Fragile Love

by Mack Black

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 Mack Black

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Acknowledgements

  Coming 2019

  Connect with Mack Black

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 Mack Black

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced to a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner of the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, singers, actors, lyrics, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Six years ago

  The library had somehow become my go-to spot when I’d started college. As I sat with dust-covered tomes spread out against a mahogany-colored wooden table, thoughts swirled through my mind. I didn’t see her when she walked in, but I sensed her.

  When my eyes drifted up, they landed on the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. She had dark brown hair and chestnut-colored eyes. Tall, but not too tall and skinny, but not too skinny. She wore a red spaghetti strap top and a denim mini skirt.

  Just the kind of girl that never goes for me.

  A shocking jolt traveled through my chest when she walked up to my table, angling her body as she stared down at me.

  "Umm, could you help me find room seven o' nine?" she asked.

  Even her voice was beautiful, just like every inch of her. She couldn’t be talking to me. Right? I glanced behind me, convinced someone hovered there. When I saw nobody lingering, I cleared my throat and turned back to her.

  "Uhh…I, uhh—I'm James."

  God what an idiot thing to say. The girl asked you a question dummy.

  "I'm Bella," she said, laughing at my obvious discomfort.

  "I apologize. I wasn't sure you were talking to me," I answered honestly. "Girls like you don't talk to guys like me."

  "And what exactly does that mean, James?" I couldn't place her accent, but she wasn’t American.

  "Oh—umm—well, I'm what they call a nerd and you are what they call a cheerleader," I clarified.

  Smooth, real smooth.

  "I don't much like cheerleaders," she said, smiling as she took the seat across from me. "But truth be told, you were the first non-threatening person I saw."

  "I'm going to take that as a compliment. Also, I would be honored to show you around. You must be new here."

  Of course she is new here! What is with this stupid reasoning today?

  "What gave it away?" She laughed.

  "Yeah. Stupid comment, my apologies."

  "You're quite funny, James." She looked me dead in the eye, almost as if she were looking through me.

  "Let's try again. I'm James Winters, and you are?" I stuck my hand out to shake hers.

  "Bella Fiorello,” she said, grasping my hand firmly in hers and shaking it. "I just transferred here from Italy."

  Oh dear God, she's Italian...my only weakness.

  "Italy, wow. Why did you want to come here?" I chuckled.

  "The school seemed nice?" she said, her tone questioning. Then she laughed. "No, my parents transferred here for work. This was the only college I could get into on late notice."

  Lucky for me.

  I stood, packing my books away and motioning for her to join me. She did, and we walked toward the library exit, but I wasn’t really paying attention to where I stepped. My eyes were on her and only her. Until I ran right into a wall, my bag falling to the floor and everything inside vomiting out.

  Another laugh spilled from her beautiful lips as she bent down to help me pick everything up.

  "You seem to like laughing at my misfortune, don't you?" I asked, trying to be a gentleman and not look up her short skirt. I failed.

  "Yeah because you're funny, James Winters. I can see us becoming fast friends." She grabbed the last of my books, handed them to me, and pretended not to notice where my eyes were fixed.

  Friends? No!

  Present day

  Would I ever get out of the stupid friendzone?

  In the six years I’d known Bella, I’d probably asked her out at least one hundred and sixty times. Every single time she turned me down with the same excuse: our friendship was just too good to ruin.

  I’d tried to date other women, but they were all a bunch of fakes, only giving me a chance to further their agendas. Women like Elise…

  Elise had been my friend almost as long as Bella, so that one stung deep.

  The day Bella told me Elise liked me, I’d been thrilled. That was the kind of distraction that might make me forget about her. And sure, I didn’t love Elise like I loved Bella, but love didn’t just happen. Just because we’d known each other six years didn't mean we couldn't fall in love later. I could love two people at once, right?

  I’d never looked at Elise in that way, mostly because I’d been too busy admiring Bella, but maybe if I did, I could forget about this unrequited love I had and finally move on. She hadn’t given me a shot anyways.

  Since Elise and I worked at the same company, I waited until after work one night and I went for it. She accepted without hesitation, and after that we were pretty much inseparable. I was drawing a connection with her, finally starting to feel something with her. Maybe it was the beginning of love, or maybe I was just forcing myself to think it was because I didn't want to go back to obsessing over Bella.

  Then I caught her talking to some intern by the water cooler, and I could still hear every word from that conversation in my head. Granted it had happened only a day ago, but for twenty-four hours it played on repeat, and I couldn’t turn it off.

  "Why would you date him? He acts like such a little boy with all those toys and video games. Girl, you need a real man! James isn't even that attractive."

  "God, I know! That shit gets on my nerves. I'm only seeing him because I need to get in good with Mr. Freedmon. James is the perfect tool for that considering he is basically the man’s personal assistant. Talk about skills being wasted. He is so smart, yet he spends his days getting coffee for the man."

  "How long can you keep up the façade? He is going to want something from you sooner or later. Are you willing to sleep with him?"

  "Never in a million years would I sleep with James Winters."

  The crushing feeling against my chest had become an aching throb. I’d thought when I got out of high school that kind of shit would end, that adult women would be different. Boy had I been wrong. Adult women were just as cruel as teenage girls.

  Elise had never taken my mind off Bella. It was a nice distraction for a while, but it had ended and now more than ever, I wanted to go crawl into a h
ole. I could be like the Arrow, only instead of being stuck on a prison island, I could just go away for a while and come back as someone women would want. Oliver had done it, so I could do it, too. Well, minus all the messed-up shit he went through. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, much less myself. I would be more like the guy on Cast Away, friending a volleyball to keep from getting lonely.

  I looked in the mirror at myself. My brown hair curled around my face was a little too long and my baggy t-shirt hid all the muscles I’d worked so hard to get. I had the body of any woman's dreams, I just needed to make the rest of me match. I decided I was going to upgrade myself, dress nicer and look less like a dork so women might take me seriously. A make-over of sorts. Of course, when I mentioned it to Nessa, she was all over it, forcing me to let her do all the work.

  My sister was quite bored as a stay at home mom. Jace had a job and provided for them, so she stayed with the kids. It worked for them because they were well-off money wise. Then again, Jace's inheritance from his father had been substantial. Add that to the income he brought in and money was no issue. I wanted that. Financial security to hold me over. Maybe then I could just buy a girlfriend. It wouldn't be the same, but at least I would have one.

  I agreed to her terms, more for her than me, knowing it would distract her from her usual routine and maybe do some good for her. After Raine came along, Nessa kind of fell into a bout of depression and she didn’t smile much. At first, I’d thought there were problems in wonderland, but she assured me it was only postpartum depression and it would go away soon. A few years had passed, and she hadn’t changed, but, being a mom and staying home all the time might have something to do with that.

  With a sigh, I hopped in my car and headed for my sister’s house, ready to weather whatever storm came with this makeover.

  I wouldn’t change who I was—not now, not ever. I could upgrade my looks, though, and put the toys away. I wouldn’t part with them, because they’d been way too expensive. Plus, they were highly valuable, so I’d just tuck them away in a safe place while I acted like more of a man. I could grow to like a bachelor pad.

  I took a deep breath as I pulled up at Nessa's, readying myself for whatever torture she had planned, then I slipped from the car and knocked on the door.

  When Ness answered, she shoved me out the door before I could even step inside. She couldn’t wait to take me shopping for a new wardrobe, but I didn't know if I could afford that. I could afford a few new shirts since I’d been putting some money back.

  Was I really wasting my talents working for the man?

  I had always wanted to work for a video game company designing games, yet I ended up working as a freaking personal assistant to the richest man in Hartley Hills. Yeah, I was wasting my talents. Picking up dry cleaning and getting coffee wasn't exactly something to be proud of.

  Nessa dragged me to her car, and I let her, just happy to finally see a big bright smile on her face. I hopped in, buckling up as I took another breath.

  "You look real happy Ness. It's been a while since I saw happy on you." I shifted towards her.

  "James I've always been happy, but being a mom is hard. It gets to me sometimes," she almost whispered. "I don't get to do much of anything anymore and sometimes I just need some me time. God, that sounds so selfish. Forget I even said it."

  It didn’t sound selfish at all. After the Charlotte incident, things changed for all of us—especially Nessa. She had night terrors, anxiety, and small personality changes, but she hated admitting anything was wrong with her.

  For me, Charlotte made it hard for me to trust anyone.

  "Well forget all about that because tonight you’re just my sister, and I'm your project. Make me look good."

  "You already look good. I'm just going to help you to highlight your assets and flaunt them." She squeezed my hand for reassurance. “You put in all that work at the gym, lost all that weight, and for what? To wear baggy t-shirts? This time, we’re gonna get something that flatters your figure.”

  "Okay, whatever ya say."

  We drove up to a block of stores. Nessa jumped from the car and dragged me into the first one, where she disappeared into the clothing racks. I stood back, watching.

  Before I knew it, she popped up in front of me, jolting me out of my thoughts. "Step one: lose the daily nerdy t-shirts and go for something like this," she said, holding up a button down.

  "I don't have to throw them out, do I?" I asked, my heart racing at the thought.

  "Of course not. Just don't wear them all the time," she said.

  She draped a few button downs over my arm as she dove back into the clothing selection, appearing moments later with some slacks.

  With a smirk, she pointed at my jeans. "Step two: lose the holey jeans for some slacks.”

  She had a point. I wore them so often they’d been reduced to a tragedy.

  "Step three: lose the glasses and do something with that hair." She peeled my glasses away, fluffing my shaggy hair.

  I squinted, but nothing came into focus. In fact, I couldn’t see a damn thing except outlines and blurs, but I trusted Nessa. When she handed them back to me, I slid them over my eyes.

  "And the last step is to tame the inner nerd. Don't change yourself or who you are, just maybe ease up on the nerd talk? Girls don't want to hear about your video games or your comic books. Instead, go for a more sophisticated topic—like what you do for work or the current happenings in the world. Put away the action figures littering your apartment and try for something a little more your age. And finally—you have to open yourself up a bit, James. You can't always keep everything inside. Girls like a guy who can be vulnerable when the time calls for it. No one likes little Mr. Perfect."

  "But Ness, I need the glasses to see," I argued.

  "No, you need contacts to see," she clarified. "Now go try these clothes on."

  "I tried contacts and hated them, remember?" I whined.

  "You want my help or not?" She crossed her arms over her chest, angling her chin toward me as she tapped her foot against the floor.

  She was right. I’d agreed to this no matter the cost.

  With a sigh, I headed for the dressing room.

  I slid on a pair of slacks and buttoned up a shirt over my t-shirt.

  Once I got the full outfit on, I looked good. It highlighted the muscular abs I spent an entire summer working on.

  I finished trying the clothes on, setting my favorites aside. When I stepped out, I only had three keepers.

  Nessa frowned at me. "Seriously?"

  "Ness, I don't have the money you do. This alone will probably break my bank. I might work for the richest man in town, but I'm nowhere near rich," I said.

  "Good thing I have my Visa then." She chuckled, holding the card up in front of her.

  “Jace is gonna kill you."

  The clothes ended up costing around five-hundred bucks. I’d only brought three items, which meant I’d be doing a lot of yard work at Jace’s to help pay back all the money Ness spent on me. I had a feeling she was nowhere near done, either. I’d be indebted to them forever, but maybe that had been her plan all along…

  We strolled to the barber shop inside the strip where she pushed me into a chair, telling the stylist how she should cut my hair. The woman’s look of pity—or maybe disgust—told me she thought I was whipped. I was far from it, although I wouldn't mind being whipped by Bella. I'd do anything she said if she were mine, like Jace with Nessa.

  If she batted her lashes at Jace, he had no chance. I'd give up all my material possessions to have Bella bat her lashes at me like that, to run my hands along her skin and bury my nose in her hair like Jace always did.

  What was it about hair? Did a girl’s hair just smell good or something? I didn’t know since I was probably the only almost twenty-seven-year-old virgin. I’d had plenty of girlfriends, but never a real one. Hell, I’d hardly even kissed a girl, except for the time at that one party we played spin the bottle.

&
nbsp; Mentally, I’d begged the bottle to stop on Bella, to point right at her so I could kiss her, and she’d feel the attraction I knew existed between us. Instead, it’d landed on Shelly: the campus slut.

  I was almost afraid to kiss her, for fear of contracting some disease, but as my peers cheered me on I knew if I didn't, I’d never live it down and that wasn't something I wanted. So, I went in for a quick peck, the kind of kiss I was used to, but Shelly grabbed the back of my head and shoved her tongue down my throat. It was kind of gross. I’d envisioned my first real kiss to be very different from what it’d been. Thinking back, it kind of made me sad.

  It didn’t take long after that incident before the girls dared each other to date me or made me an assignment to pledge a sorority. A cruel punishment. They’d branded me the guy to pick on, the guy to take advantage of. A sick feeling swirled through my stomach just thinking about it. People were nothing but a bunch of fucking animals.

  Throughout college, eighteen different girls had fake dated me. After a few times, I should’ve noticed the signs, but I never did, and every time I found out, it stung deeper.

  After a while they stopped trying, maybe because they realized I wouldn't fall for it like I had eighteen times before, but I didn't know the true reason. For me, I was just glad nobody laughed at me anymore. It had been a big relief to my dwindling ego—what little of one I had.

  Somewhere amidst my inner monologue, the stylist had started on my hair. I snapped out of my thoughts when her clippers grazed my ear. Thankfully it didn't cut me, and it didn't hurt.

  "Stay still," she said.

  From that moment on, I didn’t move out of fear I might lose an ear. Halfway through, at Nessa's insistence, she turned me away from the mirror, so I couldn’t see until she finished.

  Nessa clapped her hands as the stylist stepped away, a huge smile on her face. "Ready to see the new do?"

  "That depends. Do I look stupid?"

  "You look handsome," she said, a playful jilt in her voice.

  “You have to say that. I’m your brother.” I pressed my lips together. "Alright, fine. Let me see it." Fear clutched my gut. If I looked stupid, oh well. The stylist couldn’t put any of my hair back.