by C. M. Owens
He lifts a set of weights over his head, then drops it down to his chest, before repeating the process.
Sadly, the last time I shared any sort of conversation with a guy that was somewhat normal, was with him. When he was crashing my date. And asking me why I was acting like I was too good for him.
Again, what does this say about me?
Feeling annoyed with him and his sexy body, I glare at his back as he puts the weights down and stands back up to his full, gloriously tall height.
I probably look a little creepy staring through the window like some perv as he walks toward the back. When I see him head into the gym locker room/shower area on the men’s side, I smirk and ask, “What would Brin do?”
She’d probably pour a gallon of wolf’s piss into the shower stall with him. I plan to be a little more subtle with my attack.
My attack? Sheesh. When did I become this immature?
Deciding not to overthink it, I walk into the gym, waving at a few people who say my name as I pass by.
My heartbeat starts drumming in my ears as a goofy grin spreads. I have no idea what my plan of action is going to be, but I’m sure I’ll think of something.
The men’s locker room is surprisingly empty, and I peek around a set of lockers to see Ethan… oh shit. He’s in just his boxers.
I’m a pervert, because I just stare at his back until he’s out of sight. And then I squeal like a little bitch because there’s suddenly a guy in front of me, arching an eyebrow.
“Sorry, I, uh, got lost,” I lie.
He walks away, and I blow out a heavy breath while closing my eyes for a minute.
What the hell am I doing? I’m not Brin, and I’m not starting some weird prank war with some random guy. The old me would have definitely done something juvenile in retaliation, like steal his clothes so he has to walk out naked… But I’m not the old me.
I’m taking my life in a serious direction, and Ethan—
“Looking for something, Bella?”
—is right beside me.
I slowly open my eyes, and sure enough, he’s smirking at me while leaning over me, caging me in against the lockers.
“I guess this means you’re stalking me,” the asshole says, amused as my eyes slowly rake over all the lines of muscle, ink, and ridiculous amount of bad-for-me sexy.
He’s still in just his boxers, only his towel is no longer hanging over his shoulder. There’s a large spider web tattoo over his right pec, and I shudder when I see the spider dangling from it with red eyes. He told me he had one, but I didn’t believe him…
“Why would you get that?” I ask, reaching up and touching it before I can stop myself. It feels like there’s a scar under there, but this locker room is too dim to really get a look at it close enough.
His breath catches in his throat, and I look up to see him swallowing as though it’s difficult as he stares down at me. Immediately, I realize I’m still touching him, and I drop my hand like it’s on fire.
For the first time since I met the cockiest man in the world, he looks a little… confused? Vulnerable? Both?
But why?
“The spider?” he asks, clearing his throat as his impassive mask slips back into place, almost as though he can be a dick as long as I’m not touching him.
I just arch an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest as though I have every right to be in the boy’s locker room and asking questions about his tattoo.
“Yeah,” I finally say when he actually does seem to be struggling to answer my question.
Slowly, that cocky smirk slides back onto his full lips, and I try not to react. Physical attraction is skin deep and nothing but trouble, Bella.
“I hate spiders,” he says, drawing me out of my thoughts.
I go from cool to confused in two-point-three seconds.
“Then why get a tattoo of one?”
He shrugs, still smirking. “Because I had to do something to keep myself from staring in the mirror all day.”
I smile, which only pisses me off, and some guy walks by us, eyeing us like he’s in the wrong place. Ethan doesn’t even acknowledge him, because he’s too busy pushing closer.
I duck and spin out from under his arm, shaking my head.
“Why do you really have it?” I ask him as he turns to face me.
I try really, really hard to ignore the fact he looks so tempting right now.
“Why are you here?” he asks instead of answering me, mocking me with those dark eyes.
Damn him. And are his nipples really pierced? Why did I have to notice that? Oh shit. That’s not the only thing I notice. He’s apparently not hard to turn on, because that beast between his legs is peeking out over the top of his boxers, and he adjusts himself, giving me a tiny peek of the tip.
I totally just licked my lips.
“I just stumbled into the wrong locker room.” Hell, it’s not even a good lie.
“You want me, Bella. Just admit it.”
“You’re wrong,” I tell him while rolling my eyes, removing them from his fuck stick.
“You’re lying,” he counters quickly, wearing that smirk I’d love to knock off his perfectly sculptured… No… Not perfect anything. It’s a wicked face. So what if it’s gorgeous?
“You’re a dick. And you’re definitely wrong.”
He takes a step closer, and I back against the wall in an effort to put the space back between us.
“I can tell you’re lying,” he says, still getting closer until he’s caging me in again, “because you get all breathy when I crowd your space. And the closer I get, you start squirming awkwardly.”
“Do not,” I say breathily while squirming awkwardly. Damn him.
His lips twitch, as though he’s enjoying this far too much.
“Stop lying,” he says as he puts his head level with mine, letting his breath brush my lips.
My eyes fall to his lips, and I contemplate a lot of really bad decisions. A lot of really bad, stupid, epically reckless decisions.
Fortunately, loud laughter and catcalls from behind him have me snapping out of my trance, and I shove at his chest. He catches my hand, holding it there, and he closes his eyes as a harsh breath leaves him.
“Can I have my hand back?” It’s supposed to sound snarky, but I’m still doing that breathy voice thing.
Almost reluctantly, he drops it, and I move away from him the second he gives me an opening. That vulnerable look is gone again when he opens his eyes.
He backs away, grinning while winking at me.
“You have my number. Use it, Bella.”
I dart out of the locker room like I can’t get away fast enough, hating myself the entire time as my palms tingle with the lingering feel of his skin against them. Worst. Decision. Ever.
Now he’ll never get out of my head.
Chapter 7
ETHAN
“The hell is wrong with you?” I rip open my pants, sighing in relief when the constricting material finally gives way and drops to my ankles. “Go the hell down!”
Instead, the bastard throbs. Of course it does. I swear she slipped me something without me knowing it. This. Is. Not. Normal!
After not being able to feel anything but surprise touches for so long, now I can’t stop feeling things since the gym encounter, and it’s pissing me the hell off.
A gentle brush of my jeans? Feel it. The soft texture of my boxers? Feel it. The shirt on my back? Feel it. I feel every-fucking-thing, and it’s really pissing me off, when all I’ve wanted is for my feeling to be back for years.
Thirty minutes. I’ve been in pain for over thirty minutes. Because of a little cat-and-mouse with barely any touching? How did this backfire on me?
“What is wrong?” I demand, glaring at the betraying, wayward appendage that refuses to subside.
“Who the fuck are you talking to?”
Rye’s voice startles the hell out of me, and I jerk back, forgetting all about my damn pants being around my ankles. My
breath seizes in my lungs when I feel airborne, falling, and a grunt is pounded out of me as I slam into the floor.
This is officially the worst day ever.
“Ah, he’s talking to his dick, apparently,” Kode—Why is Kode here?—says. “Been there. It sucks.”
I glare down the length of my body, seeing the douche who has the audacity to act amused right now with his pierced eyebrow arched at me. Kode is beside him, daring to look equally amused.
“What the hell are you two doing in my house?” I snap.
“It’s poker night,” Wren says. Where the hell did he come from?
I look over, and sure enough, Wren Prize is looking at me from across the room, a smirk on his lips like he’s enjoying the fact I look like a jackass right now.
I stumble up to my feet, cursing my pants as I pull them back up my legs. At least the damn hard-on is gone now.
“You really talking to your—”
“How did you assholes get in?” I ask, interrupting Rye before this gets any more awkward than it already is.
Isn’t this a reoccurring nightmare that people have? It will be now.
“We have the entry code to your door,” Tag says, walking in from the den.
What is this? Hell?
Yes it is. And it’s all her fault. Fucking toxic. That’s definitely what she is. Damn her for touching me the first time. Damn her for being in that hospital. Damn her for touching me again.
“I’ll be changing that code,” I growl.
“Anyone we know?” Kode drawls, ignoring my comment as they all follow me toward the den.
Definitely not telling them that.
“Let’s talk poker. Not girls,” I grumble.
“Dude, you were threatening your dick, so we need to hear about this girl,” Maverick—Are you fucking kidding me right now?—asks as I head toward the poker table, where’s he’s already sitting and grinning at me.
Apparently everyone is here and heard me cursing my dick. Awesome.
His phone chirps, and he bursts out laughing when he reads whatever text he’s gotten, which fortunately takes the attention off me.
“What?” Tag prompts, and Maverick types something in, then passes him the phone.
Tag just snorts and passes the phone along, and I watch as Kode reads it. He gives no expression, and I snatch it out of his hands.
Banana Girl: If you send me one more sphynx kitty picture, I’m going to lick your ass!
Maverick: Sounds kinky. Always wanted your tongue on my ass. Been a fantasy of mine for a while now.
The hell? Who is Banana Girl?
Before I can ask him questions, it chirps again, and I read the message like it’s my phone or something.
Banana Girl: KICK! I’m going to KICK your ass. You couldn’t pay me enough to lick your ass. Ewwww!
“Who the hell is that?” I ask when Wren tugs the phone from my hand, but I’ve got a bad feeling I already know. And it’s really going to piss me off if history is repeating itself.
“It’s Bella,” Maverick says around a laugh.
History is definitely repeating itself.
“What’s with the sphynx kitty pics she mentioned?” I ask, trying to sound only mildly interested, even though I’m clenching my fist under the poker table.
“She waxes her pussy. A sphynx cat is a hairless kitty. So, yeah. It’s a way to fuck with her,” he says, still laughing, and Rye snickers while shaking his head.
Wren snorts while handing Maverick back his phone, and I struggle not to snatch it back to see what he’s texting her. I’ve officially lost my motherfucking mind.
It’s Star Morgan and high school all over again, even though it’s nothing like that. I barely know Bella, which means I shouldn’t be getting worked up over this. Right?
So why am I still clenching my fists and seconds away from punching one of my friends for no reason?
“Are we going to play poker, or are you going to text your girl all day instead?” I ask, proud that there’s not an ounce of anger in my tone, because that’s really hard to do.
Maverick snickers again before putting his phone down, and he shakes his head. I’m vaguely aware of Wren’s eyes on me, but I don’t acknowledge him, knowing he’ll realize something is up.
“Not my girl. We’re just friends. She’s cool. You’ll meet her soon.”
I calm down just a little.
“So how do you know she waxes?” I ask as Tag starts dealing the cards. “And what’s with the Banana Girl name?”
Yeah, now I’m being obvious, but Mav doesn’t seem to notice.
“Long story,” he says, and the table bursts out into laughter, including Wren.
“I walked in on Bella giving Allie blowjob lessons on a banana,” Wren says through his chuckles, wiping his eyes when tears form. “Angel startled her, and she ended up choking on the banana. Allie had to give her the Heimlich.”
My anger vanishes completely, and I can’t stop myself from laughing. The mental image is arousing and hilarious at the same time, a combination I’ve never dealt with before.
“Oh, there’s so much more to tell,” Maverick goes on, and somehow poker night turns into Bella night.
It’s like she’s everywhere.
Chapter 8
BELLA
I’ve ignored the texts from Ethan for the past three days. But he hasn’t stopped sending them.
ETHAN: That party is tonight. You coming?
ETHAN: You missed my party. I guess you owe me something special to make up for it.
ETHAN: Why does it feel like you’re ignoring me?
ETHAN: Don’t make me find you, Bella. You embarrass too easily…
Ignoring his last warning that came a few minutes ago, I put my phone away before clocking out for the day. I board the elevator, riding up to the children’s ward, and step off the second the doors open.
I haven’t been in the mood to play games with Ethan. Especially since I don’t want to be playing games at all. I want someone serious. Ethan is a frat boy in a man’s body.
Taking a deep breath, all thoughts of Ethan vanish, and I walk into a room where my favorite patient beams up at me. Even though he’s not actually my patient.
“Bella! You came!” Daniel says, smiling as I come to sit beside him on the bed.
“Of course I did.”
At eleven, he’s had to deal with a hell of a lot, and he’s a great kid who always manages to smile, despite the hellish road he’s been on for the past eight months.
“Where’s your mom?” I ask him, looking around the empty room that normally has at least one of his parents in it.
“She’s in the cafeteria getting me some more ice cream,” he says with a smile.
“Well, good. Then she won’t get mad that I brought you more of these.”
I pull off my backpack and open it up, handing him the magazines full of racecars. His eyes widen, and his smile only grows. Considering a car accident put him in this bed, his mother hates him loving a fast vehicle. But it’s one of the things he loves and makes him giddy, so she allows it. As long as it’s just in a picture and not for real.
“Thank you!”
He hugs me tightly around the waist, and I chuckle while hugging him back. Turning my head, I see Marcy stepping off the elevator, and her watery eyes meet mine. That’s not good. I was hoping I was going to see a smile on her face today.
“Hey, kiddo, let me go talk to your mom for a second, okay?” I ask, pulling back as Daniel opens up his magazine.
“Yeah. Okay,” he says, already disinterested in me as he flips the pages.
I smile while stepping away, but that smile slips when I reach Marcy.
“They can’t do the operation,” she says on a sigh, as though she couldn’t possibly say anything else first.
“What? Why the hell not? Dr. Kates said the operation wasn’t a life-threatening procedure. Daniel is already facing the worst consequence without going under the knife,” I whisper-yell.
A tear falls from her eye, and she nods.
“They said they could do it, but our insurance won’t pay for it. It’s considered an elective procedure that could result in permanent paralysis. He’ll be permanently paralyzed if they don’t risk the surgery, but the insurance found a loophole to keep from shoveling out the money we need. There’s no way we can afford the surgery. The specialists for this procedure would cost over two hundred thousand dollars, and we’re barely affording our rent as it is.”
“There are tons of hospital charity funds for things like this,” I tell her, taking an easier breath. Money can be handled, as long as they do the surgery.
“No, there’s not. Those funds are allocated to children who need life-saving measures,” she says around a choked wad of emotion. “I can’t even be upset because I feel selfish for wanting to take away from a child who may need it to keep breathing just so my son can walk. How screwed up is that? I feel guilty for wanting my kid to walk.”
She wipes away a tear, and I pull her to me, hugging her, trying to give her comfort the only way I can. My eyes roam over the board behind her head, and they settle on the hospital charity event coming up this weekend.
Everyone who is anyone will be there. It’s a Sterling Shore elite event, and my wheels start turning.
“I’ll get the funding, Marcy,” I promise, leaning back. “Trust me.”
She almost looks scared to be hopeful, but she cracks a watery smile. “You’ve already done so much, Bella. It’s because of you he even got to see that specialist without them charging us for a consultation. We’ll figure out something. Hopefully.”
“Not soon enough. This isn’t a surgery that can wait any longer. I promise I’ll get the funding this weekend. Okay?”
She still doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t know just how determined I can be.
“I should get back to Daniel. Are you coming?” she asks, motioning toward him with her head. “I haven’t told him what they said, and I don’t plan to just yet.”
