From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There I am, a husky girl with a metal spoon lodged in her mouth and too many extra pounds to work off. My hair hangs like a damp towel over my shoulders, and my complexion is pasty pale, without even the slightest hint of a tan. I suppose my eyes are okay, being a nice chocolate brown, but most people can’t see my eyes from behind my thick glasses.
“Man, I wish I had my own place,” I mumble, taking refuge in my room. I kick a pile of clothes angrily, and a shirt flies through the air, landing all but three inches from where it originally was. Disgusted, I shake my head and move to the bed. The springs moan under my weight as I toe off my shoes.
“Here’s to another day,” I say, setting the ice cream down to unload my backpack. My shoulders burn from the pressure of the heavy tomes, but it’s a small price to pay for going to school. After all, I have big dreams. I want to get out of Mesa and have a life. Hopefully, as far from Angela as possible.
But right now, the moaning sounds are driving me insane. I close my eyes and lay back on the bed. The pint of ice cream rests against my thigh as I envision Hunter in my room. Hunter’s muscles roll as he runs his fingers through his deep black hair, and he flashes that charming smile, making me shiver.
Suddenly, my eyes pop open as I shoot up.
“I can’t do this. It’s too pathetic. I can’t be that girl.” Irritation rocks me even as my panties moisten. “That’s my sister’s boyfriend. I shouldn’t be thinking about Hunter and Angela doing … doing ...”
Once again, I find myself slipping into fantasy. Hunter is here with me, by me, running his fingers over my bare thigh and inching his fingertips up my leg. His icy blue eyes smolder with desire as he plays with the hem of my shorts.
“Hunter,” I mumble incoherently. Then, I jerk when something ice-cold touches my leg. Hunter? But no, it’s just the wet condensation from the ice cream container dripping down my thigh.
“Damn it, I really need to get a grip,” I say, rising to my feet. I snatch the pint off the bed and swallow one last spoonful out before cramming the lid back on.
Melted ice cream will just be one more thing for Angela to gripe about. Savoring that last bite, I move swiftly to my bedroom door and open it. Carefully, I pop my head out and scan the room. With no sign of Angela or Hunter, I tiptoe back into the kitchen to return the ice cream to the freezer.
The sounds coming from the locked door are now muted. The hushed sound of voices greets my ears instead of the heavy-duty banging and clanging going on before. My eyes linger on the door. Does Hunter snuggle after sex? Or is he one of those guys who pushes the girl to the side? My heart flutters as I envision being snug in the nook of his arm, looking up at his handsome face as he drifts to sleep.
Then, a sharp click causes me to jump and startles me from my daydream. The last thing I want is to be caught lingering in the living room as he walks out. Nor do I want to catch a glimpse of my sister. Not after dreaming about her hunky boyfriend.
Bolting to my room, I shut my door just as I hear the other one opening. A piece of me wants to peek through the crack of my door to catch a glimpse of Hunter before he leaves, but I would never hear the end of it if I were caught.
“See you later then,” Angela says in her sing-song voice. He must have pounded her thoroughly for her to use that tone. The front door shuts, and Angela’s voice completely changes.
“I know you’re home, Catherine,” Angela snaps. Her voice is sharp, even though we have a door between us.
“Angela?” I call out, trying to sound surprised. “Is that you?”
The door snicks as it opens.
“Don’t play coy,” she frowns.
Quickly, I snatch my headphones from my backpack, and they’re on my ears before she steps into the room. With my heart thumping, I try to look as innocent as possible. My sister’s eyes narrow as she crosses her arms over her chest. She’s a beautiful ice queen with her rigidly narrow frame and frozen blue eyes.
“Listening to music?”
“It’s the only way to drown you out sometimes,” I say innocently.
“And what song is playing, may I ask?”
“It’s Pandora, so it changes,” I say as she reaches for the headphones. “Are you in here to bug me? Because I have a lot of work.”
Luckily for me, my desk is a mess and it genuinely looks like I’ve been working hard. A smile tugs at my lips. It seems Fate is stepping in to lend a helping hand.
“Well, don’t wait up for me tonight,” Angela says, tossing her blonde hair over one shoulder with a swish. I can’t help but sigh. Of course, she’s going out because Angela never stays home, not even on weeknights. She needs to hold court with her sycophants, after all.
“What’s the plan tonight?” I ask, pretending not to care.
My sister’s eyes grow devious.
“You know, the same old, same old,” she smiles mysteriously while backing out of my room. “Well, you have fun, Catherine,” she says, her voice growing muffled as the door shuts. “I don’t know what you do for fun, but I hope you enjoy yourself tonight.”
Wow, what an insult. It’s always so easy for my sister to coat her words with barbs. Pressing my lips into a tight line, I wonder how my life would be if Angela and I swapped places. Would I be as popular as her? Would my hair flow in blonde waves, and not frizz out on me because of the heat?
Sighing, I turn back to my desk before glancing around my messy room. At least I won’t have to hear Angela and Hunter going at it like rabbits in heat tonight. Maybe I can actually get some work done now. I stand and move to my desk. Pulling out the chair, I slip into the tight space and boot up my laptop.
Of course, Mesa College’s homepage pops up, and what do you know, but there’s a full-size picture of Hunter and Angela at the last football game together. He looks absolutely gorgeous in his tight blue and gold uniform, with one arm draped around my pretty blonde sister. And for once, my sister doesn’t look devious. Instead, she gazes up at Hunter with adoring eyes, as if worshipping the man.
My heart cracks a bit while taking in the image on the screen. He’s handsome and she’s perfect. They’re like the Prom King and Queen. Destined for greatness, in every arena.
But where does that leave me? Certainly, I’m not even a member of the Prom Court, much less a Prom Queen. Instead, I’m just plain old Catherine, with my nerdy ways and frizzy hair. And yet, I can’t help but dream. Sometimes, in my romance novels, the hot, hunky man ends up with the little mouse of a girl with the good personality and sweet ways. Could that ever happen to me?
* * *
To be continued …
My Sister’s Boyfriend is now LIVE! Pick up your copy here.
Sneak Peek: My Bully’s Dad
Tilly
Tilly’s gets her revenge on bully Samantha Nelson by having a baby with Sam’s dad.
* * *
“Look at those abs! Ow-wooooo!”
Nicole is holding up a book and running her finger seductively down the abs of the man on the front cover, while suggestively tracing her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. I cover my mouth to hush my laughter.
“Stop, would you? Oh my god, you’re so bad!”
We giggle again, but continue staring at the cover. It’s okay because Nic and I know one another well. She’s my best friend and has been since the sixth grade, when we were paired up for a science fair project. I am pretty sure, however, that we would have eventually gravitated towards each other even without the science fair.
After all, we were part of the small portion of students in the class that was actually looking forward to the project. We were both outsiders at our school, observing but not so much participating; both heavy-set, awkward, and total bookworms. We’re the type that sits quiet in the back of the classroom, yet secretly hanging on to our teachers’ every last word. Is it bad to love learning? It certainly seems like it some days, given the teasing that comes my way.
&nbs
p; But Nicole and I bonded quickly our sixth-grade year, especially after our project won second place in the science fair contest. Our hypothesis was that we could get a battery to produce energy from lemon juice, and it did! The red ribbon looked so nice, and I was beaming with happiness when I saw it.
After the fair, our parents took us to celebrate at a local Connie’s Pizza, one of the classic Chicago-land pizzerias where patrons can write in sharpie on the brick walls while they wait for their order. I remember the red and white checkered table cloths, and the dim, vintage light fixtures hanging above them. I can still smell the sweet, sugary sauce in the air, wafting off the iconic pizza pies. Plus, if I had to guess, “Tilly & Nicole BFFS Forever” is still written in big letters above the old pizza oven built into the wall in the main dining room.
But yeah, our nerdiness hasn’t worn off even years later, and we aren’t exactly the cool kids in high school. While most people our age are sneaking down to the field across from the train tracks at night to drink vodka and orange juice, we prefer to hit the town bowling alley and gush over our latest reads while knocking down some pins. That’s not to say we don’t get a little crazy here and there. Wild and fun just have a different meaning to us than to most of the masses. For example, once in a while, we like to play an entire bowling set only allowing trick shots; Nicole’s granny roll is almost better than her regular throw at this point. It’s hilarious, but anyone would laugh upon seeing it.
Plus, we’ve lucked out with our schedules this year. We have over half of our classes together, and this thankfully includes homeroom and lunch. Our homeroom period is in the school library, giving us daily opportunity to gush over the romance novels stacked in the bins lining the back wall of the room.
It’s a little sad because there are no real-life boys interested in us, so we make up for it by pining over the male models on our favorite trade paperbacks. Today, Nicole is ogling a Fabio-inspired man on the cover of Through the Open Window. We’re just goofing around, but deep down we both know that we would kill for a man like this one: he has dirty blonde hair flowing down to his shoulders, and piercing blue eyes above a deadly sharp jaw line. I can’t help but fixate on the trickle of sweat making its way down and over his washboard abs, which of course draws my eyes to that tight v-formation just at the top of his faded blue jeans. Neither of us have ever seen a man like that in real life.
Nicole swings her bouncy brown curls over her shoulders as she spins around to show me the cover of the next book in the bin. Behind her oversized glasses, her eyes are practically bulging with excitement.
“Are you seeing this Tilly? Can you imagine bringing a man like him to prom? I can see Samantha and her little posse already. The looks on their faces would be absolutely priceless.”
Samantha is the leader of the mean-girl brigade at Riverdale High. I’ve seen her knock a girl’s books out of her hands, causing all her belongings to spill into the busy hallway. Her top lieutenant, Chelsea, broke a guy’s glasses earlier in the year, when she “accidentally” stepped on them after he had momentarily dropped them on the floor. And they’re infamous for hazing freshmen, convincing them to hand over their lunch money and neat gadgets in exchange for social approval. It’s a scandal in and of itself because said approval is never truly gained, no matter how much you bend to the will of the Samantha gang.
The girls in her posse, Chelsea, Shannon, and Jen, are nasty in their own way, but I get the sense that their bad behavior really derives from Samantha. That girl is the true root of evil. I wonder why her personality is so twisted and awful. Was she abused as a child? What could possibly be going on in that twisted blonde head?
But Nicole giggles again, bringing me back to the present.
“Oh my god, if he were my prom date, I’d die of ecstasy. Just die!” she titters.
I giggle myself.
“Ugh, I couldn’t even. If Mr. Hunk-a-licious here suddenly came to life in front of us, I would just be a blubbering mess. I’ll stick to keeping him in book form for now,” I respond with an overdramatic eye roll.
“That’s fine, because I don’t think you’re going to be doing a whole lot of talking if you meet a man like that, if you know what I mean,” Nicole retorts with a wink.
We both break out into uncontrollable laughter. We are shushing each other between giggle fits, telling the other to knock it off so we don’t get in trouble with the school librarian. And just as we both start to get it under control, the other one spontaneously loses it again.
“Mrs. Morrison is going to kick us out! I am NOT getting my first detention senior year. You’ve got to stop making me laugh, Nicole!” I sputter between gasps.
At this she goes off the deep end for some reason and starts belly laughing so hard that she is bent over and holding her side.
“Oh my god, it hurts so much!” she exclaims, and accidentally lets out an unladylike snort. This sets me off real good. The two of us are notorious for getting ourselves into these obnoxious giggle-fits. But it’s not our fault because the harder you try to stop it, the more the laughter rolls in.
Suddenly, an ominous shadow descends over our seating area, and I look up. Is it the librarian? My body goes still upon seeing who it is, and immediately, I elbow my friend in warning.
To be continued …
My Bully’s Dad is now LIVE! Pick up your copy here.
About the Author
Cassandra Dee is a bestselling author of dozens of hot and steamy contemporary romances. She started out writing erotica but transitioned to romance after falling for one too many book boyfriends.
When she’s not tapping away furiously at her laptop, Cassandra can be found drinking gallons of coffee and watching lots of reality TV. She also enjoys taking the neighbor’s dog for walks, aimlessly wandering the local grocery store, and of course, reading too much about the lives of her favorite celebrities.
Cassandra is living her own HEA with her husband and a beautiful baby boy.
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The Billionaire’s Pet: A Forbidden Romance Page 8
