Princes of Paradise: An Academy RH Bully Romance (M.A.G.E. (Magical Academy of Gods and Elementals) Series Book 1)

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Princes of Paradise: An Academy RH Bully Romance (M.A.G.E. (Magical Academy of Gods and Elementals) Series Book 1) Page 5

by Kailin Gow

of an audience than he already has right now.”

  But as we turned to leave, the loud, rumbling voice

  of the gym coach echoed once again through the room. “Ah,

  is this Miss Evers?”

  I stopped short in my tracks, causing Varun to bump

  straight into me. At the proximity of his touch, I felt once

  again the same feeling that had overtaken me in the

  principal's office. I felt cool and fresh, as if waterfalls were

  rushing over me. Safe – enveloped in water. The feeling left

  me breathless and I quickly stepped away from Varun's

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  touch, looking down.

  “Uh, sorry,” he muttered quickly, turning bright pink,

  his eyes squinting for a brief moment to look at me. It was a

  serious look, different than the cheerful friendly ones he had

  been throwing me all morning long. He licked his lips.

  “Sorry,” I muttered straight back, unable to hide my

  attraction to him as much as I could fight it.

  “I can only assume that you are Miss Mackenzy

  Evers,” said the coach again, striding towards us. “Or else

  you're a random trespasser. We only have one new girl due

  in the class this year.”

  “Yes, I am,” I began, stumbling over my words in my

  nervousness. “I mean – yes, sir. Uh – yes, Mister...”

  “Matthews,” he said. “Mr. Matthews outside the

  gym, Coach Matthews inside. You're late, Miss Evers.”

  “Late?” I looked down at my schedule, confused.

  “I'll cut you some slack this time,” said Coach

  Matthews. “You're new and easily confused.” The other

  students tittered. “But normally I'd expect you to be warmed

  up and changed by now.”

  “But my first class,” I stuttered, looking at Varun

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  with confusion. “It was Aeros History, wasn't it? I mean...”

  Varun's ears were turning pink.

  I grabbed hold of my schedule, which Varun was

  holding limply in his hands. There it was written, in clear

  typewritten letters, A-Format 8:00 am. Introductory

  Physical Fitness. Cutter Gymnasium.

  “I guess my first class was gym,” I said, feeling

  stupid. “I'm sorry – I got confused...”

  “You mean, you were misled.” Coach Matthews

  fixed a great, beady eye on Varun. “I don't blame you, Miss

  Evers. You couldn't have known.”

  “Known what?”

  “Nice try, Mr. Cutter. But just because you want to

  have the first crack at the pretty new girl doesn't mean you

  get to make her miss her first class.”

  “It wasn't that, Coach Matthews,” Varun's ears were

  now a bright scarlet. “Our tour just took a while, that's all.”

  Besides Varun, I giggled, thinking about how

  Varun’s tour also meant him giving me a full imitation

  impression of each of the teachers.

  “M hm.” Coach Matthews raised a pair of bushy gray

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  eyebrows. “If you don't know it yet, you should, Miss Evers.

  Young Mr. Cutter here is a good soul – but he does have a

  way with the ladies. I was the school lothario when I was his

  age – but he puts me to shame, don't you, Mr. Cutter? Ah

  well. Those that have the gift of charm must flaunt it.” The

  other students – nearly all males – laughed, excepting

  Chance, who stared down Varun with pure hatred in his eyes.

  “I'm sorry I'm late, Coach Matthews,” I said. “It

  won't happen again.”

  “Mr. Cutter?” Coach Matthews turned to Varun.

  “Won't happen again!” Varun grinned at me. “Right,

  sir. Promise. My word!” He patted me on the shoulder, and I

  could feel the ocean-cool blue of his gaze pouring into my

  soul, comforting me. Everything's going to be fine, he

  seemed to be saying. Just stay cool. “Find me at lunch,

  Mackenzy. Sorry I got you in trouble.”

  “Make sure it's the last time!” Coach Matthews

  called after Varun as he strode out the door, but there was no

  anger in his voice. It was clear that Coach Matthews, like the

  rest of the school, genuinely liked Varun and enjoyed giving

  him a good tease once in a while. If Varun was the school

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  lothario, as Coach Matthews had joked, he certainly wasn't

  a cocky playboy like Chance, who seemed more annoyed by

  the second at the prospect of Varun's having already claimed

  the title

  “Now, I know wrestling isn't the most popular sport

  with the ladies,” said Coach Matthews, “but signups for fall

  sports were last spring – this is the only class that had any

  slots left by the time you enrolled. So I hope you'll learn

  quickly to play with the boys.”

  I scanned the class quickly, hoping nobody would

  have already judged me for my tardiness. But luckily, most

  of the boys in the class seemed to be more amused by Varun's

  half-hearted attempt at spending time with me than they

  were at my confusion. And they were almost all boys. Only

  two girls were sitting beside the wrestling mat. One was a

  slight, elfin figure with pixie-cropped hair and a pair of

  glasses sitting atop a tiny button nose. She couldn't have

  been more than fourteen or fifteen, I thought with surprise –

  and certainly she didn't look like she was capable of pinning

  a gnat to the mat, let alone a burly eighteen-year-old boy.

  Beside her was another girl with electric-blue hair in a messy

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  fringe, who was glowering almost as much as Chance, albeit

  far more indiscriminately. She looked as if she'd rather be

  anywhere but in class – and preferably as far away from the

  other students as possible. Her nose ring glinted in the pale

  fluorescent light of the gym.

  What Varun had said about me being fresh meat was

  evidently true. Between the dearth of girls in the gym class

  and the clearly exhausted dating scene at Aeros overall, the

  boys evidently regarded me as hungry dogs might a new-

  killed carcass. As they looked me up and down, evidently

  sizing up my dating potential, I turned redder than Varun had

  done earlier. I wanted to be popular in my new school, but

  certainly not that popular.

  “Well, Miss Evers,” Coach Matthews's voice burst

  through my thoughts. “Are you going to join us or not?”

  “I want to,” I said, fumbling for words, “but I haven't

  got any clothes to change into. They weren't mentioned in

  the orientation letter...”

  “That's okay!” The tiny girl sprang to her feet.

  “Coach Matthews, I've got my spare set in my locker. Can

  she borrow those?”

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  “Fine,” said Coach Matthews. “But be back quickly,

  both of you! No socializing in the locker room.” He tossed

  the girl the locker room key.

  “I'm Alice,” the girl explained as we walked, her

  voice as wispy and small as her frame. “I
know it's tough to

  be new here. When I arrived freshman year, I'd skipped the

  seventh and eighth grades, so I didn't know anyone either.”

  She went over to her locker, expertly dialing the lock,

  and removed a crisp white tank top and blue shorts, neatly

  folded, from her locker. “I always keep a spare in case I don't

  have time to do the ironing,” she said.

  Certainly, I thought, Alice looked like the kind of girl

  who would evidently iron all her clothes every night.

  Unfortunately, she was also half my size, with bony

  shoulders and a flat chest. I, on the other hand, had inherited

  my curves from my Italian father, rather than my Chinese

  and Irish mother, and there was no way I was going to fit into

  anything Alice gave me to wear.

  “It's stretch fabric,” Alice said in an attempt at

  helpfulness as I wiggled my ample Italian inches into the

  unforgiving Polyester. I blushed as I caught sight of myself

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  in the mirror. The clothes weren't unflattering, thank

  goodness, but if anything I had the opposite problem.

  They were tight. Very, very tight.

  I cursed my choice to wear a black bra that morning.

  “I feel like I'm wearing a bikini,” I muttered to Alice

  as I reluctantly allowed her to lead me back to the gym.

  Raised by my mother to be a sensible girl and to use my

  brains rather than my looks, I never dressed to make it a focal

  point. As soon as I walked into the room, all eyes were upon

  me, and I could hear some of the boys snicker to their friends

  as they ogled every curve on my frame.

  “Wow,” someone said in the back.

  “So hot,” another male voice said.

  “Prettiest girl on Aeros,” another said.

  “What a goddess,” another said.

  From the back of the room, someone said, “Damn,

  she should be in that swimsuit magazine, Sports

  something…”

  At least you're getting positive attention, I thought,

  looking intently down at the ground to avoid the stares.

  Fresh meat, indeed.

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  “Okay, Alice,” said Coach Matthews, pointing to the

  mat, where an enormous boy with sideburns was sitting

  cross-legged, waiting for the match to begin. “You're next.”

  I gaped with surprise. Tiny, rabbit-like Alice

  certainly was no match for this boy – ten of her wouldn't be

  enough to so much as knock him over.

  “But we have an odd number now,” said Alice.

  “Tim's already gone once.”

  “Right, then,” said Coach Matthews. “Mac, you go!”

  “Me? No! I don't know how to...” I faltered. Alice

  seemed so gentle, so nice. The last thing I wanted to do was

  hurt this fragile, sweet girl.

  “Just give it a grapple,” said Coach Matthews.

  “Sweet!” One of the boys cried. “We get to see the

  chicks fight!”

  “Yeah!” his friend chimed in. “Shame we haven't got

  any mud.”

  “Pigs!” The harsh, clear voice of the blue-haired girl

  rang through the gym. “How about you two get all hot and

  sweaty together, and then I can pour a vat of dirt on you. Fun,

  huh?”

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  Embarrassed, the two boys fell silent, and the blue-

  haired girl scowled as she hugged her knees to her chest.

  Alice stared me down, her wide hazel eyes looking

  ever more like a rabbit's.

  “Okay, girls,” Coach Matthews evidently was

  choosing to ignore the interrupted. “Time to square away.

  One, two...”

  Before he could say three, Alice had sprung upon me,

  knocking me flat on my back.

  “What the...” I sat up, seeing stars. Alice had seemed

  to come out of nowhere.

  “Don't be too eager, Alice!” Coach Matthews chided

  her. “Wait till I say three – how many times have I told you

  that?”

  “Sorry,” said Alice sheepishly. “I didn't mean to –

  sorry, Mackenzy.”

  “Another go,” insisted Coach Matthews. “One, two,

  three!”

  This time Alice waited for the “three,” but it didn't do

  me much good. While I was able to grapple with Alice for

  all of five seconds, she expertly managed to flip me over and

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  pin me on the ground, her spindly arms evidently far more

  muscular than she looked. I gasped. Alice wasn't only strong

  for her size – she was super-strong, keeping me pinned to the

  mat so heavily that I couldn't even squirm from her grasp. I

  felt that Tim, for all his seeming strength, had probably been

  relieved to cede his beating to me.

  “We have a winner,” declared Coach Matthews, and

  Alice sprang to her feet, letting me up. I clambered to my

  feet, my muscles aching.

  But Alice was evidently unaware of her strength. She

  stuck out a friendly hand for me to shake. “That was really

  good for a first try,” she said. “Especially if you've never

  wrestled before.”

  “Thanks for humoring me,” I gave her a smile. “But

  you beat me fair and square.”

  “You're new,” Alice said brightly. “You'll beat me

  next time, once you learn some more technique.”

  But as Alice darted off to speak to Coach Matthews,

  who was beckoning her aside, I got the distinct impression

  that I wouldn't be pinning Alice to the mat anytime soon.

  Well, that was at least one potential friend, I thought,

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  feeling vaguely better. But what about the blue-haired girl?

  I felt some measure of gratitude for her for sticking up for

  me against the boys, and wanted – if not to thank her – then

  at least to meet her properly. But as I looked around the gym,

  I found that she and her electric-blue tresses were nowhere

  to be seen.

  “Looking for Misty?” I whirled around to find

  Chance standing before me. There was something in the soft,

  proprietorial way he said the name that made me jealous, in

  spite of myself. If I wasn't good enough for Chance to be

  friends with, I felt reflexively, it wasn't fair that any girl

  should be.

  “What, did your father force you to dance with her,

  too?” I asked, giving away a bit too much of my anger in my

  sarcasm. Why was it when it came to Chance, he brought out

  such uncontrollable emotions in me?

  “He didn't force me, no,” said Chance lightly, with a

  wry smile that made it clear he knew just how much his

  words were getting to me. Despite his smile, his gaze fell on

  my gym clothes still a few sizes too small for me. Under his

  gaze, I became acutely aware of how little to the imagination

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  and unforgiving my outfit was. I gritted my teeth and made

  a mental note to get gym clothes that fit me comfortably,

  soon.

  “She’s probably just in the locker roo
m,” I said.

  “Don't worry, Miss Evers,” he smirked. “You can

  dance with me again too, if you want.” He came up close to

  me as if he was about to dance with me. We were so close,

  not touching, yet each aching to touch. I bit my lip, while he

  watched me intently with those icy blue eyes that seemed to

  cut straight through me to see me as I am. It was unnerving.

  It was exhilarating. It was impossible.

  “I'm fine,” I said. “I can manage without. And the

  name's Mac.”

  “Very well, Miss Evers,” he said so smoothly in that

  gentle and subtle British accent of his that it was

  infuriatingly arrogant, but sexy at the same time. His lips

  curled into a smile as beautiful as it was maddening, and my

  cheeks burned with rage mingled with desire. It wasn't fair,

  I thought bitterly to myself. I’ve had boys come onto me

  before back on Angel Island, but I have always handled them

  well. Being with Chance was throwing me off my game.

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  Why were all the good-looking ones such jerks?

  “Mac,” I said again through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, no, I wouldn't dare!” His voice was gently

  sarcastic, almost like a caress. “It wouldn't be proper. I went

  to Eton, you know. We never addressed one another by our

  first names. It simply wasn't done. Nanny would have been

  scandalized to think I would dare to do such a thing. Of

  course, she had her heyday sometime around the coronation

  of Queen Victoria, so perhaps her methods are a tad

  outdated.”

  Now I knew he was trying to get to me. He could be

  telling me to go effing off, as the Brits would say, and it

  would still sound like sweet whispers in my ear. Chance

  Cutter was not only lethal in looks, but his soothe and sexy

  low voice was like a sword slathered in honey. Damn he was

 

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