Damaged and the Beast (Damaged #1)

I also liked how a majority of instructors preferred to be addressed by their first names. With such a relaxed atmosphere, I was finally getting the hang of things by the time I reached my final class.

Spanish was my elective for the semester. My plan was to become fluent and make myself a better job candidate for the many areas where non-English speakers lived. Plus, I had always wanted to learn another language. I’d started taking Spanish in high school, but we moved and it wasn’t offered at the new school. This year with no unexpected moves, I would finally learn Spanish. Just one of the many things on my checklist for my new life.

Running late after taking a wrong turn, I entered the room to find it mostly full. The class was heavy on girls who appeared to be lifelong friends. I found a spot towards the front where only the nerds sat including a very cute guy to my right. Glancing casually towards him, I pretended I was looking around, just so I could check him out. Tall, lean, maybe a little on the underdeveloped side, I suspected he wasn’t really done growing yet. His brown hair fell over his eyes and I caught him swiping it away a few times. I wasn’t sure his eye color until he caught me looking and the green-eyed Sweetie Pie grinned. Giving him a quick smile, I hid behind my hair and pretended to look for a pen.

Behind me, the BFFs laughed and talked about their summer fun. I was used to being on the outs with the cliques. Most of the time, the girls had been friends since kindergarten. As the motel kid who wouldn’t be around by the end of the year, no one wanted to be my best friend. In the end, it had always been just me and Tawny. The girls behind me were tanned, pretty, and confident. Pack mentality gave girls power and I wished to find a pack of my own in college.

The back of the class was the spot for the cool and/or indifferent people. One guy was already asleep while two chairs down was a stoner who kept looking behind him like someone was lurking. Three chairs down from the stoner was Hot Guy.

This was a guy who got what he wanted. When I pretended to tie my shoes, I noticed the girls grinning at him. He gave them a wink like he wasn’t in the mood right then, but later he would allow one of them the privilege of servicing his needs. His dark blond hair was all kinds of messy like maybe he just came from being serviced and didn’t have time to clean up afterwards. I couldn’t see his eyes, but they were dark and menacing. Even when he winked and gave the girls a grin, Hot Guy looked ready to hit someone upside the head for blocking his view or simply breathing.

He was exactly the kind of guy that scared the shit out of me. Wide shouldered, muscular, casually scary, tattooed, and stunning, he made my stomach flip with both lust and terror. If he ever showed interest in me, I’d both shiver with excitement and likely wet my pants.

While Hot Guy was bad news, Sweetie Pie was more my style. He looked like the kind of guy I could marry. We would have a few kids, a dog, maybe a cat. We would spend our weekends fixing up the house and yard while the kids played. We’d have a routine of a family meal out on Saturdays or when kids ate free. Then, after the kids wore themselves out from a day of play, hubby and I would enjoy dull un-terrifying sex and fall asleep thinking about our taxes.

Anyone else would find this fantasy lame, but I always got myself a little hot and bothered imagining it. A safe calm life with a man who loved me in a safe calm way. Sweetie Pie would never gamble away our Christmas money. He would never forget my birthday, though he might need hinting to remember our anniversary. He was the kind of guy who wanted to buy himself lots of electronic toys, but wouldn’t if the kids might lose out on getting something great from Santa.

Sweetie Pie was boring to some, but he was the kind of guy who wouldn’t make me cry or fear his moods. He was the kind of guy I would enjoy in my life as a teacher, mom, and wife. I was a good person and deserved to have my simple dreams come true.

Once class began, the Spanish instructor Manuel kept smiling at me. He smiled at everyone in the front rows and pretty much ignored the rest of the class who likely wasn’t paying attention anyway. The girls whispered about upcoming parties, stoner still thought someone lurked behind him, sleepy guy barely stirred during class, and Hot Guy looked bored whenever I casually glanced back at him.

No, Manuel knew his audience and he worked hard to make Sweetie Pie, me, and a dark skinned girl feel comfortable. He helped us try a few phrases and didn’t get mad when I would only whisper my answers.

After class as I walked the half mile to the bus stop, I suspected Spanish would be my favorite class. The day went exactly how I imagined. Feeling special to attend New Hampton, I smiled about how my future wasn’t so unattainable anymore.