Izzy Moffit's Road to Wonderland (Road to Wonderland Series Book 1)

by James, Victoria L.

  I just…

  Can’t...

  Walking over to the mirror, I make one final inspection. I'm wearing jeans and a white, floaty shirt. My hair hangs over my shoulders in a soft, barely there wave. The blue of my eyes pops just that little bit more, thanks to the subtle layer of mascara and eyeliner that I drew on earlier, with slightly trembling fingers. As I continue to assess my appearance, I lightly trace my thumb over my bottom lip before I dig inside my jeans pocket, pull out my lip balm and roll it over the soft pink of my mouth.

  Allowing myself one last glance at the clock hung on my bedroom wall, I take a deep breath, stand up straight, glance back in the mirror and give myself a little pep talk.

  “You can do this. You can really do this, and, if you’re honest with yourself, a small part of you wants to get this out of the way anyway. Get it done then you can enjoy the party, tonight. Just stay focused. Remember what it’s all about. You’re paying off a debt. You’re sticking to your promise. You’re keeping your word. All the things your father has never done before, you’re doing. This is a good thing. We can see this as a good thing as long as we don’t panic, freak out or make it into a bigger deal than it really is. It’s just sex. It’s… It’s just sex. Okay? Sex with a guy that the majority of girls out there would love to be with.”

  The face staring back at me doesn’t seem to hold the same confidence as my voice, but I don’t have time to dwell. Realising that the sun has finally risen on my birthday and ignoring the fact that I’ve been awake all through the night, preparing myself for this moment, I turn on my heels, quietly make my way out of the house so my parents don’t hear me, and then I run.

  My feet hit the streets at an even, steady pace as I make my way to Matt’s house. Even though it’s only six streets away, it’s like I’m stepping over the border from poverty to wealth. Whilst my parents aren’t exactly poor, they aren’t Cooper rich, by any means. His house sits on a sizeable plot of land and I thank god for my trusty converse as I leap my way over the fence to his back garden and stand beneath his bedroom.

  It’s seven thirty am. It’s February. It’s fucking cold. But here I stand, on the morning of my birthday, throwing stones at Matt Cooper's bedroom window in an attempt to wake him up. His house is so big I’m not even worried about getting caught by his parents. I’m pretty sure their bedroom is at least three miles away from his.

  It seems like I'm throwing pebbles for ages before I finally hear the sharp scrape of the window being dragged up through the frame. His sleepy head sticks out and looks around in confusion before he spots me.

  “Moffy?” he blows out, his warm breath meeting the cold air visible for me to see, even from down here.

  “Hey.” I smile up at him, rubbing my hands together as I bounce on my toes to keep warm. The adrenaline is raging through me, keeping me moving forward.

  “What... What are you doing here?”

  “It's my birthday.”

  “I know, but why are you here?”

  My chest puffs out as I speak. I've gotten pretty good at showing one thing while feeling another.

  “I'm here to collect my present.” I pause on purpose, wanting to play him at his own game, manipulate him the way he has tried to manipulate me. I want to tease him, make him suffer, but I also just want to get this over and done with.

  “Wait right there,” he says, sliding the window shut before I even have chance to finish, his body appearing in the doorway to the house only moments later.

  “Hey,” I say again, feeling like a total idiot.

  “Do you even realise how early it is?” he asks slowly as he eyes me up and down.

  “What can I say? I like gifts. I can't wait all day.”

  His penetrating gaze seems to turn from sleepy to heated in a split second.

  “And,” I add, “I like paying off my debts, too.”

  “Debts...” Matt mouths.

  The cold whips around me, sending my body into a shiver I can't control. “Are you going to let me in or what?”

  “I need you to tell me what you're asking of me, Moffy. I need you to be clear.”

  “No you don't. You know what I'm saying, Matt. You know why I'm here.”

  “Say it.” He smirks.

  I don't know what it is about him. I don't know why I'm really here. But there's just something about his arrogance that I want to try and beat. Some reason I want to show him I can handle whatever it is he has to throw at me, no matter how cruel and vindictive he is to me in the process.

  Taking two steady steps closer, I try to still my body as I drop my hands to my waist, lift my chin and speak with as much confidence as I can muster.

  “I want to have sex with you.”

  His half smile soon turns into a huge grin. Quickly looking over his shoulder for any signs of his parents, he raises one finger to his mouth to silence me, while his other hand curls and beckons me inside.

  Somewhere in the back of my brain, I hear Paris screaming at me to stop. Somewhere in there, I hear myself crying at the thought of what I'm about to do. Yet, somewhere in there is another girl. She looks like me, sounds like me, acts like me, only she's different. She's wearing a smile I've never seen before. Her eyes flame with fire and determination. There's no fear on her face at all. She's the one pushing me forward. She's the one that makes me reach out for Matt's hand. She's the one who shuts the other girls up as I walk inside his house. She’s the one who makes me turn around to face him and smile when he closes the door on the rest of the world.

  She’s the one who allows me to grin when he finally takes my hand and begins to guide me upstairs to his bedroom as slowly and as carefully as he can.

  I don’t know who she is or where she came from, all I know is that from the moment she appeared, the other girls never stood a chance.

  *******

  Maybe it’s normal to lay here and over think it all. I’m not sure. I’m analysing every movement we made, every moment of skin-to-skin contact we shared, every kiss, every touch, every time he looked into my eyes as though he couldn’t believe he was inside me and I wasn’t putting up a fight.

  I expect to feel different, more grown up somehow. But I don’t. All I feel is myself riding the high of disbelief and excitement. I’m no longer a virgin. I’ve just had sex. I’ve actually just had sex.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks softly as he lays beside me, his head resting on his arm as he looks down on me.

  My hand has his bed sheet gripped tight over my chest. I don’t know why. He’s just spent the last hour discovering parts of my body even I wasn’t aware existed. My cheeks are flushed, my legs lay against the mattress, still a little shaky from everything that has just happened, and down there feels, well, alive. It’s uncomfortable, a little sore and most definitely alive.

  A small smile creeps on my face whilst my eyes continue staring at the ceiling of his bedroom.

  “I’m-”

  “Don’t say fine,” he interrupts.

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  “Fine is too bland a word for what just happened.”

  My head turns slightly to face him. “You… you enjoyed it?”

  “Fuck, yes!” He nods enthusiastically, his eyes wide with what looks like genuine enthusiasm.

  “I didn’t do much,” I acknowledge a little awkwardly.

  “You were perfect.”

  I smile softly. I’m not sure why I’m smiling at all. By all rights, I should be an emotional wreck. I expected to feel used, cheap and dirty. All through the night, I stayed awake, dreading this moment more than the sex itself. Every doubt possible flipped through my mind on a continuous loop. Would it ruin me? Would I have finally taken on more than I could handle? It was question after question after question.

  Matt’s voice brings me back to him quickly. “You didn’t think I would enjoy that?”

  “I wasn’t sure. You know I’ve never done this before,” I whisper.

  “That’s why it had t
o be you,” he grins, trailing a finger across the small exposed area above my chest.

  I’m so lost in enjoying his touch upon pieces of my body that have never been touched before, that I almost miss what he just said… almost.

  “Wait. What? Why what had to be me?” I frown.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he snickers softly.

  Something deep inside makes my stomach clench like never before. “Matt…”

  “Izzy…”

  “Moffy,” I remind him.

  “Izzy,” he repeats quietly.

  I try to hide the small roll of my eyes but it’s almost impossible. The pounding in my chest gets louder as I lean up on my elbows, shuffle my bum up to the pillow and hold the sheets up to my body. “What had to be me? Was… was all this some kind of bet with someone? Tell me.”

  He ignores me completely, leaning up to kiss my shoulder softly, his brows furrowing when I flinch away.

  “Does it matter?” His voice has dropped, adopting a hint of anger that hasn’t been there all morning. The nerves in me seem to soar. I thought I was in control here. I thought I was the one calling all the shots, but something’s telling me I’ve been a fool all along.

  “It matters to me. I’m not some toy you can mess with, play games with and make fun of,” I tell him, trying hard to keep the tremble out of my voice.

  “I would never make fun of you.” He scowls harder.

  I can’t believe I’ve let this happen. I knew I was some weird kind of conquest for him. Guys like Matthew Cooper do not go after girls like Isabella Moffit. Not ever. I was a phase for him - an ‘I’m so used to strawberry flavour, but I wanna give peach a try’ moment of curiosity.

  My eyes search around the room frantically as the panic sets in. I should have known this couldn’t have been as nice as it seemed. Something was always going to go wrong.

  “I have to go,” I croak out, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed while desperately trying to pull the sheets around me so he doesn’t get to see another single fleck of my skin. “I have to go, I have to go.”

  “Moffy, stop!” His hand reaches out to pull mine back and his voice sounds strange.

  “I can’t. It’s my birthday. My parents will be expecting me to be at home and I’m not there. I’m not there, Matt. I’m here with you and I… I shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t have come here. I knew it. I’ve been so stupid. This was a mistake, nothing but a big mistake.”

  “What?” he says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

  Rising to my feet, I lean down to grab my things, pulling the bedding away from the mattress with me as I go. “Just forget this ever happened. Or don’t. I don’t care. I’ve paid my debts now. I’ve kept my promise. You got what you wanted. You can go tell your sick friends that you broke the last innocent girl there was to break and you can be the hero while I will be the girl all the other girls throw rotten tomatoes at or some shit. I really don’t care.” My breathing is almost erratic as I search around for my last item of clothing. My bra! God damn it, where is my bra?

  “It’s not like that.”

  My quiet anger finally breaks free as I lean over the bed and glare at him. “I. Don’t. Care.” My body turns away from him in disgust. I just need to get away and get home quick, but I’m struggling to move fast thanks to the throbbing between my legs.

  “It had to be you because-”

  “Not listening. I’m not fucking listening.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Moffy, I was a virgin, too!”

  My whole body freezes on the spot, but I don’t turn around to look at him when I finally find a small voice that manages to squeak out a few words. “No, you’re not. You’re Matt Cooper. You’ve slept with… with…”

  “No-one. Exactly. I’m Matt Cooper. People assume I’ve slept with all of those girls that put it about, but I haven’t.”

  I slowly turn to face him, aware that my mouth is hung open more than it should be. “How did you…? I mean…” I can’t go on to say what I really want to say. I’m not that vocal with my own thoughts. I can’t possibly ask him how he knew how to do what he just did so well if he hadn’t done it before.

  He shrugs one shoulder and runs his hand through his hair. “I thought about that moment a lot. I wanted to enjoy it. I wanted to get it right, so…”

  “Oh my god,” I breathe out in shock. His face falls as soon as I speak and I know he’s taken it the wrong way. I know he thinks I’m mocking him.

  “If you tell anyone about this, I will ruin you. I swear it. You’re a nice girl, Moffy and, fuck me, that was better than I ever could have imagined, but I won’t think twice about laying your shit bare if you so much as tell a single soul about this, even your Siamese twin, Paris.” The look on his face has totally changed. The softness has gone and in its place sits this mean guy with a cold heart and a back-up plan for everything.

  “I won’t tell another soul. You have my word,” I whimper, trying hard to sound weaker than I really feel, just to placate him. Truth is I feel fantastic. I don’t feel used. I don’t feel dirty. I don’t feel cheap.

  I feel great.

  Maybe this birthday won’t be so bad, after all.

  Seven

  One hour later

  And we’re back to running again, only this time much, much slower. The ache down below now feels harsher. Everywhere stings, everywhere throbs and even my boobs seem to be crying out in pain. The freezing cold weather doesn’t help as I try to navigate my way home as quickly as I can without causing myself serious injury.

  The smile on my face is almost ridiculous as I round the corner to my street and slow down to a quick, long stridden walk. My head’s bouncing from side to side when I push through the garden gate, yet I’m careful not to move too quickly or be heard as I make my way up to the door. I’m just about to turn the handle when someone from inside beats me to it, causing my whole body to stumble forward and crash into the coat rack. Somewhere between finding my feet and seeing what’s about to happen, my hand reaches out to grab it and hold it in place. Catching it just in time, my whole body sags in relief at the lucky save I’ve just made.

  But then I open my eyes, wishing almost instantly that I hadn’t. My father stands in front of me, his look close to murderous as he glares down on my body. I respond without much thought, my eyes darting to the stand in my hands in the hope that it provides us both with a distraction as I awkwardly try to shove it back into its rightful spot. I don’t have time to even get it halfway back into place before he’s ripped it out of my hand and thrown the whole lot outside onto the garden pathway.

  I’m trembling before I even realise how far back I’ve flinched away from him. This is bad.

  Really bad.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” His growl, practiced to perfection, instils me with just the right amount of fear.

  “I…I went for a run,” I lie.

  “For three hours?”

  “Yes, Dad.” I swallow nervously as his hawk eyes watch my every reaction. He’s weighing me up and watching every twitch, shuffle, or nervous flicker of my eyes. My obvious deceit is written all over my face, no matter what I do.

  “In your jeans?”

  “Yes,” I mouth.

  “Wearing all that make-up?”

  “Y…y…eh.” It’s barely a sound.

  His hands reach out to flick the ends of my hair on my shoulder. He doesn’t speak. It’s a silent communication between us both. He sees the efforts I went to earlier and right now, he knows I am lying through my teeth.

  “And the disgusting love bite on your neck?”

  Reacting without thinking, my hand reaches up to clutch at my throat. No. No! Matt didn't? I can't remember him... I don't even... when did he…? All my lies have just been wasted as I drop my hand and simply stand there, limp, unable to do anything but remain silent.

  I’m staring at my feet when I hear my mother’s weak whimper of despair from inside the hallway. I glance up for the briefest of mome
nts to see her stood there with a hand across her mouth to silence her protests. She knows the look my father’s wearing. She sees it every day. We both know I’m in trouble.

  Dropping my head again, I brace myself for whatever horrendous punishment I’m about to endure. The only thing I can be thankful for in this moment is the fact that he was born with the shortest of short fuses. However bad this is going to be, it won’t last long.

  The moment his palm strikes my cheek, I’m seeing spots in one eye. He is six and a half feet tall and built to hit everyone like a truck. He has no awareness of his own strength. It’s why he used to be a boxing champion. To him, knocking people out is effortless. It's like swatting flies. What I’ve just had is barely a flicker on the radar of his capabilities.

  My hand flies up to my face to try and dull the blinding pain that rings through my head. Before I even have time to realise what’s happening, he’s grabbing the back of my hair, pushing me down to my knees and dragging me across the floor to where my mother stands, not even stopping as we cross the threshold, causing the carpet grips to tear at the skin on my knees.

  “Is this how you raised her, Cath?” he practically spits at my mum as he yanks my head backwards, pulling out a chunk of my hair by the roots before grabbing it again and repeating the action. Every part of my body wants to scream at the pain that shoots through me, but I can’t. I can’t let either of them see.

  My mother doesn’t speak a single word. She doesn’t argue for him to stop what he’s doing or tell him to calm down. Her empty eyes just stare at me as she tries to hold back the tears.

  His heavy breathing fills the hallway as I continue to look up at my mum through helpless eyes. I'm silently pleading with her to find a way out of this for us both, for her to see what she’s making me live with and what she’s making me go through to be with her, to protect her. She dares herself to glance at her husband when she hears the crack of his knees as he bends down beside me. All I can do is close my eyes in defeat and wait for more.