by Dawn Doyle
Contents
Title
Disclaimer
Dedication
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
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Taming Eastyn
By
Dawn Doyle
Copyright © 2018 Dawn Doyle
All rights reserved, worldwide, and on any multiverse that is known or unknown. No part of this publication may be reproduced in, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, including electronically or mechanical, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Published by Dawn Doyle
Book cover design by Dawn Doyle
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it from Amazon (sole distributor) or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
For everyone who’s told they’re not enough.
YOU ARE.
Chapter 1
Shay
“Typical jocks working out in the gym with their buddies. All the girls, and some of the guys, salivate over them like they’re the best thing since the fucking wheel. But, one of them is different. He’s not interested in any of them. No, it’s the nerdy type he falls for, the kind of girl that’s not affected by the hard planes of his muscles, or the fact his face is sheer perfection. Will the dumb jock fall for the beauty behind the brains?” I chuckled to myself. “Of course not, because this isn’t some fantasy, this is real life. The jock loves nobody more than himself, while the nerd looks down on those who worship the brainless idiot.”
“Talking to yourself again, Shay?”
I turned to see my roommate step on the vacant treadmill next to me. I’d been walking for fifteen minutes before she showed up. I hadn’t quite worked myself up to run, but I would have to with her there, otherwise she would push me. She was into her workouts a lot more than I was.
“You know it, Lara. I can’t help myself.”
“What’s the story today? Rowing machine romance? Nipple slip on the pec deck?” She giggled.
I was on the college paper, though Lara was the only one who knew and the person I confided in about my work. I had to, but not by choice. My stupid ass had left research articles lying around when I’d thought she was out for the night with her other friends. I’d been more careful since then.
“Not really, but I might have something. I don’t know yet—it’s not really coming together right now.”
Lara followed my gaze. “East?”
“What? God, no,” I scoffed. My story did not involve him, although inspiration hit me whenever I saw him, but it wasn’t for that kind of writing.
“Casey?”
I shook my head. “Look behind the guys, a little further back toward the long mirrors.”
Lara did, and her jaw dropped. “Why? Just why? Do they really think that looks good?”
Two freshmen stood in front of the mirrors, full-face makeup, baseball caps on, and the shortest crop-tops I’d ever seen. Their leggings looked painted on them, too, the cut-outs in the fabric showing their skin through the mesh.
God, when I worked out, my hair was a mess, I was beet red, and sweating in places that wasn’t attractive in the slightest. These two looked as though they’d been to the salon before coming in.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not the way to perform that exercise,” Lara snorted. One was performing some strange rear leg lift that looked like it would pop a disc. The other was busy throwing her ass out while performing a squat. “But it’s all in the name of attention, right?”
“I guess we should leave them to it,” I said, shrugging. It was their call and it wasn’t hurting anybody but themselves. “Each to their own.”
“Oh my god, you gotta write about it,” Lara said while picking up speed. “Something with a really cool title.” I smiled, but it wasn’t from happiness. I pitied those girls. It was sad that they thought they needed it. “ Listen to this. From salon to squats, when your contour matters more than your spine. Exercising your rights to attention. When beauty is pain. Workouts bottom out.”
“Okay, Lara, I’m sure I have a few to go with.” I laughed. “However, I don’t see the point of writing an article. I don’t want to humiliate them.” I’d had my fair share of that and I certainly wouldn’t like it if I were the one getting written about.
“Are you kidding me?” Lara asked, not even out of breath, whereas I was huffing already. “They’re doing a great job of it already, see?” She jerked her chin toward the other girls nearby, not trying to hide their side-glances and smirks. “Some people are trying not to laugh at them.”
They weren’t the kind of stories I liked but, yet again, Lara had a point.
I watched the two younger girls as they chatted, then looked in the mirror at the group of guys behind them, then chatted some more. Justin Walker turned his head to look, but then went right back to his bicep curls without a second glance.
“It just seems to be inconsequential to write about matters like this when it’s a non-issue. Well, for them, maybe.”
“I think it’s important, and a great topic to write about. This is great journalistic material. You go out to find stories, and two girls have just dropped one right in your lap.”
“I suppose.” I pressed the button on my treadmill to run a little faster. I quickly swiped away the bead of sweat on my temple with my sky-blue towel.
“Are you working on your articles when we get back?” Lara asked, finally getting breathless, her long legs striding in quick succession.
“I’ll make some notes, yeah, but this won’t be the main thing in the paper,” I panted.
“If you need more, I’m sure you’ll have no problem getting inspiration.”
I followed her eyes to the dark-haired girl in a hot-pink tank, using the tricep push bar with her elbows out and bending over as though she were trying to push it into the ground. “No doubt.”
I found the speed I was comfortable with without feeling like I was going to pass out, then looked up, briefly meeting the eyes of one of the guys the freshmen were trying to distract, then at nothing, directly in front of me.
Eastyn Woodman. He was the kind of guy you looked at from afar. He had no problem in calling out those whose stares lingered a little too long for his liking. That’s exactly why I barely looked at him. I didn’t want to be humiliated in front of everybody by my natural instinct to watch him move. He was built and handsome—the epitome of everything a woman looked for in a man. On the outside, anyway; I didn’t know him at all. He and his friends used the free-weights section of the gym, the rectangular area to the left of the door as I stood on the treadmill.
I ventured down that area of the gym as little as possible.
I would’ve preferred to use the machines at the other end of the room, but the gym was already busy when I got there, with the quieter area away from the weights machine full. Add that to my mistake of pointing out the girl to Lara, I wished I hadn’t bothered at all. I felt like such a bitch by calling them out, but Lara had a point. There was no sign of any instructors on the gym floor, and it was their job to maintain safety standards at all times.
“Eastyn, am I doing this right?” a voice asked, and I looked over to see the blonde-haired girl staring at him and the tattoos covering his thick arms.
“No.”
One single word came out of his mouth, which didn’t surprise me, then he went back to the huge dumbbells in his hands while the blonde scowled, her open mouth twisted into a sneer. “Would you mind showing me how it’s done?”
Okay, I guess that’s not what she was after.
“I’m busy.” He walked away from her without so much as a backward glance, his friends following him to the inclined benches further down.
“What an asshole,” the girl grumbled to her friend, and I couldn’t agree more.
He was the quieter of the group he hung out with, choosing to talk mainly to them. Not that I paid that much attention, but it was hard not to when dark hair and light eyes made their presence in front of you, no matter how much I told myself it was a waste of time and energy. His demeanor screamed bad boy, the kind girls in books swooned over, but would be complained about relentlessly in real life.
There was only one time I’d ever spoken to Eastyn. It was Sophomore year, and I was looking for the editor’s office. Eastyn walked right by me, and I asked him if he knew where it was. He’d stopped, took a long perusal of my entire body, causing me to flush all over, and told me, “Down the hall, take the first left and it’s on your right.” I’d thanked him and went on my way, his face not leaving my mind for the rest of the day, or the night.
His green eyes, longer hair on top that fell over his brows… God, even his tall frame and wide shoulders made my mouth water, especially when a hint of a tattoo poked out from under the neck of his long-sleeved tee. Since then, it had been nothing from him except the occasional glance and ‘excuse me’ when he was trying to get past me.
Thirty minutes later, my thighs on fire and my face and back soaking with sweat from trying to keep up with Lara, I was beat. She’d left me a few minutes before, her ability to shower in three minutes flat one of her hidden talents, so I was all alone in the changing area.
I dressed in my white ripped jeans—extra stretchy for comfort—and slipped on my gypsy style top. The pale pink was great for the warmer weather, while the tiny white flowers matched my jeans. I smoothed it down over my stomach, then slipped my feet in to my black Mel shoes.
My face was still blazing when I looked in the mirror, making my hazel eyes stand out against the redness of my skin. “I look like I’ve been slapped repeatedly,” I said to myself while snatching my wet hair up into a messy bun, making a mental note to dry it when I got back to my dorm.
I collected my things and then opened the door to exit the changing area, and had to stop dead to avoid the large body in my way. “Excuse me, can I please get past you?” I asked.
The person looked over his shoulder, the conversation with the person in front of them interrupted. “Sorry,” he said, then took a small step forward.
He’d left me enough room to squeeze past, but not enough that it was a comfortable space between him and the wall.
“Hey, Shay, right?” he asked, his deep voice almost friendly.
I turned, seeing both the guy that moved and the one who he was talking to—Eastyn.
“Yeah?” I replied as though asking a question.
“I think we have History class together.”
“Um, okay?” We did, but we never spoke to each other. It was difficult to since the lecture hall was enormous. And there was the fact I always kept myself out of other people’s business, unless it was for the paper, but even then I never interviewed anybody. I glanced at Eastyn who was busy checking the floor around his feet.
“The name’s Max.” He held out his hand and I stared at it.
“I know who you are,” I replied, still not touching him.
“She’s a germaphobe,” Eastyn muttered, still looking down, when I didn’t touch Max’s clammy palm.
I stared at Eastyn for a couple of seconds, his comment taking me by surprise. He may as well have just hit me with one of those dumbbells he loved so much. Instead of saying something to him, I turned my attention back to Max.
Judging by the sheen on his face and arms, my guess was accurate. “No, it’s not that. I’ve just showered and you’re sweaty,” I countered. “So, don’t take it personally.” I washed or used cleaner on my hands a little more often than others, sure, but I had my reasons. I never knew what people had on them before touching me. I’d learned that the hard way.
Max laughed, the rumble gaining attention from those closest to us. He rubbed his hands on his navy Adidas shorts. “You’re right, and I don’t,” he said, still chuckling. “See you in class, Shay.”
“Sure.” I turned and walked out, focusing ahead while the unmistakeable tone of men talking picked right back up.
*****
Laundry was on and my hair was dry, so I had twenty minutes to get down the notes from inside my head. Lara lay down on her bed, engrossed in her iPad.
“Dangerous use of equipment, instructors letting it happen…”
“Don’t forget asking gym goers for advice,” Lara said.
“Of course, I’ll write that down.” I wasn’t, but the notes I was making was for something completely different, and something that was close to my heart. My mind always worked overtime, thinking about outcomes of different scenarios and the paths they could lead to.
I tucked those away and got back to the notes I’d made for the paper, guilt hitting me again. Essentially, I was a tattle tale, reporting the staff for not doing their jobs. But, if someone were to get hurt, what would they do? I didn’t care about the attention-seeking girls—they would learn the hard way soon enough. Names followed people, and in a place like Stampton College, people didn’t forget.
“I was just thinking,” Lara said, rolling onto her stomach and resting her head on her hand. “This article would bring more interest to the gym. It’s free advertising for them, and the slackers might get off their asses and actually do their jobs. That’s what we pay our membership fees for, right?”
It wasn’t expensive, but the college gym’s membership numbers had seemed to decline the past year. Great for when you wanted some space, but not for the people running it.
“Maybe, but I should just ignore them and stop being a busybody. I should concentrate on the fact that the gym should be free, since it’s on campus. We pay enough for tuition without having to pay for that, too.”
“That’s a great point,” Lara said, swinging her legs around and standing up. “The tight asses of the administration and investors could do more than subsidize it. Hell, we have to even raise our own funds for the sports teams!”
I scribbled down a few notes. That was definitely better to write about than a couple of girls dressed up to exercise. It was pretty pathetic when said out loud. I knew it would look like I was jealous of them if I pointed it out, but with the new ideas flowing, it took the spotlight away from any embarrassment from both parties. Even though my name was never mentioned, I knew it was me, and so did Lara.
“Imagine this.” Lara said, circling her hands as though setting the scene. “You’re a hotshot journalist, you’re traveling the world and reporting about exotic locations, the royal families in Europe, and all this will be just a blip.”
I laughed, her imagination stretching almost as far as mine. “You make so much sense, Lara,” I agreed with a grin. “And when I’m looking down on everyone from my first-class seat in a private jet, I’ll sip my champagne and remember when.” I held up my invisible glass fl
ute and lifted my nose in the air.
“You’ll remember not to forget me if that happens,” she said quickly. “I’ll take the seat next to you.”
I shook my head and closed my notebook. “Yeah, okay. I’ll book the flights now.” That career would never happen for me; I never wanted it. I wanted the excuse to do what made me happy, and that was to write. Even my chosen studies were for my own gain, and not something my parents aspired for me to be.
Lara tapped on her phone after it beeped, then put it in her purse. “Okay, so classes finish for break in less than two weeks. You know what that means!” She did a little happy dance and I groaned internally.
“I sure do.”
“That’s right, Shay,” she said, coming close to me and grabbing my shoulders, forcing me to jiggle with her. “Party central, starting with this weekend’s fundraiser. The local community are getting involved, too, so there should be a good turnout.”
She let go of me abruptly, then skipped to her closet, humming to herself while looking through her clothes. Lara had a great sense of fashion. Her tight denim jeans looked flawless on her legs, and her short-sleeved lilac blouse highlighted her slender figure.
“I need this,” she said, slipping a thin white belt through the loops on her blouse. “I’m good to go. Lunch?”
My stomach growled hearing just that word. “Yes, I am starving.”
“Woo!” she cheered, throwing her fists up. “Let’s grab something from the food hall.”
We didn’t often get lunch together; she would usually go with her other friends most of the time. I didn’t mind, though, it’s not like I got on with them. There was Elise, who never wanted me around, even though I’d never done anything to make her act that way toward me. And then there was Tammy, who just followed Elise. The other girls in their group barely said more than a few words if they ever came to our dorm, but that wasn’t often.
