Page 11 of Allure

“Oh, man, that sucks.”

“Yeah, and he doesn’t want me to come back.”

“Are you going to?”

“Hell yeah! I’m not going to let a bully dictate how I live my life! But…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know.” I fidget in my seat. “He said my ass is flat.”

“So he was checking you out.”

“A flat ass isn’t a good thing,” I mumble.

“Yeah, my ass is too big to be flat,” she says with a laugh. “I have curves… and rolls.”

“It’s not that I care about his opinion of me because I don’t, but he went out of his way to say that, to tell me I should go and join a gym instead, run on a treadmill. He called me a cardio bunny.”

Dawn makes a face. “He really does sound like the worst,” she commiserates, “but he shouldn’t be at all the classes, right?”

“I sure hope not,” I tell her.

Our waitress brings over our drinks and our salads. We dig in, and I refuse to spend another second worrying about that bully Declan.

* * *

The next morning, I wake horny as hell. I don’t recall what any of my dreams had been about, and that’s just as well because if any had been about Declan, I would rather not know.

Instead of trying to remember, I hop in the shower. I took one last night after we got back from the amazing meal last night. So damn good. The salad had the perfect amount of dressing without being too much, and my main course? Simply divine. I mean, you can’t go wrong with any Italian dish that features bacon. We split a massive cannoli, and I was afraid you would have to wheel me out of there.

But I need the time in the shower that we share with the two girls on the other side of the bathroom so I can work out some of this frustrating sexual tension. I pointedly don’t think about any males who like to order people around on a mat and instead choose a Hollywood hunk to star in my vision as I finger myself while hot water pounds on my back. My climax isn’t all that satisfying, though, which isn’t a surprise. I can’t always make myself orgasm, and even if I can, more times than not, it’s weak.

I don't dare to try to examine why that's the case, wash up, rinse, and get out. The other students come back to campus today, and there is more freshman orientation shit that I plan on skipping. Today, I'm just going to lay low, maybe walk around a bit, and, if I'm up for it, I'll go to karate class tonight. It's at five, the adult class. There are a ton of kid classes scheduled at various times for various belt levels, but there's only ever one adult class. For the rest of the week, the adult classes are much later, seven or eight. That might be better, although I think I might prefer the earlier times since that means I can eat dinner afterward without it being too late. I'm not sure I would want to eat a heavy meal before a class.

When the time comes to get ready for class, it’s not hard to put on the Gi top, although I have to fumble a bit to figure out which strings go with which one to tie. There are two sets. And then the belt… Yeah, I’ll try to figure that out at the dojo.

Dawn’s talking to our suitemates, the girls we share the bathroom with, when I have to head on out. I wave to them, not wanting to interrupt, and drive over to the dojo. I’ll probably walk over occasionally, but for now, until I get used to the route, driving seems like the better option.

As soon as I enter, though, I realize Dawn’s wrong. Maybe Declan does come to every class because he’s already here, and this time, he’s wearing his Gi top. It’s white, like everyone else’s, but he’s wearing black pants.

And a black belt.

No wonder Sensei likes to use Declan as his volunteer to demonstrate moves. Shit.

When he spies me as I head toward the locker room, he shakes his head. “What’s wrong, New Girl? Too scared to even attempt to tie your own belt?”

I glance around to make sure no teenagers are around before I stomp up to him. “What’s wrong, asshole? Can’t remember my name? Smoke too much weed?”

“I don’t smoke anything, if you must know.”

“Don’t really care, but if you call me New Girl one more time—”

“Hey.” He spreads out his arms. “It’s the truth. You can’t deny that.”

The hot fucker has a point, and I hate him for it.

“I mean, which would you prefer?” he asks. “New Girl or Flat Ass?”

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