by Layla Wilde
Contents
TITLE: BEST FRIEND'S BABY#1
Victoria
Hunter
Victoria
Hunter
Victoria
Hunter
Victoria
Hunter
Victoria
CONNECT
BEST FRIEND’S BABY
(BOOK ONE)
By
LAYLA WILDE
COPYRIGHT © 2016
All Rights Reserved
Victoria
I couldn’t believe I had already finished my second year of college. It felt like only yesterday when I started high school as a timid little freshman, clutching my textbooks to my chest and trying not to look any of the seniors in the eye. Now, I was twenty-one and about to start my junior year of college. It was mind-boggling, to say the least.
“Honey, can you help me put the clothes out to dry?” My mother appeared suddenly, peeking her head into my room. Her skin, leathery as always, was caked with discolored foundation.
“Going out?” I asked, noting her bleached blonde hair pulled up into a tight bun, the only up-do she could make.
“I’m going to that gala for animal abuse. All the big activists are going to be there, and I want to make a good impression,” she said proudly before pushing the door open and plopping a huge load of laundry on my bed. I glanced at it, groaning inwardly.
“Tell me again—why can’t we just get a dryer?” I asked her. It would take forever to hang all these socks and towels out on the clothesline. Besides, it was way too hot for anyone to be outside.
“Because the electricity would be a waste. We’re perfectly capable of washing our clothes by hand and putting them out to dry. Now, stop arguing with me. You can still watch for Hunter through the backyard, don’t worry.” She winked at me, a knowing smile on her soft lips.
“Who says that’s what I’ve been doing?” My face contorted into a slight pout, and I crossed my arms over my full chest, trying to deny her claim. Yet I couldn’t help glancing out the window when I heard what sounded like a motorcycle pass by on the street below.
“I’m your mother,” she said, her hand on her hip. “I know these things.” She chuckled and offered me a bright smile. “But when he does drop by, tell him to come for a visit sometime. I’ll cook dinner.”
Again, I groaned inwardly, thinking about my mother’s vegan meals. Spaghetti squash instead of real pasta and tofu instead of actual meat. Hunter and I had become masters of getting rid of our food, fooling my mother into thinking we loved the savory meals.
“Will do, Mom. But do I really need to do the laundry?” I protested. “I was about to practice the violin.”
“You spend enough time with that blasted thing already. Go on and do the laundry,” she said sternly before turning on her heels and leaving the room. “And it better be folded and in its place by the time I get back from the gala,” she shouted from down the hall.
“Ugh!” I slumped back onto my mattress, letting my body relax for just a moment. Since I had come home for the summer, my mother had worked me to the bone. Since I couldn’t snag a summer job, Mom decided to punish me by making me do every chore in the house—as if I were a teenager working for an allowance all over again. Except I didn’t get a dime for all my hard work, no matter how spotless I made the fine china.
Abruptly, I heard the hum of a motorcycle coming down the street, and my whole body sprung upwards as I craned my neck to get a better look out the window. I frowned when I saw some middle-aged guy on a Harley. What is it with all these motorcycles lately? When I was in high school, I used to be able to recognize the sound of Hunter’s bike from a mile away. But after two years apart, going to different universities, I’d lost my touch. Of course, we’d texted during this time, but it just wasn’t the same. I still felt like I could tell him anything, but even though sometimes we Skyped, being separated made me feel like a part of me was missing.
Recently, he had sent me a picture of his new bike. It was different from his first one, which I distinctly remember being a light blue color. He used to call it his “baby,” as if he had fallen in love with the Yamaha motorcycle. Sometimes, I was envious of that bike, believing it got more attention from him than I did. Thinking about it, I bit my lip and looked at my phone. Maybe I should text him again. He should have been here by now.
I unlocked my phone and frowned. I had already texted him five times. At this point, I looked desperate. But why wasn’t he answering me? Maybe he had met someone in college and just didn’t want to tell me. My heart tightened at the thought. Lately, I had gotten the feeling that he was becoming quite distant. His texts were few and far between, and sometimes, it felt like I was losing my best friend. Pain shot through my heart as if an arrow had pierced right through it. “No… He would’ve told me if he wasn’t coming…” I whispered in an effort to convince myself he was just busy or something.
Trying to get my mind off my nervousness, I grabbed the laundry basket and held it against my hip as I made my way down the stairs and out the back door. Outside, the air was humid and thick, making it hard to breathe. I put the basket down and pulled my auburn hair into a loose ponytail, feeling strands of it sticking to the sides of my skull with sweat. I hadn’t been outside for five minutes, and I was already dying. I sighed and picked up the basket, determined to finish this as quickly as possible so I could go back to the comfort of the AC.
With a few clothespins in my mouth, I hung up sock after sock. I quickly lost count, my body going into autopilot, working like a well-oiled machine that had done this countless times before. As I continued to work, my eyes wandered around my surroundings, taking in our overgrown lawn. The grass was a vibrant green color, but it reached my knees. Neither my mother nor I cared to cut it.
Tucked in the corner was a broken-down shed with boarded windows. It had been broken into so many times my mother didn’t bother to put a lock on it anymore. Leaning against it was a variety of different furniture and pieces of wood that could probably be found at a junkyard. Mom liked to dabble in DIY projects, but none of them were completed. She would always stop halfway through a project and jump on the next bandwagon until the pile of junk in our backyard became ridiculous.
I worried she was turning into a hoarder. There was a reason why I rarely came outside, unlike when my dad was still around and we had a swingset. I sighed, remembering the times I had played tag with Hunter, tumbling around in the grass, getting our clothes all torn and dirty. He would go home and I’d hear his mother yell at him for acting like a heathen, but the very next day, he would show up in my yard again, ready to play.
While reminiscing, I looked at his house. It was disproportionately large when compared to the rest of the neighborhood. For a while, I tried to understand why Hunter’s dad would want to build his mini-mansion in the suburbs, but all I could come up with was that he probably wanted to show off to all the people who couldn’t afford anything more than two-storey homes.
It was at least three times bigger than ours. It had four floors in total, a giant swimming pool, a games room, and an awesome hammock in the backyard. Still, we had never played there when we were younger. Hunter’s father had never approved of me coming into his home and touching his things with my grubby little hands. To this day, he didn’t approve of me. But, through the years, I had come to accept it. It made sense, anyway, at least from his point of view. His son, the heir to Motocross Industries, playing with the poor little girl next door? Luckily for me, it never stopped Hunter from making the effort to see me, even when he was threatened with being grounded for life.
I smiled fondly and looked out at the road, wondering where he was. I was so excited to tel
l him the good news. This year, I would be transferring to his college, Ohio Stateside College (OSC). In order to save money, I had been going to a local school here in Maine, but, with my good grades and financial situation, OSC had been kind enough to offer me a free ride for my last two years. All I had to do was supply the money for books and materials, something I could easily come up with after a few days of babysitting or some private violin lessons.
I was very excited, comparing the giant Stateside campus to my tiny school. I imagined state-of-the-art dorms, marvelous laboratories, and a library I could get lost in for days. But best of all was the fact that I could spend all my free time with Hunter. Maybe we would even get lucky enough to be put in the same dorm. I daydreamed happily, thinking about us walking hand-in-hand to class, acting like the couple I always wanted us to be.
Our secret romance had been going on for years, but it had never developed into anything serious. Now, however, I was determined to turn it into something meaningful. This year would be the one I finally told him how I really felt. I smiled, clutching a soft white towel to my chest. It would be perfect.
Just as I hung up the last piece of laundry, I heard a loud hum down the street. I raised myself up on my tip toes, trying to look over the fence, but it was useless. I was much too short. Quickly, I turned the laundry basket over and clambered onto it. My whole face lit up when I finally saw Hunter riding down the street on his navy-blue sports bike with matching helmet. It has to be him.
My heart raced in my chest, waiting for him to park and take off his helmet, just to make sure. My eyes were glued to his chiseled body. Over the years, he had started the habit of frequenting the gym, keeping his body in tip-top shape, especially when his interest for football grew and he had to keep a competitive edge over the other boys who wanted to become running backs.
Finally, he took off his helmet, resting it on his bike as he walked up the driveway to his home. I was lost for words. In our two years apart, he had grown even more handsome. His luscious black hair flowed down the crown of his head in soft waves, framing his angular face. His eyes were the same dazzling blue, but they held a hint of maturity in them, as if he had left behind his haphazard behavior and finally turned into a man. His facial hair added to this look, defining his sharp jawline and kissable, pink lips.
My heart had never beat this fast before. Seeing him today felt like the first time. I bit my lip and scrambled off the laundry basket when he ambled into his house, the sound of the door closing behind him rousing me from my daze. In my struggle to get to him quickly, I tripped over the basket and face-planted into the ground, groaning as I felt a dull pain slam through my bones. I would definitely feel it in the morning, but right now, I didn’t care.
I looked down at my clothes, dirty and ruined, and shook my head. ‘The faster you try to be, the slower you get,’ my mother always used to say. I sighed and grabbed the basket that had ruined my plans and carried it inside. I had waited for Hunter all day so a few more minutes wouldn’t kill me. Besides, I could use the time to freshen up a bit and really impress him when he opened his door and saw me. I wondered how he would react. Will he be happy to see me or will he shut the door in my face, breaking my heart?
Hunter
I slammed the door behind me, irritated. I had just driven all the way home. A long, fourteen-hour drive, with nothing to keep me company but my own thoughts—which weren’t the best, since the last thing I experienced before getting on my bike was a lengthy, painful chat with my coach.
I had gone to OCS on an athletic scholarship, thinking I would be on the varsity team and that someone from the NFL would see my talent and choose me for a draft pick, but now, it appeared that would never happen. I had just finished my sophomore year, and I still hadn’t been on the field for longer than ten minutes. My coach always promised me I would go in during the next game, but that never happened. I was sure that I would be picked as an upperclassman, but apparently that wasn’t enough to guarantee me a spot on the team.
“Asshole,” I mumbled under my breath.
I shook my head and entered my room, collapsing onto the bed. If I don’t get into the NFL, what am I supposed to do with my life? I couldn’t bear to work in some corporate office with my father, like he was constantly trying to force me. It would drive me insane. No, I had to find some way to convince Coach Wallaby to let me on the team. I had to. I ground my teeth and stared at the ceiling, trying to come up with a convincing argument. There had to be something I could do to make him listen to me. Maybe some of my father’s lawyers could help… No, I had to do this on my own. I couldn’t rely on him.
I sighed and fished my phone out of my pocket to call one of my hometown buddies to see if he wanted to hang out. Before I could, however, the doorbell rang. I waited, listening to see if one of the maids would answer the door, but the house was completely silent. There was no creaking of wood underfoot nor the sound of feet shuffling. The doorbell rang again, and my phone buzzed. I looked at it curiously, seeing Victoria’s name pop up on the screen. I smiled and rolled out of bed. Maybe she would understand.
I hurried down the stairs two at a time and opened the door with a flourish. I froze when I saw her. The last time I had seen her cute face in person was the summer after high school graduation. My jaw nearly hit the floor when I saw how gorgeous she had become over the last two years. Our various video chats had hidden her beauty. Her hair was much longer now, which I appreciated. I had hated the bob-cut she had paid for in senior year. Now, it flowed down her back in soft ringlets, giving her an almost angelic look. Her skin was free of all her teenage acne, revealing healthy, milky white skin that I had the sudden urge to caress and kiss, my heart kick-starting in my chest as I finally locked eyes with her, staring into their warm, chocolate color, my heart melting.
“Hunter!” She squealed excitedly and barreled into me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“Whoa there, killer! If you keep that up, you’re going to be on the football team before I am.” I sighed softly. Maybe I wasn’t as good a football player as I thought I was. No, that was insane. Of course I was good. Damn good.
“What?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, her tiny pink lips catching the light and drawing my eyes to them. Instantly, a surge of hormones rushed through my body, leaving me gasping for breath. Had Victoria always had this effect on me? I remembered having a crush on her, but I didn’t think it had been this bad. I shook my head, trying to ignore it before I reached forward to brush her long bangs gently out of her eyes.
“It’s nothing,” I said, and grabbed her hand and led her up to my room. She looked around my house as if paranoid, obviously searching for something. “Don’t worry. No one’s home. My dad is on a business trip or something. He gets back tomorrow—I think so, anyway.” I shrugged, laughing. “Besides, if anyone does come home, you’re small enough to hide under my bed.”
She hit my arm playfully. “I’m not that small!” she protested.
“Babe, you’re four foot ten. You’re a pipsqueak, just admit it.” She pouted, standing with her hands on her hips and looking completely adorable. I laughed and picked her up, carrying her the rest of the way up the stairs. “By the way, you’re really cute when you’re angry.”
Her cheeks reddened. Her sexy pink lips pressed into a hard line as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to stay mad at me. I looked down, noticing for the first time how low her shirt really was, exposing her sizable chest. For whatever reason, it seemed huge. Maybe it was the fact that she had lost a little weight and her breasts looked bigger in proportion. I had no idea, but whatever it was, I loved it.
“Put me down,” she said finally, trying to remain defiant even though I knew she enjoyed the ride.
“As you wish.” I shrugged and tossed her playfully onto the bed, watching her little body bounce on my king-sized mattress.
“Jerk!” she yelled at me across the room, sat up, and crossed her legs. “I said put me down, not
throw me.” She rested her hands on her ankles, leaning forward a bit. I felt my dick come alive between my legs, twitching slightly at the sight of her bosom nearly spilling out of her shirt. How did I survive two years without her? “Anyway, what’s this about not being on the football team?”
“Look, I don’t really want to talk about it,” I said, sitting at the edge of the bed. All I wanted to do was lay down with her. Is that too much to ask for?
“Oh, come on. I can see it all over your face. You wouldn’t have complained to me if you weren’t upset. And it’s not like you can pretend, I have your texts to prove it. So… tell me… It’ll make you feel better,” she pressed, moving closer to me.
“Fine,” I gave in, unable to deny her. “But I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh, come on. We tell each other everything.” Her sweet voice wrapped around me, making me weak in the knees.
“Alright. Alright.” I lay back, looking at the ceiling. “So you know how I went to OSC, really excited about the football scholarship, thinking I would get to play as a freshman and impress everyone?”
“Of course. You were super excited,” Victoria said, laying down by my side, playing with the tips of her hair as she looked at me, trying to read my emotions.