Page 12 of Gator
Of course, as that thought flickers through my brain, evil Jordan turns up the speedandthe incline. I glare but continue to keep my mouth shut. Mostly because I actually am at the brink of panting now and can’t get a word out while I’m trying to breathe.
“Hi, lovers.”
I do nothing as I watch Jules bounce toward us and take the machine next to us. She’s already perfect, and I can’t hate her even I want to. I gave the woman my kidney, for God’s sake. She’s my sister from another mister, my ride-or-die best friend for life. I’d do anything for her. But I still hate that she just hops on the treadmill and does a pace that she finds easy while I see it as impossible without medical attention.
“’Sup, slut. Got any good juicy stories to tell me about any of those Hounds? Any of them willing to take an adventure on the dark side?” Jordan says with a wiggle of his eyes that even I huff out a laugh at.
“I promise, if one of them tells me, you’ll be the first to know. Pretty sure your guy might have a problem if you bring another flavor into the bedroom, though,” Jules says with ease, as if she’s just standing there and not in a full-out sprint now.
“True, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He looks over at his man, who’s guarding the front desk today, and by some miracle, Meekail looks up and smiles. I swear those two are telepathic or something with the way they seem to always know when the other is looking at them. “And… take a break.”
I grab the handles quickly as he just cuts me down to half speed and smiles that evil smile of his and them walks over to flirt with his man.
“I hate him,” I grumble and take my hands off the bars.
“You might, but your ass looks great in those biker shorts. You’re one hot mama!” The smack on my ass has me jumping a bit.Seriously, how does she do so much without breaking a sweat?“Oh, there’s your stalker.”
How sad is it that I know who she’s talking about,andI still look for him?
I catch the hottie-of-my-eye over on the mats I was just at. Don’t know when Gator came in, but I’m not mad that I missed it. I would have been more concerned about him noticing me than focusing on my workout. And… I don’t hate seeing him. Especially if he keeps doing some more interesting push-ups. Not sure if he’s showing off for someone, but I don’t know anyone who does clapping push-ups for fun.
My little band of misfits has taken it upon themselves to inform me whenever he’s around. Not surestalkeris the right word, but they sure like to use it. I think they need to stop reading certain books; it gives them the wrong ideas. Gator isn’t stalking me. He’s just showing up at the same places I’m at. And not even all the time, just sometimes.
“Pretty sure he only appears when you’re around. Thinkyoumight be the stalkee, not me,” I say to Jules but don’t take my eyes off him. How can I? He’s a magnificent specimen of a man who’s sweating in all the right places. His red gym shorts mold against his ass well, and I’m not even mad at him for wearing one of those cutoff-sleeve shirts I usually find ridiculous. He’s got great tatted arms, and if he moves just right, I catch a glimpse of his yummy tummy, which isn’t actually a tummy but a flat board of pure muscle.
“He might have to follow me around, but it’s you he keeps staring at when you’re not looking.” She gives me a look that says“prove me wrong,”and I just shrug.
Yeah, I’ve seen the looks. Okay, I even give him the same ones. The ones that speak of what-ifs. What if we were together and he was my man? What if I throw out the rule book on what I’m supposed to do and just go for it? What if I didn’t have so many stupid hang-ups and just enjoy more out of life?
The last one is the real kicker. I’ve got issues. Everyone does. I just hide mine. I know it’s stupid, but I just don’t think I can get with a guy who’s younger than me. Most people would probably think I would be worried about our weight difference, but I’m completely comfortable in my body. I ain’t a Mustang type of girl, more like a Clydesdale, built sturdy all over. I’ve got curves, no secret about that. My titties are big, and my hips don’t lie. But that’s me, and I love me.
Okay, maybe it isn’t the age thing either. He’s younger than me, though I have no idea by how much, but it’s obvious that I’ve got some years on him. I can handle people talking behind my back and calling me fat ’cause I’m not a size four, but I think if I hear the wordcougar, I’ll hit someone. Maybe that’s why I’m not flirting with the guy each time I see him, even if I want to a little. One more label on me will be my breaking point. Been called so many things, and I just don’t think I can take another one.
You didn’t seem to mind him calling you Troublemaker.
Even hearing my inner goddess whisper it in my head sends a shiver through me. Who knew one word could cause so much stress on a body? But it does. Someone at school mentions a kid is a troublemaker and my hoo-ha is screaming for a release. Need like no other courses through my body, demanding relief every single time.
I shake off the topic in my head. Now is definitely not the time to get hot and bothered. It’s one thing when I’m thinking about these things in my home—completely different when the topic is just on the other side of the building. He’s too close, and I might do something dangerous. Like go over and lick him.
“Why’s he following you? Flint worried you’ll run off with someone else while he’s at work or something?”
“Nah, my man knows I’ve only got eyes for him, and if he even looked at another girl the way he does me, I’d cut the bitch. I think something’s going on with the club. They don’t tell us old ladies much, but they said they’ll be having some more brothers around to keep us safe.”
I raise my eyebrow at her words, overlooking the first part ’cause I know she’s crazy enough to go psycho on any girl who gets close to her man. She might seem cute and bubbly and has zero filter, but I know she’s got a defensive streak in her. I saw it a few nights back when she thought I was kicked out on the side of the road for not putting out. “Anything me and the gang should be worried about?”
No one talks about it, but about a month or so ago, something happened atMdance practice. We were all doing our thing till we heard a noise, and half the damn group went outside to witness Flint beat the shit out of someone. I think I even saw another guy lying on the ground, but before I could be sure, another club guy ushered us all back inside as Flint grabbed Jules, and they all left abruptly. No one knows what happened to the guy Flint was fighting, but we haven’t seen him again. Ever since, Jules has had at least one visible Hound following her around.
“Who knows? I’ll ask Flint tonight and let you know. I think they’re just being cautious, but I honestly never thought it was a big deal to have someone follow me around. Well, not since my rebirth. Kind of used to it.”
I snort at her term for falling off a cliff and waking up with amnesia. I mean, I guess, in a way, it’s true. She definitely came out on the other side a changed woman, for the better, even though she’s gotten most of her memory back. She’s changed from staying locked away from the world except to do one modeling performance for a random crowd every few months to being this woman who takes life by the balls and goes shopping with them. And yeah, ever since she woke up, a Hound, usually Flint, has been at her side every step of the way.
“How’s work?” I can hear the sympathy in her voice, and it makes me grind my teeth.
I hate sympathy, but even more so when it’s for the right reason. Amnesia or no, Jules will probably never forget Carolyn and the shit she pulled on us in high school. Most kids who are bullied can move on from their bullies. I was not so lucky. I got a pleasant break for a bit, but as soon as the new principal was named at my school six months back, I knew I was in for a world of hurt. Doesn’t matter what I accomplished before; I was put on the bottom rung of everything at my school because the principal’s wife hates my guts. Carolyn doesn’t even try to hide it and while we have zero tolerance for bullying at my school, thanks to me, my colleagues conveniently forget about it when she’s around. She sleeps with the guy who can fire us, and while it doesn’t seem fair—and it’s definitely not—it’s how this game’s played. We all know it, and no one does anything to stop it. You put up with shit and get a paycheck or you look for another job.
I’m sure there are some out there who would just quit the second something like this happens for them. Or even before it happens, once they see the writing on the wall. But I’m stuck. Not because I love my job or feel like I have no other options. I’ve got plenty of money from my side business that keeps me living well. It’s the kids. Every single one of them. I won’t give up on them. I won’t abandon any of them. I teach these kids what the others can’t. I’m known for it. Everyone knows I’ll never write off a kid who struggles.
Hence why I’m in this stupid race. No way would I be willing to go through something I absolutely detest if it wasn’t because I promised a student something. I never go back on my word if they keep theirs. And they are, all of them. All seventeen kids are doing amazing in my summer class. So I can’t give up, no matter how much my legs are screaming at me to stop and just rest them for a month. Maybe a year.
