This
book is set in 2005 and 2006.
~
1 ~
I didn’t want to be here, felt way out of my comfort zone. It wasn’t for
me, wasn’t the kind of thing I did. Unfortunately, it was exactly what my best friend would do, a friend who was right now
shaking with excitement at the thought of entering the strip joint, or in her
words, ‘the male review’.
“Why do they call it that?” I asked Julia.
My best friend turned to look up at me.
Even in her six-inch heels, she was still a couple of inches shorter. Though, I
was tall for a girl at five ten, or what Julia called, ‘model height’, which was
why I usually wore flats since I was always self-conscious of being taller than
guys.
“What are you talking about?” Julia asked,
stopping in the cloakroom to hand over her white leather jacket.
“A review,”
I answered. “What’s there to review? The way the guys shake their butts? Or the
size of their willies?”
Julia barked out a laugh. “Not a review,
dummy, a revue,” she said, spelling
it out. “Now, hand over your jacket to the... mmm... rather nice man.” She ran her tongue over her
teeth, giving the bare-chested guy behind the counter a flirty wink. He was
wearing a black, silky apron with the name Molly’s
printed across the nether regions, his rather impressive torso making me
blush. I wondered how I was going to handle watching guys pump and grind in
even less if I couldn’t even handle the cloakroom guy.
I quickly handed my jacket over to him, getting
a ticket in return. He gave Julia a cheeky smile, clearly having heard what
she’d said about him, then turned around to hang up our jackets, giving us a
whole different kind of cheekiness. His arse was barer than my uncle’s bald
head, minus the shine, though he had a lipstick tattoo on his right butt cheek.
Julia giggled, while her older sister—who
was wearing a white veil for her hen night—told him she’d love to give him a
matching kiss on his other cheek. The man didn’t respond, other than to take
another woman’s jacket, probably used to a whole lot more than what Katie had
said.
Feeling embarrassed, I grabbed Julia’s arm
and pulled her through the doorway that led into the main room. The space was much
brighter than I expected, the disco balls above our heads sending shards of
light everywhere, making me think of Saturday
Night Fever. I could just imagine John Travolta strutting out on stage,
thrusting his finger up in the air to the cheers of women yelling, ‘Get them
off!’ And there were a lot of women filling the space, from short to tall,
skinny to fat, young and old. I was probably one of the youngest since I was
eighteen, though Julia was even younger at seventeen, her fake I.D. working a
treat to get her in.
A waiter holding an empty tray, and
dressed in the same black apron as the cloakroom man, slipped past Julia,
capturing her attention. It was as though he was holding an invisible string, yanking
Julia’s head around to follow his bare arse.
“Jules,”
I said, tugging on her hand. “We’ll lose your sister if you keep stopping to
look at every male butt.”
“Worth
it,” she sighed, giving me a smile brighter than the tacky disco ball above our
heads—something that might’ve looked great in 1975, but not 2005.
“Anyway, I know where our seats are,” she
added.
She entwined our fingers and pulled me
through the throng of women and a few men, who looked just as excited as the
women, a couple of them as camp as Liberace. The show was undeniably popular, the
wall-to-wall throng of people not what I’d expected for a tacky strip joint
that was hidden in a side-alley off K Road. And it wasn’t just middle-class
women filling it either, some of the patrons dressed to the nines—like Julia.
My best friend always dressed to impress, and she did look great, her sleek white
dress matching her even sleeker blonde hair that was smoothed back into a high
ponytail, or what she called a ‘power’ ponytail, something she said all the stars
wore, and since she was a star she should wear it too. I’d laughed at that
comment, saying that her ‘daddy’ calling her a star didn’t mean she was one.
She’d lifted her chin up in a haughty fashion, declaring that she was a star in
her own right since she’d been in a Herald article about New Zealand’s young
elite society. I’d held back from reminding her that she’d only been in there
because her dad was one of the richest men in the country.
She tugged me towards the stage, where Katie
and her group of friends were already seated in the front row, the Jachmanns
always getting the best seats.
Julia sat down in the chair next to her
sister, leaving me the aisle seat. “I hope you’ve got a stack of ten-dollar
bills,” she said a bit too loudly, her grin pretty much telling me where I’d be
stuffing them.
“It better not be that kind of show,” I said, not wanting to waste money on a
stripper, especially since I needed every penny for university.
Julia didn’t have the same worries as I
did. Unlike her parents, mine weren’t paying for me since they were no longer
in my life, and even if they were, they couldn’t have afforded it. Only my
uncle was wealthy, and I was too proud to take the handout he’d offered me. I’d
turned it down, pretending that my Fine Arts scholarship would cover
everything. It was a lie, since it only covered board and my university fees,
not extending to food and other necessities. It was why I was being so frugal
with my money, needing every penny from the fast food job I’d acquired a few
days ago. Julia had gaped at me in horror when I’d told her about the job,
thinking I was mad for lowering myself to... What did she say? I couldn’t
remember, but it hadn’t been very flattering, highlighting just how elitist she
could be. And when she’d learned that I’d turned down my uncle’s money, she’d
told me off, basically calling me an idiot. She just didn’t understand that I
didn’t feel right about taking money from him. Nor did she understand that I wanted
to survive on my own, instead of taking handouts from someone who was only
offering because he felt obliged to.
The music changed from a slow jazzy tune to
a much faster pop beat, sending the women around us into a frenzy, everyone probably
thinking that a stripper was about to appear. But instead of a male hunk strutting
onto the stage, a bleached-blonde woman tottered out in heels that defied
gravity, making her look even skinnier. I was sure she could hide behind the
pole in the centre of the stage if it weren’t for her fake boobs, because those
two things definitely didn’t look like Mother Nature had played a part in
making them.
She raised her free hand to quieten down
the women. “Welcome, ladies!” She laughed. “And a few gents.” She waved at them
with her fingers, clearly knowing the guys. “You’re all in for a real treat
tonight, with some sweet young things ready to strip for your pleasure.”
“Sweet young things?” I muttered to Julia.
“Hope they’re not going to come out dressed as schoolboys, because if they do,
I’m out of here.”
“Don’t be stupid,” she said, elbowing me,
though her broad grin lit up the room, my comment amusing her. “Anyone under
forty would be a sweet young thing to that old biddy.”
“She doesn’t look that old, late forties
at a guess.”
“That
is old, like your taste in clothes.” She flicked the pale-green scarf
around my neck. “Take it off. If you’ve got the goods, you might as well flaunt
them.”
I adjusted the silk scarf, far too shy to
take it off, my black dress not covering enough of my chest. Julia had
basically bullied me into wearing the tight little number, saying it looked,
‘Wonderful!’ And she was right, but it didn’t mean I felt comfortable wearing
it without the scarf. I almost felt like one of those eighteenth-century
damsels on a Mills & Boon cover, with my breasts doing their best to escape
the bustier—or whatever they called it back then.
The music changed again, this time rolling
into a raunchy number that I liked, but couldn’t remember the name of, my brain
not working, the anticipation starting to get to me. The rail-thin blonde
presenter raised her toothpick arms over her head and began to clap with her
microphone still in her hand, amplifying the sound. The crowd started clapping
along with her, some of the women yelling out in excitement. One of the camp
guys let out an ear-splitting wolf whistle so loud I quickly covered my ears. Julia
elbowed me, throwing a look that told me to clap along with everyone else. I
did, feeling stupid for doing it, just not wanting to feel out of place even
more than I already did.
A girl across the row from us started
stomping her feet on the ground, setting off more women doing it. She looked
about my age, very pretty, with gorgeous gypsy-like earrings that hung down to
her bare shoulders, the straps on her red dress almost non-existent.
The presenter hollered, drawing my
attention back to her. “And here he is!” She moved to the side, sweeping her
arm out for whoever he was. The audience
went crazy, cheering for the stripper to
come out on stage. And he did, oh, he certainly did.
My mouth dropped open at the man
sauntering onto the stage. He was dressed in black leather-like pants and a biker
jacket over a white singlet. But it wasn’t his clothes and confident swagger
that sent the women into a frenzy. Simply put...
He
was drop-dead gorgeous.
He was young, eighteen or nineteen at a
guess, with a face that looked like it belonged on a fashion magazine rather in
a tacky strip joint. He also looked a touch too sweet to be a stripper, no
hardened features staring out at the crowd, just innocence dressed in fake
leathers. But that innocence was clearly an illusion, because the sweet visage
vanished as a wicked grin swept across his face, his sinful lips looking like
they’d kissed many girls—and their mothers too.
He stopped by the pole, sweeping the soft
curls off his face. His hair was brown, just highlighted with golden hues. It
looked like the sun had kissed it as well as his skin, his golden-brown tan
suggesting he surfed rather than rode a Harley.
Julia gasped, “Oh. My. God. He’s beautiful,” she said, stating the
obvious.
The music merged into another song I knew,
but couldn’t remember the name of either, the stripper killing all of my brain
cells—and decimating my ovaries at the same time.
He leaned his back against the pole in a
languid, self-assured fashion, jutting out his groin. He toyed with his pants
zipper, giving the screaming crowd a cheeky wink.
“Get them off, already!” Julia’s sister hollered,
setting Julia off into a fit of giggles.
The stripper removed his hand from the
zipper and opened up his leather jacket, lifting up his white singlet to show
us a teasing peek of his torso, and it was one I definitely wanted to see more
of, his stomach ripped.
“I’d love to lick that six-pack,” Julia said,
breaking out into another fit of giggles.
The stripper lowered his singlet and
closed his jacket, holding it together as he sauntered towards the front of the
stage, stopping to open his jacket once more.
“Take it off!” Julia’s sister hollered
louder, her friends seconding that, the women not shy, the rich girls used to
getting what they wanted.
The stripper slipped one side off, slow
and sexy, treating us to the other side next. He threw the jacket to the side
of the stage, revealing a line tattoo circling the middle of his right forearm.
There was writing above it, the words illegible from where I was sitting. He
also had another tattooed line circling his left wrist, this one thicker, with
words both above and under it.
Feet started stomping for him to hurry up,
the tease dominating the strip part of the show. He raised a brow at the impatient hollers and lifted his
singlet up, then lowered it down, raising his other hand as though he was
asking us to shout louder. And Julia most certainly did, getting right into the
swing of things, hollering, “Off! Off! Off!”
The stripper looked Julia’s way, giving
her a smile, then in one swift move the singlet came off, revealing his naked
torso, making the crowd go wild. Then, in the blink of an eye, he did a backflip,
landing on his hands. He lowered himself into a breakdancing move, basically
humping the floor. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to be lying
underneath him as he did that, causing me to flush at the thought.
Then he was back on his feet, jerking and
moving his hips to the music, drawing closer to where I was sitting, so close that
I could see the seams up the side of his shiny fake-leather pants. I soon found
out that the seams weren’t purely for keeping his pants together when he ripped
them off, revealing muscular thighs and a rather large bulge hidden beneath a
jockstrap, making my own eyes bulge.
He turned to face away from us, revealing
his naked butt, the black elastic of the jockstrap running above and under it, emphasising
his assets even more.
Julia put her fingers in her mouth and let
rip with an ear-splitting wolf-whistle that her ‘daddy’ would most definitely
not think was becoming of her. The stripper turned his head in her direction, but
instead of his eyes landing on Julia, they landed on me. That wicked smile
returned. Horrified he thought I’d whistled at him, I shrank in my seat, so
embarrassed I could die.
Julia’s sister hollered, “Shake that booty!”
And he did, all the while looking at me. I
covered my eyes, now too embarrassed to watch. A thump made me uncover them.
The stripper was standing next to me, all that naked flesh hovering over me. He
was tall, just over six foot at a guess, and perfectly proportioned, the cut of
his body mouth-watering to say the least. I basically gaped up at him, not
knowing what to do, let alone think—unlike Julia. She reached past me, running
her hand down his abs. Before she could go even lower, he picked me up, chair
and all. I let out a shriek and grabbed around his neck, worried he was going
to drop me, because I was far from light, my curvy figure closer to Marilyn
Monroe’s than Kate Moss’s.
He lifted my chair onto the stage, causing
me to let go of him. He then hoisted himself back up onto the stage and grabbed
my chair, carrying me away from the edge. I could hear Julia and the rest of
the hen party yelling out things, but I was in too much shock to understand a
single word they were saying.
He placed my chair down and shimmied my
dress up my legs before I’d realised what he’d done, the way he was looking at
me so distracting. But I most certainly noticed when he jerked my legs apart,
another shriek following. Grinning in response, he moved in between my legs and
placed a finger under my chin, lifting it so I looked directly into his eyes.
They were the freakiest eyes I’d ever seen. His right iris was a moss green,
with hints of brown around the pupil, while his left one had the same brown
hints, just with blue instead of green surrounding it.
Not taking his eyes off me, he backed up a
bit and snapped my legs shut, then climbed onto my lap. I almost choked as he
lifted my hands to his arse, yet I kept them there as though he’d superglued my
palms to his bare flesh. Then he started grinding against me, his arse cheeks
clenching beneath my hands, knocking my pulse rate out of the park, sending it
to the heavens.
He wrapped a hand around my long brown
hair and pulled my head back, forcing me to look up at him while he continued
to grind against me, the way his jockstrap was filling out telling me he was
enjoying his job a bit too much.
He let go of my hair and adjusted himself,
then removed my hands from his arse, which I hadn’t realised were still there, too
distracted by his intense stare. He climbed off me and dropped to the floor,
doing another breakdancing move, then was back up on his feet, gyrating his
crotch in front of my face. My eyes widened, because I could see the tip of his
cock trying to escape the confines of his jockstrap. He gave me a knowing smile
before adjusting himself once more, covering his cock, though I could still see
its outline clear as day.
With my eyes locked on his package, I didn’t
see his next move coming. In the blink of an eye his hands shot out, shoving my
chair, causing me to let out a loud cry of fright as I tipped over backwards. But
he caught the chair in a move I couldn’t quite comprehend, using it to do a
flip over me, catching me on the other side.
I stared up at him as he looked down at me,
that wicked smile of his morphing into a serious expression. He lowered his
head and planted a kiss on my lips, knocking the breath out of me. His tongue
swept between my lips, sneaking into my mouth. Forgetting where I was, I
tangled my tongue with his, losing myself in the kiss.
Then his lips were gone, just like that. I
gasped as he pushed my chair back up into its correct position, the suddenness
of it all leaving my head spinning. He picked me up, placing my chair on the
edge of the stage, doing a backflip into the aisle to a very rowdy and rude
applause. He picked me up again, returning me and my chair to our original
position next to Julia. He winked at me, then climbed back up onto the stage,
blowing kisses to the crowd of screaming horny men and women. Then he turned
away from us, removing his jockstrap, setting the room on fire, the audience
going nuts. He threw the jockstrap over his shoulder and turned around to face
us, covering his crotch with both hands. He backed up slowly, grinning as he
did it. As he reached the back of the stage he lifted his hands for the briefest
of moments, flashing us, then he was gone, disappearing behind the red
curtains.
The audience yelled out, demanding that he
return, but instead of the stripper the blonde presenter appeared, walking
toward the stripper’s discarded jockstrap. She picked it up with a dirty smile,
waving it in front of her.
“Did you love Nico?!” she shouted into her
microphone.
A collective “Yeees!” bounced off the walls like bullets ricocheting everywhere.
Julia started yelling, “Bring him back!
Bring him back!” which set off the other women in the hen party, causing a
domino effect, everyone but me joining in.
The presenter waggled her finger at us as
though we were naughty school girls. “No, no, no, lovely ladies and gents, you
tired my poor Nico out. The sweet young thing needs his beauty rest. But we
have more lovely men for your entertainment.” She swept her arm out. “Like
Danny!”
An Italian-looking male strutted out onto
the stage as though he thought he was every woman’s wildest dream. The audience
welcomed him with cheers as he started pumping and grinding to the music, but
my mind remained on Nico, all the strippers coming after him poor comparisons.
~
2 ~
I stood just inside the door of my new
apartment, sizing it up. There was a single bed tucked into the far right-hand
corner by the window, with a circular table separating it from a tiny kitchen,
and hopefully enough space for my drawing board. There was also a TV at the
foot of the bed and a couch across from it.
I rolled my luggage over to the bed as a
girl with wild orange hair appeared through a doorway next to the kitchen. She
smiled at me with a stoned expression, her eyelids half closed.
“Kia
ora,” she said, saying hello in Māori, just with a heavy Scottish accent.
“Hi,” I said back, holding up the key I’d
gotten from the student accommodation reception. “I’m your new flatmate. Kady
Janeway.”
“As in Star Trek?”
I refrained from rolling my eyes, getting
that a lot. “Yes, like Captain Janeway.”
“Weel, welcome, Captain,” she said, giving
me a crooked grin, her green eyes now wide open, no longer looking stoned. I wondered
whether I’d woken her up, even though it was a bit late in the day for her to
be sleeping since it was almost two in the afternoon. But then again, it was Saturday. For all I knew, she
could’ve partied well into the night, university parties supposedly wild.
“Am Annabelle,” she said, holding out a freckled
hand that looked like it had never seen the light of day. Her face was also
covered in freckles, but instead of looking bad, they made her look adorable.
I shook her hand. “Kady.”
Her grin grew. “Ye already said that.” She
let go of my hand and indicated to the front door with a thumb. “Am aboot to
grab a late lunch, ye want to come with me?”
“Sure,” I said, my stomach growling, my
breakfast comprising of a cup of coffee. I’d been more concerned with moving into
the student accommodation than eating, though there hadn’t been much to move,
all of my belongings packed into two suitcases and one backpack. The only things
that weren’t here yet were my drawing board, big case of art supplies, and
desk, which my uncle had arranged for some movers to bring over later today.
He’d been too busy to bring them over himself, though even if he hadn’t been,
he still probably wouldn’t have brought them. He was a powerful entrepreneur, someone
who snapped his fingers and got other people to do what he considered beneath
him. It was why I was so glad to be away from him, his snobbery always rubbing
me up the wrong way. But I was even more glad to be away from my auntie who was
an even bigger snob. And that was why I would’ve happily traded the roomy pool
house I’d been living in for the past three years for the small student
apartment without even thinking twice. Plus, I’d earned it through my
scholarship, which made me pump out my chest in pride, knowing that I’d gotten a
place without my uncle’s help.
I followed Annabelle out of the apartment,
heading down a noisy corridor of students. A couple of them were throwing a
rugby ball over our heads, while others were moving into their own rooms, a few
with their parents.
Not interested in watching happy families,
I walked past them fast, descending the staircase with Annabelle instead of
taking the lift. Our unit was on the second level of a towering peaches and
cream building, which had peaked rooves and was broken up by rows of grey
louvres. We headed through the courtyard, passing a group of Asian students
bouncing a basketball between themselves, and stepped out onto the small side-road.
The tantalising smell of kebab and pizza tickled my nose, enticing me to the
fast food places lining the road, but Annabelle continued onwards, causing my
stomach to protest loudly. She gave me an amused smile as the road opened up
onto one of the city centre’s main streets. Our campus was in the middle of
Auckland, businesses and the university sharing the same urban space.
Annabelle started chatting about all the
best food places as we walked towards the main campus, the girl obviously
knowing Auckland well.
“How long have you been living in New Zealand?”
I asked, stopping momentarily at a pedestrian crossing that was directly across
the road from a marae. Behind the triangular entrance, with a stylised Māori
face at its apex, was a courtyard that led to a wharenui. The Māori meeting house was decorated with more
traditional carvings and framed by trees, an urban landscape of buildings
spreading out behind it.
“I’ve been ’ere for a few years,”
Annabelle answered. “I lived oot in Wera with ma uncle.”
“That’s in South Auckland, isn’t it?” I
asked, not really that familiar with the area, other than what Julia had told
me about it. She’d basically ordered me to stay well clear of the place, the
words gangs and poor people leaving her snobby mouth, which meant that she probably
wouldn’t like my hometown either. Some people called Kaikohe an eighties
version of South Auckland. I didn’t know whether it was true, and hadn’t felt
the urge to see if it was, though it did make me question why I was friends
with Julia. But her loving side outweighed her snobbish side, leaving me feeling
guilty for questioning our friendship.
Annabelle nodded in reply to my question
as we headed over another crossing. We walked past a large building that merged
with a recreation centre, Annabelle telling me it was a student one. She
steered me left, back to talking about food as we ascended a flight of stairs
and crossed a quad, the Maths and Science block on our left.
“Why couldn’t we just get something from
our road?” I asked, still thinking about pizza and kebabs.
“It’s cheaper ’ere, plus there’s more
choice,” she said, leading me through a short walkway that led to a cafeteria
on our left. “Nae to mention I loove the pancakes ’ere. I could live off ’em.”
Someone called out her name. She stopped
in her tracks, a massive smile lighting up her freckled face. I turned to see
who it was, my eyes widening as it landed on...
The
male stripper I’d watched two weeks ago..
“Nico!” Annabelle called out loudly,
making a beeline for him. He was seated in the far corner, boxed in by a pretty
brunette who had long, straight hair just like mine. Though, she had much
fairer skin, reminding me of a porcelain doll, her complexion flawless.
Annabelle stopped by his table. “Long time
no see.”
“If you call a week a long time, I guess
so.” Smiling with amusement, he pushed to his feet, his mismatched blue and
green eyes turning to me, the brown in the centre not as noticeable in
daylight.
I flushed at his attention, praying he
didn’t remember me, even though I could never forget him.
The brunette nudged Nico’s leg with an
elbow. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” she practically demanded, a sour
expression pulling at her glossy pink lips.
Nico took a step away from her as though
he didn’t want her touching him. “This is my cousin,” he said, indicating to
Annabelle.
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Jus’ ’cause ma
uncle married yer auntie disnae make us cousins. Plus, they’re divorced now,
which doubly means we’re nae cousins, ye numpty.”
He laughed, his mismatched eyes twinkling
at her. “Still calling you my cuz, babes.”
“If ye call me babes again, I’ll plant ma foot up yer arse.”
He laughed louder, his smile lighting up
his whole face. He turned that smile on me, burning my cheeks with its
brightness. “Who’s this?” he asked, taking in more than I felt comfortable with,
his gaze lingering slightly too long on my chest.
“Someone ye’re nae allowed to touch.”
Annabelle swung her arm over my shoulders, having to reach up a bit to get
there. “Ma roommate’s off limits, ’cause there’s no way am listening to ye
humping in ma flat.”
“Hey!” the pretty brunette said loudly, complaining
before I could. “Nico won’t be humping anyone but me. He’s my boyfriend, so
keep your greedy eyes off him,” she said, directing the last line at me.
“I wasn’t—”
Annabelle cut me off, “Nico’s everyone’s
boyfriend, so ye better get used to it.”
The brunette snapped her head to Nico.
“Tell her that’s not true.”
He sat back down. “It’s not,” he said,
picking up the sub off his tray.
The brunette waved a hand at Annabelle in
victory. “See!”
Nico spoke over her. “Because I don’t have
girlfriends.”
Her head whipped back to him. “But I’m your girlfriend.”
“I wouldn’t let you be my girlfriend even
if you paid me a million bucks,” he said, taking a bite out of his sub.
“Don’t say that!” she snapped, shoving his
arm.
He jerked away from her, throwing the girl
a nasty glare. “Don’t touch me,” he
growled, swallowing down the bite of food.
“But—”
“No buts! You shove me, you can shove
off.”
“What the hell, Nico! What’s gotten into
you?”
“You.
Just because I fucked you doesn’t make you my girlfriend.”
The girl’s face fell. “But—”
“Just piss off! I’ve had enough of you
following me around like a stalker.”
Her hand whipped out, slapping him across
the face. He dropped his sub on his tray and shot to his feet, the suddenness
causing the girl to shriek.
“I told you not to touch me!” he yelled.
She pushed to her feet and backed up fast,
looking unsure of what to do and more than a touch scared. “You said—”
“Nothing.
It’s not my fault you live in a fantasy world. I told you the deal and you
agreed to it.”
She burst into tears and grabbed her bag,
taking off.
“That was nasty,” Annabelle said, shaking her head at him. “And totally unnecessary.”
He grimaced. “She was getting on my
nerves, the slap was the last straw.” His eyes moved to me as though I’d
slapped him instead of the brunette. “And why do you look familiar. Did I fuck
you too?”
My eyes widened. “No!”
A small smile replaced his angry
expression. “True, I would’ve remembered someone like you.” His eyes ran over
me again, firing up my cheeks once more.
Annabelle exhaled. “Please be nice, Nico.”
His gaze shifted back to her. “I’m always
nice, Annie.”
“On the rare occasion, and dinnae call me
Annie, ye damn weel know I hate it.”
“Not my fault you have orange hair.”
He sat back down and picked up his sub,
biting into it as though nothing bad had happened.
Annabelle slipped into the seat across
from him, muttering, “What have ye got planned today?”
Instead of answering her, his eyes flicked
to a sparrow as it flew down to a spot a few feet away from him, pecking at the
crumbs on the floor. Swallowing his food, he broke off a piece of bread from
his sub and threw it to the sparrow. The sparrow went for it, picking it up in its
beak and flying out the door. Nico’s eyes followed it, a small smile tugging at
his lips.
“Earth to Nico,” Annabelle said, rapping
the table in front of him.
His eyes shifted back to her, almost looking
startled as if he’d forgotten she was there. “What?”
“I asked what ye’ve got planned today.”
“Just getting stuff ready for the start of
uni.” He took another bite of the sub.
She reached out, swiping it off him. He
let her, watching as she took a bite out of it before handing it back.
He held it out to me. “You wanna steal my
lunch, too?”
I shook my head, wishing I could leave
instead, the guy making me feel deeply uncomfortable.
“Good, not like I have the cash,” he said,
flicking Annabelle an annoyed look, “to give my food away.”
Annabelle grinned wide, a piece of lettuce
stuck in her teeth. “I’ll make it up to ye.”
“With a roast dinner.”
“Ye pay for it, I’ll cook it.”
“But you can’t cook.”
“Looks like ye’ll be paying for it and cooking it, then.”
He laughed, then looked up at me. “You
going to sit or what?”
I quickly slipped in next to Annabelle.
He frowned at me. “You really look
familiar. You sure we haven’t met before?”
I shook my head, not willing to tell him
that he’d ground his near naked body against me while I’d stared at the tip of
his cock. I swallowed at the thought, hoping that my blush hadn’t spread down
my neck, the guy worse than an infection.
“What’s your name?” he asked, not letting
up.
“It’s Kady Janeway,” Annabelle answered
for me, “as in Captain Janeway.”
Nico smiled, displaying a perfect row of
pearly whites. “Nice to meet ya, Captain,” he said, holding out his free hand
to shake.
I hesitated for a moment, getting a raised
brow in response. I quickly lifted my hand and shook his, gasping as he jerked
me forward, placing his face right in front of mine.
“Maybe I was drunk when I did you,” he
said. “Shame. I’d like to remember
that night.”
I jerked my hand free, what he’d said
making my back stiffen, all embarrassment gone, annoyance now reigning in its
place. “I don’t sleep around, and especially not with people who drink.”
His eyebrows shot up higher. “Is it
because you’re a Mormon or something?”
“No, I just hate alcohol and what it does
to people.”
“Why?” he asked, looking at me
inquisitively with those strange, but beautiful eyes of his. It was almost as
though he was peering into my soul, shifting through my Pandora’s box of
emotions to see why I’d reacted so strongly.
“It’s none of your business,” I replied.
He leaned back in his seat, resting one of
his arms over the back of it. “Guess you’re right, it isn’t my biz.” He cocked
his head to the side. “Though, I’d like it to be. You free tonight?”
“What did I jus’ say all of a minute ago?”
Annabelle asked.
Nico’s eyes shifted back to her. “What?”
“That ye weren’t allowed to get with ma
roommate.”
“I only wanna talk.”
“Yeah, right,
and am the pope.”
Smirking, he held out his sub to her.
“Please take my small offering then, your royal majesty.”
“Ye know the pope is nae a queen nor a king,
ye teasing numpty,” she said, but still took the sub, the rest of it in her
mouth before he could reply.
He laughed and rose to his feet, his eyes
going to me. “I look forward to figuring out who you are...” He paused. “Captain.”
I rolled my eyes at the name, annoyed it
had followed me from school to university.
His smile turned into the same wicked grin
I’d seen the night he’d stripped, making me worry that he’d figured out where
he’d seen me. But instead of mentioning it, he spun on his heel and walked off,
disappearing through the doorway, allowing me to let out the breath I hadn’t
realised I was holding in.
“He’s quite something,” Annabelle said
with a mouthful of Nico’s sub. She swallowed it down. “Though, I warn ye, keep
away from him. He eats girls up and spits ’em oot, he’s also more than a bit
loco.”
“How?”
“He’s wild, does crazy things withoot
caring aboot the consequences, things that are mental. It gets him into a world
of trouble. Lucky I know a cop, otherwise he would’ve been thrown in the slammer
more than once.” She shook her head. “Numpty.”
I laughed at the word, the girl amusing.
She looked at me sideways. “Nothing to
laugh aboot, lassie. He looked at ye like ye’re on the menu next. Be verra careful,
he knows his way aroond getting what he wants, which is hardly surprising with
the way he looks.”
I grimaced, perfectly aware he could get
any girl he wanted.
And
dump them just as fast.
~
3 ~
I gripped onto my backpack as I walked
past the large Victorian Gothic church with its deep-red door and brick and
stone exterior, heading down the walkway to the Fine Arts School. It was one of
the most prestigious art schools in New Zealand, one I was absolutely stoked to
have gotten into. I’d been told that I needed all A’s to have made it, but I
was an average student at anything other than Art and Art History. It was just
lucky that the selectors had seen something in my work, something they’d
thought was worthy of a place in their school.
I squinted as I rounded the curve of the
walkway, the New Zealand sunlight brighter than a nuclear blast. Although it
was autumn, it looked like summer had decided to stay, stopping the
neighbouring season from dropping its leaves and lowering the temperature,
which was why I’d chosen to wear my frayed jean skirt and sleeveless jean
jacket combo, with a bright yellow tank top underneath.
I walked past a row of bamboo trees, aiming
for the entrance of the grey and white Fine Arts building. It looked like it
had been taken out of an old fifties’ black and white film, with its corrugated
overhang, concrete and panelled walls, and rows of rectangular windows that
merged with a more modern-day addition. The main door was a lighter shade of
red than the church’s, beckoning me inside a small foyer. There was a library
on my left, a help desk directly in front, and a door on my right that I knew
led to the classrooms. I did a quick check of my timetable before heading
through that door, aiming for my Studio 1.1 class.
Finding the room surprisingly easy, I
pushed the door open, so excited I was almost shaking in my sandals. A number
of students were already in class, sitting around rows of work benches and chatting
between themselves. I glanced about, hoping to see Julia, but it looked like
she was running late—as usual, my best friend’s timekeeping not the best.
I chose a spot at the back of the class,
slipping my jean jacket off before sitting down. I went to place my backpack on
the chair next to me, wanting to save it for Julia, but the chair got swiped out
from under my bag, causing it to drop to the floor. I let out a surprised
shriek at the suddenness of it all, which would’ve been even louder if I’d
known who’d done it.
Nico plonked himself down on Julia’s chair,
giving me a happy smile. “Cool,” he said, dropping his backpack next to mine. “At
least I know one person in class.”
“You c-can’t be in this class,” I
stuttered, not believing the coincidence was possible, nor wanting it to be. I
still couldn’t believe the stripper I’d masturbated over was my roommate’s
friend let alone went to the same university as me. There was no way he could
be in my Fine Arts class too!
He gave me a raised brow. “Then, why am I
here, babes?”
“To hook up with me, and don’t call me babes,” I said, the name cringe-worthy.
“You’ve got some ego there, babe... See
what I did?” he said, waving a finger. “I took the s off, which makes it a whole new word, plus babe suits you, because you’re a total babe, which means you totally
deserve that massive ego of yours.”
I spluttered out, “I don’t have a massive
ego,” not believing his gall.
He talked over me, “Anyway, what was that
about hooking up with me? Because I’m totally in with that, we can have a party
for two tonight.” He winked at me. “You know what I mean.”
“No,” I hissed, thinking his lines were
worse than Moe’s from The Simpsons,
but then again, he probably didn’t need to hone his pickup skills with the way
he looked. Something that was making me even more flustered, especially with
how close he was sitting to me, not to mention those freaky eyes of his. I’d
asked Annabelle whether they were contacts, and she said they weren’t, that he
had heterochromia—an eye condition that literally meant different colours.
He continued, “A party for two means—”
“I know what it means,” I cut him off.
“You don’t have to explain.”
“Then, why did you say no?” he asked, as
though he’d never heard that word before.
“Because I don’t want to hook up with
you.”
His smile didn’t wane, not even one bit. “You’re
saying one thing, yet I’m seeing something else.”
“Like what?” I said, annoyed he could tell
I was attracted to him. It was probably my cheeks, which felt like they were
melting. I wouldn’t be surprised if my amber eyes were dilated too, the guy sex
on two legs.
“They say a girl can hide her arousal, but
that’s definitely not true for you.” He indicated to my chest. “Your nipples
are harder than my cock is right now.”
My eyes widened. “They’re not hard for
you!” I blurted out, horrified he’d said that in public.
People turned to look at us, causing me to
shrink in my chair. “Just leave me alone,” I hissed. “I’m not interested in
being treated like that girl in the cafeteria. Just because you’re gorgeous
doesn’t give you the right to be so horrible to people.”
He smirked. “You think I’m gorgeous?”
My face fell. “No, I mean, yes, you are,
but just not to me.”
“Then, why are you blushing like a nun in
a whorehouse?”
“It’s because you’re making me feel uncomfortable,
so leave. Class will be starting soon.”
“Yes, my
class, which is this one, which means
I’m not going anywhere.”
“You are, you’re in my best friend’s
seat.”
“She’s late, so it’s mine now.”
He leaned down to his bag, pulling out a
small pad and a pencil case just as Julia walked into the classroom. She was
wearing skin-tight capris and a light-pink top, with a dark-pink bra playing
peekaboo underneath, something that would’ve gotten her sent home from the
strict Catholic school we’d met at.
She stopped next to Nico, her eyes going
from him to me, then back again, recognition then shock playing across her
face. He straightened and looked up at her, raising a brow in question as to
why she was staring at him.
The lecturer, or professor, whatever he
was called, walked in right at that moment, causing Julia to quickly move to
the table in front of us. She placed her bag on the table top and looked back at
me with a question in her eyes, which flicked to Nico briefly. Luckily, he’d
lowered his head again, looking at something on his phone.
I mouthed at her, “Turn around,” unable to
explain why I was sitting next to him right at this moment.
“Please put your phones away,” the
lecturer said, his eyes going to Nico.
Nico continued what he was doing, looking
like he was typing out a text.
“I asked you to—”
Before the lecturer could get another word
out, Nico tucked his phone away, probably having finished texting rather than
doing what the lecturer wanted. He looked up at the lecturer as though he
didn’t know why the man was looking at him. The lecturer frowned, but instead
of harping on at Nico, he turned his attention to the rest of the class.
“I’m Mr. Gregory, but I’m happy if you
call me Stuart. Though, one thing that I’m never happy about is the use of
phones in my studio. Please turn them off before entering and do not take them
out while in here. Since it’s your first day, I’ll let this indiscretion pass,”
he said, aiming a look at Nico, “but not from tomorrow onwards. And be aware
that most lecturers, tutors, and professors are like-minded. You’re here to
learn not to socialise.”
Mr. Gregory started giving us a rundown on
what his class would entail. As he continued, Nico nudged me.
“You free tonight?” he asked.
“No,” I said, doing my best to follow what
Mr. Gregory was saying.
“Annabelle said you were.”
I whipped my head around to him. “You’ve
been talking to Annabelle about me?”
“No,” he said, “but you didn’t deny not
being free, so looks like you’re free to check out my dorm room.”
I stiffened. “I’m not interested in seeing it,” I hissed, making sure only he could
hear. “I’m not going to sleep with you, Nico, so stop bugging me.”
“I didn’t ask you to, just wanted to show
you my dorm room. You’re the only person I know in class, so I thought we could
be friends. After all, we’re going to be sitting at the same table for this
class, so why not?”
I went to tell him that I wouldn’t be
sitting with him after today, that I’d be sitting with Julia, but he continued,
not allowing me to get a word in edgeways.
“Annabelle can come too,” he said. “We
hang out a lot together. We’ve been good mates ever since her uncle and my auntie
married. Pity they didn’t stay together, but that’s their business, not ours.”
“At the back there,” the lecturer said.
“There’s to be no talking while I speak, unless asked to.”
Nico’s eyes moved to him, giving him that
cheeky smile of his. “Yes, sir.”
The lecturer raised a brow, probably not
sure whether Nico was being a smart arse or not, then continued with what he
was talking about. Nico’s attention shifted away from him, landing on Julia,
who was taking sneaky glances back at him. If my leg was long enough, I
would’ve kicked her chair to get her to stop it, but it was too late, Nico
already noticing. He cocked his head to the side and stared right at her when
she looked back one too many times. She flushed, something that Julia didn’t do
that often, my friend usually the one who made boys flush. She quickly turned
away, facing the front once more.
After class had finished, I grabbed my bag
and went for the door, hoping Nico didn’t follow me, especially since Julia was
going to drill me over him. I was in my next class quick smart, Julia snapping
at my heels like a little Chihuahua dog. She took the seat next to me and went
to open her mouth, but clamped it shut as Nico strolled through the door. His
unusual eyes went to Julia, annoyance playing across them, as though she’d
stolen his seat. But instead of saying anything, he took the chair in front of
her, pulling his pad out of his bag again, along with his pencil case, no
longer paying us any attention.
Julia placed her lips next to my ear.
“That’s the guy from—”
“I know,” I said, cutting her off.
“Why were you sitting next to him, then?”
she whispered.
“He knows my roommate,” I whispered back.
“Does he remember you?”
I shook my head. “Though, he wants me to
come to his dorm room later.”
Her baby blues widened, then a smile
pulled at her glossy pink lips. “Just make sure he wears a condom, don’t know
where his dick has been.”
“I’m not interested.”
“How can you not be? He’s drop-dead gorgeous.
I’d drop my knickers for him in a second.”
Nico looked over his shoulder with a big
grin. “It’s a date, then, blondie. Bring the condoms. Extra-large.”
“Nico,” I hissed. “You’re not getting with
my best friend.”
His eyes moved to me. “You jealous?”
“No.”
“Then, what’s the problem?”
“You don’t treat women very nicely.”
“That’s a two-way street.”
“What do you mean by that?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but closed
it as the Drawing and Related Practices lecturer walked in. Nico turned to face
the front, listening to her as she introduced herself.
Julia flicked me a What the hell?! look, then turned her attention to the lecturer. I
tried to as well, but could barely take in what she was saying. Nico’s presence
in front of me was a constant distraction, to the point where I wanted to beg
the lecturer to end the class. So, as soon as it was finished, I was out the
door like the Flash, hoping that this time I could lose Nico, though I knew
there was no losing Julia, the girl Usain Bolt in heels.
She appeared beside me as I exited the
foyer. “So, are you going to go to his place?”
“Of course not,” I said, glaring at her
sideways. “Even if he didn’t ask you for sex, I wouldn’t go.”
“He was clearly joking, and if I were you,
I’d take up his invite.”
“Hell, no. He’s a total fuckboy.”
“Even fuckboys have their uses, which are
usually in bed.” She did a little shimmy as though she was imagining Nico between
her legs. “You’ll be too busy kissing his gorgeous lips for him to talk, and
once you’ve finished with him, toss him to the kerb. After all, if guys can do
that to us, we can do it right back to them.”
“I’m okay with that,” a voice said behind
us.
We stopped in our tracks and turned,
finding Nico grinning at us, the so-and-so having snuck up without us realising.
He held up his phone. “By the way,
Captain, Annabelle said she can make it tonight, which means you can come along
with her.”
“Am I invited too?” Julia asked, smiling
at him with her perfect veneers, interested in going where I wasn’t.
His gaze flicked to her momentarily.
“Sure,” he muttered, obviously not caring whether she came or not. “So, are you
coming, Captain?”
“Yes,” Julia answered for me. “We’ll be
there. What time?”
“Seven,” he replied, his eyes remaining on
me. “You wanna grab a bite before the next class?”
“No, I can’t,” I said, quickly formulating
a lie. “I’ve got a meeting with one of the Art History professors.”
“Okay, see you later, then.” He nodded at
Julia, then walked off, heading up the steep walkway.
Both Julia and I watched as he disappeared
around the corner. As soon as he was out of sight, Julia turned to me. “What
was that all about?” she growled, waving a finger about as though she was Beyoncé.
“He totally ignored me, like I wasn’t even hot.” She indicated to her body.
“This is hot!” She waved a hand in front of her face. “This is too!”
I laughed, knowing she wouldn’t have let
his slight pass for long. “He must be blind, double J.”
“More like B,” she said, looking down at
her boobs. She cupped them. “Do you think he would’ve looked at me if I had
Double D’s like you?”
“Your tits are perfect as they are,”
someone said before I could, though I wouldn’t have called them tits.
I looked over my shoulder as a really tall
guy with muscular arms and a buzz cut came to a stop next to Julia. It looked
like he should be walking into an army camp rather than out of an Art school,
especially with his camo pants. He also had a cool black tattoo on his left
forearm of a cityscape, the skyscrapers reaching for his bicep.
He indicated to where Nico had disappeared
around the corner. “You should be careful of Nico Bilan,” he said, looking down
at Julia, the height difference between them considerable, the guy well over
six foot. “I’ve known him for years. He’s nuts.”
Julia stared up at him in what I could
only refer to as awe. “How?” she breathed out, the guy fitting one of her types
to a T. She had contrasting tastes, going from liking stunning, model-like men
to total bruisers, especially if they were tall and muscular—like the guy
standing before us. If anything, she probably preferred bruisers the most.
She’d told me once that she loved getting her hands on ‘rough diamonds’ that she
could shape and polish, and this guy was most certainly one of those. Though, she
never succeeded in changing bruisers. Those types of guys always took her for a
ride, squeezing out as much money from her as they could get, then leaving her
high and dry as well as broken-hearted.
“Nico’s mental,” the guy replied,
reminding me of what Annabelle had said about Nico. “He loses his shit real
easy, rants and yells at things that aren’t there, as well as overreacts. I’d
stay well clear of him.” He winked at Julia. “You’d be a lot safer with me.”
“Will I, now?”
“Most
definitely,” he grinned, his front tooth chipped, not convincing me at all.
***
Chapter 3 continues...
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