Her Challengers: A high school bully romance (Bad Boys of Jameson High Book 1)

by Taylor Blaine

  Not surprisingly, I hadn’t made one friend since my incidents that morning. Not that I cared. I wasn’t there to make buddies. I was there to do specific tasks; graduate, get into the competition, and move on. I wasn’t planning on staying anywhere after I graduated. I had plans on attending college or anywhere else that would let me continue doing what I loved.

  Ducking into the locker rooms, I skirted around the cluster of girls chatting in the center of the benches and locker rows. They were changing and laughing, slamming the metal doors as they finished and walked out in pairs or threes.

  I grabbed an empty locker and pulled my clothing from the bottom of my backpack. I’d brought clothes for boxing or real activity. Not whatever yoga was.

  Changing pretty fast, I shoved my day clothes into the locker and shut it firmly, using a combination lock to secure everything shut. I had the code memorized and this way I wasn’t worried anything of mine would disappear while I had my back turned.

  I left my wraps in the locker. No reason to push anything just yet. It was just yoga class.

  Following the last two stragglers from the locker room, I searched the area we would be “working out” in. I used the term loosely because stretching wasn’t what I had in mind for a good solid sweat. I knew what yoga was being used for. They wanted to get the credits but the girls didn’t want to ruin their makeup or get sweaty. Fine. But I wasn’t there to keep my looks intact.

  I was there to get a workout.

  The large mirror-lined room served dual purposes. The girls collected in a group on one end with wrestling pads on the ground and the boys gathered at the other end that was fully furnished with free weights and machine weights. The room kept the class together but segregated.

  Dad should be there somewhere. He’d been hired as a gym teacher and a coach because their other gym teacher had walked out after being discovered having an affair with the home economics instructor. Even Timbercreek had heard the rumors about the situation.

  I took a steadying breath as I walked past the group of girls getting into position. I definitely didn’t fit in with them as they wore cheerleader style sweat pants without the elastic cuffs and cute t-shirts that had v-necks. My leggings had straps crisscrossing up the sides of my legs, revealing skin until just above my knees. I wore a black sports bra under an oversized but still fitted white wife beater. I’d sloppily French braided my long dark hair back out of my face and I didn’t wear any jewelry.

  Jasmine and Jaeda caught my eye in the long mirrors as I passed by them. Jasmine turned to her sister and tittered, pointing my way. Did she think I was stupid? I knew she had a target on my back. The difference was, she thought I cared when I couldn’t care less what she thought.

  When it was obvious I wasn’t stopping in the yoga section, the other girls stopped what they were doing and straightened, either standing or sitting, and turned to watch me walk through the yoga section over to the weights.

  The crowd of boys paused in their own discussions and turned to face me, revealing the center of the group to be none other than Stryker, Brock, and Gunner. Their muscles stood out amongst the rest of the guys, making them all seem immature at best.

  Stryker stood, watching as I approached the machines. I ignored them all, even the three who made my insides twist a little. I mean, why hadn’t they even reacted to my punches earlier? They had been unaffected and I couldn’t figure it out. I wasn’t a soft hit. I knew where my power was and I wasn’t considered a pansy by any measure.

  Yet, the trio had made me feel inept and even a little weak. I couldn’t allow that mentality to take hold or even to have any merit. If I wanted to get rid of the doubt around my strengths and abilities, I had to take back the power they’d stolen earlier in the hallway and the control I’d given over at lunch when I’d hid from everyone, mainly them.

  Surveying the equipment, I moved to the bench press station. No one was there and I could almost guarantee I wouldn’t be able to find a spotter as the group of guys continued staring at me. Even the girls hadn’t stopped watching.

  Was it really that taboo for a girl to lift? Well, they hadn’t seen anything yet.

  Chalk. Where was their chalk? As nervous as I was – no matter that I’d never admit to it – I wouldn’t be able to get a safe grip on the bars. My palms were too sweaty. A blue bucket with chalk pieces stood in the corner and I moved the few feet to its location. Grateful I didn’t have to go clear across the machine area to get to it, I bent and rubbed some of the white powder into the cracks of my hands.

  I refused to look up. My body was acutely aware of where the guys were, who stared at me and who had turned away. Most everyone still watched me, but a few had decided I could do whatever I wanted without it affecting them. What I wouldn’t give to tell those individuals thanks.

  Keeping my chin up, I weaved back through the machines and reclaimed my spot at the press machine, adjusting the weights to a hundred-and-thirty to start with. I’d only gotten up to one-eighty recently and that was after warming up and having a lot of support as the guys had been more than willing to spot me.

  My weight choice must have caused concern because the guys started whispering, similar to the girls’ noises when I’d left them. I ignored them. I had to. Everything about me hung in the balance.

  I couldn’t even wait for the teacher to show up. I couldn’t wait for a spotter. I had to lift now. I really just wanted to start punching things. I sat on the bench and stretched my arms, glancing around the room. I paused what I was doing when my gaze landed on a collection of boxing bags in the corner just past the yoga area.

  If I wasn’t already pushing things by being in the lifting section, I’d ignore everything and pass the next hour relieving my stress on the bags. I didn’t see any evidence of any canvas, but just because I couldn’t see a ring, didn’t mean they didn’t have one. They’d hired Dad as the boxing coach. They had to have something for the team to practice on.

  I dropped to my back, shifting myself up the padded bench a few inches until my eyes were almost in line with the bar above me. That’s when I felt them.

  No, I didn’t have to see the three guys to recognize the heat from their bodies as they surrounded me in my vulnerable position there on the bench. I clenched my jaw but forced a smile as I reached up and clasped my fingers around the bar. I didn’t lift it, just let my hands rest there as I adjusted my gaze to each man in turn.

  I paused longest on Stryker as if challenging him to stop me. “You guys can rotate in, if you want.” I wasn’t sure if the insult had been too subtle until Stryker’s eyes darkened and a muscle on the side of his jaw ticked. They couldn’t start at the weight I was using or risk being embarrassed in front of their group. I was a girl. Obviously, I couldn’t lift the same as them, but I wasn’t a light weight either. I knew my starting weight wasn’t high, but I also knew it wasn’t low in comparison, at the same time.

  Gunner nudged my knee with his, his features tight. “That’s too much weight for you. You’re going to get hurt.” There was no concern for my actual welfare in his tone. He didn’t want to lose the privileges of a weight room. Which could happen, if someone got hurt using the equipment. His stubborn, silent style intrigued me and I wanted to see what I had to do to get him to react with more than a stoic line or two.

  Brock leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees as he made no attempts to hide his blatant perusal of my on-display form. “Why do you wear a sports bra? It’s not like there’s any bouncing going on with yoga.” He grinned, his smile almost enough to take my breath away. “Let’s do something else with you on that bench, Timbercreek. We could take turns.” His teasing tone didn’t scare me. I had a feeling they wouldn’t hurt me, no matter what they threatened or insinuated.

  But Stryker, the most controlled of the three, folded his arms as he watched me with silver eyes that didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t say a word and the other two caught on and stood, taking their own stances and falling silent.
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  If ever I had to prove myself with my weight lifting, it was then. They didn’t think I could do the starting weight. I had to do it and more. I had to prove that I belonged somewhere, even if it wasn’t in the halls of that stupid high school.

  Whispering from the girls surrounded me. I imagined I could see Jasmine and Jaeda leading a group of witches as they chanted some kind of spell. Instead of being intimidated, I let their pettiness spur me on.

  Gripping the bar, I pressed it up, already decided on sets of eight reps. I pushed the bar up and down, up and down, surprised at how light the weights felt, probably because of the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

  I blinked as I finished my set and replaced it on the bar. The three hadn’t moved and I sat up, placing my head at crotch level right in the center of the three. I let my eyes center on Stryker’s package and I paused, arching an eyebrow as I slowly let my eyes trace the lines of his body through his shirt. The way he’d cut out the arms on the top left zero doubt as to what type of muscles he’d hidden under cotton.

  He stared down at me, fire in his eyes. The challenge wasn’t lost and I stood, pressing myself against him. If he wasn’t going to move, then I’d take control back. I didn’t care. That was my space and I wasn’t going to let them try to push me out. Plus, I liked the way his skin felt against mine, even if I already had a boyfriend. I pushed through the small opening between Stryker and Gunner’s arms.

  Moving to add ten pounds to the bar, I didn’t look up when the doors to the weight room opened and closed. I knew it was Dad. It had to be.

  The guys in the group – not the three hovering around my bench – turned as if one to face the new teacher. They whispered behind their hands while the yoga group matched them but huddled together.

  I finally let myself glance toward my father. He stood in the center of the room, halfway between girls and boys, with his clipboard aloft. Motioning with his arms, Dad called for everyone to join him.

  Doing what he asked wasn’t going to be possible if Stryker wouldn’t move. I recognized that fact since Stryker seemed to do whatever he wanted, regardless of the rules.

  I stepped around the bench as if to move toward the center and Stryker stepped to the side, blocking my path and not even altering his expression. Staring up at him, I didn’t flinch as we stared into each other’s eyes. The moment dragged out.

  Gunner whispered in a hushed tone. “Stryker, we need to get over there. He’s the new boxing coach.” At the mention of boxing, Stryker’s gaze flitted from mine to meet Gunner’s. Stryker gave a short nod and then turned his eyes back to me. He turned away, his arms still tight across his chest, his muscles bulging.

  I didn’t like how affected he made me feel. I didn’t need him to be around me to feel his presence. That bothered me. I needed some time with my boyfriend to get thoughts of Stryker and his boys out of my head.

  “I’m Alex Asher. I’m the new gym coach and boxing instructor. If you have any questions, let me know. I’m putting the attendance sheet over here. Mark yourself here so you get credit. I’m not going to babysit you, but if I have to check it for you, it’s not going to happen.” He grinned, avoiding looking directly at me. I recognized it for what it was. He didn’t want to appear to favor.

  As he looked between the groups, his smile faded and that’s when he realized the split was by sex. He looked between the two and arched an eyebrow. “Do the girls not like to lift?”

  “No, sir. It’s not that. This is just the way we’ve done things.” One of the other students raised his hand while he spoke.

  My dad supported my protests against double-standards and he himself didn’t support them either. He set the clipboard on the table by the set of bleachers and turned to face both groups, speaking to them collectively. “Well, I’m not sure where that rule started, but I don’t hold to segregation of any kind. If the girls want to lift, they can. If the boys want to do yoga, they can. We will also be doing other activities that will be mandatory.”

  Knowing my dad, those activities would be running, hiking, and doing other forms of cardio. His favorite to make me do daily was skipping rope.

  As if he hadn’t spoken, the girls moved back to the yoga mats and the guys to the weights.

  With the dismissal, I returned to my position on my back on the bench and did my next set of eight. One-forty wasn’t that much over one-thirty. I’d probably see about doing three more sets and then I’d move to flies. I wouldn’t work my legs until the next gym class. Dad already had me on a workout rotation that I wouldn’t be allowed to adjust. Two leg days in one week would make me sorer than normal.

  Gunner, Brock, and Stryker moved to the side by the head of the machine. Brock’s deep voice, though lowered, was easy to make out. “Did you guys hear that? He’s Asher.” They paused, the silence more confirmatory than any set of words they could have stung together. They’d figured it out.

  I could feel their eyes on me as I stared up at the dark silver bar. I was the coach’s daughter and they didn’t know the half of why that was a problem.

  Not yet anyway.

  Chapter 4

  Stryker

  Gray had balls, I’d give her that. It hadn’t escaped my attention that the new girl and the new teacher had the same last name. I just wasn’t sure I cared when she obviously had no sense of boundaries.

  Her dark brown hair had been restrained in some kind of braid that neither hid its thickness nor dulled its shine. Long dark lashes framed blue eyes that threatened to see right through me. I wanted to run away while also leaning in to learn more. Tits like hers should be on display but not for everyone to see. Just me.

  In fact, maybe I should kill everyone in there for even daring to look at her and thinking the same things about her tight butt that I was.

  Why wasn’t she with the other girls? Why was she lifting – and lifting a lot? The sight of her lean muscular legs in tights that both concealed and revealed her creamy flesh up the sides wasn’t just distracting me, it was causing problems with the rest of the guys in the weight area.

  Which just made me want to beat the living daylights out of every single one of them. Who did they think they were, sneaking peeks at her form as she bench pressed, then squatted, and then deadlifted? Did they want to die?

  I shifted around, constantly trying to keep myself in the line of sight to block her from the other boys. The only two I couldn’t keep her from were Brock and Gunner. Even them, I wanted to hurt for looking. Brock’s eyes widened every time the edge of the tank she wore rode up and revealed her flat stomach.

  Would anyone care if I ripped my cousin’s eyes out of his head? My hands were beginning to feel sore with the constant opening and closing of my fingers to keep from turning and slamming all of their heads into the wall – including Brock’s. At least Brock hadn’t vocalized the horny thoughts I knew were running through his mind. Then, I might really have to kill him.

  “Thanks, everyone, for coming. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The bell rang just as Coach Asher spoke. The man barely acknowledged the class members as the majority of them left for the locker rooms.

  I sighed in relief. Class was over. I could escape the distraction of Gray and her shape that was probably going to stay with me through the night. That infuriated me more and I cocked my head to the side to hide my frustration as I folded my arms across my chest.

  But she didn’t leave. She didn’t even act like she cared that the bell had rung as she pulled fifteen-pound weights up in a bicep curl. Girls weren’t supposed to be strong like that. They were supposed to lift twos and threes and be happy with yoga.

  Coach clapped and pulled our attention back to the center of the room where he stood, staring expectantly at us. “Come on in, guys. Let’s get the introductions out of the way so we can discuss strategy and get some practice in.”

  I glanced at the five other team members as we funneled closer to Coach. They all watched Asher with a mix of uncertainty and hope. I recognized t
he feelings as they welled inside me. My cousins and I didn’t have much going for us other than our last names. The boxing team was the only thing we had that kept us from killing the other kids in our school and in rival teams. We needed the club to keep our frustrations intact. The sport was almost sacred to us.

  All of our responsibilities were exactly what they sounded like – work. This was… so much more than just fun.

  The last coach let us down. We couldn’t afford the time lost between coaches like we’d had. Getting too close to this coach or trusting him too much could cost us more in the long run. Trust we weren’t sure we had.

  “Guys, I’m Derrick Asher. I’m new, but I hope you give me a chance. I’ve been boxing my entire life. My father was Louis Asher, the third. He helped coach legendary Sugar Ray Leonard.” Asher nodded to each of us as he took our measure. “I’d like you to introduce yourselves and tell me what your strengths are on the canvas.” He ignored the presence of his daughter standing about ten yards behind us, arms folded over her chest and her hip thrust to the side.

  The guys on my team gathered in a group around the older man and waited their turn. I could feel Gray’s eyes on my back, like she wanted to touch me. I could never let her get that close. A woman like her would just destroy me.

  “I’m John Tullane.” John raised his hand from his position directly on Coach’s left. “I’m southpaw and that seems to be a good strength.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the rest of us. Some of the guys groaned. Training with John was confusing and frustrating. He led with his right which threw off anyone who couldn’t adapt.

  I was ambidextrous and shifted with him. I didn’t need to be limited to one side. I could shift and it threw off my opponents. I wouldn’t say that was a strength so much as a life saver in the ring.

  Gray hadn’t moved. Every particle in my body had morphed into hyper awareness. I swear I could feel her breathing.

  Coach nodded and looked to the next guy.