Chapter 2
Marlow
I raised myself on fantasies.
Well. Sort of.
My illustrations count as fairy tales, right? My stepmother would never buy books for me, so I had to draw the pictures in my head. She probably did me a favor, because I would never have honed my beloved craft otherwise.
Beloved by me. Only me. It’s not like I’ve ever shown my illustrations to anyone.
What would Eric think if he saw them?
He’d probably wonder how I drew him before I knew him.
I’m wondering that myself.
The main character in every illustration I’ve ever completed is a giant named Tarek.
Most people would expect a giant to be slow, but no.
Tarek has the reflexes of a master ninja.
He protects the meek and feeds the poor.
He can also rip someone’s head off with a swipe of his hand. Or knock an entire house to the ground.
Eric is the closest thing I’ve seen to my favorite fictional character.
In fact, he might be better, because I can touch his huge paw, with its blunt, dangerous-looking fingers.
I can smell the pine and musk of his cologne.
I can see the pricks of his beard already shadowing his jaw, even though he likely just shaved this morning.
I can hear his breath struggle to remain even.
I can see the seams of his shirt and jeans straining to keep all of him contained. My goodness, he’s a superb being.
Eric looks down at my fingertip as it continues to trace the back of his hand. “Seriously, where did you come from?” he asks, swallowing hard.
A wave of discomfort rolls into my tummy.
I knew I would be required to talk about what suddenly landed me in public high school, I just didn’t expect it to be during first period.
“Well.” I wet my lips. “About two years after my mom died, my father met a woman online and we moved here to be with her. She has two daughters, too—and we’ve all been homeschooled until now.
But my homeschool teacher got hit by a car and my stepmom couldn’t find a suitable replacement, so she enrolled me and my two stepsisters here to finish our senior year. ”
The gorgeous giant blinks at me. “Damn. I don’t know what to apologize about first. Mostly, I’m just sorry about your mom.”
“Thanks.”
“And your teacher. Is she—”
“Dead as a doornail, yes,” I whisper, unable to keep the horror out of my tone. “She was walking out of an iHop. One minute, she was eating pancakes. The next, she was one.”
When Eric slaps a hand over his mouth, visibly trying to hold in a slightly horrified laugh, so I pat him on the meaty shoulder. “It’s okay. Marcella had a great sense of humor. She would have laughed, too.”
He takes a few seconds to gather himself. “So, you’re here for the rest of the year?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to be sitting right next to me like this for five months.”
“Is that okay?”
“Are you kidding me? Yes. I just don’t usually get this lucky.”
There’s a fluttery sensation in my throat. “You think you’re lucky to sit next to me?”
“Mostly.”
My hope wanes. “Mostly?”
He nods. “There goes my concentration, Fairy Tale. I’m probably going to fail this class now, thanks to you and those distracting stockings.”
I rear back a little. “My stockings are distracting?”
“All of you is distracting,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his reddening face. “I can’t believe I’m saying all of this out loud, but you’re really easy to talk to.”
“I can’t imagine why. I don’t really talk to anyone but the voices in my head.”
He raises an eyebrow.
I wink at him and go back to pretending I’m taking notes.
“Oh man,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re funny and beautiful. Save some assets for the rest of us, why don’t you.”
I’m too shocked and overcome to look at him.
This perfectly formed brute with the quick wit thinks I’m funny.
And beautiful.
“Should you be talking to me like that? Don’t you have a girlfriend?”
He makes a production out of turning and looking behind himself, as if someone might be standing there. There’s nothing but a wall. “Huh? Me?”
“No girlfriend, then?” I ask, sounding wistfully hopeful.
Why is he just staring at me like I have two heads?
“Uh…no. No girlfriend.”
I try to contain my smile, but it’s like someone has pulled my ripcord, my grin blasting open like a parachute. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he says slowly, still eyeing me. “Listen, do you like hockey?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen a game.”
His throat works with a big swallow and he wipes his palms on the thighs of his jeans. Is he nervous about something? “Do you want to come to my game tonight? Our game, I mean. Not just my game. There’s like a whole team. They would be laughing their asses off at me right now.”
“You want me to come to your game?”
“Very much. Yes.”
I sit there in a glowing bubbling for a few seconds, absorbing the fact that I’ve just been asked somewhere for the first time by a boy.
Not really a boy, though, right? Much closer to a man.
A man who thinks I’m beautiful and funny.
My fantasy man come to life. But that bubble bursts quickly, because there is no way in heck I can say yes.
“I wish I could, but…” I erase a word of my notes, just for something to do with my hands.
“My father and stepmother are really strict. Hence, the homeschooling since my mother died. I’m shocked they’ve allowed me to attend a public school, even for five months. ”
He processes that. “Are you eighteen?”
“Yes.”
“And they won’t let you out for a hockey game?”
I laugh to myself, even though my throat is pinched. “I doubt it.”
“You wouldn’t be alone, if that’s what worries them. I’ll be there.”
The rate of my heartbeat doubles. “Won’t you be playing?”
“I can do both. Guard the goal.” He glances briefly at my breasts, his gaze growing heavier as it lifts to my mouth and stays there. “Guard the girl.”
I squeeze my thighs together to fight off a sudden…pulse.
Where did that come from?
“All right, folks,” interrupts Ms. Geary, walking down the aisle and passing out what looks like a worksheet. “Complete this chapter review with your seat mate. It’s due at the end of class, so you better get moving.”
Ms. Geary slides the paper in front of me, and I smile my thanks, turning as much as possible to face Eric.
His big body blocks me from scooting the worksheet into a place where we can both see it, though.
In the end, there’s no other solution but to stand up and lean into him with my left elbow propped on the table, pencil in my right hand.
My tummy is resting on the top of his left thigh, so securely that I can feel his muscles flex sharply when we make contact.
Everything inside of me comes to life.
My pulse accelerates, my skin prickling with static. My knees rub together without an official command from my brain, my bottom titling up, as if to tempt Eric. Something I have no experience with whatsoever. My body seems simply to take the lead.
In physics class.
Knock it off or you’re going to prove your stepmother right.
That public school—heck, the world in general are giant dens of corruption.
“Okay,” I murmur, trying not to notice the way Eric slowly turns his head, his attention drifting down my back to where my butt is perked up for his attention.
There’s no one behind me or I couldn’t stand like this, thanks to my choice to wear a skirt today.
But Eric shudders against me, as if he’s imagining the part of me that’s facing the wall.
As if he’s imagining my tight, sparkly little panties that I wore to school today in an act of secret rebellion.
“The first question is about friction. And force.”
“Of course it is,” he says, sounding extra gruff.
“Define normal force. What is its relationship to friction?”
“I don’t even know what year it is right now, Fairy Tale.”
I lean close until our noses are only an inch apart, smiling over the nickname he’s given me. “Do you always have this hard of a time concentrating?”
“Nope.”
“Hmmm.” I face forward and handily fill in all the answers, because this is a lesson I was taught during my sophomore year in homeschool. Rest in peace, Marcella. “I’ve got you covered, but you’re going to have to learn this for the test, Eric.”
He huffs an incredulous breath. “Jesus. You’re smart, too?”
There’s a loud thump on the other side of the room and I jump, automatically assuming my stepmother was right, and public school is where people go to die. A pipe bomb has just gone off or the teacher has spontaneously combusted.
She was right all along.
I teeter and start to knock the table forward, but Eric catches me around the waist and pulls me safely into his lap.
Anticipating a structure fire, my gaze shoots to the other side of the room, but it’s just Eric’s friend, sending him a salute—and I quickly realize the sound I hear was a textbook being slammed closed.
“Did he…do that on purpose?” I wheeze.
“Yeah, I think he might have. I’m sorry.
” Eric looks as stunned as I am to have me in his lap, but now that I’m here, all I can do is acknowledge how amazing it feels.
He’s incredibly strong. Overlapping with muscle and power and…
extra weight. I love that part most of all.
The cushiony part of his stomach and sides.
Goodness, he’s so warm and welcoming thanks to that delicious layer of insultation.
All I want to do is snuggle into him. “I think…he might have had the misguided idea that I have a shot with you,” Eric says, his chest lifting and falling faster than before.
“What makes you think you don’t?” I whisper.
A muscle lobs up and down in his throat…
and I feel it. I feel his sex stiffening against my butt until it’s nearly vertical.
Holy moly. Is it supposed to be that massive?
He shifts me around onto his thigh, visibly embarrassed about his body’s reaction to me, but I couldn’t be more fascinated.
Does this man-boy want to have sex with me?
I flush head to toe at the very possibility.
Would I let him?
“Nah, you’re going to have a boyfriend by lunchtime, Fairy Tale. One that matches you better than I do.” He coughs, the sound somewhat strangled. “I’ll try not to kill him with my bare hands, okay?”
My chest pressurizes with disappointment. Hurt. “You wouldn’t want me to be your girlfriend?”
He stares. “Of course I would want you to be my girlfriend.”
“Why are you trying to pawn me off on someone else, then?”
“I’m just being realistic.” He looks around the room, then toward the windows. “You just got here. There’s a whole population of guys. You will have your pick. And you’re not going to pick me, once you have a chance to browse.”
“I’m starting to think you don’t own a mirror,” I breathe, more confused than ever.
“I’m starting to think you’ve been cooped up too long.”
That gives me an idea. A terrible one. “If I sneak out and come to your game tonight, can I be your girlfriend?”
“This has to be a prank,” he intones, visibly dumbfounded.
I have no idea what to say to that, so I wait.
“Listen, Fairy Tale.” He points at the door of the classroom.
“If you make it through this whole day without finding a better guy, if you still want to be my girlfriend after seeing everyone who’s out there wanting a shot with you, I will…
still wonder if I’m fucking dreaming. But I will proudly and confusedly be your boyfriend. ”
I throw myself against Eric, hugging his neck tight, loving the way he holds my hip to steady me, his heart rapping wildly against mine. That has to mean something, doesn’t it? “See you at the game, future boyfriend,” I whisper in his ear, sniffing him one final time.
The bell rings.
Before he can take back our agreement, I jump off his thigh, grab my things and sail out of the classroom, giddy with possibility that he’s watching me go.