The Jock Script (The Script Club #3) Read Online Lane Hayes

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: The Script Club Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
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The sky was the limit.

10

Blake

This time of year was always chaotic. I was used to balancing late practices and busy game schedules with schoolwork. Thankfully, I’d been a good student and I was one of those weird people who thrived under pressure. But even I had to admit the days leading up to the CIF championship game were grueling.

I had papers to grade, tests to prepare, and the final for my combinational theory class for my master’s happened to be the day before the big game.

It was a lot.

But one of the benefits of having a brainiac lover was that Asher was even better at managing stressful situations and multiple time constraints than I was. He could study for hours on end, do research for work, then wind down with a sci-fi thriller and be perfectly happy. He didn’t want or expect me to entertain him. Honestly, I’d never been with someone so surprisingly easygoing.

Don’t get me wrong. Asher was still Asher. He liked order and details, but he was practical too. With previous partners, I’d always felt pressured to make reservations at expensive restaurants or come up with romantic date ideas. Asher didn’t want that.

Last night, for example, I’d suggested going out to dinner after work. I’d needed to go grocery shopping, and I’d really needed to study. But I’d wanted to be with Ash too. He’d hummed as I’d recited my go-to list of nice places. A familiar bubbly sense of panic had risen in my gut. I used to get that feeling all the damn time with Katie. Hell, I’d gotten it with every person I’d ever dated. It was the initial sense of dread signaling imminent relationship failure.

But when I ran out of ideas, Asher had responded in his usual logical manner. “I don’t mean to offend you, but your suggestions are pricey and time intensive. I can go to the market or we can order takeout. Or if you’d rather be alone, I can—”

“No, I want you here.”

He’d smiled. “Then I’ll stay. We can plan fancy dinners after you win your CSI game and we both finish finals.”

I’d tugged at his bow tie playfully. “CIF, baby. And we’ll see what happens. Regency is tough competition.”

“You’ll win,” he’d said decisively. “By the way, the parents have organized a party to celebrate the season. And I’m on the committee.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Every party needs a committee, so I volunteered to spearhead this one. I told your friend Ezra I would, so I really had no choice. The problem is…I don’t know what I’m doing. I had to recruit my new mom friends. They’re very enthusiastic, by the way. All you have to do is win.”

“What if we don’t?” I’d asked, thoroughly bemused.

“Then we’ll call it a second-place party.”

I’d pursed my lips and snorted. “Ash, I appreciate it, but that’s not necessary.”

“But I told Ez—”

“Ezra doesn’t remember what he ate for breakfast half the time, babe. He probably forgot you’d mentioned a party five minutes after you said it…and it’s been a couple of weeks.”

“I didn’t forget. I always stand by my word. If I say I’ll do something, I must follow through. So that’s what I’m doing…following through.” He’d smiled brightly as he pulled out his cell. “Chinese or Thai?”

“Thai.”

So…yeah. This was my life now. A series of food compromises and conversations about everyday details with my boyfriend…my secret boyfriend.

Ash and I didn’t put a label on us. I think we were both wary of assigning a name and not living up to our part of the bargain. At least I was. I was good boyfriend material to a point. I was polite and attentive…until guilt crept in and I couldn’t stand lying anymore. I didn’t want to fuck this up the way I had every other relationship I’d ever been in, though. I wanted to be better for Ash. And he made that so easy.

He had this theory that talking about food was a sure way to engage anyone in lighthearted banter. His words, not mine.

We texted on our lunch breaks, chatted about our respective days, and voted on dinner ideas like an old married couple. Do you feel like making quinoa tonight or rice bowls with veggies? That kind of thing. We took turns picking up takeout or buying groceries, then met at my place after work, school, or practice.

Once we were together, it was even better. Conversation flowed and ebbed easily. We were good at being quiet and at sensing when to push the books aside and get naked. At my place, we had all the privacy we needed and multiple rooms and surfaces at our disposal. And we used every one of them. I’d fucked him over the kitchen island, in the shower, against the wall in the entry and my bedroom. I loved having him in my space.


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