by Lane Hart
“You got a thing for Hannah or something?” I ask my dickhead roommate after we both get back to our dorm room Monday afternoon.
“Yeah? So?” Garrett responds, not even bothering to deny it. “She’s hot.”
“Yeah, she is,” I easily agree. “Too bad she’ll only ever see you as a friend,” I tell him, making him sulk even more over where he’s reading his book on his bed. “You know why that is?”
“Why?” he asks, lowering the paperback to look over at me, hope filling his dumb, little eyes that I’ll be able to impart some wisdom to help him get some pussy.
“Because you’re too nice.”
“There’s no such thing as being too nice,” he argues with a huff before he goes back to his book.
“Sure there is. Girls don’t want you to constantly smother them with kindness. That’s what friends are for. And they sure as shit don’t want you asking to hold their hands or to kiss them. It’s all about the spontaneity, taking chances, playing hard to get, keeping them guessing so they never get bored.”
“If that’s what you think, then you’re in for a long life alone, Royal,” he informs me.
“We’ll see,” I tell him. “You do shit your way and I’ll do it mine, and we’ll see who gets some pussy first.”
“So, you’re a virgin too?” he asks.
“Hell no,” I instantly deny even though it’s a big, fat lie. Not even Blake and Aric know I haven’t made it past second base yet. It’s hard to get naked with a girl without her asking about the bruises and shit all over my body, which are no one’s fucking business. I don’t want or need anyone’s pity. The last thing I need are nosy people going around telling everyone I’m a pussy who gets his ass kicked on a regular basis by his old man.
“Oh. I should’ve known you had already hooked up with a lot of girls,” Garrett mutters, not even bothering to challenge me on my claim. The asshole must be fucking depressed if he’s buying my bullshit.
Really, I shouldn’t enjoy his misery with being butthurt over Hannah so much, but I do. It’s karma for his father making me waste four weeks of my life in this hell hole camp.
And to rub salt in his wounds, maybe I’ll try and steal his girl right out from under him. It’s not like he has a chance with Hannah anyway. Besides, trying to get under the goody two shoes’ skin will be fun. I don’t buy her whole sweet, innocent act like everyone else. I bet I can make her show her true colors eventually if I push her buttons hard enough.
Chapter 4
Hannah
I’m exhausted after a long week on a labor of love. My arms and legs ache so much I can barely lift them an inch, but it was totally worth it to see the faces of the kids in the neighborhood light up with joy at all the new and improved playground equipment. Still, as fulfilling as it was, I can’t wait to get back to my dorm room and pass out after my cold shower. I was too tired to even wash and dry my hair, and every step back to my room seems to take twice as long.
Now that I’m finished, I can just enjoy the next two days off. I’ll probably still try to find some odd jobs around camp, but mostly I’ll hang out in my room alone or outside drawing. I prefer painting, but the supplies are too bulky to pack and bring here. Still, when I have a paint brush or a pencil in my hand, I’m happy and at peace. There’s no one that can take that from me, especially not any of the bitchy girls on campus who still aren’t any nicer after I let Garrett down gently Monday morning.
Actually, I think I may have been wrong about no one taking away my peace; because when I open the door to walk back into my room, I find it’s now been occupied by Royal Fitzpatrick.
He’s stretched out on top of my bed, back to the headboard with his legs crossed at the ankles while he casually flips through my sketch pad with a smirk on his handsome face. He doesn’t even lift his head in my direction when I quickly shut the door behind me before one of the counselors sees him in my room and I get into trouble too.
“What the heck are you doing in here?” I whisper to him while clutching the front of the towel that’s wrapped around my chest with one hand and holding my pink shower caddy in the other. “You need to leave!” I hiss at him.
“Roses? Vases? Dogs? Your drawings are just as safe and boring as you are,” he mutters while still eying the pages. “Can’t say I’m all that surprised, though.”
“Put that down and get out!” I huff as tears sting my eyes thanks to his harsh criticism of something of mine that’s so private. “Why are you in my room, going through my personal things? Get out, you jerk!”
“And there it is! Finally,” he says with a triumphant sneer before he finally lifts his whiskey-colored eyes to look at me. For a second, his evil grin falters as his gaze sweeps up and down my body that’s covered by way too little cloth. At least all the important bits are concealed. Not that you would know that based on the way he keeps staring at me like I’m stark naked. I even glance down to double check that my towel is still in place just to make sure.
Finding everything covered, I set my shower caddy down on the dresser just so I can hold the towel with two hands to be certain it stays in place.
Wait, what the heck did Royal just say?
“There-there what is?” I ask him hesitantly.
His tongue swipes over his bottom lip before he clears his throat and looks back down at my sketch book.
“You got angry and raised your voice. I finally got through that Mother Teresa act of yours.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply in confusion.
“You think you’re holier than thou just like everyone else in this place.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Sure you do,” he says as he slams the sketch book closed and looks up at me again, this time right in my eyes. “It’s why you love doing all the bullshit around here with poor, old and sick people.”
“I do it because I like helping them, not because I think I’m better than they are or that I think I’m better than anyone!”
“No, you don’t,” he responds like he knows me better than I know myself. “No one likes getting their hands dirty. They do it because they have to or because they get something in return for it.”
“Not me,” I argue. “Now give me my book and get out before a counselor finds out you’re in my room!”
“Why? Are you afraid of getting in a little trouble? Having your reputation smeared?”
“I’m afraid of getting in trouble for something that’s entirely your fault! If anyone sees you in here and reports it, they’ll think we were…”
“Were what?” he asks.
“You know what,” I whisper.
“Fucking?” Royal says, making me cringe at the derogatory term before I nod my head. “Okay, I’ll give you your book back and leave if you do one little thing for me.”
“What’s that?” I ask, ready to do almost anything to get him out of here.
“Flash me your tits.”
I gasp at his offensive request before scoffing. “No way!”
“Then I guess I’ll stay, and you’ll never see this book again.”
When he waves my sketch pad up in the air, I make a lunge for it. I get my hand on it, but Royal, who has two free hands, easily overpowers me and jerks it away, mostly because of my modesty, fearing my towel will fall. He then rolls off the other side of the bed and stands up on the opposite side. He grins from ear to ear before strolling over to the open window and holding my book out of it.
“You wouldn’t!” I challenge him, which is of course the wrong thing to say.
“Of course I would. You know I’ll drop it too. So, just show me your tits and I’ll leave you with your pathetic little drawings and be on my way.”
“No,” I refuse again, because I won’t ever do that.
“Then I guess you’ll never see your book again.”
The two of us then stare each other down for several silent moments before Royal glances away to look out the window.
�
�Oh yeah, there’s a pond right outside too!” he says gleefully. “If I drop it, then the whole thing will be ruined. Your charcoal sketches will disappear like they never existed.”
“Please don’t,” I beg.
“Three…two…” he starts counting down, but my mind has already been made up. “One.”
Royal
Goddamn it. Hannah doesn’t even budge at my threat. She’s going to be tougher to crack than I thought. I really wanted to see her bare tits, especially after noticing the way her nipples are so damn hard I can make out the little points through her cotton towel. But I’ll still enjoy seeing the look on her face when I destroy what I’m guessing is one of her most prized possessions. My father is right, I’m an evil bastard who came by it honest.
I let go of the corner of the book and watch her face as it drops, waiting for her to freak out.
Hannah doesn’t even blink. She just glares at me with her jaw clenched tight. It’s sort of disappointing that she’s still pretty even when she’s pissed.
“Now will you please leave me alone?” she asks.
She doesn’t even yell the words. She asks. Calmly, even adding the word please.
Why won’t she fucking break already?
Unsure of my next move after not getting the reaction I wanted, I glance around the room, refusing to leave just yet. Again, I notice the empty twin bed with no sheets or pillows on it. “Why don’t you have a roommate?”
“I-I don’t know,” she stammers, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“Sure you do,” I reply while crossing my arms over my chest to lean my back against the open window. “Everyone has at least one roommate, some have three in double bunk rooms. I got stuck with fucking Garrett who snores like a goddamn grizzly bear every night. So, how did you luck up and get a room all to yourself?”
“I guess the other girls don’t like me very much,” she finally admits.
“Why not?”
“You’ll have to ask them,” Hannah says with a bit more attitude. Good, so maybe I am getting to her.
“I thought this place was all about loving everyone or some shit,” I point out.
Hannah rolls her light eyes that are either blue or green or some combination. Like I care. Then she whispers, “Not everyone.”
It only takes me a second to realize that this, not being liked by all the fake little bitches here, actually fucking bothers her. I file that little tidbit away for later.
“From what I’ve seen, most of the girls here are just a bunch of stuck up hypocrites.”
“They have their reasons, I guess. It’s not for me to judge them…” Hannah responds, making me want to barf at her actually taking up for the girls that don’t like her.
If I had to guess, I can think of a few reasons why all the other females hate her. Hannah is classically and breathtakingly beautiful without even trying. Her face is the sort of flawless only models have; and she always wears her brunette hair in a perfect braid that hangs over her shoulder, making her look so sweet and innocent. From what I’ve seen, all the guys kiss her ass, trying to suck up to her like they have a chance in hell of being the first to get in her uptight, saintly panties.
They don’t.
At least, I don’t think they do. Maybe I just don’t want to imagine her with anyone else, which is stupid. Why do I care? She could fuck one or all of them and I wouldn’t give a damn. Except, for some reason, I want to go first. I selfishly want to be the first guy to defile her so that she’ll always remember me. Not in a good way either. If I’m already fucked up and ruined, then I want to take as many people down with me as possible.
“How long have you been coming here?” I ask to get my mind off of fucking her before my dick gets any harder. It started swelling as soon as I looked up and found her in nothing but a towel, and it doubled in size when I noticed her nipples. It wouldn’t take much to see her completely naked, just for her to let go of the goddamn towel she’s clenching in her fist like her life depends on it.
“Five years,” Hannah says, and it takes me a few seconds to realize what she’s talking about. I asked her how long she’s been coming here. Right.
“Have the girls always been bitches to you?”
“No. Just for like the past three-ish or so.”
That’s probably right around the time all the guys her age started thinking with their dicks.
“Then why do you keep coming back if no one likes you?” I ask, refusing to inform her while one sex may hate her, the other probably worships her nightly in their dorm rooms.
“I don’t come here to make friends,” she answers simply.
“So why do you come?”
“Because…because I love the way I feel at the end of every day of giving back, and none of the snobby girls can do or say anything to take that away from me.”
“That’s the biggest load of bologna I’ve ever heard,” I huff.
“It’s the truth. You should try it.”
“No fucking thank you,” I mutter. “I’m not here by choice and want no part of your giving back bullshit.”
“Maybe you’ll enjoy it more than you think you will if you just give it a chance,” Hannah suggests.
“I highly doubt it. I would rather just chill and take a nap,” I reply.
“If you participate tomorrow, I won’t turn you in for sneaking into my room,” she says which certainly gets my attention. I thought for sure that Miss Follow the Rules would report me before I even leave the building. Actually, I’m surprised she didn’t run out of the room screaming when she found me on her bed. Why didn’t she?
“Tomorrow’s Saturday. Our group doesn’t have work.”
“I’m sure we could find something to do,” she says.
Work with just me and her alone? “Fine,” I agree. “And if I help out, you won’t turn me in ever?” I confirm.
“No.”
“What about tomorrow night?”
“What about it?” she says with her brow furrowed.
“If I keep participating during the day, can I keep sneaking into your room at night?”
Her cheeks flush red, making her face even more beautiful than before. “If you want to. I mean, as long as you won’t get caught and get me in trouble too.”
Ah, so she wants me.
I’m well aware of what girls my age see when they look at me – a pretty package that’s hot enough to overlook my ugly, hateful, bad boy attitude. Or, worst of all, they think they can try and change me, to mold me and make me into boyfriend material, which will never happen. Guess saintly Hannah Morgan is human and a regular, hormonal teenage girl after all who likes what she sees. I can definitely work with that. Maybe the way to break Miss Follow the Rules isn’t to make her get rip-roaring angry but to make her eventually do something even worse – me. Garrett would definitely lose his shit if I steal his girl out from underneath him too. And I know I can. It’ll be almost too easy to get in her panties.
I’ve got three weeks left to break her. And if I have to get my hands dirty, it’ll be totally worth it to get her out of her towel and underneath me.
“You promise?” I ask her.
“Yes.”
“No matter what?” I tack on, because now I really need to see her tits, tits that I plan on getting my hands and mouth on very, very soon. And I know her; if Hannah makes a promise, she’ll keep it, because that’s just how she works.
“Yeah, no matter what,” she easily agrees which is when I slide over a few inches on the wall until my ass is now sitting down on the open window frame. Hannah’s eyes widen before she frantically asks, “What are you doing? Get down before you fall!”
“It’s only two stories. You think it will kill me?” I rock back and forth a few times while holding on to the frame on either side of me. I’m not scared of death even if I were to lose my grip. In fact, it’s something I’ve considered a lot lately. If it wasn’t for the airbags in the crash, I may not be here right now…
There’s just one thing right now that I want more than a quick, easy escape from my fucked-up life and that is to see a naked woman up close and personal for the very first time. I’m horny all the time lately, and ending my own life is usually just a fleeting thought.
When I lean backward out the window a few more inches, Hannah lunges toward me, grabbing my arm to pull me to my feet and thankfully abandoning her grip on her towel. All it takes is for me to give it a little tug by her side and down it falls to the floor, puddling around her feet. At least I assume that’s what the towel is doing. I’m too busy staring down at her heavy, pale tits and pink nipples just inches from my face. Leaning back just a tad, I get a quick glimpse at her bush too.
“Royal!” Hannah exclaims before she slaps an arm across her chest and kneels down to pick up the towel. Which causes my dick to try and bust its way out of my jeans because not only am I still able to see most of her boobs, but now her face is level with my crotch.
All too soon, though, she’s on her feet again, fighting with the towel to try and wrap it around herself. It’s barely covering her when her anger wins out over her modesty and Hannah’s palm connects with the side of my face.
Before my cheek even starts stinging, Hannah gasps and slaps her palm over her gaping mouth after realizing what she just did. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I’m not.
If a slap is the only punishment for seeing her naked, sexy body, then I’ll gladly take it over and over again. Besides, my dad hits a helluva lot harder than her.
There’s no explanation for what I do next. Honestly, I’m not even sure how it happens or why.
All I know is that my hands move on their own accord without thought or my permission. One covers Hannah’s to pull it away from her mouth while the other grabs her braid, giving it a tug to pull her mouth to mine. I press my lips to hers hard, because I’ve never done this before, and I can’t figure out why I’m doing it now.