by Mj Hendrix
Falling For Temptation
Mj Hendrix
Mj Hendrix Publishing Ltd Co.
Copyright © 2021 by Mj Hendrix
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law or for brief quotations to be used for a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, or incidents are products of the author's imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events in purely coincidental or fictional.
Edited by Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
1. Harley
2. Adam
3. Harley
4. Adam
5. Harley
6. Adam
7. Harley
8. Adam
9. Harley
10. Adam
11. Harley
12. Adam
13. Harley
14. Adam
15. Harley
16. Adam
17. Harley
18. Adam
19. Harley
20. Adam
21. Harley
22. Adam
23. Harley
24. Adam
25. Harley
26. Adam
27. Harley
28. Adam
29. Harley
30. Adam
31. Harley
32. Adam
33. Harley
34. Adam
35. Harley
36. Adam
37. Harley
38. Adam
Epilogue
Also By Mj Hendrix
About Author & Social Links
Acknowledgments
1
Harley
My head is down, covered by the worn, oversize gray sweatshirt I stole from my foster sister. Victoria, our foster mom, doesn’t allow me to wear things that conceal too much of my body.
The lights from the station are a beacon of hope and the potential for escape. As my pace quickens toward the terminal, seeing buses with the signature skinny gray dog on the side makes me worry one is already headed to Greencity, Texas. I can’t miss the chance to get out tonight.
All I have on me is $247. I send up a prayer that it’s enough to cover my fare, or I’ll be left to beg or pickpocket a stranger. It’s too easy now that everyone stares at their screens constantly, but if I get caught stealing again, I’ll be stuck here in jail for the night.
There’s no line as I step up to the teller.
“What’ll it be?” the balding man asks me, his impressive stomach taking up the entire stall.
“Ticket to Greencity, Texas, leaving tonight.” I attempt to sound confident, like I’m meant to be here.
He doesn’t look at me, stabbing his computer keys with chubby fingers.
“One leaves in forty minutes. One hundred and sixty-two dollars. Cash or card?” he drones, his shift clearly nearing the end.
“Cash.” I hand over the appropriate bills, thankful I’ll have enough to last me for food until I can get a job.
He completes his end, shoving the ticket toward me and directing me to the correct bay.
I find my place in the waiting area, avoiding eye contact with the others itching to embark on the nearly thirty-five-hour trip in close quarters with strangers.
We start to take our seats, and I secure a window. A woman with greasy hair and a nauseating smell that rivals a restaurant dumpster collapses next to me.
I breathe a sigh of relief as we take off, the tires overloaded with the weight for the long journey ahead. My side hurts, but it will heal in a few weeks.
Not a soul knows about my scholarship to Ole Tex University. I applied at the public library months ago. I’ll never forget the moment I got the acceptance email, and the bleak future I had anticipated was shattered with the possibility of a new beginning.
A new life, fresh city, different people, and the potential to craft an untainted reputation for myself have me feeling hopeful, maybe for the first time in my life.
2
Adam
“It’s hot,” my brother, Daniel, remarks from the top of the hay bale stack. He leans on an itchy square to wipe his sweating brow.
The Texas heat is already sweltering even though it’s only May.
“We’ll take a quick water break.” I grunt as I toss another fifty-pound bale onto the trailer, motioning for my sister to stop the truck.
The screeching halt of the old brakes fill the air, followed by silence.
Our pastor’s son, Silas, grabs a few jugs of water from the bed of the pickup and tosses them around. He’s got a great arm, especially for throwing baseballs.
“So, how are y’all feeling about tonight?” The Southern drawl of his deep voice breaks into the gulps of cold water.
Levi, the quiet one, looks down at him warily, his eyes shifting around to each of his friends. He takes another long drink and glances at my brother.
Tonight’s plan was Dan and Silas’s idea. They’ve instigated the entire scheme. I’m cautiously optimistic. Levi wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything, but he’s doubtful of the possibility of it actually happening.
“If we can all stick to the game plan, it’s our best shot. Maybe we should do a run-through,” Dan suggests.
My brother has banked hard on the possibility that our parents will concede, but I'm skeptical.
My eyes travel over the surrounding fields, and I can barely make out the tip of the steeple belonging to the 1890s white church we were raised in. We’ve always been homeschooled, and our parents see little value in higher education.
There was once a school in Bonnet Valley, but it closed when I was young due to dwindling enrollment. The public school system was infected with liberal ideas that were dangerous to our growing minds.
“We gotta finish loading these bales, Dan.” I’m the driving force of the group, always pushing them to finish the work in record time. Being the oldest comes with responsibility.
“Come on, real quick. It’ll just take a minute.” Dan rushes in. He’s typically the one trying to push boundaries. “Go ahead, Adam.”
I sigh in defeat. “Fine, if we do it quick.” I clear my throat, beginning in my best adult voice, “Levi, Silas, Dan, and I have all applied and been accepted into Ole Tex University, just a couple hours east. We know this is not what you had planned for us, but we’ve thought of a way to give you peace of mind.”
“Stand up a little straighter,” Dan interrupts.
I shoot him a glare, straightening to my full height before continuing.
“The dorms are set up to house four boys in one suite. Dan and I can be in a room that’s connected to a bathroom with a room on the other side with Levi and Silas. We can keep each other out of trouble and avoid the crazy college experience that is so detrimental to the youth of the nation. We—”
This time, Silas is the one who interjects. “You sound bored. I don’t think you’re selling it. Maybe you should bring up the church sooner?” he suggests.
I sigh, squinting up at him in the glaring sunlight. “We’ll go to church every Sunday and Wednesday,” I say, my tone slightly mocking at this point. “We can have weekly Bible studies in our dorm—maybe we’ll even get the guys in our hall to join. I want to study agriculture, so I can come back and help increase our revenue on the farm.�
��
In truth, I would love to pursue a degree to increase the potential of our multigenerational family farm. We make a good living, an outstanding one, but I know there are technological advances that could only propel us further into the future.
Dan puts on his practiced innocent face. “I want to become a veterinarian to help with the birthing calves and such.”
Silas and Levi follow up with their degree plans.
Dan starts clapping loudly. “Bravo, bravo! Then, I’ll follow up with how much we hope they’ll pray about it, how we will miss our home every single day, and how grateful we are for them. If that doesn’t do it, then I guess we’re stuck here forever.” He tosses a water jug back into the truck bed.
Silas does the same. “You really think they’ll go for it?”
I don’t answer. I’m twenty-one years old, but I’ve never left this farm for longer than a family vacation. Going to college has been in the back of my mind since I was about sixteen, but I think I’ve been afraid of everything we’ve been warned can happen on a campus full of hormonal young adults. The high levels of teen drinking, fornication, and overall lack of good morals seem to be real issues.
I can’t help but wonder what the girls will be like. There aren’t many around here, and I’m blood-related to about seventy-five percent of the ones my age. The kids I’ve grown up with all really feel like family anyway since we’ve known each other since we were in diapers. I’ve barely laid eyes on any girls that I’m attracted to.
Are there any nice girls at OTU who are interested in being with a farmer?
“We’re asking on a Wednesday at church, so they can pray over it. I think it’s our best shot.” Levi wants a college education more than the other two, who really just want to get out and experience life beyond Central Texas.
I know what I want is to help grow our farm’s profit, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit to myself that a small part of me is curious to see what life beyond the cornstalks is like.
“Well, here goes.” I bang on the trailer to let the driver know that our break is over.
I can hardly believe it, but they agreed to let us go. I never really expected to leave our tight-knit, wholesome community in Central Texas. Excitement licks through my veins at the prospect of increasing the revenue of our farm. I could be the first one to secure a college degree that could exponentially benefit the business.
Our parents set up a meeting with the resident assistant to discuss the dynamics of our dormitory. They weren’t pleased to hear that girls were allowed in the boys’ dorm.
“We enforce a strict open-door policy. The only reason they’re allowed to is because the students need to work on group projects together, and the library meeting rooms will fill up,” the RA reassures my stern-faced parents.
I breathe a sigh of relief as they nod at each other. The explanation must suffice.
Next, they visit the local church, and Silas’s dad sets up a lunch with the pastor and his wife. They are enthusiastic to learn about the potential of four new college-aged students interested in the young adult ministry. We promise to be present for the Wednesday meetings.
I’m walking with our group of twenty-one on the tour of the campus. Because of our family taking up thirteen spots, the only other members of the group are Silas, Levi, and their families. We seem to be of particular interest to the students milling about the grounds.
“Oh my!” my mother audibly gasps as a thin, dark-haired girl with tattoos, wearing a crop top and the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen, walks by us.
I hope the girl doesn’t realize we’re all staring at her. My younger brother turns to follow her with his eyes, and I smack the back of his head. I might want to look, too, but I know better.
We all stop in at the cafeteria to eat lunch. My sisters can cook so much better than this, and I’m a little disgusted at the greasy-looking gravy for the chicken-fried steak. I’ll never complain about it out loud, but it seems like for the price of the meal plan, the food should be better quality.
The tour finally completes, and our family piles into the fifteen-passenger blue van, sans two of its usual occupants. With as many as possible links with the adults in the community, our parents bid us good-bye with a prayer of blessing.
My mother is teary-eyed. “Don’t forget to call me tonight before bed, boys. Let us know when you are all settled in, okay?” She sniffles as I shut her door.
Dan and I wave until they’re out of sight. We’re left standing on the pavement as Levi and Silas stroll up to us.
“We should get back to the dorm to unpack,” I suggest after a long silence.
They nod in agreement.
Levi is the only one who doesn’t want to get out and meet people, more comfortable with his eyes on a textbook than anywhere else.
Dan and Silas are both itching to engage with the other students. Their eyes follow the pretty girls walking by while mine stay trained ahead. It’s going to take a while to get used to living here without the guidance and overhanging authority of our parents. I’m a grown man, but living on my own isn’t something I’ve truly ever desired. I make a good living, working for my father and his brothers, and I enjoy my life. Farming the land is a riveting occupation.
We finally reach the dorms, embarking on our elevator journey upward. We spend our first hours of freedom trying to blend in with a foreign crowd we know very little about.
3
Harley
There’s a siren going off. I smack my hand around, trying to disarm the offensive object. Blissful silence finally greets my ears. I worked till closing at the bar last night, and now, I have an eight a.m. class because I’m masochistic. In Illinois, you have to be twenty-one to bartend. God bless Texas.
My strawberry-blonde roommate turns on a hair dryer. Her ringlet curls are something you would expect to be fake but apparently aren’t. I squint open my eyes, deciding if she really needs to do that this early or if she’s just that annoying girl who doesn’t care if people are trying to sleep. She turns to smile at me and shuts it off.
“Sorry! I have to set the mousse. It’ll just be a second! When’s your first class?”
I groan and flip over. I hate talking before I have caffeine.
The leafy babies I got at the nursery last week are bathed in sunlight on the windowsill. I need to check their soil for moisture.
“Eight,” I grumble.
“Oh, me too! Wow, I’m so envious you can just roll out of bed. It takes me ages to get ready.”
I hope Goldilocks doesn’t think we’re going to be friends. After another few minutes of the hair-dryer sound, I decide I might as well make the most of my time. It won’t hurt to look good on the first day. As my friend Sal at the bar advised me, you never know when you’ll get a pervy professor who goes easier on the attractive female students.
I get up with a sigh, do the necessities, and run through my detailed makeup routine. A scarlet lip tint feels right for the first day. My hair is always a little grunge, which I like. A cheap wand defines the thick raven mess of hair. I survey my closet, thrilled to be attending a school without a dress code. I select a red lacy bralette; a strappy, low-cut black tank; and my high-waisted black denim cutoffs. The ensemble is completed with my white high-top tennis shoes. I grab my backpack and open the door.
“Wait! I’m almost ready!”
I sigh and check my refurbished phone screen. I need coffee before class, or I won’t be able to focus. Mondays are the only nights I’ll close at the bar and have to get up four hours later.
“Hurry, so I can stop by the café.” Can’t she tell by my voice that I need coffee?
“Oh, yes, great idea. I could really use a venti Americano,” she yells from inside the closet.
When she finally joins me, I’m impressed. Blondie cleans up nice. She’s got on shorts like mine, only whitewashed denim, and a white tank with a hot-pink sports bra poking out of the top. Except for the stupid chunky white headband stuck in h
er curls, she looks good. Maybe I’ll raid her closet. We sort of create a yin-and-yang effect together. The light splatter of freckles across her nose gives her a much more innocent look than my body art gives me.
“What’s your first class?” she asks as we walk.
“Principles of Horticulture.” I try not to let the excitement in my voice be too evident. Living, leafy things are my passion.
“Oh, that sounds interesting. I wonder if there will be any cute guys in a class like that.”
I have no reply, so I stay silent.
“My first class is Behavioral and Social Science.”
“Cool.”
We reach the café, and the line is out the door.
“Shit.” I look around.
Everyone else seems to be chatty and not at all concerned about how late they’ll be to their first class. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be either, but I actually am interested in learning what will be taught in this one.
“Oh, I think Shaun is working! Let me go see if he can get us a few cups on the fly.”
My roommate disappears, and I hold our place in line. If Blondie can pull this off, I vow to remember her name.
Only a minute later, to my surprise, she rejoins me with two steaming paper cups. She even has little packets of sugar and creamer pods.
“Damn, girl, you’ve just proven yourself worthy of keeping around.” I accept the java gift, and we rush off.
“This is my building. See you at twelve thirty for lunch in the caf?” she says as she turns to stride up the red brick steps.
“Sure.” I guess I owe her for the coffee stunt, and it isn’t so bad, hanging with Blondie since she’s one of those girls who likes to hear the sound of her own voice.
I’m still a little late to class, but I slide into a seat up front and proceed to dress up my drink as the professor is making his introduction. He’s an adorable little man with suspenders and a bow tie, a scratchy-looking gray beard, and thick, round glasses. The top of his bald head shines in the fluorescent lights. The class isn’t too overly packed, which I’m thankful for. He begins, and I zone in. I handwrite as many of his words as I possibly can.
