Josie

The dreams were all the same. Unburied from one of my four years of Hell, tormenting me even after it ended as I accepted my high school diploma and walked off the Zachary High School’s football field to my folded white chair.

As if entering ninth grade hadn’t been scary enough, my torment started that year. Everything changed over the summer, I went from being invisible, to the new guy—Maverick Booker’s—tormented. It’d never made any sense to me, but I’d also never mustered the guts to ask why.

I was sure it’d end in a shove into the cool metal of my locker.

The buzz in the hallway felt electric as I walked toward my first period class. I picked up bits and pieces of gossip about a new guy and how he made all the other boys in our class look like B list actors.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but want to snag a peek.

It didn’t last long.

Mr. Matthews taught English, my favorite subject, and I felt thrilled to have read his summer reading list. The buzz of the hallways halted when I stepped through the threshold of the classroom.

The new guy, sat in the middle of the room, several girls I’d grown up with scattered around him, some chatting amongst each other and some glancing his way.

My eyes zeroed in on him and my heart thudded wildly in my chest. He was—something. I could tell he was tall even though he sat in our school’s old desk. The length of his legs showed from the way they bent close to the bottom of the desk and outstretched widely into the walkway between them.

Dark green eyes caught mine from the doorway but I didn’t stop, I kept walking all the way to the front seat in the left corner where I wouldn’t be tempted to stare.

I unloaded my bag, feeling his gaze on me the entire time. With a quick glance, I caught him staring. The corner of his full mouth rose into a sneer that chilled my blood.

Bailey Joe, who sat beside him, waved at me, her blonde ponytail long against her petite shoulders and her smile kind. She’d always been nice to me.

I waved back. “Good summer, Josie?” she asked.

“Same ole', same ole’,” I said.

His shoulders stiffened at our conversation and I felt myself sink lower into my seat as he glared at me.

Because even when the teacher walked in and class begun, I felt his glare. When the bell rang, and I gathered my things to make a beeline for the hallway, the new guy shoved by me, sending me onto all fours and my bag scattered across the hard tile below.

When he stopped in the doorframe and stared down at me, I felt myself quiver. “Excuse you,” I said unable to stop myself.

His long fingers clutched into fists at his sides before he squatted down just in front of me. The smell of his cologne did unimaginable things to me, and I hated myself for being attracted to it, especially when he said, “Watch your mouth. Or you’ll regret it.”

The car door opened, causing my leg to tumble down and my dream to crash into a nightmare. 

“Ouch!” I screamed, sitting up straight, I searched through heavy, tired eyes at him. “What in the Hell?”

Maverick stood over me, looking like a dream that no one would suspect to be a nightmare. The practice jersey with his number 32 on the front fit him like a molded cast. “What are you doing?” he hissed out, his jaw clenched.

I curled my foot inside and rubbed at my eyes with the heel of my palms. “I was sleeping. What time is it—,” I searched my floorboard for my cell phone and sighed when I noticed the time. “I’m not late—,”

“Get up.”

My head jerked as I glared at Maverick with confused eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

This was not high school. I refused to let him scare me into submission any longer.

An array of emotions raced across his face as his fists clenched at his sides, with a familiar look in his mossy eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” he spat, grabbing my wrist, and hauling me out of my backseat. I stumbled to catch my footing, my bare feet hitting the warm asphalt as I caught myself on an old red van parked next to me.

Maverick slammed my door so hard the window shook. When he turned to me, he looked like an angry demi-god with lean muscles and a mouth, that although frowned and snarled at me, looked delectable.

Those mossy eyes lowered, and I felt myself turn warm when I noticed my hardened morning nipples displaying through my ratty Zachary Year Book t-shirt.

Slowly, I wrapped my arms around myself to hide the evidence of how his closeness affected me. “Go upstairs,” he ordered. “You’re not sleeping in your car like a hobo. Someone could have attacked you.”

I stood astonished at first, my head reeling for answers that I wouldn’t get from Maverick Booker—the King of Silence. “Why the hell do you care what happens to me?” I asked. “You never have before.”

Shocker—he didn’t answer me, he glared. I was thankful that he hadn’t tripped me or cursed me out under his breath. Maverick had bullied me more than anyone from Kindergarten through twelfth grade combined in four short years.

“Go upstairs. Jordan will let you in. You’ll take the room until you can find something else.”

I huffed, trying to tame my hair. “I’m not going—,”

A slight sound came from deep in his throat, and he bent down to open my door, grabbed my duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. Fear floored me, because I didn’t know what he’d do with it. Maybe he’d throw all my clothes in the trash or burn them—it wouldn’t be the first time he stole and demolished my things.

I tried to grab my strap, desperate to keep my things safe when he lunged forward and tossed me over his shoulder. I wailed out, feeling his large fingers dig into the back of my thigh as he carried me toward the apartment building.

All my fear bubbled up my throat as I wailed out for him to drop me—please put me down. The possibilities of what he’d do to me swam around in my head, clouding my judgement and thoughts.

Maverick never touched me sexually—aggressively sure, but never in a way that made me think he wanted me—but this, carrying me up to his apartment? The fear of rape or … whatever else he could make me do brought tears to my eyes.

As my body betrayed me with the smell of his skin and the rough feeling of his hands against me, I still held my ground—not literally—because my feet dangled in the air, but I wouldn’t let him hurt me.

The door opened and I heard, “Dude, I don’t think she wants to be here—,”

Maverick tossed me against their hand-me-down couch and I felt my fear seep out like a balloon when Jordan stood behind him.

“Take a shower and get ready for class,” he said. “We’re leaving. You'll take the spare room. You can have it until you find another place. If I come back and you haven’t moved your stuff in … you’ll regret it.”

The door slammed with the deja vu of you’ll regret it in my head. The silence felt good, not to mention the air conditioner that cooled my heated skin. I leaned back against the couch and took a deep breath.

Sleeping in my car the night before had been Hell. I’d be the first one to admit it. The thought of sleeping in the same apartment as Maverick hurt more—I was sure of it.

It was almost six when I finally peeled myself off the couch and toward the one and only bathroom. Surprisingly, it looked cleaner than I would have guessed, but it smelled like him.

I took off my clothes, locking the door even though I was alone and basked in the glory of the hot shower. My first class didn’t start until eight, which gave me enough time to get ready, and leave.

I wanted to run for the hills, back to my car and park in a different parking lot this time. I hadn’t thought he'd show up at the butt crack of dawn. I dried my hair, being sure to pick up any stray hairs or leave behind a water trail with my toothbrush.

The red summer dress I picked out for the first day fit me well and I’d been proud to buy it out of my summer job money at the small burger joint back home.

Which reminded me I needed to find an on campus job quickly before the good ones were taken. My curiosity grew when I walked out and toward the spare bedroom that would be mine.

It was smaller than the other two that I’d peaked into, but I didn’t dare go inside. It had a nice walk-in closet and positioned between the bathroom and Maverick's room.

There was a lock, which didn’t look too difficult to break into, but knowing we’d have to pay a deposit for any damages made me think Maverick wouldn’t try anything.

I bit my bottom lip and placed my bag on the bed, which came furnished since it was a college apartment. All my sheets and the small amount of décor sat in the truck of my Honda downstairs. I wanted—needed—this room, but all my memories of high school surfaced. There had to be someone else looking for a roommate somewhere.

Blowing my bangs with a heavy breath, I took out my clothes and hung them in the closet. Maverick’s dare swirled around for me to play with. He’d said prove it, as if I was a coward for not living here.

A coward!

I knew Maverick wouldn't stay here if the shoe was on the other foot. My phone beeped as seven fifteen neared. I slipped into my white Keds, leaving my things on the bed because I could stay here until I found something else.

I grabbed a coffee at the same restaurant I’d met Jordan and drove toward campus. The atmosphere felt relaxed, so much different from high school, and made me feel at home. These kids came willingly—most of them—and it made me smile knowing they wanted to learn.

I’d memorized the buildings before school started, giving me a good shot at not getting lost. My first class was Chapman’s College Algebra, which wasn’t my best subject but I had to take it.

The classroom was bare when I took a seat at the front of the room, and unloaded my things. I pretended to study my schedule while the other students made their way inside, giving a few of them glances over my shoulder as they approached.

A guy wearing a jersey sat beside me, still drenched in sweat from practice looked over at me. He had one notebook, his class book and a pencil. His Nike hat rested backward on his light head of hair.

“What up,” he said.

“Class.”

He chuckled, leaning back; he gave my dress a glance and smirked. “Cute dress.”

Warmth climb up my neck and rested against my cheeks. “Thanks.”

The class filled quickly as whom I assumed was Mrs. Chapman walked in, a short woman with a big smile and a quick step. “Good morning, students. You’re in College Algebra with Mrs. Chapman. If you’re in the wrong class, leave now.”

When no one got up, she nodded and turned toward her podium. “I’m passing out a syllabus. We’ll go through it and be done for today. Tonight, I want you to complete the worksheet I have attached to the back.”

She dismissed us shortly after we finished talking through our syllabus. 

“So,” the guy next to me said. “Where you headed to? I’m Keith, but everyone calls me King.”

I tucked my hair and eyed the door. “I'm Josie, and I’m heading to grab a smoothie.”

He tucked his pencil behind his ear. “Want some company?”

I shrugged. Did I? Not really. I’d never been the social butterfly in high school, but this wasn’t high school, it was college. Here's to turning a new leaf. 

“Sure.”

We walked out of the building and across campus toward the restaurant. “You live on campus?” he asked.

“No, I have an apartment. What about you?”

“I live in Azalea Hall. My parents wanted me to live on campus my first year.”

“That’s understandable. Where you from?”

“Arkansas,” he said. “I wanted to get out of state.” I couldn’t blame him. “Hey,” he said stopping me. “I’m actually headed the other way. I wanted to see if you were coming to the Fraternity Life Party this weekend?”

A party my first weekend. Hardly. I searched his dark eyes and the kind smile on his face. He was cute—not gorgeous—but cute and nice. Someone that I might have crushed on in junior high.

“I’m not sure,” I said.

He shrugged my shoulder playfully. “Come on. Let me get your number and we can go together.”

I thought about it. “Okay, sure.”

We exchanged numbers and while he handed me back my phone, something hit the back of my head, sending me down onto the paved sidewalk.

I felt the scratches on my knees before I even moved, knowing there would be blood.

“What the hell,” King said, helping me up. He glanced over my shoulder, but I knew who it was before I looked. “You gonna say you’re sorry, asshole?” he asked.

His shadow fell over my shoulder. I didn’t dare look; I took my cellphone and shoved it into the front pocket of my bag, thankful it didn’t break in my fall.

“Why would I do that?” Maverick asked from behind me.

His voice sent shivers over my spine. After everything, he did for me that morning—even though it was aggressive—he offered me a bed. Now he hit me in the back of the head with a football and refused to apologize.

“Because you hit her—,”

I stopped King with my palm against his arm as he pointed a finger at Maverick’s chest. I glanced up and shock hit me.

Maverick looked pissed. Not his normal heated stare, but angry at me and this guy, I wasn’t even sure he knew.

“I don’t expect an apology from him,” I said, keeping my eyes locked on Maverick’s.

The corners of his eyes narrowed and he slid his tongue across the front row of his teeth.

King cleared his throat. “You know him?”

“Unfortunately,” I mumbled.

Maverick’s gaze swept over me and down to my scraped knees. I wanted to believe he felt bad—it almost looked like it—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “This is my roommate,” he said with a smirk.

King cocked his head. “You’re rooming with Jordan and Maverick?” he asked.

I didn’t even try to explain my situation or deny that I lived there. “So you two know each other?” I asked.

King shifted on his feet trying to weigh our conversation. “Not really, I know him from the team.”

Of course, the jersey. They both played football.

Maverick’s gaze hadn’t eased on me. Sighing, I tucked my hair and lifted my chin. “Well, I need to go if I’m going to grab my smoothie.”

King smirked. “Okay, I’ll give you a text about Friday.”

I nodded, maneuvering away from Maverick as quickly as I could.

I made it a grand five steps when I felt his rough grasp on my elbow. Maverick met my gaze with a heated one. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his eyes lowered to my parted mouth.

I felt the gaze in my stomach. “I’m going to class—,”

“With King,” he whispered. “You’re not going out with him, Josie."

What in the … I shook my head, trying to maneuver out of his grip but he drug me closer to him. My body flush with his hard one, pushing my cleavage up to the top of my dress. “I’ll go wherever I want.”

“The Hell you will. If I see you with that jackass—,”

“What?” I asked, giving one good yank to get away from him. “I’ll regret it? I’m tired of living in fear of you, Maverick. Piss off.”