Page 25 of The Bro-code

I’m not. I don’t see the point in waking up every five minutes with the knowledge that the alarm will go off again soon. I’d rather set the alarm for the last possible second and then just get the fuck out of bed.

What I hadn’t realized is that the bunny I took home last night was a heavy snooze hitter. And after a night spent mostly doing a variety of fun activities that had very little to do with sleep, my tired brain didn’t register that the annoying sound that kept creeping into my dreams was my alarm.

“Fuck,” I sit up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Please tell me it’s not six-thirty?”

Ashley—that’s the name of the snooze hitting bunny—wraps one arm around my waist, trying to drag me back down. “Six what? Why in the world would you set the alarm for six-thirty? It’s practically the middle of the night.”

I groan, struggling to get out of her vice-like grip. I swear this girl must have been a boa constrictor in a previous life. “I didn’t set the alarm for six-thirty, I set it for six.”

“Why?” she wails, hiding her face into my hip.

“Because I have practice at seven, that’s why. The first official practice of the year and I’m gonna be late thanks to you. Coach Harrison hates tardiness.”

I manage to slip out of bed when she sits up too. “Don’t be mean, Jagger. I wasn’t the one who kept us up all night because he’s insatiable,” she glares at me. “The least you could do is let me get my beauty sleep.”

Oh, man.

I don’t have time for this. This is why I make a point of not hooking up with the same bunny more than once. I make it crystal clear that all that’s on offer is a good time. I don’t do relationships and keeping a revolving door to my bedroom is a foolproof way to ensure that girls don’t get too attached.

Ashley was so much fun last spring after the Frozen Four final, that when I saw her at the bar on campus last night, I thought why the fuck not. That’s exactly why. Now she thinks she can dictate things like my alarm.

“I don’t mind you getting your sleep doll,” I argue, struggling to keep the annoyance out of my voice as I hop around the room on one foot trying to put my pants on and find my shoes at the same time. “What I mind is you messing with my alarm. Thanks to your lack of consideration for my schedule, I have to run and I might still be late.”

“What?” her scowl deepens. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re not taking me out for breakfast?”

Case in point. I never take hookups out for breakfast—or cook them breakfast—and it usually never occurs to any of them to complain.

It took hooking up with her a second time to give her ideas. “Oh come on, Ashley,” I sigh, grabbing my wallet and keys and already on my way to the door. “Last night’s menu offered unlimited orgasms, that’s it. No one said anything about breakfast. Usually I’d escort you downstairs and out, but you aren’t presentable yet and I really have to go.”

She gets out of bed, her eyes narrowed into two furious slits. “What did you just call me?” she hisses.

I lose focus for a second, my eyes zeroing in on the way her tits bounce as she stalks toward me. “Can we not do this?” I sigh. “Ash, I really have to go?—”

I avoid the textbook headed toward my head thanks to my quick reaction.

“My name isn’t Ashley!” she bellows. “Candace! I’m Candace!”

Oh, fuck.

“I’m sorry, doll. I’m barely even awake, I didn’t mean?—”

“Look I didn’t expect a marriage proposal or anything, but after hooking up three times, the least you could do is remember my name.”

Maybe I should keep apologizing, but a question tumbles out of my mouth before I can think better of it. “What do you mean three times? We hooked up after Frozen Four and we’re here now, I don’t remember?—”

“Jagger Connelly,” Ashley, no sorry Candace scowls. “Am I so forgettable that not only did you forget my name, but you can’t remember the first time we hooked up?”

Jesus Fuck. She sounds like my mom and now that the thought has entered my mind, I wish she weren’t buck naked.

“Hmm, sorry?” I offer, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Unbelievable!” Candace seethes. “You don’t remember playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with me at last year’s first party of the season? You took me home after that too.”

Nope. For the life of me, I can’t remember.

“Sorry, I was drunk?” I offer.

That was the wrong thing to say, because Candace looks the opposite of appeased.

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