by C Lesbirel
I spend the remaining thirty minutes of class, stressing out over what he might want to see me on my own for. I trust Mr. Mculloch, but he is a man. He has a pair of balls like the rest of them, and I’m not naive enough to think that relationships don’t go on between teachers and their students.
Luckily for him, he doesn’t break my trust, and instead, genuinely wants to discuss my grade.
“Your assignment was good, Imogen, but we both know you have what it takes to make it an A plus in that top corner.”
“I tried my best, Mr. Mculloch.” I sulk.
“Yes, I can see that. I think that’s part of the problem, Imogen. Writing is a skill and a talent and you have plenty, but to be a real writer, one whose work stands the test of time, you need to have passion.”
“You don’t think it showed passion between them?” I ask, referring to the protagonist and heroine of my most recent project.
“There was plenty of passion between the characters, but I want to see something real from you. Something more than just clever writing and carefully placed metaphors. If you want to finish this course with an A plus, which I know you could easily do, you need to write from here,” he taps two fingers against the pocket of his checked shirt, “not from up here,” he continues, tapping the same two fingers against the side of his skull.
I thank him and leave the classroom with a heavy heart, my eyes glued to the neatly written name across the top of the page, Imogen Thomas. It was the fake name my parents and I agreed I’d use during my time here as it prevents anyone questioning who I really am and protects me from my community as if they find out Bella Buckland is studying a university degree; I’d be well and truly screwed.
Sighing with a heavy heart, I pause to fold the papers and shove them into my handbag feeling like a complete fraud.
Chapter Two
Hunter
I watch her walk over to her friend in my rear-view mirror before disappearing around the corner and heading straight for the gym. I’m not even supposed to be training on a fight day, but thanks to my wife-to-be, I’m hot headed, riled up and desperate to blow off some steam. It was the gym or a show down at her prissy college and seeing as she already despises me, I opt for the safer option.
Would it have been so bad to have a normal fucking conversation, say thanks for the ride, and get out of my truck without slamming the door as though it had personally offended her? Apparently so. Lowering my foot on the accelerator, I hit an easy eighty miles per hour and feel better for putting some distance between us. Bella frustrates the shit out of me in every single way, and this situation is becoming dangerous. I’m bordering obsession with the brunette beauty who spends her days figuring out how best to avoid me, and the fact that I can’t have her even though she’s mine drives me past the point of insanity.
When I reach the gym and begin punching the bag, I realize exactly how much the whole thing bothers me. Hitting it harder and harder, barely giving it time to bounce back, I try knocking some sense into myself. Playing nice isn’t working. Bella couldn’t give a flying fuck if I take her out for fancy meals or buy her expensive presents. She’s an ungrateful bitch and needs to be taught a fucking lesson in respect. I’ve been so scared of losing her, I’ve let her walk all over me.
Not anymore.
It ends here.
No more Mr. Nice guy. If she wants to paint me as a monster, then I’ll show her what she wants to see. I’ve got to try something different, because in less than twelve months she’ll finish her studies and become my wife.
Whether Bella Buckland likes it or not, there’s no escaping the fact that as soon as she’s got this whole uni thing out of her system, she belongs to me.
Stupid thing is she’s always been mine, ever since she lied through her teeth the first time I met her and tried to scare her. She was a tiny little thing, all bouncy waves and dark eyes, not dissimilar to how she is now. Her nose still twitches slightly when she lies, but her huge round eyes don’t give anything away. Another thing I can’t stand about her.
She could be thinking a million different things when she looks at me. Her eyes often meet mine with an expression I can’t decipher. If only her smart mouth was as mysterious. Oh no, Bella does not pull any punches when it comes to letting me know what she thinks of me, and even the most patient man on the planet has his limits.
F.Y.I.: I’ve reached mine.
I’m so involved in punching the sass out of Bella, I don’t even hear my coach sneak right up behind me. “What da fuck are you doin’ here on a fight night?”
“Relax. I’m only throwin’ a few punches. Call it a warm up if ya want.”
“That didn’t look like no fuckin’ warm up to me,” he snaps. “Home. Now.” He glares at me, arms folded and legs apart, like he’d have no qualms about kicking my head in if I refused. His moody expression brings a smile to my lips because we both know his fighting days are long gone.
Pete is the best of the best, crème de la crème in the world of boxing, and although he never managed a world champion title, he is respected by everyone who ever watched him fight or was coached by him. He’s a foul-mouthed smart-ass who isn’t afraid to call a spade a spade, and he’s the only person I know who’ll take the risks needed to get me to the top.
The fight tonight is just another stepping stone to get me where I need to be to knock the current world champion, Theo Milarani, straight on his ass. Man, I hate that mother fucker. Arguably, he’s the only thing Bella and I have in common. He’s a cocky twat who’s had his boxing career handed to him on a plate because of his grandfather. Don’t get me wrong, I respect his old man, his story isn’t too dissimilar from my own. Started with nothing. Finished at the top. But his grandson’s career is a series of backhanded pay offs and so-called ‘lucky’ picks when it comes to opponents.
Anyone who knows anything about boxing knows a real fighter could take Theo’s title from him in seconds, and that’s all I ever wanted to do. That is, until he broke Bella’s heart by snapping Romeo’s spine and commented on cage fighters not being real fighters and gypsies being thieving bastards. He’d looked me right in the fuckin’ eyes when he said them at a press conference two years ago. Since then, I’ve been gunning for him. I won’t need to steal his title and belts from him; I’ll take them from him fair and square and make him wish he’d given them to me in gift wrap.
“I’ll see you tonight, Coach.”
“And not before. I swear to god, Hunter, if you set foot inside this gym again before the fight, I’ll whoop ya’ ass so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a month.” His voice is menacing as he glares up at me.
I smirk back at him. “You reckon you could take me down old man?”
“Who the fuck you callin’ old boy? You cruisin’ for a bruisin’? You sure you wanna start somethin?” he asks, squaring up to me, and we both chuckle.
“Go on. Get lost!” he demands, gesturing to the door.
I follow his orders, my mood only slightly improved by the work out and the thought of tearing my opposition down tonight.
Probably best if Bella doesn’t come; she already thinks I’m a monster for giving her nightmares back when we were kids and for makin’ her marry me. She doesn’t give two shits that I have about as much say in who I marry as she does. The only difference between Bella and I, when it comes to our marriage, is that if I did get a say so, I’d choose her every fuckin’ time. Arranged or not, she is the only woman worthy of marrying, and I’ve been with enough to know that.
She isn’t like the others. I’d bet serious money she’s still a virgin, and from what I can tell, she is genuinely a good gypsy girl. She goes to church, spends most of her time with her family, and when she’s not with them, she’s at the library.
It’s not that she doesn’t respect our culture, she just wants more for herself than to get married. I respect that about her; I can relate to it. If she had given me half a chance, I would have explained to her ages ago that she doesn’
t need to give up her hobbies if she’s married to me. She can spend as long as she wants in the fucking library if it makes her happy. She wouldn’t need to worry about work; the money from my fights is more than enough to give her everything she wants and then some.
Bella isn’t interested in hearing me out. She’s made it perfectly clear that the day I’d be her first choice is the day hell freezes over.
Chapter Three
Bella
“What did Mr. Mculloch say?” Harlow demands to know as soon as I walk around the corner. She obviously waited for me the whole time.
“Not much. Basically, unless I up my writing game, I’m not getting my A Plus, which means I’m never going to get a decent internship after we finish.” I let out a heavy sigh and link my arm through hers as she groans in frustration.
“Did he say anything else… anything useful?”
“Only that I need to add more passion; he feels as though something is off. I sense that, too. Sometimes, I feel like a fraud when writing, but I can’t put my finger on what’s missing.”
“You’ve got this. Try not to overthink, too much. Let the ideas come to you,” she suggests. “In the meantime, what you need is a break, and I have just the thing.”
“You do?”
“Yep. Gav asked me to meet him for some food later, and I said you’d be there because guess who else is coming?”
“Shut up.”
“Addy Alonso… Addy Alonso,” she chants his name while doing some whack arm-wave dance move that should never happen in public.
“No way.”
“Yes way. It’s practically a double date… Gav and me. You and Addy. It’s all falling into place.”
“Will you cut it out? He might not even like me.”
“He might not even like me,” she echoes in a high-pitched tone, pretending to play with her hair all coy-like.
I shove her playfully in the ribs. “Pack it in.”
“Fine. But you seriously need to accept that you and Addy are going to happen, and tonight is probably going to be the start of something amazing that will be all thanks to me.”
“I really don’t think I’m his type,” I mumble as we make our way outside to the parking lot.
“Now, I know you’re not serious. Sweetie, you’re every man’s type, and you fucking know it. Jesus, you’re my type and I’m as straight as that lamp post,” she says in an exasperated tone that makes us both laugh.
“Fine. What are you wearing? Let me go and get some jeans on. I’d rather go casual if Addy’s going to be there. I’m not having him thinking I’ve dressed up for him.”
She eyes me up and down, taking in my pink short co-ord suit and shaking her head.
“There’s no time. I said we’d meet them at four; we’re going straight there… It’s fine. You look gorgeous. I look gorgeous. We’re good. We’re doing this.”
She’s so matter of fact and nonchalant about the fact we’re meeting up with two of the most popular boys at college. Probably because she’s been hanging out with Gav so much lately, she’s practically his official girlfriend, but with Addy, it’s way more complicated.
First, there is the whole marriage thing hanging over my head. Even though I’m one hundred-percent committed to not marrying Hunter, it would still kill my family if they found out I’d sort of, somehow, in a weird way, cheated on him. I mean, it’s not really cheating because I’m not in any kind of relationship with Hunter, but my family wouldn’t see it like that.
Then, there’s the small fact that Addy has no idea who I really am, and I have no intentions of giving away my true identity to him or anyone else. Last, but by no means least, is how deliciously stunning he is compared to me. I’ve only been near him a couple of times when Harlow had been making small talk with Gav, but it was enough to notice.
Watching him playing football is one thing, but standing just a few inches away from him is another. Addy is exquisitely hot, and he has this way about him. It’s always insanely awkward between us because neither of us know what to say to each other, and he gives me this look that says, ‘I’m better than you and you know it.’
It mostly makes me want to slam my heel down on his toes, but a small part of me notices something behind the smouldering pig-headed gaze. The girl part of me detecting the masculine part of him that wants me, or wants my body at least.
Which reminds me of the other reason tonight is going to be so excruciatingly awkward. The V-word. Yep, I’m a virgin. It’s totally normal for everyone I know, but at CamU, and especially around Addy, I feel like it might as well be tattooed across my forehead it’s that obvious and that weird.
“Where are we meeting them?”
“At Geppetto’s so we might as well walk.”
“All right. Let me throw some stuff in your car first,” I add as we make our way across the lot. Pulling my bag open, I empty out my English books and dump them on her passenger seat along with my crappy English assignment while Harlow tops up her lip gloss using the camera on her phone as a mirror. A few selfies later, we’re making our way to Geppetto’s, and I have butterflies in my stomach at the thought of sharing a table with the hottest guy in college.
What am I supposed to say to him? How do you start a conversation with someone who’s so good looking that freshman dare each other to approach him and ask for couple selfies?
My worries about conversation are substantiated when we come face to face with Gav and Addy in their window seat. They almost fill the booth due to their height and size, so we have no choice but to sit next to each of them. Of course, Harlow slides in beside Gav and launches into a full-blown rant about how the cute guy on Bliss Island stood the girl up on America’s most popular dating show. From the look Gav gives Addy, I really don’t think he cares at all, but Harlow doesn’t take one bit of notice. That’s Harlow when she’s on one, no one’s getting a word in anytime soon.
Reluctantly, I take the seat next to Addy and acknowledge him with an awkward smile.
“What’s up?” He nods at me, making no attempts to move over. His confidence oozing from every pore and overpowering mine within seconds.
“Hi,” I reply. Looking up to meet his gaze, his eyes don’t meet mine. They are fixed on the space between my blazer lapels where my V-neck vest top is gaping slightly, now I’m sitting forward. I jump back, folding my arms across my chest and feeling the blood from my veins turn hot and rush toward my cheeks.
He smiles and jerks his chiselled chin to one side, letting me know he doesn’t care if I’m on to him, and I wonder how much of my bra he could see.
I’ve always been shy about my body- part of the reason I’m not in a rush to lose my V-card. Mostly because it’s important to me, and I do still believe in some of the Catholic values I’ve been raised on, but also because the thought of someone seeing my tiny excuse for boobs in the flesh kills me.
Harlow says I’m being silly and the right person will love me whatever shape and size I am and I’m leaning toward believing her, but Addy Alonso blatantly staring down my top doesn’t help.
“What does a pretty little thing like you eat, then?” He still hasn’t taken his eyes off me, and I still haven’t uncrossed my arms.
“Pretty little thing?” I arch an eyebrow at him; his megawatt charm won’t work so easily on me. I’m not just going to fall at his feet, like the other girls he’s used to, just because he has good hair and gorgeous come-to-bed eyes.
“Just calling it as I see it.” He casually shrugs, picking up a menu and handing one to me.
Despite my best intentions, my cheeks burn up all over again. For fuck’s sake.
“Do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Blush when someone pays you a compliment?”
Harlow and Gav fall silent, and three sets of eyes are suddenly fixed on me.
“Always,” my best friend kindly chips in, and I scowl at her.
“Cute,” he replies to her while continuing to watch me
squirm. His eyes are so blue, I could dive in and drown in them forever.
The waitress appears, and we all order pretty much the same food as one another because the burgers and shakes at Geppetto’s are the best around campus.
Gav and Harlow continue to talk about pointless shit, and we laugh at Gav when he succumbs and promises to watch Bliss Island just so they can discuss what happens tomorrow.
“You’re clearly not into reality TV then?” Addy murmurs to me quietly, letting the two of them talk amongst themselves while we wait for our food to arrive.
“Not really.” I shake my head, relaxing a little and dropping my arms to rummage for my phone in my handbag and check the time on the lock screen, conscious that all the while I’m sitting with sex on legs, I could be working on my essay.
“What turns you on, then, Imogen?”
His gaze is so intense, I can’t help but giggle as I answer honestly, “Books mostly.”
Great, now he thinks I’m some kind of alien. He’s making sexual innuendos, and I’m talking about my Kindle to-be-read list. Way to go, Bella.
“Books,” he repeats, as if he needs to digest the concept before we can move on.
Our food arrives before I can say anything else which is going to make him think I’m a certified weirdo, and I proceed to say as little as possible. Aside from our comparable amazing dress sense, it quickly becomes clear Addy and I have absolutely nothing in common. It doesn’t stop me wanting him, though. Or him wanting me.
“Do you two wanna get out of here?” he asks as we finish up our burgers and sip the last of our shakes.
“And go where?” Harlow pipes up from across the table.