Fierce Read online

  “I’m not. I just don’t want them to ask any questions.”

  I have no idea who ‘them’ is, but I think it has something to do with the guys he keeps hanging around with.

  Squinting, I start peeling off his bandages. His eyes are on me like a hawk, checking my movement. I have to twirl it around his head to take it off, so I lean forward. Sometimes I catch him flashing a glance at my boobs. My entire body zings from seeing it. Like I want him to see me. Almost as if I’m prepping to be touched.

  I clear my throat once I’m done, and check the remaining scar to see if it’s healing well enough.

  “Are you afraid they’ll ask you why you were in a fight?” I say.

  He snorts. “Oh, no. They know already.”

  “Then what? You’re afraid to look weak?” I say.

  When he doesn’t answer, I know I made the right guess. “What does it matter what they think? You were the one who told me that the only thing that matters is what you think of yourself.”

  His eyebrows tighten and he looks down at the floor. “I said that because it’s true, but my situation is a little more complicated than that. I need to be fit and ready, at all times.”

  “For what? Fighting?”

  He sighs, which sounds more like a dragon’s breath, and reaches over to his fridge, taking out a bottle of water. He holds the plastic bottle against his swollen face, the coldness of it probably soothing to him.

  “I fight because I have to.”

  “Why?”

  “Stop asking so many questions. I saved your ass. That’s the only thing you need to know.”

  I swallow and sit back. I feel I overstepped his limits a bit. “Thank you for helping me back there. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be …” I push away the word again. “How come you were there anyway?”

  “I was watching them. Still pissed I didn’t spot them leaving the joint. Otherwise I would’ve been there way quicker.”

  “You were watching them?” I say with a voice that makes me sound like an interviewer.

  He shuts his mouth and just stares at me.

  Okay … I guess even that question is too much for him.

  I wonder what in the world he’s hiding.

  “Well, your wounds look like they’ve healed quite nicely. Should be no more than a couple of days before the scars are completely gone.”

  “Too bad. I kinda liked the idea of looking like a pirate.” He leans closer, makes a yaarrghh sound, and forms hooks with his fingers.

  We both burst out into laughter.

  We spend the next hour going over his homework and outlining what needs to be done in order to catch up. He’s behind schedule by quite a bit, and it worries me to see him struggle this much. I didn’t know he had so much trouble coping with college life.

  When he throws the book to the other end of the room, I sigh.

  “Enough for today. I’m fucking tired already,” he says, yawning.

  “But we haven’t even started yet.”

  He shrugs, and I stand up. I pick up his book lying next to the book shelf, and when I come back up I can’t help skim over the many books inside. It’s like a treasure chest to me. I wish I could just grab a bunch of them, sneak out, lock myself in my room, and read all day.

  I hear footsteps behind me. Then I feel his chest press up against my back.

  I shudder. His pecs are pushing against my back, and I love how it feels. My whole body clenches with need.

  “I used to read a lot when I was little,” he says softly.

  “I can see …” I say.

  “You like books a lot, don’t you?” he says, and he lowers his head so he can look into my eyes. I don’t dare turn my head. I’m much too excited. Electrified by his proximity.

  And then my eyes catch a peculiar book. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

  I gasp. “Oh my God! You’ve read Harry Potter? God, it’s been ages since I last saw that book.”

  He chortles softly, so close to my ear it’s making me shiver.

  I turn around within his arms and find myself gazing into his hypnotizing eyes.

  “I told you, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Reading is … difficult. But if I have the patience, I enjoy it.” I don’t even hear the words he’s saying. All I can see are those rugged lips as they separate. How he licks his lips in between and squeezes them. How I want to kiss him.

  He inches forward. The intoxicating scent of his aftershave arouses me. His arm reaches past me, and I’m still amazed by the size of his muscles as they move beside me. I gulp when I see them flex. He takes out the book and holds it in front of me.

  “You can have it.”

  He waits until I hold up my hands and gives it to me. “I … I …” I stammer like a dribbling, love-struck teen.

  When I look at him all I see is hotness. Power. Masculinity. He radiates sex. Oozes it from his protruding veins. Screams it through his magnificent eyes.

  And it’s such a turn-on, I can’t stand it.

  All I want is for him to be closer, to touch him, to have his hands all over me. I’d like that.

  Suddenly he moves back and clears his throat. “Well, I guess we should call it a day, for now. Let’s continue tomorrow.” He opens the door for me.

  I smile and draw in a much-needed breath. “Yeah, sure.” I walk to the door, clenching the book firmly against my chest.

  “Cool,” he says as I walk out. “See you tomorrow then?”

  I nod, and he nods, and then a moment of very uncomfortable silence follows.

  “See ya,” he says, and then he closes the door in front of me.

  I just stand there, staring at the wood. My heart is beating like crazy. My breath is crazily fast. I want to jump up and down from all the tension that’s been building up inside me.

  God, I could squeal forever.

  I have to tell someone. I really have to talk to someone, right now. This has got to come out.

  I think I’m falling for Hunter.

  But Evie’s not around, and I have no idea where to find her. Sure, I could go looking, but that would take me ages, and by that time it’ll no longer be fresh.

  Maybe I could tell Brody.

  It’s not such a bad idea, actually. I mean, he was my best friend, before I had Evie. He can’t have changed that much, can he? I don’t want our friendship to disappear. Maybe if I tell him some good news he’ll cheer up.

  Before I realize it, I’m already standing right in front of his door. I try not to be overly enthusiastic as I open it.

  “Brody, I …”

  My voice stops working.

  Brody’s behind his desk, fidgeting with plastic bags. He’s putting some white powder inside them.

  My eyes widen as I see him doing the thing I never imagined. He’s preparing drugs?

  He turns his head the moment I burst in and covers his stuff with his jacket. “What are you doing here?” he snaps.

  He gets up, and I immediately step back as he comes toward me. “I don’t have time right now,” he says, and he slams the door shut.

  It takes me a while to realize I’m not even breathing.

  I take in a sharp breath. If what I saw there was real, Brody is a … drug dealer?

  My God …

  Why?

  “Brody,” I shout. “Open the door. We need to talk.”

  No response.

  I start banging on the door, but he doesn’t open. “Why are you doing this?”

  I’m asking questions I know the answer to already. But I don’t understand why he couldn’t think of any other way to make enough money. I know we’ve always been a bit poor, but that doesn’t mean he should stoop so low and just go the criminal route.

  This can’t be real. It just can’t. Never in my life would I have imagined him dealing drugs. And yet everything he’s done the last couple of days suddenly makes all the sense in the world. He’s changed so much, I don’t even recognize him anymore.

  And that’s wh
en I realize he’s no longer my friend.

  Chapter 12

  Tug of War

  I love sitting under a tree, reading a book. With the warm sun on my face and a light breeze it’s the best thing in the world. Nobody to disturb me or tear me from the pages of my book.

  The word ‘my’ makes me gloat. It’s not actually ‘my’ book. It’s the book Hunter gave me yesterday, and it still smells like him. Well, more like his room, but still, anything that reminds me of him makes me giggle.

  I twirl my fingers through the grass as I hold onto the book with one hand. I’m lying on the ground on my belly, making sure my clothes don’t get dirty by placing a blanket underneath. When Evie’s still in her classes, I like to spend my time reading and pining over boys I will never have. Gotta do something.

  Besides, I don’t have Brody to hang out with anymore.

  Even if he wanted to, I’m done with him.

  I’ve been forcing myself not to think about him since yesterday. He doesn’t deserve it, and it would only make me cry. I don’t want to cry over something so pathetic.

  I should just forget about him.

  Suddenly, a shadow is cast over the pages of my novel. The sun is blocked by something … or someone.

  As I peer up with furrowed brows, I see it’s Hunter, and my annoyed look turns into a cheerful smile.

  My eyes light up the moment I see him. He’s towering above me, wearing ragged pants and a flimsy tank top, which barely covers his broad chest. I gulp at the sight, especially because his black jacket makes him look so tough.

  He’s like a motorcycle rider, only he isn’t. He just looks like one.

  Hunter goes to his knees and snatches away my book.

  “Hey!” I snap. “I was reading that.”

  “Yeah, ‘was.’ And now you’re not.” He holds out his other hand. “Get up.”

  I grab his hand, and the moment my fingers touch his it sends electrical shocks through my entire body. He’s so strong, he can lift me in one go without my help. My boobs bounce from the way he jerks me up, and I see his eyes flick to them for only a fraction of a second.

  I gulp, and a flush spreads across my face as I pull my shirt up higher.

  “What’s this for?” I say.

  “Time for some training.” He leans forward, grabs the blanket, and folds it up.

  “What, now?”

  “Yes, now. My classes are finished, and by the looks of it so are yours. We don’t have much time, so let’s make the best use of it.”

  “B-but I have to study and―”

  “But, but, but,” he mocks, making a pouty face. “If you wanna learn how to defend yourself, you gotta put in the effort.”

  I frown. “I was busy. You think I’m just going to adjust to your schedule?”

  “You can read a book anytime you want. I can’t do this with you anytime I want. If I could, I would, trust me,” he grunts with a thick voice that makes me shiver.

  My pupils dilate when he says that, and my core heats up. Damn, why does he always do those things? And why do I find it so goddamn attractive?

  He steps back a little, putting on a cocky smile as he throws my … his book in the grass. Then he throws the blanket on top of it. Grinning, he takes off his jacket. The lines of his muscles show clearly through the thin fabric of his tank top, and my heart is already beating in my throat just seeing it. His biceps bulge and for a second I think he’s flexing them.

  “C’mon,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “I’m ready for you.”

  One of my eyebrows lifts up. “What? In these clothes? I’m not dressed for sparring.”

  He snorts. “You won’t be dressed for it when they attack you again either. Now c’mon.” He signals to me with his fingers, lifting his eyebrow only a little to taunt me.

  I take a deep breath and place my hands on my waist. He’s gawking at me from a distance, bending through his knees like a professional wrestler. If the look on his face wasn’t so goddamn sexy, I would’ve shaken my head and walked away, but I can’t.

  For some reason I’d love nothing more than to tussle with him.

  “Well? Are you going to come at me or what?” he says.

  Swallowing, I fling my arms and legs to shake some life into them after sitting for so long. I take a deep breath and a good look at him. His tan muscles are already primed, ready to go. He looks like a football player waiting for the ball to be thrown into his hands so he can race off.

  “Don’t make me wait … I hate it when girls make me wait.”

  I chuckle. “Oh, really? What then? Are you going to kick a wall again or something?”

  He muffles a low laugh. “I’ll come after you myself if I have to. And things get rough with me pretty fast.”

  There’s some sexual innuendo in there, I’m sure of it. The way he groans makes me want to bite my lip. God, he’s so hot.

  Goddammit, I have to stop thinking like that.

  No way a guy like him would ever fall for a nerd. He could pick any girl he wants. Who’d want to pick me?

  Clearing my throat, I say, “Okay. Here I come.”

  After taking a quick breath I bolt toward him. I put all my strength into it, but he still manages to stay upright as I crash into him. He’s like a rock in the ocean, forever unbreakable, and I’m the fish slapping up against it.

  I try to tackle him, but instead I’m the one falling on my ass.

  “Ouch!”

  He laughs, so loud it makes me feel embarrassed. Everyone can hear him.

  “Why are you announcing you’re going to attack? That’s like playing right into my hands,” he says, and he holds out his hand.

  I grapple him and try to pull him down, but he remains as balanced as ever. Shaking the finger on his free hand, he says, “You think it’s that easy to bring me down?”

  “I’ll make it happen. Eventually.”

  He chuckles. “I like your spunk.” He takes a few steps back. “Try again.”

  I clean the dirt from my legs and bite on my cheek while thinking about a tactic. If I could only get him to move, then I could take him down. I thought he was going to teach me something, but instead I’m charging into him. Not my idea of learning self-defense.

  “C’mon. I can take you, Leafy,” he says, biting his lip.

  That name he has for me … God, I hate it. Why can’t he just call me by my real name?

  I’ve had enough of his provocations. Maybe I’ll just kick him in the balls instead. That’ll show him not to mess with me.

  I know it’s below the belt. Literally. But at least I can try to win this way.

  God, I’ve changed, too.

  I charge forward without warning this time. As I lift my knee he deflects my leg by pushing it down with his free hand. With the other, he grabs my lower arm.

  “You’re getting dirty.” He squeezes my wrist, hard, and makes it impossible for me to escape. “I like it,” he murmurs.

  With clenched teeth I fight to get loose, but he won’t release me.

  “Put a little effort into it,” he says. “Nobody’s going to be nice for you. I’m not either.”

  I slam his arm with my free hand, but he still won’t let me go. It’s like he doesn’t feel anything. Nothing. Nothing at all.

  Damn, is he some kind of brick wall?

  He chuckles. “C’mon, hit me.” At first it sounds like he’s pushing me, but after a while it becomes plain mean. “Hit me!”

  “I’m trying!”

  “You’re a wuss. A boneless nerd. You can’t fend for yourself. Can’t live in the real world. Not even one day.”

  “Shut up!” I gather all my strength and punch him so hard in the gut his stomach retracts, and he takes one step back. His grip on my wrist loosens, and I jerk myself free.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I say, my eyes welling up with tears again. “You’re being an asshole, and you know it.”

  “Damn, that was a good jab,” he grunts.

  “
Who cares? You’re a bully.”

  He laughs and steps forward. When I try to hit him again, he grabs both my wrists and comes to a halt right in my face. “I’m helping you.”

  “Helping me? You’re insulting me, belittling me, and making me feel like a pile of crap.”

  “And those guys didn’t?”

  “What do they have to do with it?” I snap.

  I try to jerk my wrists free, but he won’t let me go.

  “Anger helps you fight. It fuels you.” His lips quirk up into a devilish smile. “Guess this is your first time finding out about the power of rage.”

  “Whatever.”

  “C’mon. You know I didn’t mean any of it. It’s just to get you worked up.”

  “Let me go,” I hiss.

  “Make me,” he says jokingly.

  I’m so pissed, I kick him against the shin so hard I think I’m going to snap bones.

  Instead, I break his stance, and he slips. I see him tumble down to the ground, but not before he grabs my leg and pulls me with him.

  I squeal as I land right on top of him.

  I’m staring into his face, my body resting on his body.

  Oh. My. God. I can’t believe this.

  I think my heart has stopped beating, because all I hear is his breathing. My body tenses up, feeling his skin against mine. I want nothing more than to press my body closer to his.

  His chest moves against mine each time he inhales, and these few seconds feel like an eternity.

  His hand lifts. When it reaches the top of my head, I swear I’ll fall to pieces right here, on top of him.

  Something tickles, and then he retreats. In his hand is a leaf, which was probably stuck in my hair. He releases it and lets it drift away with the wind. Then he stares at me, his eyes suddenly showing a little hesitance. His lips are parted and perky, and all I want is to press mine against his.

  And then smack him again.

  He’s breathing against my chin, and I feel my groin heat up. I’m getting all wired up because of him.

  Shit.

  I scramble off him with a face that’s probably as red as a beet. He’s not smiling anymore, and he looks uncertain of what to do. As if he realizes that I like him and that he can’t give me what I want.