Wicked Needs
Wicked Surprise
Wicked Hearts
Wicked Promises
Wicked Forever
About the Author
Angsty. Edgy. Addictive Romance
Author of mature young adult and new adult novels, L A is happiest writing the kind of books she loves to read: addictive stories full of teenage angst, tension, twists and turns.
Home is a small town in the middle of England where she currently juggles being a full-time writer with being a mother/referee to two little people. In her spare time (and when she’s not camped out in front of the laptop) you’ll most likely find L A immersed in a book, escaping the chaos that is life.
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Locking Him Down
Marley Valentine
Copyright © 2020 by Marley Valentine
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
Edited by Shauna Stevenson at Ink Machine Editing
Proofreading by Hawkeyes Proofing
This book contains mature content.
1
Oliver
After my morning workout and shower, it takes me all of five minutes to run across campus and walk into my first class of the day along with the rest of the students.
AP English isn’t exactly a full class, but thankfully my spot in the back is empty.
“Where’ve you been, Benton?” a familiar female voice whispers beside me.
Mask in place, I turn to Michelle, the prettiest and most popular girl in our school. It helps that she’s more than just a pretty face, but studying is never what she has in mind when she speaks to me.
I plaster on a flirtatious smile and answer her. “I’ve been around. Why do you ask? Miss me?”
“Thought we’d get to hang out this summer.” She bites the corner of her mouth, hoping this might be the year where she manages to finally seduce Greensday High’s notoriously single track star. Spoiler alert: I’m not interested. “There were a few parties on, and you were nowhere to be found.”
“Mr. Stewart,” Mr. Reid, our teacher calls out loudly, inadvertently shutting Michelle up, and has me mentally fisting the air in sweet victory. Crisis averted. “How nice of you to join us.”
My eyes follow the interruption, my focus now on the one person on the planet I would let seduce me. The one person who captures all my attention. The one person I try so hard not to give it to.
Micah Stewart.
My eyes attempt to subtly roam up and down the length of his tall, lean body. He’s dressed in his signature black, skinny-leg jeans and black leather, high top Chucks. He’s in an oversized, charcoal tee, and his long, inky colored straight hair is gathered at the nape of his neck in a loose and messy bun. He finishes off the look with leather bands lining his wrists and silver rings decorating every odd finger.
With his tanned skin and long lashes that frame his dark brown eyes, his high cheek bones and slightly dimpled chin––there’s not one single thing that makes him stand out. But when it’s all put together, he becomes the very reason my traitorous dick gets hard.
For years, everything about him has enthralled me. He’s the complete opposite of me in everything he does, and it fascinates me.
Where I’m fake and everything I do is for show, and everything everybody knows about me is a lie, Micah is the epitome of truth. He wears it like a second skin, unapologetically himself.
He’s confident and honest and happy. So damn happy. I don’t think I’ve seen anybody happier. On anybody else it would be infuriating. But not on him.
On Micah it’s a magnetic force. The thing that has everyone and everything gravitating toward him.
Including me.
For years, like a stalker, I’ve kept a close eye on him, watching him from afar. Cataloguing his walk, his smile, his voice. Committing to memory all the things that I have no business being infatuated with. Things that don’t and won’t ever belong to me.
But it seems the more I try to deny it, the more I notice him. And the more I notice about him, the more I want him.
Over the years, curiosity has turned into fascination, and now I’m just a horny eighteen-year-old obsessing over a guy and a life I can never have.
At first, my interest was just that. Micah was different from me and my friends, and that made me curious. But then the allure turned into desire, and at the realization that I was very much attracted to guys, wanting Micah Stewart turned into an all-consuming obsession.
It’s something I try not to decipher, because it isn’t something I’m comfortable acknowledging, and it’s definitely something I wish I could ignore.
Without a care in the world, his lips turn up at Mr. Reid’s reprimand. “It is nice of me to come to class, isn’t it?”
The teacher rolls his eyes, but the small smile threatening to split his face doesn’t go unnoticed. Because it’s all people know how to do around him.
“Sit down, please, Micah,” he requests.
Discreetly, I watch him as he walks to his usual spot. With a relaxed gait, he reaches the desk and puts his pile of books on the sturdy wood before maneuvering his long body into the small space.
When Micah settles into his seat, he looks around the room, appraising his surroundings. Unexpectedly, his gaze, instead of passing, stops at me, and my eyes dart away in haste. It’s not often that he catches me looking at him, but when he does, he always makes sure to let me know he’s noticed.
When I find the courage to look back at him, I’m not all that shocked to see he’s still staring at me. He raises an eyebrow, and I feel my cheeks heat up at the measly scrap of attention.
Awkwardly, I clear my throat and shift on my chair, steering both my body and my focus toward Michelle. Reflexively, the question leaves my mouth, and I hate myself for it.
“What are you doing this afternoon?” I ask her, my mask back in place, my voice low and inviting.
What the fuck are you trying to prove, Oliver?
“Really?” She’s clearly stunned, but she’s nothing short of interested.
“If practice doesn’t go on for too long, yeah, sure,” I lie. “We could make up for lost time.”
“Oliver,” Mr. Reid calls out. “Anything you’d like to share with the class.”
I shake my head. “No, sir.”
I make a show of zipping my mouth shut and throwing away the key.
My ridiculous idea to make plans with Greensday’s Barbie, means she tries to continuously sneak in conversation. Like the prick I am, I retreat into myself for the rest of the class. I put my walls back up and ignore her, like I didn’t just initiate some makeshift date to prove I’m not into guys.
Pretending to concentrate and focus on the work, I bullshit my way through taking notes and sigh a huge breath of relief when the bell rings to signal the end of class.
Books slam and chairs scrape against the linoleum floor, but Mr Reid manages to shout loud enough to have us all freezing in motion.
“Back in your seats,” he demands. “I have some ne
ws I want to share really quickly.”
A collective groan fills the room.
“Do you remember those practice college application essays I made you all write before the break? Well,” he continues. “They were actually for an all-expenses paid opportunity to visit the University of Washington and check out their campus.”
“Why would it need to be all-expenses paid?” someone at the front asks.
“It’s for a week,” he clarifies. “I’ll chaperone, and you’ll stay on campus and get to experience the life of a college student. There are a few conditions attached to that, but I wanted to congratulate Oliver Benton and Micah Stewart on their win first, and then have them come see me at the beginning of lunch to discuss the finer details.”
The sound of our names being said aloud, together, has my pulse quickening underneath my skin. The excitement and anxiety of being around Micah for a whole week crashing through my veins like a tsunami.
A chorus of congratulations fills the room, everyone’s eyes darting between us, while my eyes find him. I should be proud of my essay and focused on the fact that this could secure me a spot in a top college before the year is even out, but the only thing taking up space in my head now is how I’m going to survive being in his presence, alone, for a whole week.
Swallowing hard, I lower my head, trying to hide my face. Worried it will give away my thoughts, I rise from my seat needing to get the fuck out of this room.
“Oliver. Micah,” Mr. Reid says, his voice stopping me in my tracks. “Don’t forget to come back here at the beginning of lunch to discuss details. I’ll need parental permission as soon as possible.”
My tongue gets lodged in my throat, and before I know it, Micah is standing behind me, answering for the both of us. “Yeah, we’ll see you then.”
I glance over my shoulder to look at him, and for the second time today he holds my stare. This time I bravely hold his too. If I’m going to be around him, I’m going to have to figure out how to not look like an awkward, fumbling, idiot, who can’t speak or be somewhat normal in his presence.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
He looks like he’s about to say something more when we’re interrupted by the familiar voices of my friends. “Benton, come on, we don’t got all day.”
Many heads turn to the open classroom door, and my friend, Jamie, tips his chin up at me. “Hurry the fuck up, man.”
“He’s coming,” Micah snaps at him, unexpectedly irritated.
“Suck my dick, Stewart,” Jamie bites back.
“You fucking wish.”
I’m not surprised by Micah’s come back. He’s not one to look for trouble, nor does it often find him. But the one thing he never does is balk or back down.
Not when he was outed at school.
Not when other students throw homophobic slurs at him.
And definitely not when all the jocks of the school try to stanch and intimidate him.
“Boys,” Mr. Reid shouts. “You can take whatever this is to the corridors, and I’ll see you two,” he points between Micah and me, “at lunch time.”
I nod, eager to get the fuck out of here and away from all the tension. Leaving both the teacher and Micah behind, I exit the room and step into the circle of my friends. “What the fuck is so important?”
“Michelle mentioned you were going to meet up with her this afternoon,” Liam says. “She said she was bringing some friends, and since your parents aren’t usually home, and we haven’t hung out all summer, we thought we could bring some of the good stuff over.”
Geez, news travels fast.
I clear my throat, desperately wanting the ground to swallow me whole. There’s no way I’m hanging with Michelle, and for a plethora of reasons I don’t have time to explain, none of my friends are coming to hang at my house any time soon.
“Nah,” I tell them, scratching my temple. “Mr. Reid said I have to stay back for this college thing, and you know I’m not smoking that shit.”
My friends all come from rich families that are always happy to bail them out of their misdemeanors. I’ve never had the luxury, and getting caught with drugs in my system is a guarantee I’ll lose my Greensday scholarship.
“Didn’t he just say you had to come at lunch time?” Jamie queries suspiciously.
“And after school,” I lie. “I don’t know how long it will take exactly, but you guys take the girls to your place. I’ll see if I can meet up with you guys after.”
Jamie pins me with a quizzical stare. He may not know the exact reasons I’m lying, but there’s no denying he knows I’m full of shit. Of late, I’m always declining invitations to hang out with my friends when their only mission is to get their dicks in as many Greensday girls as possible. I’m not sure how obvious it is that I’m deflecting, but I’m certain Jamie’s got his suspicions.
My only saving grace is my usually outspoken and unfiltered best friend hasn’t called me out on it.
2
Micah
I walk back into my AP English class at the beginning of lunch and am surprised to see Oliver sitting in the front row, laughing and talking to Mr. Reid.
It’s a rare sight, one so different to his usual curt and uptight self. It accentuates just how good looking he is, when he’s not scowling with his prick posse.
His gaze shifts to the doorway where I’m standing, and the ease and comfort in his demeanor immediately disappears. I’d like to say it’s a surprise, but after years of attending the same school, I’m used to the multitude of mixed signals Oliver Benton throws my way.
Signals that I can never seem to decipher.
When Mr. Reid stops mid-conversation, I realize the change in Oliver isn’t only obvious to me. Looking over his shoulder in my direction, the teacher offers a welcoming smile when he realizes it’s me.
“Micah, I’m glad you made it.” He gestures for me to come on in while he walks back to his desk and picks up what looks to be a stack of papers. “Take a seat, please. I was just telling Oliver how great this opportunity will be for the both of you.”
Oliver’s face turns to stone, and I can’t help but give him attitude. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
His face heats at being called out, and he gives me a quick nod before tucking his chin into his chest.
I lower my messenger bag to the floor and make a show of moving the chair a few inches away from him before sitting down.
I wish I knew what his problem is, but over the years, I’ve figured he’s just a passenger on the same homophobic train his shit bag friends ride on.
Oliver isn’t as outspoken, or as mean and pretentious as they are, but the disdain and annoyance that seem permanently etched on his face when he’s around me means he probably dislikes me as much as they do.
Usually, I let their taunts roll off my back, because their opinions are not ones I value. But right now, being in the same room as Oliver, and knowing at some point we’ll be going away on this field trip together, his aversion bothers me.
“So, here is everything you need to know,” Mr. Reid says, handing us both manilla folders. “Have a flick through and feel free to ask me any questions.”
I take out the stapled papers and begin to skim over the details. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, one that I’m not going to give up. Even if it means five whole days with Oliver Benton.
“As you can see,” Mr. Reid starts. “We’ll get there on Monday morning and leave on Friday afternoon. You will stay on campus in your own dorm room and have access to all their facilities. As well as be given a weekly timetable in which you will be able to observe numerous college classes.
“There is a questionnaire in there that asks you what subjects you’re interested in, as well as what you’re interested in studying overall. You need to fill it out and return it to me tomorrow, and the schedule will be set up based on what details you provide them with.
“You will also need parental permission.” He points to the folders. “That form is also in th
ere.”
“I’m eighteen,” Oliver exclaims.
“I know.” Mr. Reid looks at me. “Aren’t you eighteen too?”
I offer him a nod.
“Well,” he continues. “The permission is more for the school. So you’re accounted for and you’re excused from class for the week. And obviously I’ll be there the whole week, along with another staff member.” He claps his hands together. “Do you guys have any questions?”
“Will this go toward our actual application?” Oliver questions. “Will it give us any extra credits?”
“It’s not as black and white as extra credits, but the university wants you guys,” Mr. Reid says enthusiastically. “They were impressed by your mock applications, and they want to give you an up close and personal look at the university because they want to impress you. They want to be your first.”
“And I guess you never forget your first,” I say sarcastically.
“Micah,” Mr. Reid admonishes.
I see Oliver’s shoulders shake in my peripheral vision, and a sudden rush of pride rushes through me for making him laugh. Maybe we can survive this week away after all.
“When is this taking place?” I ask, flicking my gaze between Mr. Reid and the documents.
“They didn’t put it on there?” he questions.
I hand Mr. Reid the booklet so he can double check himself. He traces his finger down each page, and then hands the paper back to me when he’s found what he’s looking for. “They’ve written it in words instead of numbers. So it’s easy to overlook. They want you there three weeks from now.”
“And if we can’t go?” Oliver asks.
My gut twists at the possibility of him missing out on such a huge opportunity. “You’d be an idiot to pass this up,” I blurt out.
LOVE IN LOCKDOWN: A Charity Anthology Page 31