HEADMASTER

  To: FriendsFan18

  From: Nike1991

  Wow, you have a lot of Dean Koontz books. I take it that you’re a fan? In any case, yes, I am interested in a swap, but may I ask that you pick whichever is your favourite? I trust your judgment, considering you have so many. I have read a couple, but it’s been a while, so I’m sure I’ll enjoy whatever you choose.

  Thanks.

  I respond immediately.

  To: Nike1991

  From: FriendsFan18

  Yes, you can definitely say I’m a fan, and I will certainly pick one out for you. The same happens to be true of me where James Patterson is concerned. I look forward to reading your choice as well. Where and when would you like to meet so we can exchange?

  I wait a few minutes to see if he or she will respond. A couple of minutes later, I hear the ping.

  To: FriendsFan18

  From: Nike1991

  How about tomorrow at 6pm? I live at 32 Barrington Way. You can come and make the swap there.

  I look on Google to find where Barrington Way is, and it’s where I suspected it would be. It’s not a far walk for me at all, and it’s in a nice area. I spend a moment pondering the wisdom of just showing up at a stranger’s house, but whoever it is is trusting me, so why shouldn’t I go? I can always run if I don’t like the look of the person. With that in mind, I reply.

  To: Nike1991

  From: FriendsFan18

  That’s perfect. See you then.

  Surprise

  Two months have gone by since my sixteenth birthday, and in these past two months I have been living on a cloud. Since that beautiful morning eating scones and drinking tea in the garden with Liam, he has let me roam free inside the house. He worries, though. I know he does. I think he still thinks someone’s going to take me away from him. I keep trying to placate him. I’m not going anywhere, because my life is with him now. I still witness the deep frown on his face every time I walk around the house. It’s almost as if he thinks I will run away. Seriously, where could I go? I have no one left but him. He is my family now.

  “What are you thinking?”

  We’re sitting on the sofa, my legs are sprawled across his lap, and my arms are resting above my head as we watch Ronin. I’ve seen the film before, so my attention is elsewhere. My attention is always elsewhere lately. I’m sixteen, stuck in a house with nowhere to go, and my hormones are going crazy. With no other stimulation other than books, the TV, and Liam, I’m quite frankly going insane from the need for something … more. Lately, that focus has been on Liam. Ever since he rejected me on my birthday, I haven’t been able to think about anything else. Call it pride, but it’s been bruised in a big way, and since then I have been thinking of nothing but kissing Liam again. I don’t know why I feel so attracted to him. I often wonder if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s the only man I know—the only man full stop—would I still feel this insane attraction I have for him? Would it be as platonic as his feelings obviously are? I probably wouldn’t think about it that much, but lately, Liam—inadvertently—has been doing things which have made my desire for him grow. It’s only little things. The way he brushes my hair away from my face when a tendril drifts down to kiss my cheek. The way he grabs my hand, threading his fingers through it, making me feel like the most important woman in his world. The things he says—the ways in which he makes me feel beautiful, cherished, and wanted. Such little things mean so much to me.

  Like now, the distraction is the fact he’s lazily trailing a finger up and down my shin. It’s not in a romantic way—more to do with the fact we’re so relaxed and I know Liam loves to fidget. He can’t keep still unless he’s doing something with his hands. I know this must be relaxing him as much as it is me, but the problem is it’s not only relaxing me. It’s sending unwanted shivers and tingles up my spine. It’s making my heart race, my belly dance, and my nipples tighten underneath my t-shirt.

  “I really don’t think you want to know what it is I’m thinking,” I answer quite flatly because although I know I’m being immature about this, I still can’t help being flippant.

  His leisurely trail on his fingers on my shin cease as I’m met with a pair of cool blue eyes. “I always want to know what it is you’re thinking.” He turns slightly towards me and says, “Why do I detect some animosity towards me?”

  I sigh, pulling my legs away from his lap. I notice Liam watching as I take them away. “Do you not know what you’re doing?”

  Now it’s his time to sigh. “I read that women are like this.” He turns his head away, scooting himself up.

  “Like what?”

  He looks my way, smirking. “They expect men to be psychic. I don’t know what it is you’re feeling unless you tell me. Despite what you may think, I am definitely not psychic.”

  I puff out an exasperated breath. “It’s not about being psychic. It’s about gauging people’s feelings and reactions to the things that you do.”

  Getting up, Liam runs his fingers through his hair. I can tell he’s getting frustrated. “What is it that I’m doing?” He turns in my direction, his eyes looking straight into mine. “Tell me so I can understand.”

  I stand up to face him, so that I don’t feel like a vulnerable, timid, little mouse. I’m in no way taller than Liam, but at least this way I don’t feel so small. I notice him watching me as his Adam’s apple bobs with a nervous swallow. Why is he nervous? I can sense it in him—feel the way his chest slightly trembles with the beating of his heart.

  “You touch me and yet expect me not to react to it.” I look him dead in the eye when I say, “There. Is that clear enough for you? You rejected me two months ago, but since then you’ve touched me, caressed me, held my hand, and cared for me. You do all this, and yet you expect me not to have a reaction?”

  His cool eyes soften at my words. Taking another step closer, he places his hands on my shoulders. “I’m not rejecting you. I just don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want us entering into something you might regret later. You’re so young and I’m almost twice your age. I’m protecting you, but you have to understand that there is a level of self-preservation. I’m protecting my heart too. I want you. You have to know that. But, I want to make sure that this is—”

  I don’t let him finish what he started. I tiptoe up, kissing his soft lips and capturing the next words that were going to come out of his mouth. All I heard were the words “I want you.” Everything else has paled into existence.

  I manage to coax his mouth open, manage to slide my tongue into his mouth. At first we kiss tenderly, lovingly, but when I moan, grabbing his hair with my fists, Liam suddenly pulls away, breathless.

  He notices my frown and says, “I’m not as strong as you think, Ray. I’m a man and I have needs.”

  “So do I,” I answer, trying to pull his mouth to me. Again, he halts me and I can’t help the frustrated growl that leaves my lips.

  “Ray, stop. You seriously don’t know what you’re doing. If you push this then I’m going to want more. Do you understand?”

  His angry eyes bore into mine, but I can also see the hidden lust that’s desperate to scratch the surface. I want to let that lust out.

  “I want you—to be my first.”

  Closing his eyes, Liam shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. It’s the hormones talking.”

  “As long as you have me here living with you then of course I’m going to want more. You say you have needs. I have needs too.”

  “But it’s not just about needs, is it, Ray? You have to feel something for a person. I’ve never had sex with someone that I have no connection with. I’m not that type of person.”

  Hurt fills my stomach and threatens to fill my eyes. “Are you saying you have no feelings for me?”

  “Fuck no,” he answers, pulling away in anger. He starts to pace the floor before finally stopping and looking at me. “At first when I took you it was me trying to protect you—nothing more. But over these past few month
s I have learnt to care deeply for you.” He dips his head sheepishly down to the floor. “I have learnt to love you.” He looks back up trying to gauge my reaction, but all I can feel is my heart rapidly beating against my chest. He loves me?

  “If I knew for certain this was what you wanted—that you felt the same way too—then of course I would be your first. In fact, nothing would make me happier. I just can’t enter into something you’re not one hundred percent into.”

  I take leisurely strides up to him. Nothing is said at first. Just the silent drumming of my heart can be heard. Liam watches me all the way, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that everything he’s said is the truth. It just makes me want him more.

  Once I reach him, I place my hands against his chest and lean up to kiss him again on the mouth. “I want you,” I say, breathlessly. “I want you in the way you want me. I too, have had lots of time to think over these past few months. My feelings for you have grown as much as yours have for me. I’m one hundred percent certain I want this, Liam. Please.”

  I can’t believe I actually begged, but I see the moment his shoulders sag as if in relief. He smiles brightly, taking me into his arms for a hug. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that.” He pulls back, grinning from ear to ear. I can’t help the smile I beam back at him. “If you’re certain then I need to be prepared. Can you wait here until I get back from the shop?”

  I nod, knowing that he’s going out to buy condoms. He looks at me sceptically and then says, “If you change your mind by the time I get back, that’s okay.”

  I shake my head, smiling at him. “I won’t.”

  I look back on my days with Liam as if it were a distant dream—or even nightmare. I wasn’t myself. I know I wasn’t. I felt and did things the normal me would never have done. I can’t explain what it is, but I know that the night I lost my virginity to Liam Winters, was the night I lost a piece of myself. I just didn’t realise it back then. The first time hurt. There’s just no way on earth that it would have been pleasurable. Liam told me it would get better and it did. He wanted to please me. I can still look back and realise that to be true, but he was also the master manipulator. Everything he said and did had an agenda. I know that now, but I was just too wrapped up in everything Liam to care.

  Brett the Barman: Are you coming in tonight? I’ll give you a drink on the house. ;)

  I smile at Brett’s text message and shoot him one back. I’ll be in at around 7. I need to go somewhere first xx

  I hit SEND and start to get myself ready. It seems my bleeding was a false alarm yesterday, so I feel a lot better now that it’s definitely over. I check the time. It’s already five, so I need to get my skates on.

  Placing my hair up in a bun, I start applying some light makeup. A bit of smoky eyes and red lips will do the job perfectly tonight. Once I’m finished, I put on a bit of rouge for my cheeks and inspect myself in the mirror when I’m done. I’m dressed in my favourite pair of jeans—jeans which show my bum off better than any jeans I’ve ever owned. I think everyone can safely say they own a pair just like it—their favourite pair. As a top, I have a dark green long-sleeved jumper that’s opened up at the top to hang down on one shoulder. Everyone that I meet says I suit green, so green is what I’ll wear tonight. As I look at myself in the mirror, I nod. I think I’ll pass. I feel sexy and comfortable, and I believe that’s what’s most important. Screw whatever anyone else may think.

  As I grab my bag, coat, and Dean Koontz’s book, Life Expectancy, I walk out into the living room to find my mother sitting down enjoying a glass of wine. She looks up, smiling when she sees my get up.

  “Off anywhere nice?”

  I shrug. “Just to the bar to meet Brett. Nothing special.” I notice that she’s wearing a nice red dress. “You look lovely, Mum. Going anywhere nice yourself?”

  Her face flushes before she looks down a moment. “Just on a date with Eric.”

  I smile. “Have fun.”

  “Thanks.” I get up to leave when she says, “Erm, Ray … I mean, Sasha?”

  I spin on my heels to face her, noticing that her face has flushed even more red than before. “How can I say this? I may not be home tonight.”

  A huge grin pops up on my face. “Ooh, look at you. Go, Mum!” I shout, punching the air.

  She waves her hand in front of me. “Oh, stop.” Her smile fades when she says, “I’ve been thinking of cancelling. I don’t like leaving you here on your own.”

  Walking back towards her, I sit on the edge of the sofa. “We can’t be prisoners our whole lives, Mum. At some point we need to let go and move on. I certainly don’t want you stopping your life because that arsehole is out there somewhere.” She looks away uncertain. “Go,” I say, when she doesn’t respond. “Have fun, have sex, and knock his socks off. I’ll be fine here on my own. I’ll make sure I lock up. I promise.”

  She looks up then—worry in her eyes. “Will you text me once you’re home, so I can at least breathe a little easier?”

  I nod my head. “Of course.” She hesitates again, so I say, “Please, Mum. Go. I’ll be fine. I really do promise you.”

  I can’t promise her anything, but I notice the slight relief of her face when I said it and that was what I was after. “I must get going. Remember, have fun. I’ll text you later.” I get up and start walking towards the door. “Love you,” I shout as I open the door.

  “Love you too, sweetie. Enjoy your night.”

  I put my coat on and smile. “I’m sure I will.”

  I shut the door behind me and start a leisurely stroll towards the address. I take my phone and headphones out, bringing up Spotify, so I can listen to my updated playlist. As I place the buds in my ears, I hit the shuffle button and wait to see what comes up first. I smile and shake my head when I hear “I Will Wait for You” by Mumford & Sons. Someone up there has a sense of humour, because no matter how hard I try and stay away from Easton, or stop thinking about Easton, the universe has some other idea.

  I take my steps slowly, glancing at the time every now and then. It’s ten to six, so I’m on schedule. I breathe a sigh of relief when the song eventually ends and a more upbeat “This is How We Do It” by Montell Jordan plays through the buds. I almost bob my head to it as I stroll, not realising my pace has quickened. It’s only when I round the corner to reach Barrington Way that I realise I’m now here.

  I check the time. It’s now four minutes to six. It shouldn’t matter that I’m a little early.

  Pulling the buds out of my ears, I close the Spotify app down on my phone before placing everything back into my bag. I check the house nearest to me and notice that I’m only five houses away from number thirty-two. I carry on walking and when I eventually get to the gate of house number thirty-two, I swing it open, noticing a small yard with a big bike which is covered in sheeting. I can’t see what bike it is, but it’s definitely the shape of a bike.

  I close the gate behind me, walk the short distance to the door, knock, and then step back. I need to keep my distance just in case whoever answers is an axe murderer or something. I check behind me and notice I can make it if I need to run.

  I tut under my breath. It’s only because of Liam that I’m now paranoid that everyone out there has some kind of warped hidden agenda. I know I should be careful, but this is crazy.

  My eyes keep to the door and I wonder after a couple of seconds if I should knock again, but then the door opens, and when it does, all my senses come alive. He stands at the doorway looking as shocked as I feel. His hair a wayward mass of brown curls, his eyes narrow and intense as he stares at my own. I’ve often wondered when he looks into my eyes whether he can see it. The desire I hold deeply within me for him.

  His face looks unshaven today, but it doesn’t make him look any less appealing. In fact, quite the opposite. I doubt anything can make this man look less appealing. He’s wearing jeans which ride low on his ever-so beautiful hips, and despite the cold, he has also donned a loose, w
hite V-necked t-shirt. However, it’s not loose enough to hide the fact that underneath are abs which would make The Rock feel jealous. As I stand, still staring, I fail to realise at first that he’s smirking at me, because as he does, he manoeuvres himself closer to the doorway. Lifting up his arm to rest on the rim, my eyes travel to the area around his hips. His t-shirt’s risen up, exposing the tanned flesh of his stomach. Oh, my. Words fail me. I may be only eighteen, but I’m not completely inexperienced to appreciate the male form.

  And oh, what form Mr Lockhart has. I’m dumbfounded. My lips can’t seem to manifest words. I know I need to speak, but speech is the last thing on my mind right now.

  “I– I–” Shit, I need to get a grip! Why has talking all of a sudden become so difficult? I manage—in my brief form of lunacy—to lift my eyes away from his stomach and land them on his sexy, endearing face. He’s still smirking, but this time one eyebrow is raised in question. I really wish he’d stop looking at me like that. I don’t see him do it with anyone else.

  A part of me celebrates that fact, but another part of me knows it has no right to feel that way.

  “You’re Nike1991?” I finally manage to ask.

  “And you’re FriendsFan18.”

  Looking down at his feet, I notice he only has socks on. “No Nikes today I see.” I look up to him, smirking. I feel my composure coming back. It’s in small doses, but at least I’m now coherent when I speak.

  “I don’t make it a habit of wearing shoes inside my house.”

  Averting my eyes, I realise I’m still making no sense whatsoever. Of course he wouldn’t wear his Nikes inside his house. It’s only then I realise that I am actually at Mr Lockhart’s house. I’ve often wondered what his house would look like. I doubt very much that he’ll let me in, and I wouldn’t blame him.