Resist (London)

by Breeze, Danielle

  All rights reserved.

  Published August 2013.

  Please note:

  ‘Resist’ is a work of fiction. Any and all names, characters, places and/or events described in this book are works of fiction. Any similarity between this and real persons, living or dead, events, establishments or location are purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offense to the content included as it is fiction.

  This book also identifies product/object names and services known to be registered trademarks or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademark status in this work of fiction but the publication of said trademarks is not authorised, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook 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 recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Copyright ©2013 Danielle Breeze.

  “Cover design ©Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs”

  All rights reserved.

  Prologue

  Harper

  I’m me.

  It’s a basic concept you might think, just being yourself. It’s not really though, society has rules, regulations and stigmas attached to every action.

  Those of you with parents who love you, parents who have cared for you all your life and parents who always put you first, you can’t understand me, so don’t try. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those people who complain about everything life has handed them because they had a 'bad' childhood. No.

  There are too many different meanings to that term and too many people use it loosely. I make the most of what I have and I'm happy. I don't let stupid, needless, petty things bother me, ever. Screw the past, it really is not important.

  This is the new me, I do what I want, when I want and to hell with anyone who thinks that they can tell me otherwise. Harper Marie Groves does not follow rules...never...ever. I live life, I enjoy it, and I god damn suck it dry.

  Life’s too short to live any other way, wouldn’t you say?

  I have no money, no car, a shitty apartment...but I have two best friends who I couldn’t live without and I’m hot, I know I’m hot, I get told all the time. I sleep around, but I’m not a slut. I don’t do it for attention, but it’s a nice bonus and I definitely don’t promise any of them anything. Most of them are exactly the same way as me anyway. Who wants to get saddled being in a serious relationship when they’re still young?

  Not me. That’s for damn certain.

  I don’t go back to the same guy, no matter how good he is. Well, maybe once or twice, but that's it!

  Anything more than that always ends up leading someone to expect more, and I’m not willing to give that. I’ll be honest, there really are not many men who could handle me anyway!

  I’m good to people, but only people who deserve it. I speak my mind always; sometimes it’s appropriate, sometimes...it...is...not. But it is what it is, and it’s me. I don’t bitch behind anyone’s back, if I have something to say to someone then I’ll say it. Simple.

  I guess there’s a reason I am how I am. I grew up in Carl and Janice Groves’ house. Thousands of rules to abide by, strict doesn’t even come close. I was never allowed to go out past seven pm, even in my teenage years, I was never allowed a boyfriend, never allowed to go any further than my best friend Taylor’s house. I just wasn’t allowed to do much at all really. It wasn’t good, but it was never particularly that bad until well...something happened.

  I can’t talk about what happened, I never have and never will. Even Taylor and Jase don’t know what happened. They may well have their suspicions, but I can’t imagine they’d ever know the true story, or even have a clue what really happened. It changed me, hurt me and made me realise that no matter what, I’ll do what I want and when I want to do it.

  Or so I thought.

  My rules were my own and I was enjoying my life. It worked...but Mason fucking Brent didn’t think so.

  He wanted a new set of rules...rules I didn’t want to abide by. I swear he could single handedly take over the world, one victim at a time. He started with me, I’m the beginning. He changed my world, my life, my heart and changed my outlook on everything and anything. He’s powerful, superior, beautiful, life-changing...and mine.

  Was it easy? No

  Was it nice? Not all the time.

  Was it worth it? Fuck yes.

  Resisting change isn’t always the right thing to do because change doesn't always have to be a bad thing.

  Chapter One

  Harper

  I groaned and turned to the side, blinking a couple of times. My head was fuzzy.

  Where was I?

  I didn’t know. But I did know that I wasn’t at home. I wasn’t where I should have been. I didn’t have much chance to think about it before an unattractive grunt sounded from behind me. I cringed. I hated the morning after, especially when the night before was a huge mistake. Glancing over my shoulder, I grimaced, what the fuck made me go home with that guy? I’ll never know.

  He was not unattractive, but he snored and he had so much product in his hair that it was all stuck to his head. Gross.

  I could feel it on my fingers too, which made me remember tugging on his hair the night before, practically begging him to fuck me harder.

  He didn’t.

  He was shit in bed and I was sorely disappointed. Time to leave. I raced around his bedroom gathering my belongings and getting dressed. I wasn’t actually wearing much so it didn’t take long.

  I heard movement and I stilled.

  Please don’t wake up!

  Thankfully, he stayed asleep. I really wasn’t in the mood to try and give him tips on how to give a girl an orgasm, I doubt he would have appreciated it anyway. They rarely do.

  Honestly, you’d think guys would appreciate me telling them how to give a girl pleasure. If they don’t know how to do it properly, they’re never going to be able to keep a woman...not a sane one anyway.

  Apparently, it just makes me a bitch. Hey ho, not like I care, I’ve heard it all before.

  Creeping out of the house, I blew out a sigh of relief when I realised I actually did know where I was, but it was still too far to walk home.

  Pulling out my phone, I called my best friend, Taylor. She’s the only person I knew who had a car and well, I guess she’s kind of used to having to rescue me.

  She answered on sigh.

  “Where are you?”

  “In Fulham, Grange Road.”

  “I can be there in ten, meet me on the corner.”

  And she hung up.

  See, told you she was used to rescuing me. It’s not exactly a regular occurrence...usually I’m closer to home and I can just walk.

  I’m not a slut. I’m not a slut. I’m not a slut.

  I might not know exactly how many people I have slept with and I might not know hardly any of their names either, but I...am...not...a...slut.

  I like the attention. I like knowing I look good.

  What girl doesn’t?

  The thing is, I just get away with things that most girls don’t actually think they can get away with. They should probably try their luck, all guys like a girl with confidence right?

  Not every girl wants the church wedding, the white picket fence and two point five children.

  I certainly don’t.

  Maybe one day, possibly.

  Children. I want children. I just don’t want the commitment and responsibility of a relationship. So I suppose the children will have to wait!

  I like my freedom. It’s important to me, no, not ju
st important, it’s imperative. I don’t like being told what to do, ever! I don’t like having to compromise on what I want. And I don’t like other people thinking that they’re better than me.

  They’re not.

  So, I know I sound like a bitch, but that’s not the case, not really. People just don’t understand me. I’m a good person, a nice person and I love fiercely.

  But that fierce love? Belongs solely to two people. The only two people who I have in the entire world. The greatest two people I have ever, and probably will ever know.

  My Taylor and my Jase.

  And yes, they really are mine.

  We’re all so utterly messed up in our own ways. Yet, it just, works.

  They are the only people in my life, sort of by choice...ish.

  I haven’t seen or spoken to my parents in over five years. They don’t care. They expected it. They didn’t try, didn’t look for me, didn’t even phone me.

  Not. Once.

  I could have more friends if I wanted. I could probably be ‘miss-popularity’ because I really am amazing, truly! Fact is though, I just don’t want to. I don’t need it.

  Plus, new people judge. I can’t stand the thought of being judged, I never have been able to. I know Taylor and Jase have more they want to say to me sometimes and I know they bite their tongues more often than not about the things I’ve done. But they also know better than to actually say anything. That was just who I was. Who I am.

  I like attention. A lot. But only the good kind. I like to be checked out by guys. I like to have jealous bitches scowl at me because they damn well wish they looked like I do. If I could thank my parents for anything, which really wouldn’t be much, I’d thank them for the fact that I’m beautiful.

  It’s not big-headed or arrogant. I don’t pretend that everyone would want me, or want to be me and I don’t pretend to be perfect. But there are not many girls who could look in the mirror and be truly happy with what they see.

  I am.

  I never claimed to be sweet or innocent and I’m almost definitely slightly fucked up in the head but that’s just how it is and I have no intentions of changing it. It’s not like I’ll fuck anyone. I won’t. Girls gotta have standards.

  I’ve never fucked anyone ugly, fat, balding, old...you get the picture.

  I don’t have to hook-up every time I go out, now that really would be slutty. But when I’m on it, I’m on...it.

  You can be damn sure that on those nights, I would not have been going home alone.

  I walked to the corner, ignoring the fact that some stuck-up bitch turned her nose up at the sight of me on the street.

  So yeah, maybe I did look a bit worse for wear. One of my fake eyelashes was hanging off, I was still in what was left of the night before’s make-up and my dress was a little too short to be considered ‘decent’ but...fuck her. Nobody has the right to judge me.

  I saw Taylor’s car pull up and got straight in.

  “You look...interesting.” Was the greeting she gave me.

  “Yeah, I feel it too.”

  “What was his name?”

  I shrugged, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t see him again anyway so I didn’t need to.

  We didn’t speak after that. We rarely did when she picked me up in the morning. She knew I wouldn’t listen to whatever she had to say.

  Pulling up outside my apartment, she turned off the engine and spoke to me.

  “I’m meeting Jase at Beans in an hour. Think you’ll be able to make yourself look good enough to be seen in public by then?”

  I ignored her sarcasm.

  Beans was the coffee shop on campus, we all went to University in London and I loved it there.

  “Yeah, I’ll meet you there, I’ll probably just come with Jase if he’s in. See ya later.”

  “Later.”

  She drove away, and I went about making myself ‘look good enough to be seen in public’.

  I lived with Jase in a tiny apartment not far from campus, Taylor had her own place that was a thousand times better than ours, but then, she had money...and I didn’t!

  Half an hour later, I made sure I was somewhat put together before me and Jase left the apartment.

  He looked gorgeous, as usual. He looked like a model, all high cheekbones, pouty lips, and shockingly white teeth. If he was straight, I’d have fucked him by now. So it’s probably a good thing he’s gay!

  People often told us we’d make a gorgeous couple, and I couldn’t disagree with them. I’m honest, and we really did turn heads wherever we walked. I told you, I’m hot.

  I love my hair, if anything; it’s probably my favourite feature. I don’t dye it, but it’s naturally a rich dark brown, with little highlights running through it that look gold. Honestly? Yeah, I really love it. It’s naturally curly, like ringlets. I have to keep it long, I mean, I would anyway, but once I cut it short and had to walk around looking like a complete mess for months. That’s never happening again!

  Thick, curly hair, should not be cut short.

  So anyway, lesson learnt.

  I know most people will say that they love their eyes, but really, mine are nothing to write home about! They’re pretty and I do like them, but I like them because they’re different. One of my eyes is blue, and the other one is brown.

  Weird right?

  People always ask if I’m wearing contact lenses. I actually have no idea why someone would want to do that, but lots of people do weird things I guess. I like to think it makes me fairly unique anyway.

  My lips though, they’ve have always been cause for attention. They’re perfect pink and plump. I guess they’re a bit like Angelina Jolie’s, but I definitely don’t think I look as amazing as her. Men always made comments about my mouth, and it was usually quickly followed by remarks about things I ‘could do with it’.

  Ahh, no! I didn’t give head. Ever. The thought of putting some man-whore’s skanky dick anywhere near my mouth, frankly, made me want to gag.

  So why would I fuck them you ask? That’s simple.

  Attention. A temporary connection.

  Meeting Taylor in Beans, we didn’t exactly hang around for long, once it was decided that we were going to the opening of a new club in town, I needed to get home and get ready.

  As soon as we were home, I searched through all the clothes on my floor to find my best dress. I was pretty sure I’d washed it, it smelt clean anyway! It was a sexy little red number that was as low at the top, as it was short at the bottom. It showed off plenty of skin. Just the way I liked it.

  I like vintage clothes. One-of-a-kind things that make me stand out. Think Marilyn Monroe meets Betty Boop.

  I always wore fuck-me heels on a night out. I just think they’re sexy. I wore paintent black stilettos that made my legs look a mile long. I loved them.

  My face was the most important thing though. I didn’t wear much make-up really. I didn’t need foundation, my skin was perfect anyway. Big-headed I know, but it’s true. Even in my awkward teenage years, I didn’t get spots like everyone else. I’m lucky like that.

  I didn’t have time to mess about with fake lashes, so I just swiped a few coats of mascara, drew thick black lines around my eyes with liner and added a line of liquid glitter eye-shadow on the lids. Just something to make them stand out a bit more. Grabbing my lip-gloss to put on later, I walked out of my room with a swing in my step and a smile on my face.

  It was going to be a good night.

  Mason

  I always knew I wanted to work for my brother, and as soon as I turned eighteen and was legally able to, I was all over that. Actually, if I’m honest, I used to do odd jobs even before I was eighteen but that can be our secret.

  I had never regretted my decision to work for him, not once, until he asked me to go and find a girl for him. I mean, what the fuck? He’d never had a problem finding girls to fuck before. But then he said it was a specific girl and I was even more confused.

  When did I become some sort of glorif
ied pimp?

  He described three people and told me to go and find them. I couldn’t believe that he’d asked me to do such a menial task, but I did it anyway. I was told I could only be certain it was them if they were all together, which in itself, is fairly stalker-ish!

  I couldn’t have been more confused, I mean fuck, I knew it was a busy night, but why not just wait until she came in?

  I didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

  In a queue of three hundred or more people, easily, it was like they had a fucking spotlight shining on them. By that point, I couldn’t remember which one of the girls (at least, I hoped it was one of the girls!) that he was looking for. But I was praying with everything I had that it wasn’t the one whom, at that moment, was looking at me like she wanted to take a bite and I swear I would have let her, I’d have given anything to have that mouth on me.

  I couldn’t stop staring at her, which was weird for me. I don’t pick up random girls, I don’t very often take anyone home with me, and I’ve never been so drawn to someone within the first couple of seconds.

  Odd.

  I approached them quickly because it was fucking freezing and I just wanted to get it over with. It took a lot bloody longer than it should have!

  “Hey ladies, gentleman...we’re really sorry that you’re having to wait so long for entry, so I’ve been sent to give you these VIP passes. Free entry, free access to the VIP section, free first drink...and most importantly, free queue jump.”

  It was bullshit. I knew it, and they obviously knew it to. Why would I offer them free VIP passes and not every other poor bastard who was still waiting in the queue? But that was what I was told to say, so that’s what I said. Girl number one stepped up, and right off the bat, I knew she was trouble. That girl had a mouth on her.

  “Ok...this is a joke right? There must be more than three hundred people in this queue before us, and you’ve just been randomly told to give these passes to us specifically? Yeah nice one dude, just try it on someone whose actually foolish enough to believe ya yeah?”