Luck must have finally been shining down on me because I didn't run into Fuckface for the next two days. It was amazing. The sun was brighter, the temperature was warmer and the air just smelled a whole lot sweeter. I was finally starting to recover from the trauma of interacting with him.
I'd managed to phone Bailey and tell her everything — because everyone knew that the best kind of therapy came from your best friend. Though, in this instance, she was useless. All she could focus on was trying to get me to tell her how hot he was. It was with great reluctance and disgust that I finally admitted he was one of the hottest men I'd ever seen and that he had the body of a Greek God. At least it seemed that way. I was praying that under his clothes he was actually really hideous. A bit of a far reach but it made me happier to picture it.
I didn't even complain when my mom called to gossip about my dad's new young girlfriend again. I just listened to everything she said as I ate microwaved ramen and mini-pizzas. And then my dad called soon after to complain about my mother annoying him while I ate cookies and cream ice-cream. Afterward, I settled in to watch a new series I was interested in and was pleasantly surprised by how good it was. Even sleep was good that night. No nightmares or sad dreams this time.
All was good with the world again.
This is why I decided to treat myself to a meal at the popular bar and grill, Moxie, near campus. It was Friday so I went pretty early to avoid the evening crowd. I thought I'd focus on one of my assignments while enjoying a plate of their famous nachos.
The bar was a ten-minute drive from our place with traffic. I parked my car in the gravel lot outside the bar. As I approached the weathered brick structure, I couldn't help but admire its rustic charm. The faded blue paint on the exterior hinted at its age, and the slightly creaking sign above swayed in the evening breeze, adding to the overall nostalgic feel. The low hum of chatter and distant notes of music seeping through the door promised a fun time.
Apparently, this bar was as old as Dale University itself.
Entering through the creaking double doors, I found myself enveloped in a warm, inviting atmosphere. The interior was adorned with vintage posters and memorabilia, proudly displayed on the brick walls. The rows of lights overhead cast a soft, golden glow, as generic rock music played in the background.
Several flatscreens played a recording of an old football game. It had to be one of our school's matches because one-half of the players were wearing blue and silver — our college colors. The few patrons that were here were focused on the screens or quietly chatting amongst each other.
As I walked further into the establishment, I couldn't help but notice the array of signed posters and photographs on the walls. Some of them were a testament to the talented musicians and artists who'd played here in the past. The rest were sports posters with scribbled autographs all over them.
The bar itself was an impressive sight — a polished wooden masterpiece that spanned the length of the room. Behind it stood two bartenders, manning the bar with the vibrant array of bottles on the shelves behind them.
To the side, I spotted a row of private booths, each tucked away for those seeking a bit of seclusion. Perfect for me and where I usually sat on the rare occasions I came here. I flagged down one of the waiters as I scooted into the furthest booth, sitting so that my back was facing the entrance. I put my bag onto the seat next to me and got settled in.
°•°•°•°
I found myself lingering at the bar much longer than intended, completely engrossed in my work. In the zone, I managed to make significant progress on my assignment. Sitting back, I stretched my fingers. They ached from typing for two hours straight.
I looked around for the waiter and blinked in surprise when I saw how crowded the place had gotten. The place had transformed into a lively hub of activity, brimming with college students. Nearly every table was occupied, and the air was filled with laughter and animated conversations.
I thought about taking off, but I was still hungry. So I flagged down one of the female waitresses and ordered another plate of Nachos. It was getting a little chillier in the evening, so I put on one of my dark blue hoodies and got to work packing my laptop and books away while I waited for my food.
"Hey, is it okay if my friends and I take over this table? There's nowhere left, and we're a pretty big group." A man's voice asked from above me.
I quickly finished zipping up my bag and looked up to address the man who'd spoken to me. I'd fully intended to agree, and I was happy to finish my nachos at the bar.
Of course, that was until I saw who it was.
His eyes locked onto mine, recognition flickering across his face. His reaction was immediate. A sudden jerk of his head as a bitter, humorless laugh escaped his lips.
"Okay, this is getting weird now. What the fuck?" He shook his head in disbelief.
I glowered at him. "This table is occupied. Move along."
"It clearly isn't." He gestured at the rest of the open seats.
"Uh... hi. I'm sitting here. Meaning it's occupied." I looked at him like I thought he was stupid. Which I did.
"Oh really? Congratulations on stating the obvious. Now, do you mind finding another place to sit? We need the space." He glared down at me.
I crossed my arms and raised a brow. "Who's 'we'?"
"My friends. Now move."
"I don't think so. First come, first served — remember?" It felt good to throw his own words back at him.
He looked up as if he were begging God to give him patience. "Now you're just being a bitch."
"A favorite pastime of mine," I smirked, wiggling my butt as I made a show of getting comfortable.
He glared at me for a few more seconds before shifting his gaze towards the front of the bar. Suddenly, he let out a sharp whistle that made me jump, signaling to someone in the distance. He jerked his chin towards the booth - my booth.
I leaned out of the booth and looked back to see a group of five guys approaching us. They were all mountains of men — like him.
Swiveling my head back to him, I gave him a fierce glare. But before I could protest, he sat down next to me and nudged me along with his big fat ass. I gasped in outrage as my butt slid across the leather. As he pressed against my side, a series of unfamiliar sensations coursed through me, both electrifying and deeply unsettling.
The warmth of his body seeped into mine, creating a contrasting mix of comfort and unease. I could feel the subtle shifting and tension in his muscles, hinting at a fraction of the strength he possessed. His arm, large and heavily muscled, plastered itself against mine, leaving a burning sensation in its wake.
Deeply disturbed, I scooted as far away from him as possible, staring at him with wide eyes.
What was that?
He frowned at me, appearing unaffected and at ease. Something was definitely wrong with me. I swallowed, rendered speechless by his outrageous actions.
"Hey, man. Glad to see you found a seat. Though everyone was saying we could sit with them." One of the men, a large African American man with corn rows and an impressive beard, chuckled. His eyes, as well as those of his friends, found me, and both of his brows shot up.
"Who's this?" He asked.
"Just ignore her, Tate. Take a seat, guys." Fuckface waved a dismissive hand in my direction. I glared at him, having regained my composure.
"Uh..." One of the other guys looked at me uncertainly, "Okay...ignore the pretty lady. Will do." He shot me a wide grin.
The guy who'd just smiled at me had an identical twin standing next to him. Both had hair similar to mine — though theirs was more sun-kissed. Their eyes were a dark brown - almost black with specs of gold reflected from the lights above. Both had a dimple as they gave me identical smiles.
The other two guys standing beside them each had distinct features. One of them, the one with thick straight hair had eyes shaped with a hint of Asian influence, but I couldn't be sure. The other guy sported a unique hairstyle, with shaved sides and a crown of coiled curls that gleamed from whatever product he had in his hair. His complexion boasted a warm brown hue and his eyes were a light brown and green mixture.
"She's not pretty — she's fucking hot. Come on, Captain. Tell us who your friend is." The other twin said as he slid onto the leather bench across from us. He winked at me as I narrowed my eyes at him.
I wasn't letting his kind anywhere near me.
"I'm not his friend. And you guys can't be here. I'm sitting here," I said.
They completely disregarded my presence, squeezing themselves into the booth without a second thought. Tate boldly plopped down right next to Fuckface, who then moved over even more, leaving no space for personal boundaries. It meant being squished up against him once again, feeling the pressure of his body against mine.
As if that wasn't enough, the curly-haired guy decided to join the party, cramming himself in and pushing Fuckface even closer to me. I found myself trapped in an uncomfortably tight space, wedged between a rock and a hard place. Literally. The wall loomed on my left, while Fuckface held court on my right, leaving me with no escape. The rest of the crew settled on the opposite side, blissfully unaware of the sardine-can situation I found myself in.
"This is the girl I was telling you about. Hoodie Girl." Fuckface smirked as he rested his massive arm on the bench behind me. I scowled at the offending limb.
"No way! Hoodie Girl — the cockblocker!" One of the twins laughed. The others laughed too, looking at me with renewed interest.
"Hoodie Girl," I scoffed, "Real creative. A lot of girls wear hoodies, you know."
"Well, I don't know your real name." Fuckface shrugged and my whole body jolted with his.
"And you never will. Just like I don't know yours."
I could feel each time he breathed in, breathed out. Every shift and movement. I was very aware of his body and it was very distracting. Not to mention warm. The man was a hotbox. For a split second, I could understand why other women wanted to be near him.
I tried to move away from him but my butt was plastered to the stupid leather seat. As I wiggled, I became aware of his stare and looked up at him with a frown.
"What?" I growled. "Why are you looking at me like that? Stop it."
"Wait... you really don't know who I am?" He asked, pure shock on his face.
Just how self-centered was this guy?
"No. I don't. And you better not tell me. I prefer to call you by the name I've given you in my head."
"And what's that?" Tate chuckled. His smile was charming as he leaned his forearms on the table and grinned at me.
I got the distinct impression they were all poking fun at me.
I smiled sweetly. "Fuckface."
All of the guys burst into laughter as Fuckface glared down at me.
"Well, I don't want to know your name either. I think Bitch suits you perfectly." His jaw clenched.
"I'm happy for you. Now go away. Like I've been telling you, this table is occupied," I paused and said, "I have friends coming over so you need to leave."
He let out an ungentlemanly snort. "It's hard to believe you have any friends, but fine. We'll leave when your 'friends' get here."
"Or they can sit with us." The maybe Asian guy shrugged, "The more the better, eh?"
Was he Canadian?
"Are all your friends as hot as you?" The second twin asked.
I gave him a blank stare. "My friends would eat you alive."
His eyes widened and he laughed. "I believe you."
"So... Hoodie Girl," The curly-haired guy started, "Mind telling us what your problem with our buddy is." He jerked his chin at Fuckface.
I leaned forward to meet his eyes. "My problem is that I'm seeing way too much of your buddy. He's everywhere I go — like right now."
"Maybe you're everywhere I go," Fuckface said matter-of-factly.
I gave him the stink eye. "And he's a perverted asshole who only thinks with his penis, uncaring of innocent eyes and ears around him."
"I seriously doubt you're innocent."
"And," I stressed, ignoring him, "He's arrogant, self-entitled and just an overall douchebag. Of course I have a problem with him."
"Okay, so you might have a point," the Curly-haired guy said with a nod.
"Hey! Who's side are you on?" Fuckface yelled, looking betrayed.
Curly-hair guy shrugged. "You might be my captain, but even I know you can be a major douche. I might be with the girl on this one."
Captain? This asshole was their captain? Who voted for him? God, I hope he's the captain of the badminton club or something like that. Chess club would be perfect. Though their ripped physiques screamed otherwise. Maybe chess was a difficult sport? Was it a sport? I think so?
Oh, I think we had a guy on our hockey team who was known for being a total asshole. It fit.
"Guess who'll be doing burpees for the whole of Monday's practice." Fuckface glared at his teammate.
The guy rolled his eyes but kept quiet.
"This is great and all. Now, for the last time, can you please leave?" I waved my hand in front of Fuckface's face to get his attention back on me.
"No," he stated firmly, a deliberate display of arrogance as he made a show of settling into his seat. He wiggled his irritating ass and widened his legs with an infuriatingly smug grin. Inevitably, his leg pressed against mine, causing a surge of irritation to course through me.
The rest of the crew paid no mind to our ridiculous behavior, carrying on with their own conversation — something about practice. With a fiery glare, I retaliated by stomping on his foot, making sure to deliver the blow with the heel of my boot. His surprised cry of pain was music to my ears. Served him right. His glare burned back at me, and he swiftly hooked my foot with his own, trapping it firmly between his feet. Despite my attempts to free myself, he was too strong for me.
Desperate to create some distance, I resorted to pushing him away, putting my hand on his thigh for leverage. However, as soon as my palm made contact with his thick, muscled thigh, an unwelcome awareness crept over me. The heat emanating from his leg sent a jolt of unexpected warmth through my hand, and I quickly pulled my hand away.
"This is stupid. Just stop," I growled.
"You stop."
We locked eyes, scowls etched on our faces, neither of us willing to back down. We stayed like that for several long minutes, not saying a word.
In that intense moment, my gaze inadvertently wandered, capturing the subtle details of his face. The faint scattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, barely noticeable. His eyes, a vibrant green that transitioned into darker shades, holding an intensity that drew women in. A faded scar on his forehead and a small beauty mark below his right eyebrow. And those lashes, stupidly long and thick, framing his piercing gaze.
But amidst his undeniable beauty, it felt unfair. How could someone be so gorgeous on the outside, but so rotten inside? He was a modern-day Dorian Gray.
"Excuse me? Ma'am?" A female voice halted all conversation at the table. I pulled my gaze from Fuckfaces' to look at her.
She was staring at the guys with a wonderstruck expression. "Here's your food," she mumbled, not looking at me.
I frowned and looked around Moxie's to see that everyone was staring at the guys with the same expression. Had it been like this for the last fifteen minutes?
The girl put the plate on the table and all six of the guy's eyes zeroed in on my Nachos. I quickly reached for the plate, dragging it to me. "Don't even think about it," I warned them all.
"Come on, Hoodie Girl. Just a bite." One of the twins pleaded. The other was already reaching for my plate. I slapped his offending hand.
"Hey, could we each get a plate of whatever she's having." Tate smiled up at the waitress.
She blushed and nodded furiously before zooming off.
"Sharing is caring." The one twin argued.
"Hey, man, wait until yours gets here," The maybe-Asian maybe-Canadian guy said.
"But I'm hungry now." The twin whined, rubbing his flat stomach and pouting.
"Grow up," The curly-haired guy rolled his eyes.
"Fine," I said, "But you can only have a bite. I'm very possessive over my food."
"Really? Thanks." He immediately dove in for my food, snagging way more than a bite.
"And me?" And then the other twin took some too. I gasped as my food disappeared right before my eyes.
"No more!" I yelled when twin number one came back for seconds.
"Come on, Hoodie Girl. You can have some of mine when it gets here," He bargained.
Just as I was ready to fire back with a retort, my attention was abruptly stolen by a hand reaching for my precious nachos from the right. My eyes shot up in disbelief as Fuckface shamelessly scooped up a massive load of nachos and stuffed it into his mouth-hole. I gaped at him in horror.
I was going to kill him.
He saw the look on my face and shrugged. "What? It's just some nachos."
"Just some nachos?" I stood up. "You know what? You can all have them. I don't want it anymore now that it's been contaminated. Enjoy them, boys. I'm out of here."
I grabbed my bag off the table and glared at Fuckface. "Move."
He frowned, "Calm down, woman. I didn't mean anything by that. Listen, you can have some of mine if you're that upset. Just sit down." He held up both of his hands, trying to calm me down like some feral dog.
"Fine," I muttered under my breath.
Without further hesitation, I started crawling across his lap. With one hand on the table, I put my right knee on his leg. He flinched when my knee got a little too close to his family jewels.
"What are you doing?" He asked, putting a hand on my lower back when I wobbled.
"You refused to budge, so I'm getting out of here the only way I can," I replied, a touch of exasperation evident in my voice.
I reached back to slap his hand off me. I couldn't concentrate when he was touching me like that.
Shifting my attention to Tate, who was seated next to him, I boldly placed my hand on his lap, using it as leverage to propel myself forward. He simply grinned and leaned back, offering me the necessary space to execute my maneuver. Thankfully, the curly-haired guy, showing some courtesy, got up from his seat, opening my path to freedom.
Standing up, I straightened my clothes. I turned back to see them all staring at me with amusement, except Fuckface — he just looked annoyed.
"I'd say it's been pleasant, but it really hasn't. Goodbye boys — let's never see each other again, yes?" I gave them a wry smile before turning around to march off.
"I like her." One of the guys said.
Straightening my back, I walked past all of the people staring at me. That was becoming a common occurrence any time I was near Fuckface. More reason to stay away from him. I was nearing the door when the waitress called out to me.
"Wait, ma'am! You haven't paid!"
Right.
°•°•°•°
I know that a lot of Wattpad authors add character sheets with pictures and stuff, but I decided against that. While I think it's perfectly fine to do, I do think it curbs imagination a bit. I want to guide you in the right direction in terms of describing him, but the rest I want you to fill in on your own — for you to picture the hottest guy your creative mind could possibly imagine.
Also, there's a teeny tiny hint about the next book in this series somewhere in this chapter. I won't say anything, but if you saw it, then well done.
Happy reading!
Brooke