From Bully To Beloved

“Watched me that closely, did you?” She gives me a questioning look.

“I didn’t have to. I could hear you from a mile away.”

“What do you mean?”

“You almost killed me that day after school. Remember?”

Her lips twitch. “No, I only threw that stone because you kept teasing me.”

“Which caused me to fall out of the tree.”

“And then you played dead. I almost had a heart attack.”

“You looked pretty alive to me with all your screaming.”

She laughs, this time a deep, full belly laugh that catches the attention of some of the dogs around us.Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

It makes me grin.

I really do like making her laugh.

Sera shakes her head in disbelief. “I got called into the principal’s office! Because ofyou.”

“Well, Idid too.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” she concedes. She holds out her beer in a toast. “Here’s to leaving preconceived notions behind and starting afresh.”

I tap my beer to hers. “I’ll drink to that.”

The rest of the meal goes surprisingly well. Sera and I reminisce about our school days, swapping stories and catching each other up on classmates we’ve kept in touch with. You would swear we’re old childhood friends who’ve always been in each other’s lives.

I don’t remember ever getting along with her this well.

The rain finally stops on the drive home. I roll down the windows, crank the music, and we enjoy the drive. I even catch Sera singing along to the radio.

Once we get home, I collapse onto the sofa. Which, in hindsight, is a bad idea because I forgot how uncomfortable it is. I consider moving to the armchair on the other side of the room, but I’m a big guy and the couch lets me at least spread out some. My body, feeling the effects of a long day of physiColtonlabor, groans in protest. I’m able to find a relatively okay seating position and relax. Tomorrow is going to be another busy one. I’ve got meetings with motorcycle collectors, and I want Justin and me to go through the job applicants and start scheduling interviews.

Sera sits down next to me, kicking out of her shoes and pulling her legs up. She, too, has to shift around a bit. When she finally settles, she’s practically buried into my side. Warm, soft skin presses against me. Why is she suddenly cozying up to me? She only had two beers-she can’t bethattipsy.

“Thanks for dinner,” she says with a smile. “I actually had a good time.”

She leans even closer-seriously, something’s up-and the scent of her vanilla shampoo hits my nostrils. “Good, I’m glad. It was nice seeing you loosen up a little.”

She peers up at me. “You make it sound like I’m uptight or something.”

I don’t even dignify that with a response. I just give her a look.

She laughs and shoves me playfully. “Do you think I’m pretty?” she suddenly asks out of the blue.

“No, I don’t think you’re pretty.”

“Oh.”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Sera’s eyes light up. Her hand on my arm awakens my dick, and I’m contemplating going for it-and by going for it, I mean throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her into the bedroom, laying her down onto the cozy, comfortable queen-sized bed, and showing her exactly how beautiful I think she is.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Goddammit.

“Who the hell is that?” I grumble, ready to get up. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”

“Oh, that’s for me,” she says cheerfully.

She jumps up and answers the door, and I hear her speaking with someone and signing for a delivery. Frowning, I follow her down the hall, and she turns to me with two large plastic bags.

“What’s all this?” I ask.

“I had some store credit saved from the bedding store,” she says, carrying the bags into the living room. “I got some pillows, cushions, and sheets for that old couch. I swear I just sat on a spring a second ago.”

Ah. That’s why she was leaning in close. So much for throwing her over my shoulder and making her see fucking stars. Glad I didn’t make a move. That would have been one for the books.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble just to sleep on the couch,” I tell her. “If you really wanted all this, I could’ve gotten it for you.”

She quirks a brow. “Who says this is for me?”

“We’ve been over this, Sera. I can barely fit.”

She tosses the bags onto the floor and holds her fist out over her palm. “Best two out of three for the bed,” she challenges.

Okay, she’s not tipsy, but the beer and food have definitely put her in a good enough mood to not be so tense. I can’t help but laugh. “Do you seriously want to do rock, paper, scissors?”

“Yup.” She’s clearly amused.

“I’m not playing you for the couch.” I lean against the wall, crossing my arms.

“Scared?” she challenges again, tilting her head to the side with a cute little smirk.

Game on. This should be fun.

Snorting, I copy her stance. “Fine, I’ll do it. But don’t complain to me when you lose.” It’s not possible she’s going to win. Rock, paper, scissors, yeah, it’s my superpower. I’m good at this game, always have been, starting at school. For whatever reason, I can predict the next move-in other words: I never lose.

There’s a playful fire in her eyes that I enjoy. We count to three, and I throw down scissors while she does paper.

“One point for me.” I grin.

Sera waves me off. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Sure.”

We do it again, and this time, she throws rock while I throw scissors. It’s her turn to grin. “One for me.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, hush.”

I know what’s going to happen right before it does. Sera throws down rock, thinking I’d do scissors again. But I do paper instead. Covering her hand with mine, I declare, “I win.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“Guess you’re on the couch.”

“Fair is fair.” With a yawn, she stretches, and I watch the way her body moves-her tits, those damn pebbly nipples-thinking of our closeness on the couch a moment earlier. “Well, glad I got this stuff then.”

“It’s up to you,” I offer. “I think we did pretty good sharing last night.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls the cushions out of the bag. “I’m good.”

I toss a wave over my shoulder, trying not to chuckle. “Enjoy the couch.”