Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Zoey

TODAY IS ANOTHER full day of classes for me. Three days a week, I have classes from first thing in the morning until late at night. The other two days I’ve only got one or two classes. It’s a little unbalanced, but I’ve been making it work. It’s hard as fuck and limits the number of days I can work at the garage with the Phantom Bastards. However, it’s kept my mind firmly locked on anything other than Jameson and the night we spent together. It’s something I try not to think about, but fail every damn day. The night plays on a loop in my mind daily and no matter what I do or how I exhaust myself, I can’t seem to get rid of the images that play on repeat. That’s one of the main reasons I haven’t answered any calls or messages from Reagan or him. I can’t deal with knowing he’s already moved on and went back to his life while I continue to remain in a rut where I’m completely miserable and can’t think of a way out.

When Jameson showed up at my door, or he who shall not be named, I didn’t expect us to have sex. I was prepared to listen to whatever he had to say before kicking him out of the apartment I’ve been in for just over a year now. Instead, I gave him my virginity and he left the second he could when it wasn’t awkward as fuck for him. Pretending I was asleep that night was easy as hell because I was already exhausted and he wore me out even more with the way he ravished my body. When he climbed out of my bed and grabbed his clothes before leaving my room, I opened my eyes and let the tears silently slide down my face. I told him I was fine with it being a one-time thing between us. My heart was breaking though. I knew the second he touched me that I wouldn’t ever be able to let another guy have what I gave him. They would never get to touch, taste, or feel me because I couldn’t get over Jameson and the way he made me feel that night. Especially because I could tell he was holding back with me.

Honestly, I don’t know if Reagan knows what happened between her twin brother and me or not at this point. I highly doubt he who shall not be named mentioned it because I obviously left him unsatisfied. Jameson is used to women who know what they’re doing when it comes to sex. I’m so far from knowing anything about sex that it’s not funny. I might not be a virgin any longer, but there’s still so much that I’ve never done and will never do because no one will ever be him. So, the one time I’ve had sex will be it for me. And the worst part is that neither one of us thought to use a condom and I’m not on any form of birth control. I’ve tried in the past but they all make me sick or I simply can’t tolerate them for one reason or another. Trust me, I’ve tried a lot of different ones too. Personally, I was just completely lost in the moment and condoms were the last thing on my mind. So, I can’t even begin to blame Jameson if there are any lasting consequences from our night together.

Right now, I’ve even been avoiding calls from Kingston and my family. I don’t know what to tell them or how to act around them after what happened with Jameson. A large part of me feels as if they’ll know something has changed and they’ll do whatever it takes for me to spill my guts to them. If I tell my dad and brothers what happened with Jameson, they might go to him and kill him. It won’t matter if I wanted it just as much as he seemed to. They’ll see it as him disrespecting me and will take it out on him any way they can. So, the easiest thing to do is to avoid talking to all of them and stay alone where I can study, get even further ahead in my classes, and ignore the fact that anything happened between us.

After showering and getting ready for my day to start, I finally head out. It takes everything in me to force the thoughts I’ve had swirling in my head all morning long. Yeah, I’ve been up for hours because sleep hasn’t been coming easy for me lately. I spend most of the night tossing and turning with thoughts of Jameson and what took place in my bed a month ago. Everyone can easily see that I’m exhausted and I’ve lost weight since it happened. The last thing I want to do today is go to classes because on top of everything else going on in my life, I’ve been getting bullied at school.

I thought those days would end when I graduated from high school early. While I was surrounded by everyone from the club and left alone for the most part, when I was on my own, the bullies came out in full force. They’d attack me the second I was alone and I kept it a secret from everyone in the club and my entire family. I was the only one who got bullied at school because I’m not like everyone else. I don’t dress in skirts and dresses that show off my body or wear make-up and high heels. My hair is always up in a messy bun and I’m more comfortable behind the pages of a book or in a garage with grease covering my skin and figuring out what’s going on with whatever project is in front of me. I don’t know the first thing about flirting, dancing, or anything else all the other girls I grew up with know. That’s one of the reasons Reagan and I are best friends. While she wanted to be social and live a life filled with people who weren’t attached to the club, she wasn’t given the choice to do so because of her medical history.

Now, nothing has changed. I still don’t know how to interact with others my age, I’m one of the youngest people in my classes at college because I graduated early, and I don’t go out of my way to dress up like a girl and play the damsel in distress or whatever guys like. So, people go out of their way to bully me and taunt me on a daily basis. It makes those three days a week that I have a full day even harder than normal because I’m around so many people who can’t stand me for some reason. Most of them are people I’ve never even talked to.

As I walk to college from my apartment, I’ve got an arm full of books that don’t fit in my bag. I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching me as I walk the few blocks it takes to get to campus. Looking around as discreetly as possible, I don’t see anyone out of place or following me. There’s no cop car creeping down the road or anything. However, the feeling that someone is definitely following me doesn’t go away. I want to pull out my phone and call my gramps or uncle, but I don’t. They’d drop everything to rush here and I’d be given bodyguards or something else I don’t want. It might be helpful if I had someone with me, but I’m not that girl who’s going to complain about everything and make others follow me around because I’m being paranoid for no reason. No one would be following me around. There’s nothing about me that would interest someone enough to do that shit.

Walking quicker down the streets, I weave in and out of other people as they make their way from campus to the various shops on the street leading to my apartment. Or heading to campus after leaving to get breakfast in one of the many shops catering to us college kids. Since I’ve had years of being invisible and nobody noticing me, it’s easy to blend in with the crowd heading back toward campus. Still, the feeling doesn’t ease up about being watched. If anything it intensifies and I know for sure I’m being followed right now. My pace quickens even more as I rush past others with my arms loaded down. I try really hard not to get tripped up or fall because I won’t be able to stop myself from being hurt on the crowded sidewalk.

I might not be a complete klutz like Darcy, but I’ve been known to have my moments over the years. Not when I’m on a bike or working on anything, but when I’m walking on my own two feet. I’ve tripped over air and stupid shit like that. My dad threatened to wrap me in bubble wrap and stuff when I was younger. He was always so worried I was going to get hurt worse than what happened and there wouldn’t be anything he could do to save me. Or take the pain from me because that’s not the way things like that work. That’s one of the reasons I never told anyone about the bullies and what happened to me at school. Why I kept all of my injuries hidden and took care of myself on my own. I’ve learned to tell if certain body parts are broken or simply bruised. Yeah, things were that bad growing up.

Finally, campus comes into view and I rush even more to get there faster. I push past people until I’m finally through the gate and the feeling of being followed finally starts to disappear a little. It hasn’t gone completely away, but it’s not as intense either. However, I don’t make it more than ten feet onto campus before I’m surrounded by a group of people who bully me the worst. The leader of the group is named Kendra and I have no clue what the fuck I ever did to her. One day she didn’t know I existed and the next she was out for my blood. The only thing I can think of is that she saw me with Kingston when he came to pick me up so I could grab my bike from the shop after working on it the day before and needing to finish it before we could go for a ride together. Some of these bitches have no clue what the fuck it means to mess with me and they feel it’s the best way to get in close to the guys from any of the clubs my family associates with.

“Well, look who we have here,” Kendra states, a sneer on her face as she looks me over from the top of my head to my toes and back up again. “It’s been a while, slut. I guess you don’t need to show up to classes when you’re too busy riding biker cock.”

“That’s disgusting,” I state, holding my books closer to my chest as a form of protection. No matter how many years I’ve been taught various ways to fight and defend myself, it doesn’t mean shit when I can’t force myself to utilize the moves. “Those bikers are my family members and I grew up with them. It must suck to be desperate for them and realize they can see you only want a ride on their cock because they’re a biker and that’s it. Desperation really doesn’t look good on you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You think I’d stoop so low as to fuck a dirty biker? That might be your kink, slut, but it sure as fuck isn’t mine. I want a man who will spoil me rotten and keep me in the life I want. One where I don’t have to work and be a grease monkey like you are. Do you even know how to be a girl?” she returns, stepping up in my face as I feel the heat of someone close to my back at the same time.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you. Leave me alone and go find the man who will let you be a stay at home wife so you can fuck the pool boy while he’s busy fucking everyone else outside the house,” I state, my voice hard and cold because this is all I can seem to do when I’m surrounded by a group of bullies. I antagonize them and make the situation worse for myself.

It doesn’t take long for Kendra to hit my books out of my arms as they fall to the ground at my feet and my papers go flying everywhere around me. I guess it’s a good thing they’re copies that I wrote by hand and not the ones I have to turn in. Those are safely tucked into my backpack so this doesn’t happen. Kendra and the others aren’t going to know that as they laugh and taunt me. Before I can bend down to pick up my books and papers getting caught in the wind, I’m shoved forcefully to the ground. I can’t stop the scream of pain that rips from my mouth. Small rocks and other debris dig into my skin after tearing through the thin material of my jeans. They’re old and comfortable and one of my favorite pairs. So, to say they’re worn and thin in most areas would be an understatement.

Multiple feet start kicking me while I’m down. I go into a fetal position to protect my body as best as I can. Screams continue to erupt from me from the various kicks to my body. Laughter fills the air when I’m not screaming. Tears slide down my face and land on the ground beneath me. My hair is a rat’s nest as Kendra digs her fingers into it and yanks back very hard. Several strands are ripped out as she stares down at me.

“You’re fucking pathetic and that’s what you’ll always be. No man will ever want you because you’re barely a fucking girl. Get a fucking clue, slut. The bikers you surround yourself with pity you and don’t truly want you around,” Kendra lands the final blow with her words and they hit their intended target with a hundred percent accuracy.

She’s laid open my deepest, darkest fears for everyone surrounding me to know. Their laughter fills the air as the tears fall even faster and thoughts of Jameson fill my head. I’m not even close to being good enough for him and he let me know it after I gave him my virginity. If he truly cared about me at all, he’d have stayed the night with me. Or not waited for me to fall asleep before he ducked out of my room and left my apartment. So, it’s truly no surprise to realize he figured out what a huge mistake he made when it comes to the night we shared. He’s only trying to get a hold of me now because of pity or some other reason only he knows. It’s not because he’s got any kind of feelings for me at all.

I don’t know how much time passes as I lay on the ground after Kendra and the others leave me. More students pass by me and don’t bother to help me off the ground or check to see if I’m okay. This isn’t the first time I’ve been attacked at this school and no one has offered me the slightest bit of help. Just another reason about how invisible I am and that no one wants to be around me. I honestly don’t believe Reagan and I would be as close as we are if it weren’t for the seizure disorder that held her back in life for so long. Now, she’s got a husband, son, and an entire new life. I’m not about to drag her down with everything I have going on in my life. So, I use school and working at the garage as excuses to avoid her calls and messages. Reagan doesn’t need me in her life and there’s no point in trying to keep a connection there when we’re not close to one another any longer.

Finally, I manage to pull myself off the ground and gather up my books. I don’t worry about the papers. Like I said, they aren’t the final copies to turn in and the work isn’t complete. So, even if someone wanted to copy my work, they wouldn’t get anything right. Their answers would only be partially correct. So, I don’t worry about picking anything but my books up before leaving campus. There’s no way I can face the day here. I’ll go back to the apartment and email my professors that I’m not feeling good before submitting all of my work online instead of in person. If they need the hard copy later, I have it and can turn it in to them.

Again, I feel as if I’m being watched while walking back the way I came a short while ago. With the kicks I took to my body, I can’t rush this time. I have no defense to use against anyone else who might come after me and pick over what’s been left by Kendra. My plan is to get home, email my professors, and take a long, hot shower to ease the aches and pains filling my body. Maybe I’ll send my dad a message to let him know I’m not in school today because I’m not feeling well. It might backfire and he might choose to show up or send my gramps and uncle G here. I can avoid them by not answering the door though. At least in my mind that’s how I see it happening. Realistically, I’d answer the door for my family any second they choose to show up because they’re always going to be there for me. Even when I don’t want them butting into my business. For now, it’s the best I can think of because I’m so damn hurt and don’t want to deal with anyone else today.