to myself, faking a resolve I don’t feel.

There’s a knock on the door.

I roll my eyes as I walk away from my desk. If it’s one of my teammates, bitching about how I let them down, I swear to God?—

“Bay,” I blink a couple of times in rapid succession to make sure the Zeta president is really standing outside my door and that my stupid imagination hasn’t turned into full blown hallucinations.

“I’ll do it.”

That’s all she says, nodding her blonde head.

I must look like a total moron, standing there, with my mouth open like a fish out of water. I blink again, confused.

Maybe this is a full sensory hallucination and I’m only imagining Bay outside my door.

“I’ll do it,” she repeats. “The blowjob. I’m going to blow you before tomorrow’s game to help you end your losing streak.”

“Come again?” I ask, because… Fuck.

She repeats what she just said. I guess I heard her right the first time.

“Why?” I ask.

Because this doesn’t make sense.

“Why not?”

Faint voices waft in from downstairs and I grab Bay’s hand. “Come on in and let’s talk about this.” I pull her into my room, closing the door behind us.

Whatever is going on, I don’t think we need an audience for this conversation.

I look at Bay. She looks different than her usual highly polished, extremely well put together trademark look.

Not that she looks worse than usual, just different, more natural I guess.

Her long blonde hair is tumbling down her back in soft waves rather than her usual, sleek, high ponytail.

Like the other day, she’s wearing little to no makeup, her petite, toned body clad in a gauzy pale pink sundress that bares her shoulders and shows off her cleavage.

I’ve always found her designer clothes and her fashionable style attractive, but I think I prefer this version of her. She looks younger like this and that hair looks so soft that I have to clench my fists to resist the urge of running my fingers through it.

We look at each other for a long moment and I think I must be crazy to question her motives.

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