1. CHAPTER ONE
9 Years later
Vistas' Alpine Resort
Alberta, CANADA
Cliché, cliché, cliché!
One word shouldn’t be able to so easily sum up a person, but for me, it does. Given, I wouldn’t call my life boring, but it has thus far played out like a second-rate straight-to-streaming film that left the producers wondering what went wrong. You know, the kind penned by an American who believes they understand the culture and customs of their middle-class cousins from across the pond. But all they scripted is a trite caricature of a frat-boy in a prep school uniform, and all the supporting characters are way more interesting than the intended lead?
I know, I know, woe is me. How hard it must have been to be born into a life of privilege with a literal silver spoon in my mouth. But I swear, if the words Posh Twat were together in the dictionary, there would be a picture of me and the definition would be scathing:
Jesse Kendrick, 24.
His superior intelligence and good looks have ensured he excels far beyond the lofty birthright his surname afforded him. Whether it be his academic achievements or talking the pants off any female he sets his sights on, young Jesse makes sure not to ruffle any feathers. You’re never left wanting more because you scarcely recall him being there in the first place.
The irony is so palpable I can taste it. A self-deprecating bellend with a whining inner monologue.
Bet you wish you’d skipped my book altogether, and I wouldn’t blame you. Not because I’m lackluster—I’m actually a fucking riot—but out of pure predictability. I’m not a bad boy, I haven’t sworn off women, my heart isn’t damaged nor is it made of gold. I’m simply a round peg in a round hole, and for the consumer, that means no jeopardy.
Shit, the fact I’m standing in this freezing hallway is the most out-of-character thing I’ve ever done. It wasn’t the plan to take a gap year before completing my Masters, but I couldn’t exactly let Saxon and Romeo down, either. Though, it is quite funny to consider traveling halfway around the world as the lesser of two evils.
Speaking of my rat bastard of a best friend, Saxon, he’s once more letting his mouth run before his brain has time to catch up.
Thirty-eight hours; that’s how long it’s been since my body has experienced the sweet solitude of sleep. Three flights, two continents, one entry to the mile-high club later, and I’m a comatose shell of a man barely hanging onto cognizance, yet, in usual Saxon fashion, he is making things impossible for me by proxy. I know he’s just as depleted as I am—minus the sex at thirty-thousand feet part—but the prospect of getting under someone’s skin has given him an unbearable second wind.
Barely able to keep myself upright, I lean forward on the wall and rest my cheek against it. I swear the window at the end of the hall was closer before I blinked my eyes because now it feels like it’s running away from me—the corridor stretching like in a horror movie. The only thing missing is the ominous staccato of suspenseful music and the Devil’s spawn peddling around on a tricycle.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I rock my forehead back and forth against the cold brickwork, and though initially setting out to smirk, I end up spluttering and laughing at my sleep-drunken misfortune.
“What are you so happy about?” Romeo drones, slumping against the wall beside me. His head falls backwards against it as his arms hang limply by his sides. A sharp nasal exhale quickly followed up by a moan of disdain is my response, and he knows what it means; the groan that spoke a thousand words. “Do you think he’s trying it on?”
“Do you think he stands a chance?” I smirk. Successfully this time.
“True, but he is a glutton for punishment. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to fuck the boss on the first night.”
“Even though it was hate at first sight?”
“A good hate fuck can be fun.”
Opening my mouth to say something utterly hilarious, Saxon’s tone steals my moment as it wafts out from his room and into the hallway to join us. “Is there anything else you require of me, sweetheart, or am I right to take a shower? I mean, you’re more than welcome to join me, but the lads might get a little bored while they wait.”
This prick is starting to try my patience now.
Pushing off the wall, I step towards his room, but Romeo stops me with a hand against my chest. “It’s not worth it. You know going in there will only make this take longer.”
Alas, my handsome friend is correct, for that is Saxon Suzuki in a nutshell. All explosion and impulse with no regard for the consequences. He is a crazed bull and our lives are the china shop. Unless we want to clean up the aftermath of his carnage, sometimes it’s just better to leave him well enough alone.
“Is a little tact too much to ask?” I gripe, retracing my steps and leaning back against the wall.
“Do I need to get the mirror, Mr Kettle? Taunting him is your favorite pastime.”
“Shut up.” Without looking, I raise my fist to give Romeo a lackluster punch in the ribs. “All I’m saying is why couldn’t he have just shut his mouth and gotten us off on the right foot?”
“That is a question that will baffle the ages. But he wouldn’t be Saxon if he went and did something totally level-headed like that.”
“Some days I’m surprised he can get his trousers on with balls as big as his.” Both our shoulders raise in a vapid attempt at laughing.
“Speaking of enormous balls and perplexing quandaries, I’m surprised you didn’t introduce Kai’s nose to your fist.”
Kai . The name clangs against the base of my skull and I scratch at the back of my neck, but it won’t budge. “And why would I do that?”
“I dunno, maybe the way he eye-fucked Mavis from the second he saw her.”
“She’s a big girl.” I shrug, turning to the side and allowing my shoulder to take the weight of my body. “And like I said at the airport. She’s not my girl. I’m needy, but that’s a light-speed relationship.”
“Come on, Jess.” Romeo’s voice pries for a reaction as he turns to face me with a look that says, but not too fast to stick your dick in her . “I’ve known you for sixteen years, and ever since we had Miss Green in year four, you’ve had an impossible obsession with a certain body type. Shit, I can still remember your face when she wore those leggings to our athletic carnival.”
The corners of my mouth turn up as I recall one of my fondest memories. My malleable little ten-year-old brain had been forever changed that day, for she was the epitome of womanhood.
“You’re getting lost in her ass right now, aren’t ya, boy?” Romeo teases, tapping me on the cheek. “Perky tits, that tiny waist… those hips.”
“You made your point.” I slap his hand away.
“So then, why no reaction? I would have assumed you’d put Mavis on lock ASAP.”
I shrug again and turn back to the wall. I don’t want to get into it, now, or ever, because, plain and simple, Mavis is perfect. The right amount of sass and innocence with a body men have fought wars over. But she’s newly single, totally damaged by her ex, and I was just a random rebound she hooked up with in the first-class bathroom of our last flight. No matter how majestic she may be, I’m not selfish enough to disrupt her awakening.
“Have it your way,” Romeo concedes, sliding down the wall to take up residence on the gray carpet tiles and resigning himself to the fact our discussion has now become a soliloquy. “I felt like punching that cocksure face of his myself. I mean, who does he think he is? Wasn’t he meant to be helping us not trying to pick up before even leaving the airport? She could have been your girlfriend for all he knew…”
It’s unusual to see Romeo so affected by someone on first contact, which begs me to question whether they are his true feelings or he’s voicing them on my behalf. Either way, his summary of Kai isn’t unfounded. I should have hated him right off the bat. If first impressions indeed count, he left little to be desired, especially as the chosen representative to welcome us to the Vistas family. Yet, there he stood; leaning apathetically against a pylon just outside of customs—our names on a clipboard carelessly hanging from his right hand.
His jeans were worn, and not the kind of designer aging you pay for. These were holes that had once been tiny rips before taking on a life of their own. With scuffed shoes and a hoodie so many sizes too big, it was almost swallowing him whole. I watched his eyes rake down Mavis’s body and then up mine as we approached.
Not ten minutes ago, he’d brought the resort van to a screeching halt outside the staff housing block and dumped our suitcases in the snow. It was the perfect power move and I couldn’t fault him for it. Yet, as Romeo and Saxon scrambled to rescue their designer luggage from the elements, I found my eyes meeting his again as he grinned back at me from the open van window. Enigmatic to say the least, even in the pitch black Canadian night, the building’s dim light still illuminated his face just enough to perfectly accentuate the large bags his eyes held beneath them as though he’d not slept in days either. The old dark-blue dye job on his bleached hair was more blond than indigo, and still, in defiance of the less-than-glowing description, he was far from unattractive.
“...and did you hear him tell us to toughen up?” Romeo huffs, my eyes widening at the realization that he’s been speaking the entire time my mind was wandering.
“Yeah, what a prick,” I contribute. An answer-all and what I assume is the kind of response Romeo is seeking.
“Bruv. You really do need some sleep.” I can hear the eyes rolling in his head, but I keep my mouth shut. Kai and Mavis and me, and whatever the fuck I’m feeling is something I need him to let go of.
The door to Saxon’s room closes and Alma’s accented muttering fills the emptiness.
She’s hot, older, and everything that adds up to the perfect kind of woman to pull Romeo’s attention every time. With a brief consoling chuckle, she glides her nails across my back.
“Feel free to stay here, Mr. Jesse, while I show your much more pleasant friend to his room.”
I grunt at the sweet relief of solitude and collapse fully against the wall—my left cheek and chest flush against it. Watching as Romeo and Alma walk towards his room, I note how their bodies move closer together with each passing step. At his door, Alma unlocks it and steps aside, leaving Romeo to push it open and gesture for her to enter first. I shouldn’t say women are predictable, but when it comes to the ways of Romeo Estrada, none of them ever stand a chance whether they like it or not.
Once inside, I can only make out murmurs, but enough is present in the tone of their voices to bring a grin to my face. I’ll give him until the end of the week. She may succumb, it may just be to twist the knife further into Saxon’s chest. But she’ll succumb. They always do.
Sighing deeply, I turn my head away from their direction and wait.
Losing the fight with my free will, my eyes shut on their own. Relaxation is almost instant, and my body goes weightless as my head floats in a cozy cloudiness. Then, out of fucking nowhere, the backside of my lids are consumed with the brash simper of Kai as he leans against that fucking pylon, staring at me as if I were Mavis and he’s undressing me in his mind.
“What the hell?” I say aloud, my eyes shooting open as I jolt upright.
Why the fuck is he what my delirious brain chooses to conjure?
I need to get to bed, and fast, before my hallucinations become any more unsettling.
Stumbling backwards, I sway like a drunk towards Romeo’s room, only to be met with Alma and the shit-eating grin plastered across her face.
“What are you so happy about?” I ask, rather more rudely than intended—earning me a stern look in response. “Shit, I’m sorry. Please don’t think I’m as rude as that dickhead,” I apologize, gesturing to Saxon’s door with my thumb. “Forgive me?” I ask, pushing my lips to the side and quirking a single brow.
A straight-lipped smile and a pity-filled head shake follow my inquiry.
Alma’s tall with curves just where I like them, yet it’s clear they were earned through hard work at the gym, not through the luck of genetics. The woman is a bona fide bombshell, but—call me crazy—she doesn’t do it for me. I like natural, not that she’s fake, but an ass like hers just wouldn’t shake like I’d want it to. I need thighs I can sink my fingers and teeth into that ripple and have those dimples that girls hate so much.
Gathering her long dark hair over one shoulder, Alma rubs a hand up and down my bicep as words roll off her tongue like rich, dark chocolate. “You seem like the innocent one to me, Mr. Jesse. Don’t concern yourself. I can see I won’t have to worry about you. You will give me no trouble and be a perfect boy, yes? Now come. I’ll show you to your room.”
As she walks towards the lift, I follow behind her—hauling my suitcase—like a puppy who’s just been promised a treat.
“Sorry you can’t be on the same floor as your boyfriends,” she gloats, happy with her little joke. “But there were not three spare rooms together, so I decided to house you across from your shift partner.”
I want to respond, but at this point, I’m just going through the motions. I mean, I think my feet are moving because I’m following behind her into the crusty old lift that smells like piss and needs desperately to be replaced. But for all I know, this could be a fever dream and I’m lying outside in the snow.
Another ding has me moving again, but this time the wheels of my suitcase catch on the gap between the lift and the floor, making it flip sideways. Slowly, I blink my eyes, my mind resigning me to the fact that my body no longer houses enough energy to rectify the situation.
To the end of the hallway I trudge, dragging the bag behind me to find, upon my arrival, that Alma has already unlocked my door, turned on all the lights, and returned outside my door to wait.
Now, believe it or not, I’m usually a perfect gentleman even when not trying to dip my wick, but now is not the time for valiance. Besides, in the short amount of time I’ve known Alma I’m certain treating her as my superior and not a woman to pander to will earn more of her respect in the long run, so I barge through the door.
The room is a far cry from my first home away from home. Namely, the dorms at Lancaster College & Prep, my safe space for almost ten years. They were all mahogany floor to ceiling with copper sconces, oil paintings, and hand-woven rugs. The mattress was Tempur-Pedic, and the sheets were Egyptian cotton, where this is exposed brickwork, carpet tiles, and old hotel furniture. Not antique old like at Lancaster, shitty old like we really should throw this out, but it’ll be good enough for the help. But I guess it’s what you get when you don’t pay rent, and I get a private en suite so I shouldn’t complain.
Taking further pity on me, Alma pries the handle of my suitcase from within my frozen grip and wheels it to the end of the double bed. “You really should get some rest, Jesse. You have your induction tomorrow morning at nine-thirty. The kitchen is open from six.”
Nine-thirty!?
“But it’s a Saturday,” I groan out.
Alma’s shoulders tense and her jaw moves side to side like she’s rolling her tongue around inside her mouth so as not to say the words she actually wants to.
“Yes,” she eventually sighs, allowing her shoulders to drop, “but there is no rest for the wicked. You must be prepared for Monday.”
A lamenting exhale has me looking towards the doorway and I’m thankful Alma takes the hint. Stepping towards it, she reaches out a final time to grip my shoulder and offers up a genuine smile as her parting gift. She really is beautiful. Her teeth are bright and straight and the way her cheeks crease around her mouth is quite riveting, but, as her body leaves the space in front of me, any remaining traces of femininity are blown away by an explosion of masculine energy and faded indigo.
Cocky as hell and leaning against the door frame with one arm up and his face looking more tired than I feel, is the very same scruffy-haired, dark-eyed bastard that so unapologetically tried to claim Mavis right in front of me. The one who just minutes before had leaped into the forefront of my drowsy mind.
Wearing only sweatpants, and I mean only.
The tilt of his hips leaves nothing to the imagination. And it only clocks that I’m staring when he shifts and the fucking monster barely concealed behind light-gray fleece moves, and I almost swallow my tongue. But I still can’t look away. It’s like his body is a magnet and my eyes are made of iron.
What had previously only been hinted at as they crept out from the edges of his hoodie, are now on full display. From neck to hip bones, his entire upper body is covered in tattoos. All grayscale and random but perfectly complementary, yet with enough space between each for my gaze to land on the muscular definitions on his pale skin.
His hand raises to scratch at the short hair along his jaw, forcing my focus to the ink on his fingers. Skeletal. Like an x-ray, but all the bones are broken. Snapped. I think some might even be missing.
“Make sure you get enough sleep before orientation.” His half-lidded stare bores straight through me. “Alma isn’t known for being too forgiving when it comes to that kind of thing. She does have her charms though, much like I’m sure you do, pretty boy.”
Pretty boy?
“Yeah- ah- thanks. Kai, was it? Maybe you should get some rest too. Looks like you need it,” I say hurriedly and move to close the door, but I catch his gaze again and I swear he’s smoldering at me.
“These are just my natural, rugged good looks. Besides, I’ve got tomorrow off.”
“Well, good luck with that. You’ll probably be having a better day than me by the sounds of it.” Oh god, please let this be over.
“I think I’ll have a better time on Monday when I get to show you the ropes.” His voice is deep and assertive, and I gulp as I grip the door—half hiding behind it. But his stare doesn’t waver, it only grows in intensity and pierces through the wood and straight into my chest.
I know I have to move, so I back up slowly—my eyes never leaving him until the door is closed. Leaning against the back of it, I pant deeply—my hand tracing over my half-hardened cock.
What the actual fuck is going on?
I’m not gay. I don’t like guys.
Sure, I know when one’s hot. Romeo and Saxon are both tens, but I’ve never actually wanted to—
Fuck! Stop it!
I slap both hands against my face and drag them down my cheeks.
I don’t want to do shit.
Kai is just a lad who happens to have unbelievably enticing eyes, and I’m physically shagged senseless from the past day and a half.
That’s it.
End of story.
No new and confusing plot points, thank you very much!