Monday Night Guy Read online

  MONDAY NIGHT GUY

  Copyright © 2018 Liz Lovelock

  All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Cover Design by Letitia from RBA Designs

  Photographer: Lindee Robinson Photography

  Models: Travis Bendall & Ali Abela

  Edited by Lauren Clarke Editing and Swish Design & Editing

  Proofread by Virginia Tesi Carey

  Formatted by Tami at Integrity Formatting

  www.lizlovelockauthor.com

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Coming Soon

  Preview ~ The Lost One

  Also by Liz Lovelock

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Connect with Liz

  Damn. I’m late.

  My hands clutch a bunch of books tightly to my chest while I sprint and weave my way through bodies along the path to get to my first class.

  “Addison!”

  I halt in my tracks and turn toward the unfamiliar female voice. Stacey, Parker’s girlfriend, is looking directly at me. A puff of air is pushed from my lungs as a large body collides with mine. I fall to the ground, hard. My books clatter on the pavement. Pain throbs in my ass, and a stinging sensation alerts me to a graze on my elbow.

  Dammit!

  Closing my eyes tightly, I offer up a prayer. Please don’t let anyone have seen that.

  My eyes spring open only to be met with a familiar face and messy longish black hair. Annoyance flares within me. “What the hell, Jimmy?” I yell, as I rub my freshly skinned elbow.

  He swiftly lifts his body off the ground, not responding. Instead, he scoops up a few books and walks to where I’m sitting on the ground. He stops at my feet, his massive frame towering over me. “That was all your fault. Next time, don’t stop.” He chuckles as he turns away.

  My face flames. Not from embarrassment, but anger. Jimmy and his merry duo are pains in my ass.

  I gather my books off the ground as the sound of laughter fills the air. I glance up, only to see Jimmy now standing with Parker, Dane, and Stacey, who’s hanging off her boyfriend’s arm. This group has made my college life a living hell. It amazes me how one slip-up made things go from good to bad in the space of a few hours. One night. One kiss.

  One huge mistake.

  My eyes connect with Parker’s, and want burns in his big blues. It’s a look I’m all too familiar with when it comes to him. He takes no time in looking me up and down with desire. I don’t understand. His girlfriend is standing right beside him. Why does he do that?

  Parker, Jimmy, and Dane continue their mirth at something as silly as me falling over. Childish much? How can our college put faith in them to take home the basketball trophy?

  After picking up my last textbook, my glare shifts back to the group. Parker’s grin makes my hand twitch. I want to slap the smile clear off his face. My first day is starting out perfect. Not!

  “What are you looking at, Addison? You should take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Parker jokes, nudging Jimmy with his elbow which results in more snickering.

  I quickly avert my eyes. Squaring my shoulders, I try not to let his words affect me, but they do. I liked Parker at one stage, but because I rejected him and stayed with my boyfriend, he plays these stupid games. Messing with my emotions. “Shut it, Parker.”

  My stomach twists at the familiar growl behind me. I spin around. Hayden stands with his chest pumped out, ready for a fight. His storm gray eyes stare down at me. Chills shoot up my spine. Everything about Hayden appears perfect: perfect hair, perfect body, and star quarterback on the football team… but it’s not. He’s not perfect. Far from it.

  I watch his jaw tic—something he does when he’s angry or annoyed.

  Turning back toward Parker, I notice his stupid grin is still there, but he and his boys have stopped laughing. Heat presses against my back, and I know it’s Hayden. “Stop harassing my girlfriend, Parker, or you’ll find yourself in a world of hurt,” he warns. His tone dangerous.

  Hayden’s entire demeanor reminds me of a lion claiming a lioness. I know he’s not joking.

  We’ve been together since the middle of my freshman year. I’m known as Hayden Masters’s girlfriend. He’s a junior and recognized by everyone. Since the incident at the end of my freshman year, he’s become neurotic.

  Parker raises his hands in defense. “No harm done.”

  Hayden takes my arm, gripping it tight enough to leave a mark. He pulls me back, forcing me to stand beside him. When I look up again, I notice Stacey’s gone. Hayden’s grip tightens, and I try my best to keep a straight face, but his pressure is too much. I screw my face up as his nails press into the tender skin under my arm.

  Parker steps toward us. “Let her go, Hayden. Can’t you see you’re hurting her?” His face is set in stone as his eyes focus on Hayden’s grip.

  Not wanting more of a spectacle, I step away from Hayden, forcibly pulling my arm out of his grasp. He releases me.

  I stare at him. There’s annoyance in his glare. Why can’t he be the boyfriend he was when we first met? Oh, that’s right—I’m the one who messed it all up. The one night I had a little too much to drink at an end-of-year party, and I locked lips with Parker. I want to kick myself every time I think about what happened. But Hayden makes sure to use it against me often, making me feel like the worst person in the world. Now, I’m a shell of the girl I once was. I hide what small amount of confidence I still have, and I definitely don’t show it around Hayden. Otherwise, I’ll get my legs cut out from under me.

  I cast my eyes toward the ground, and mumble, “Sorry. I’m late for class. I’ll see you later.”

  Turning, I quickly run away. Throwing a glance back over my shoulder, I catch Hayden walking away from the trio in the opposite direction, but Parker’s gaze is firmly on me. An unreadable look I’ve not seen before rests on his face. His friends don’t appear to have noticed since they’re still laughing and carrying on like clowns.

  I wonder why he stood up for me.

  Dread fills my entire body. Hayden will be angry at Parker for telling him what to do.

  My relationship with Hayden is toxic. I rub at the hurt still lingering in my
arm. The cut on my elbow is nothing. It’s the bruises inside that hurt way more.

  I arrive at my English class ten minutes late. My heart’s still racing. Hayden and his hard stare replay in my mind. It’s unnerving. I’m more than a little apprehensive about what our next encounter might entail.

  I balance my collection of books under one arm to open the door, only to fumble. When I get control of my books again, I twist the doorknob and push it wide open. All eyes turn and focus on me. I want to curl up and die. How embarrassing.

  “Sorry, I’m late. I had—”

  The elderly teacher raises her hand, and I snap my mouth shut.

  “I don’t want your excuses. Find a spare seat.”

  Eying all the students before me, I nod.

  The teacher hands me a syllabus. There’s one on every desk in the room in front of my class members. Some students are smirking, and some seem mad I’ve disrupted the first class of the year. Great.

  There are no seats left at the front, where I prefer to sit. One empty spot is open, but when I see whose butt is seated beside it, I want to walk out the way I came in.

  Parker Kent. How did he beat me here? And why does he look so relaxed and settled in his chair?

  His head is turned down at his book or his phone—I’m not sure. Sucking in a breath, I drag my feet toward the empty spot. I would give anything to be attending another class right now, preferably one this idiot isn’t in. I sense his eyes on me but keep my eyes focused on my feet, making no acknowledgment.

  I drop my bag to the floor with a thud, which earns me a few more dirty glances. I place the books I’ve been carting around on the little desk in front of me before plonking myself into the seat.

  Before I even have a chance to get set up, Parker leans into my personal bubble. Uh, hello? Does he not understand personal space?

  His heated breath hits my ear as he whispers, “Hey, Addison. Fancy seeing you here.”

  Rolling my eyes, I choose to ignore him. Even his voice irritates me.

  The teacher continues her first-day-of-class speech. On the board she’s scrawled her name in neat cursive writing. Mrs. Wilson.

  “I will not tolerate tardiness.” Her eyes flick to me while I sink farther into my chair. Damn her. I drop my head, fiddling with the hem of my blue shirt. “There are some solo exams, tests, and group projects later in the term, and we’ll be choosing those groups when the time comes.”

  Oh, thank goodness. The last thing I need is for her to announce the person we’re working with is the one sitting beside us. I’d give my left leg not to be stuck with Parker. He’d probably make me do all the work anyway, lazy prick.

  Mrs. Wilson drones on about what kind of behavior she expects in class and says she only allows extensions on assignments if there’s an emergency. I won’t be needing those because I’m a high achiever. I’ve got my head screwed on straight.

  I try my hardest to concentrate on what Mrs. Wilson is talking about, but each movement Parker makes stirs up emotions I don’t want to feel. He makes me wish I ended things with Hayden, and went with Parker after we’d kissed, but I was afraid. At the same time, I harbor so much guilt about what I’d done, so I stayed. Still, it doesn’t help the pull I feel within myself toward Parker. Time’s passing ever so slowly. We’ve only been here for twenty minutes. I need to escape.

  I catch movement from the corner of my eye. A neatly folded piece of paper pokes out the side of one of my books. It’s from Parker. I don’t look his way. Instead, I flick my hair out from behind my ear, allowing it to drop, putting a wall between us.

  I take the piece of paper, crunching it in my hand, and throw it in my bag. As it slips inside, my phone vibrates. Peeking up, I search for the teacher… Nope, she’s not paying attention. Slightly shifting in my seat so I can remove my cell easily from my pocket, I look at the screen below the small table.

  Elsie: Can I swap shifts with you at the café? I need a Thursday night. It’ll have to be a permanent thing. I’ve taken an extra class and will need Monday nights free. Sorry to be a pain.

  I quickly reply.

  Addison: You’re lucky I love you. LOL. Of course I’ll swap. So I’m going in tonight?

  Elsie’s response is lightning speed.

  Elsie: Yeah starting at 5 until 9. Thanks again. I’ll see you later back at the dorm. Love you, sweet cheeks.

  I grin, shaking my head at my nickname. Sweet cheeks.

  Usually, I work Thursday nights and Saturday mornings, then throw in the occasional shift here and there when I’m needed and can do it. It works well. Jen, the owner, of the café we both work at, only gives jobs to the students. She’s an excellent boss. I love working with her.

  “Are you ignoring me?” Parker’s low voice startles me. I jump, my cell dropping with a loud clunk on the floor. Oh, my goodness. My hands rub down my face.

  “What was that?” The teacher looks out over the students. No one responds. I put my head down, hoping no one points or looks in my direction. “I won’t stand for poor behavior,” she grumbles.

  I flick an angry scowl to Parker. His eyes widen as he bites his lip, appearing to hold back laughter. Gah! Why does he have to be in this class?

  There’s a stillness to the room. Turning back toward the board, Mrs. Wilson makes more notes. I lean over, collecting my phone from the floor while muttering under my breath at the idiot beside me.

  “Good going, Addison,” Parker whispers.

  I hear his held back laughter and this time, catch a whiff of his minty breath. He’s so close—too close. His warmth causes the side of me to tingle from head to toe. I’m 100 percent sure if I turned toward him, our lips would connect. I don’t move.

  “That will be all for today,” Mrs. Wilson announces. Oh, thank you!

  Standing up, I slip my backpack onto my shoulders and scoop up the remainder of my stuff. My legs pump it, attempting to get out of there quickly while trying to put some distance between myself and Parker. I reach the door, swinging my head around, and glance back.

  Parker’s stare follows me out of the room.

  My mouth waters as I pull the blueberry muffin from the showcase, placing it on a plate ready to be devoured. Break time.

  Tonight has been pretty quiet. I suppose most people don’t need their caffeine hits yet. Wait a few more weeks when people are trying to cram for exams and assignments. Then they’ll be demanding coffee in an IV.

  Sliding on to the stool behind the counter, I raise the muffin to my lips, taking a bite. It tastes good, I almost moan. Jen’s cooking is to-die-for. I pick up my cell from the counter and aimlessly scroll through messages and apps, wondering if I need them, when my phone rings. Devon’s name appears on the screen.

  With a swipe of my finger, I answer, “What’s up, little bro?”

  Devon calls every Monday at eight-thirty on the dot. It’s become a part of his routine since I moved out onto campus. I didn’t have the heart to cancel on him tonight. I’d mentioned to Jen when I first arrived he’d call, for his peace of mind. I need to let him know I’m okay and tell him about my day.

  Jen was very understanding. Devon has autism and can function well amongst others, but he has to follow the routine he’s made for himself to be able to withstand going to school and out in public.

  “Hey, Addy.” I hear the familiar tapping he does on the speaker every time we talk on the phone. “How was your first day back?”

  “It’s been good. Getting settled. How was yours?”

  Tap, tap, tap. “Some boys weren’t very nice to me, but I ignored them.” Devon must be nervous. His voice trembles more than usual. Also, the tapping is more consistent.

  Sitting up a little straighter on my chair, I bristle. With a clench of my fist, I shelve wanting to march into his school tomorrow and do some ass whooping. “What happened? Did you tell Mom and Dad?”

  Devon sighs. Tap, tap, tap. “Yes. Yes, I did, Addy.”

  “Well, what did they do?” I take another bite
of my muffin as I wait for his answer.

  “Mom says she’ll talk to the school tomorrow.” He taps again.

  Rolling my eyes, I try to control my anger and frustration. I love Mom and Dad dearly, but sometimes they become so caught up in themselves, each other, and their work, that they don’t support Devon like I wish they would.

  I place my muffin down, step up off the stool and start pacing. “If she doesn’t, Devon, call me, and I’ll talk to Mom.”

  “It’s fine, Addy. I’m all right. Tommy’s here. We’re doing our homework.”

  I hear shuffling in the background, and Tommy’s familiar voice shouts “hello” down the phone line.

  I laugh. “Okay then. Tell Tommy I said hey, and make sure you talk to Mom again. I’m going to call her as well.” We say our goodbyes.

  As I put my cell on the bench, the bell chimes and the café door swings open. I glance up, smiling, ready to greet the customer.

  My smile drops off my face, and a scowl draws down in its place.

  “Hey, Addison. Fancy seeing you here.” Parker grins, strutting up to the counter, pressing one of his palms on the bench as he leans forward.

  Parker has a bright orange basketball tucked under his tattooed arm, and a sports bag slung over his shoulder. His toned biceps are out on display and glisten with a sheen of sweat. He looks damn fine in his training gear—a bright red basketball singlet, and black sports shorts.

  Clenching my jaw together, I attempt to control my irritation. I plaster a fake smile on my face. “What do you want?”

  I’m no good with niceties. He irks me, yet, there’s this pull toward him.

  He lifts his bag, pushing it onto the counter, knocking my plate and muffin to the floor. The plate smashes as it hits the tiles.

  “Dammit,” I yell, jumping back.

  Parker races around the counter. “I’m so sorry, Addison.” He bends down and starts collecting the larger pieces.

  “Seriously. What is your problem?” I blurt out. “First, I’m bowled over by your jerk of a friend, then you made it hard for me to focus in English, and now you’re here in my workplace, ruining my muffin and destroying things.” My hands gesture to the mess at my feet and by the end of my rant, I’m yelling and puffed.