Page 69 of The Bro-code

I’m about to walk away, when it becomes apparent that Jagger hasn’t done whatever was expected of him to propitiate good luck on game day.

An argument begins and I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

Jagger sneaks a girl in the locker room before every home game and gets a blowjob? A good luck bj, apparently.

I clench my fingers around my water bottle to the point that my knuckles turn white without even realizing I’m doing it. My heart is beating hard and fast, my pulse so loud in my ears that for a second I can’t hear whatever is being said in the living room.

I’m kinda pissed and disappointed. I recognize the intense emotions that’s making me almost dizzy as jealousy and that’s a problem. I have no right to be jealous of Jagger. Sure we shared a hot kiss, the hottest kiss of my entire life, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re little more than acquaintances.

I don’t know how long I stand there in total turmoil, trying to gain control of my irrational emotions.

When the meeting comes to a conclusion and Jagger gets marching orders to get blown before the next game or else, I finally snap out of my trance and run back upstairs. I don’t stop until I’m safely back in my room.

I slowly breathe in and out to calm my erratic heartbeat. What the guys do is none of my business. I don’t have time or energy to dedicate to their crazy antics. I have a degree to finish, a social media empire to keep up with and a resolution to stick to.

No emotional entanglements, no distractions and most of all, no more hockey players.

I sit at my desk and open my laptop, repeating my resolutions to myself over and over, like a mantra.

Forget about Jagger and the guys and focus on your studies.

There’s no way in hell I can concentrate on my Advanced Organic Chemistry homework.

I’ve been reading the same line for over an hour and I still don’t know what it says. I need this done to be ready for my lab class on Monday, but I know when I need to call it quits. I can’t concentrate because all I can think about is Jagger.

More accurately, Jagger getting a blowjob before next game. From someone else.

I cover my eyes with my hands, groaning in frustration. I say someone else as if what Jagger does with his dick and whose mouth he puts it in had anything to do with me.

Fuck.

This is crazy. I stand up from my chair and I’m pacing between my desk and my bed like a woman obsessed.

The truth is… I want to do it.

Not just because I don’t want someone else to do it, even though that’s definitely part of the reason. I want to kiss Jagger again, everywhere.

I’ve been thinking about him and that kiss constantly, it’s been literally keeping me up at night. I burned out my vibrator because despite the fact that just the thought of Jagger and his lips turns me on beyond belief, when push comes to shove, the big O is still out of reach.

Not for lack of trying though.

So maybe this is the solution. If I get close to him again, I’m sure I’ll snap out of this lust induced daze.

Maybe that kiss was a fluke. If I have to blow him to find out, I’m down, pun totally intended.

That’s it. Since the bunnies are on strike, I’ll offer to help him before tomorrow’s game. I’ll ask for something in return though. Another kiss.

The way I see it, it’s a win-win situation. I get Jagger out of my system, he gets his good luck ritual reinstated.

With my mind made up, I walk into the empty hallway and knock on Jagger’s door before I can chicken out.

JAGGER

Fuck.

Maybe I should go out to the bar on campus tonight, see if I can find a hookup willing to help me before tomorrow’s game.

I really don’t want to though.

---