Romance: The College Bad Boy: A Young Adult Romance

by Veronica Cross

  “I miss you, Rose.”

  Rose didn’t respond.

  “And I’m sorry about all the hurt I caused you.”

  Rose nodded. They both faced each other now. She reached up to touch his cheek. He caught her hand and kissed her palm. She still felt tingles run down her arms at his touch. Will he ever stop making her feel this way?

  Rose pulled her arm away gently. “I’ll be seeing you.” And then she was gone, leaving Ethan alone on the balcony. He longed to kiss her more, to kiss every inch of her body. But he had lost that privilege.

  The last interaction they had was the defining point for their relationship. There was a lot to learn from this interaction about loyalty, love and strong will.

  It began when Jih lost his temper over Ethan’s infuriating attitude.

  Chapter 15 – The Last Interaction

  “Snap out of it already, Ethan. You honestly expect us to believe you’re in love with such an ordinary girl? You’re only pursuing this because it’s the best way to get back at your parents for what they did to your previous relationship.”

  Jih and Ethan were in the middle of a heated argument again, this time in a street in front of the pub. George and Kan watched on but did not intervene.

  “A few months ago, the two of us would be laughing over the thought of one of us being in love with such a plain girl. Where’s your sense of humor gone? You’ve been wallowing over her for ages now.”

  “Shut up, Jih,” Ethan said, his voice deadly. “Rose isn’t ordinary. And one of us is in love with her.”

  “Oh, yes she is. And you know it wouldn’t last with her. Instead of taking your anger out at us all the time, please go get laid and get the hell over it. I’m done with you and that pathetic girl till you stop this act.”

  “Pathetic?” Ethan’s voice was even more deadly this time. “If you ever talk about her like that again, I’ll destroy you.”

  Jih knew Ethan was capable of the threat and more.

  With a last contemptuous look, Jih turned away just as Ethan lunged at him. George and Kan watched with amusement as the two of the wrestled. Ethan managed to get in three heavy blows before Jih threw him back.

  “Really, Ethan? Is she really worth all this?” Jih asked, his voice rough. Ethan stared at him, his expression so intense that Jih seemed to draw back slightly.

  Rose, who was on her way back from work, heard the commotion. When she heard Ethan’s name, she was drawn to the voices. She observed the scene as the two brawled violently again.

  Rose turned to George and Kan. “What are you two idiots doing just standing there? Why aren’t you stopping them?” She was enraged. Rose threw herself between Ethan and Jih, pushing them away from each other. It wasn’t much work since Jih, who had been on the losing side of the battle, already lay in a hump on the floor. Ethan turned to look at her, confused at her sudden appearance. His face was bloody but nothing compared to what Jih looked like. Rose cradled his face in her hands.

  “Look at your face!” she cried. “Just look at the state of you!”

  “And why should you care what state I’m in?” Ethan shot back.

  “I don’t particularly enjoy people injured because of their own stupidity. I’m sure your fight with Jih could have been solved without violence.”

  Ethan didn’t respond.

  “Are you even capable of thinking ahead of your actions?”

  She held his face tighter. “Fix this. Fix him and yourself. You can’t get away with everything you do, Ethan. I hate seeing you like this.”

  She pressed a kiss to his forehead, the only part of his face that wasn’t bloody. With a last exasperated look at him, and the two onlookers, she left.

  Chapter 16 – Making Amends

  Rose shifted in her bed, unable to find a comfortable spot, ready to cry from frustration and exhaustion. She wanted to fall into a deep sleep but her body wouldn’t let her.

  A gentle knock sounded on her door. She sat up warily, wondering who would be knocking at her door at 1 am. Cautiously, she peered out of the peeping hole to find Ethan standing there. She threw open the door. Ethan looked a lot better since the fight that evening. His face wasn’t bloody anymore except for a few wounds here and there. There was a bandage on his cheek.

  “Polite gentle knock?” she asked him. “Jih must have hit you harder than it seemed.”

  It was then that she realized she was standing in front of Ethan wearing an oversized T shirt and nothing else. Her hair was in disarray and she must look terrible. He didn’t seem to care as he stared at her with his deep, penetrating eyes.

  Suddenly, she threw herself at him, holding him in a tight embrace. He was surprised but hugged her back, stroking her hair.

  “You’re such an idiot,” she sobbed against his neck.

  “I’m alright, Rose,” he said soothingly.

  “You’re still an idiot.”

  They stood like that for a few minutes before Rose pulled away to look at him. He still held her as she ran a hand down his injuries.

  “Feel better?” she asked.

  “Much,” he replied.

  His closeness was impairing her judgment like it usually did. “Perfect,” she found herself whispering. “That means you should kiss me now.”

  He hesitated, as if hovering on the edge of a precipice before leaning in and capturing her lips with his. She pulled him closer as he moved his attention to her neck. She sighed in delight as he continued up her jaw.

  “You’re shivering,” he murmured.

  “It’s draughty outside,” she replied reasonably.

  “Invite me inside then,” he said lazily.

  Without waiting for an answer, he picked her up and kicked the door shut with his foot. He carried her to her bed and dropped her there. Rose hastily pulled her shirt down as she scrambled into a sitting position. She scowled at him but then invited him to sit with her. He kicked off his shoes and slid in beside her, pulling her close as they lay back against the pillow. The quilt covered them both.

  “Why did you hit Jih?” she asked quietly.

  “He talked about you in a way I didn’t like.”

  Rose turned to him in surprise. “I don’t want you beating people up on my behalf.”

  “It wasn’t for you. It made me angry.”

  They were silent.

  “Where do we go from here?” Rose asked. “You’re still a rich, spoiled brat and I’m still only just a serving girl.”

  “I thought maybe we could try a date,” he replied. “A real one. Just you and I, doing something normal young adults enjoy doing. A nice, uncomplicated evening.”

  “Ethan, if you think that’s even slightly possible, I’m willing to try.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her softly, resting his forehead against hers. Rose’s body was tingling all over from his nearness, the tension almost crackling between them. His fingers were trailing gently up and down her arms, creating a tension between the two of them as they looked into each other’s eyes. She was afraid to move, not wanting to break the spell.

  But then he sighed, before sitting up.

  “I should go.”

  She sat up too, frowning.

  “Don’t let me keep you from whatever is so important.”

  Ethan laughed. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold back with you lying half-dressed next to me. And I want to take it slow this time. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Rose nodded reluctantly.

  She walked to the door with him.

  “I’ll see you at university and then we can arrange that date,” he said. He leaned down to place one last kiss on her lips before he departed.

  Epilogue

  Rose walked hastily, trying her best to avoid the gaze of needy customers as she breezed past.

  “Excuse me miss,” the voices quieted as they realized she hadn’t heard them and they would have to wait until she came around to their table again.

  Rose approached the kitchen.


  “I need two steak sandwiches and an order of chocolate cake, and where is the meatloaf, my customers are getting antsy and they’re really annoying.”

  “Give us five minutes!” Yelled the kitchen staff.

  “Oh server girl,” a voice yelled out arrogantly from a nearby table. “I need something over here,” he continued.

  Rose recognized his voice and demeaner instantly and a smile swept over her face.

  “My romantic dinner is almost complete, its only missing a girlfriend,” he smiled.

  “Ethan our date isn’t until tomorrow, and I’m working until 9.”

  “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow,” he smiled and pointed at his watch.

  9:05.

  “You work too hard,” he laughed.

  She smiled and kissed him.

  “You’re a pretty good kisser, you know, for a server girl.”

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  The Bad Boy Affair

  A Second Chance Romance

  Veronica Cross

  The Bad Boy Affair

  Copyright 2016 by Veronica Cross

  First electronic publication: December 2016

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: Due to mature subject matter, such as explicit sexual situations and coarse language, this story is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older, and all acts of a sexual nature are consensual.

  The Bad Boy Affair

  Chapter 1: Caroline

  The walk in closet was littered with beautiful designer dresses, but none of them were right. There were tens of thousands of dollars in clothes on the off-white heated tile below her feet, and yet as Cynthia took one outfit after the other off the mahogany trimmed closet fittings, pulled each on and danced a little in front of the mirror to see every angle, she shook her head. She took a breath to calm herself. She was being ridiculous after all; it was just Christmas dinner with her family, she told herself, and an old friend. She took another deep breath in and touched her light brown hair to see if her curlers had cooled. They needed a bit more time. She examined herself in the mirror. She had always loved her slightly curvy figure, and although she had put on a little bit of weight since graduating law school three years ago, it fell into all the right places and only made her look more womanly. She looked better than she ever had.

  “Is this okay?” She hadn’t noticed Glen come in and his question startled her a bit. Her husband stood before her dressed in his usual manner, charcoal grey slacks and a light grey shirt. The bland combination perfectly complimented neutral brown hair that was combed into a side part. He had classical features, which made him handsome in a way that grew more obvious as you got to know him.

  “Of course, Glen. You look completely appropriate.” The response is a unique one, but where Cynthia knew some people wanted to hear that they looked handsome or radiant, Glen wanted to hear that he looked appropriate. He wanted to be sure he fit in and was suitably prepared for the occasion.

  When they first started dating, she had given him compliments liberally. As soon as she saw him, she would tell him how handsome he looked, and his response was always the same. He would look a little confused, and ask, “Is it, you know, too much?”

  “So, who’s this David joining us for dinner?”

  “Coop,” she corrected him quickly, “well, yes, David Cooper. But he goes by Coop.”

  “Coop… aren’t we getting a little old for nicknames? David’s a strong name. He’d be better off reverting to that. From what I heard from your mother, your father had to really push his partners to get him a real job at the firm; he should really show some thanks by cleaning up a bit. It’s amazing they hired him at all with all those tattoos—”

  “He had a real job,” Cynthia cut him off, “he’s an artist.”

  Glen paused.

  “Your mother also told me you two dated for a while.”

  Glen’s comment hung in the air for a moment, and Cynthia was immediately embarrassed by how defensive she had been of Coop. Not wanting her husband to think she still harbored any emotion for her ex, she continued quickly to cover her tracks.

  “Oh, I’m surprised she even mentioned that. We went out a few times, years ago,” she waved her hands dismissively, minimizing their relationship as much as she could, “summer before law school, I think. I’m not even sure.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t bring it up tonight. Wouldn’t be appropriate,” he said, as he took a tie off the wooden rack affixed to the wall next to the full-length mirror.

  “Especially in front of his fiancé.”

  That last word sucked all the air out of Cynthia’s chest. Her mother hadn’t mentioned that detail when she said Coop was back in town. A fiancé. Her mind raced.

  When she heard he had bought a house in their neighborhood she had thought it was a big step for him, but had chalked it up to him giving up his freelance artwork and getting a steady job at her father’s firm. But learning that he was engaged… Cynthia could still remember the soft, authoritative way his hands felt when they held her. She could still feel the gentleness of his lips the first time they touched hers. Even now, after all these years, simply thinking about him sent waves of heat through her body. She breathed deep. A fiancé. What was she like? Probably young… definitely beautiful. She sighed and scanned her closet again. Nothing here would be right.

  “Cynthia?” Glen asked, holding a tie up in front of his shirt.

  “No tie, Glen,” she answered, a bit more agitated than she had meant.

  “Ok, well, I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready,” Glen mumbled quietly, already retreating into the hall.

  Cynthia sat down on the plush leather armchair in their closet and surveyed her wardrobe. None of this would be right. She had to impress, but in an effortless way. Anything she had left over from her single days was too obvious. She wanted to show Coop what he was missing, but it would be so embarrassing if anyone could tell that’s what she wanted. The only pieces she had bought recently were appropriate for work. And anything that she could wear as a public defender was too straight-laced for Coop’s taste.

  It’s funny how much things change. She got up and ran her hands through her dresses. If she had married Coop, this closet would look a lot different. This belonged to someone who wanted to be taken seriously in a male dominated office, not someone who embraced their femininity and sexuality as she had when she was dating Coop. But all this also belonged to someone who survived on a bit more than a freelance artist’s salary. As much as she complained about Glen being boring, it did mean he was dependable, and it was that dependability that led to the job that he landed at her father’s firm right out of college. And that was what gave her a closet that was bigger than her first apartment.

  After a few more minutes of searching, she dug up a red dress that could work. She pulled it on. It was conservatively cut but clung to her body in all right places. Standing in front of the mirror, she slid her hands down her sides. For the first time in a long time, her curves were on display. It was refreshing. Feeling confident, she pulled black pumps off a shelf and stepped into them. They made her legs look endless and perked up her butt. To finish it off, she fou
nd the perfect shade of red lipstick. She sat at her vanity in her bedroom and carefully applied it. She let down her curlers and examined the final result. She looked better than she had in years. She grabbed her black quilted Chanel bag and went downstairs.

  Glen was standing in the hall with his hands in his pockets, coat on. He was holding her coat in his hands; he had clearly been waiting for her. Cynthia smiled softly as she paused at the bottom of the stairs and waited for his reaction. Glen handed her jacket to her and turned to leave.

  “Ready?”

  The pumpkin pie Cynthia had bought yesterday steamed in her hands, keeping her warm as they walked across the street and two doors down to her parents’ house. Earlier that day, she had carefully taken it out of its package and placed it in one of the pie dishes that she and Glen had gotten as a wedding gift. She reheated it in the oven for ten minutes before they left.

  She remembered registering for the dish years ago with Glen’s encouragement. They spent the day smiling and imagining their life together, choosing expensive pie plates and excessive throw pillows to fill out their new home. Three years later, the plates were sitting in a cabinet unused and the throw pillows were stacked in their window nook. A few of them still had the tags on.

  Cynthia had actually tried to bake a pie once. She was an hour into her efforts when Glen came home after golfing with some clients. He examined the situation from the foyer. Cynthia was laughing helplessly, covered in flour, the dark granite counter top littered with eggshells and measuring cups. She saw Glen in the hall and stretched her arms out to him, inviting him to join her as she was trying to salvage the dough she had made a mess of. He stared at her for a few seconds.

  “Oh, Cynthia… try to get this taken care of,” he said, and he went upstairs to read.

  Cynthia rolled her eyes as Glen rang the doorbell. He couldn’t shake his manners if he wanted to. She pushed by him and opened the front door, which her mother recently had painted white, and went inside.