The Fadeaway: A Smart Jocks Novel Read online

  The Fadeaway

  A Smart Jocks Novel

  Rebecca Jenshak

  Contents

  Also by Rebecca Jenshak

  1. Joel

  2. Joel

  3. Joel

  4. Katrina

  5. Katrina

  6. Katrina

  7. Joel

  8. Joel

  9. Katrina

  10. Joel

  11. Katrina

  12. Joel

  13. Katrina

  14. Joel

  15. Katrina

  16. Joel

  17. Joel

  18. Katrina

  19. Joel

  20. Joel

  21. Katrina

  22. Joel

  23. Katrina

  24. Joel

  25. Joel

  26. Katrina

  27. Joel

  28. Katrina

  29. Katrina

  30. Joel

  31. Katrina

  32. Katrina

  33. Katrina

  34. Katrina

  35. Joel

  36. Joel

  37. Katrina

  38. Joel

  39. Katrina

  40. Joel

  41. Joel

  Playlist

  Preview of Electric Blue Love

  Synopsis

  Prologue

  1. Bianca

  2. Court

  Also by Rebecca Jenshak

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Rebecca Jenshak

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without written permission from the author.

  Rebecca Jenshak

  www.rebeccajenshak.com

  Cover Design by Jena Brignola

  Editing by Ellie McLove at My Brother’s Editor

  Formatting by Mesquite Business Services

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9997820-8-8

  Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9997820-7-1

  Also by Rebecca Jenshak

  Smart Jocks

  The Assist

  Sweetbriar Lake

  Sweat

  Spar

  Stand-Alones

  Mister Cowboy

  Electric Blue Love

  For Michelle – Thank you!

  1

  Joel

  Four Months Ago

  I need caffeine.

  Typically, I run just fine on four hours of sleep, a slight hangover, and aching muscles but last night’s marathon fuck fest was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Or want to experience again. The chick wore a cat ear headband (in retrospect that should have been my first clue) and she actually meowed while I went down on her. Yeah, like a cat. My back and ass bear the marks from her long fingernails shaped like claws that completed the whole cat-like persona she had going on. And don’t get me wrong, it was sort of hot and kinky, but what the actual fuck? It’s like every girl is trying to outdo the last and sure I’m down for some kink, but what happened to good old-fashioned boning where the only thing that’s crossing my mind is how good it feels to be buried inside a warm, wet pussy?

  I push through University Hall to the small campus café. Blair is nowhere in sight. Bummer. I was hoping she’d throw in about twelve muffins. She’s hooking up with my teammate and roommate Wes and the perks of my buddy banging a girl who works at the café include free coffee and pastries. I can afford it, but that’s not the point.

  When I reach the counter, I still don’t see anyone.

  “Hello,” I call out.

  A blonde head pops up and I step back as cups and sugar packets go flying. My eyes catch on her name tag first. Katrina. Kat-rina. I wince and shudder at the memory of the catastrophe from last night – pun, totally intended. But as my gaze moves up, all memories of the chick last night, and every other girl for that matter, disappear.

  “Holy sh– crap.” She straightens and looks up. Long dirty blonde strands of hair fall in her face and she brushes it back with a hand as she meets my eyes. “What can I get for you?”

  Damn.

  Brown and blue eyes assault me. The left iris is totally blue, and the right nearly all brown with just a hint of blue in the middle dancing around the pupil. I stare at each one individually, back and forth, trying to decide which I like better.

  I don’t know how long I stare at her multi-colored eyes, but when someone clears their throat behind me, I finally remember why I’m here.

  “Yeah. Coffee. Large.” I’m incapable of stringing together a sentence, which is definitely new for me. I can talk the panties off anyone. Damn, that chick last night must have really done a number on me.

  “Want room for cream and sugar?”

  I nod. “Blair working today?”

  She sighs. “Not until this afternoon. Sorry, no quotes this morning.”

  Better to let her assume I just wanted a quote on my cup – something Blair is known for doing when she works at the café, then let her know I really wanted to wipe out the pastry counter on the house.

  As she gets my coffee, I take in her slim frame, the leggings that fit snug against her giving me a preview of the terrific ass her apron tries to hide. She’s not short, but I’m six foot six so there aren’t many people I don’t tower over.

  When she turns back to me and sets the coffee down in front of me, I decide the best way to shrug off last night’s weird sex is to move on to someone new. And this girl, name aside, is perfect.

  “What time do you get off work? Can I buy you lunch or coffee?”

  Her brows raise. Yeah, coffee was a fuck shit idea, but the only thing I plan on doing is her, so it’s just semantics.

  “No thanks.” She presses a few buttons on the register. “One fifty-eight.”

  I pass over the money. “Well, how about we exchange numbers and we can make plans when you’re not busy.”

  “I didn’t say I was busy. I said no thanks.”

  The guy behind me clears his throat again.

  Look there’s no way to not sound like an asshole when I say that girls don’t turn me down… like ever, but they don’t. Ever.

  “You got a boyfriend?”

  “Seriously, man. I gotta get going or I’m going to be late for class,” the guy behind me says to my back. I turn, prepared to death glare him, but he looks down and his face goes red.

  “Coffee?” I hand out the cup I just bought in his direction.

  Without lifting his head, he nods but makes no move to take the cup.

  “Here.” I practically shove the coffee in his hand. “Sorry, but I need more time so unless you want to be late for class, I suggest you take this one and go.” I tilt my head in the direction of the door.

  Swiping the coffee and running off, the guy hauls ass out of University Hall leaving me alone with Katrina. Shudder. That name. I can’t call her that. Kat? Hell no. Trina? Nah, she doesn’t seem the type. Rina? Eh.

  She makes a little sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh that sounds like the sweetest purr. I smile. She’s not a Kat, she’s a cute, playful Kitty.

  “Where were we, Kitty?” I lean against the counter and she rolls her eyes and crosses both arms against her chest like she’s annoyed by the nickname. Too bad the movement only draws more attention to her tits that push out from the contact. She’s got a nice rack, bigger than average. When I meet her eyes, I don’
t miss the heat and a hint of amusement in them. She may not like the words that are coming out of my mouth, but she likes me.

  “I was trying to blow you off and you weren’t taking the hint.”

  “Just trying to save you from making a huge mistake.” I lean in to see if she’s bluffing. She is. Her breathing hitches and she stills as if she’s holding her breath. I don’t know why she’s playing hard to get. “And it would be a huge mistake.”

  “You’re wasting your time, Joel Moreno. I know all about the carnage you leave behind.”

  She first and last named me. She’s as good as naked.

  “Whatever you heard, forget it. The only thing I’ve left in my path is happy, satisfied women. What’s wrong with a little fun? Only live once. Yolo, and all that. How about dinner tonight?”

  “Sorry, I’m going to be washing my hair.”

  “What a coincidence I’ve got a shower and I’ll even let you stay after to use it.” My gaze rake over her again. “I think I might need one too after I’m through with you.”

  She snorts and uncrosses her arms. “No, thanks.”

  No clue why she’s putting me off when I can tell the attraction is mutual. I shrug and push off the counter. Her loss. Although, as I take one last good look at her it feels a little like my loss.

  2

  Joel

  Nathan plops onto my unmade bed. “Party at Theta house tonight, you in?”

  I toss my cell on the bed, ignoring the three text messages from Shelly aka cat girl. “I don’t know. Might just stay in.”

  He raises both eyebrows. “Sick?”

  “Nah, just not feeling it.”

  My roommate leans on one elbow waiting for an explanation. If it were any one of my other roommates, I’d get a pass. Wes is too caught up in Blair and Z operates like a full court press. Only the most aggressive and determined get past his intimidating front – which it totally is. Guy’s a teddy bear underneath, just don’t tell him I said so.

  “You ever go into the café at University Hall?”

  “Nah, I don’t like coffee. This about Blair?” His face pales and he looks legit nervous. “Please don’t tell me you slept with her. Wes will kill you – like actually kill you. Fuck, it’d be entertaining to see that guy get worked up over something besides basketball, but I’m pretty fond of our pad here. Beats dorm living.”

  I never had the privilege, and yes, I say that sarcastically, to live in the dorms. Parents live about twenty minutes from the university and when they were convinced I was capable of managing college and ball without flunking out they bought this place just off campus. I glance around my room which is about three times larger than the dorms I’ve seen. I got the master suite, but all the rooms are big. Everyone calls it The White House. Aside from the obvious, it’s white and big, my dad is the university president. Could be worse. They could call it Moreno Hall or some shit.

  “There’s a chick there named Katrina. Never seen her before.”

  “I’m sure Blair knows her.”

  I nod slowly. “Probably. Anyway, I asked her out today.”

  “Ah, so you’ve got a date tonight.”

  A rush of warm air makes my face feel like fire and my throat gets tight. Is this what embarrassment feels like?

  “She turned me down.”

  Motherfucker laughs.

  “No shit?” he asks, attempts to keep himself from laughing more. Fails.

  “Whatever it was one girl.” I walk toward my closet.

  “Don’t worry, buddy, it was bound to happen eventually. Chicks are weird. Maybe she’s on her period.”

  I survey the shirts in my closet. Grab one, put it back. Pull another out. I start to put it back but fuck why am I stressing about what to wear?

  “You could sound less happy about it,” I say as I walk out of the closet. “Besides my average is still waaaay better than yours.”

  “I think I like you better taken down a notch. What’s this girl’s name again? I want to buy her a drink.”

  “Forget it. Forget this whole conversation or I’ll tell the guys about the shit you’re selling for Frank. They’re not stupid, man. Word is gonna get around.”

  “It’s just until I get enough saved up for next year.”

  “There are other ways to make money.” I shoot him a hard look. I feel bad for the guy. I don’t know what it’s like to not have money, but I know selling drugs is a terrible idea. “You’re still keeping that shit out of the house? Don’t take us all down with you.”

  He shakes his head and locks his stare on mine. “I’d never. You know that.”

  I do, but it’s good to hear him say it.

  “Alright, let’s do this.”

  “I thought you were staying in.” Calling me on my bullshit, he stands, and I follow him out of my room and downstairs. When we reach the living room, I’m only half-surprised to see Blair here, feet pulled up on the sofa, earbuds in and notebook on her lap.

  When she sees us she pulls one bud free. “Hey.”

  “Where’s Wes?” Nathan asks as he takes a seat in a lounger.

  Blair shrugs, but Z enters from the direction of the kitchen, protein drink in hand, and says, “He was checking in with PT.”

  He shakes the cup in his hand reminding me I need to grab something to eat before we hit the party. And make sure Nathan does. Guy has a tendency to skip meals when we don’t have food in the house. My mom knows this and tries to keep us stocked, but that’s a near impossible feat. Z alone eats enough to feed a family of four. He’s a big guy even by athlete standards which means he takes in a lot of extra calories to keep on the muscle he carries. We’re close to the same height, but Z is built like a cross between a linebacker and bodybuilder.

  “Blair, what do you think of this shirt?”

  She looks to each of the guys, who chuckle, before answering. “Umm. It’s fine.”

  “Fuck. I should change, right?”

  Their continued laughter is the only response. Nathan tosses me a basketball. He doesn’t say anything, but I read the “chill the fuck out” written on his face.

  But I can’t. Katrina knocked me off my game.

  I palm the ball for comfort and look back to Blair. “Well?”

  She sits forward and gives me a slow once-over. “Turn.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She motions with her finger for me to spin. Fuck me.

  Not letting go of the basketball, I turn with arms held out.

  Wes’ voice is amused when he walks in and asks, “What the hell is going on in here? A fashion show?”

  I toss the ball at his head and then regret it immediately because now I’m just a dude standing in the middle of the room twirling.

  “Blair is helping me pick a shirt for tonight.”

  “Why the obsession over attire tonight?” he asks as he takes a seat next to Blair.

  “He struck out getting a number this afternoon and is now all bent out of shape.” I shoot Nathan a glare that reminds him I’ve got dirt on him. It’s too late though. My rejection is out there.

  “Aww, you poor, poor schmuck,” Wes says, not sounding the least bit sorry.

  “That isn’t what this is about. It was one girl. One girl.” I jab my finger in the air for emphasis. “Fuck you all.” I don’t have enough fingers to count their rejections. I look down at my shirt and pants and then decide to roll the sleeves. It’s nice out. “So, this one is good?”

  Blair bobs her head enthusiastically this time. “You look hot. Black is a good color for you. It gives you the whole dark and mysterious thing with your skin tone and dark hair.”

  “Easy, now.” Wes sounds jealous and that makes me happier than I’ve been all afternoon.

  I shoot her a wink. “Muchas gracias, linda.”

  “Yeah, definitely do that.” Her eyes light up.

  “Do what?”

  “Talk in Spanish. Not all the time. . . but drop it in casually. Accents are sexy.”

  Flash her a
smile in appreciation for the tidbit. She’s not the first girl to tell me that, but I guess I’d sort of forgotten. Been using my jock and overall God’s-gift-to-women status to pick up chicks and now I’ve got no game when it counts.

  Blair and Wes make plans to see a local baseball game later tonight, which makes me question his idea of romance but then she looks at him all heart eyes so what the hell do I know? She says her goodbyes to the group, off to do some studying or something else super boring. I wait until the door is closed behind her before taking an opportunity to point the jabs at someone else.

  “Soo. . .” I ask innocently. “You and Blair. . . things getting serious?”

  Wes’ face pales. “What? No, it’s just. . .”

  “If you’re having sex, then it’s getting serious. You wouldn’t be mixing business with pleasure unless it’s serious.” Wes hasn’t dated as long as I’ve known him, and random hookups have been few and far between. He likes Blair. Not sure why he can’t admit it. We all know.

  “I’m not mixing—you know what? I’m not even gonna go there.” He looks like he’s going to be physically sick. Well shit, he hasn’t boned her.