Paradise Fought: Abel by L.B. Dunbar
The fight is on...January 25, 2016.
#Fight4Love
I'm not a fighter.
I was born into a fighting family. As the middle child, I
was overlooked in favor of my older brother.
He took the negative attention, too. In comparison, there's
nothing special about me.
I’m not as big as Cobra. I’m not as strong as Cobra. He's
the alpha.
I'm a beta.
The second son.
The lesser one.
The one never encouraged to fight, never encouraged to do
anything, but stay out of my father’s way.
I'm not a lover either - but I wished to be – that’s why I
needed her.
I met a girl in the
pouring rain.
Sounds cliché, but it's true. It changed everything.
Because of love, I learned to fight.
Betas come second, but in this fight, my story is first.
“Whoa,
sister,” he said, slightly out of breath. “You almost got away from me again.”
“What?” I questioned. I had no idea
what he meant: again.
“Never mind,” he muttered, his hand
still on me. I looked down at it and he immediately released me. My eyes
pinched as I realized I didn’t mind his hand on me. There was something
nonthreatening about him. He seemed rather innocent, studious, actually. His
shirt was buttoned almost to the top and tucked into his pants. The sleeves
secure at the cuffs. His jeans were snug and hugged him well. He wore dark
rimmed glasses that screamed smart. He wore boots that looked too new. It was
like he had the right parts but the wrong combination.
His blue eyes were soft and easy to
look into. They practically spoke to me, but I had no idea what he was saying.
His dark hair was disheveled, a bit shaggy, but cool looking. He kind-of looked
like a pop star which was a little too sugar sweet for me. His form was
questionable. It was hard to tell what kind of body he had under the clothes. He
looked rather preppy, like half the guys at this university. I didn’t want to
think about it. I’d just sold my soul for another semester.
“So when do you want to do this?” I
asked. His blank stare told me he had no idea what I meant.
“Us,” I said, pointing between him
and me.
“I…” His voice trailed off as he
gawked at me. His expression changed from confusion to shock.
“I didn’t buy you to sleep with
you,” he said, a touch of disbelief in his voice. His face turned crimson then fell.
“Why, have you done that before?” It was my turn to be surprised and offended.
I turned on my heels and began
stomping away from him. He was too quick and he caught me again. His hand on my
arm halted me. This time he didn’t release me when I peered down at his fingers
wrapped around me.
“Look. I need help,” he blurted. His
face pinked a little, and it was sweet. “I don’t need help with sex. I need
help with before.” His tone dropped, and he looked side to side to see if
anyone would hear him. I took his meaning.
“You don’t know how to do foreplay?”
L.B. Dunbar
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