CHAPTER ONE
Daisy
I’ve always been unpopular, the one hiding out in the library, picked last for all the sports teams. But I don’t blame my classmates. After all, whichever team I was on was practically guaranteed to lose.
“Throw it to Daisy,” opponents would whisper. “Hit the ball to Daisy, she’s got two left hands.”
And it was true. I was so gangly and clumsy that if the ball even sort-of sailed in my direction, I ducked and ran instead of catching and throwing. So I felt personally responsible whenever my team lost, grateful when the bell rang signaling the end of P.E.
But physical education was the least of it. Sometimes, I didn’t feel like I was good at anything. The bowls I molded in ceramics class were lopsided and floppy, the articles I wrote for the school newspaper never seemed to get published, and I was pretty much an outcast, eating lunch alone most days. In fact, there were entire weeks where I put my head down and hoped to disappear, trying to keep out of everyone’s way.
But the last year has been eye-opening because I grew curves, the good kind. At first, it was just my boobs popping out to Double Ds, but my ass and thighs followed, and pretty soon I had an hourglass figure like the kind you see in old-time movies. Once upon a time, heroines were size twelves and proud of it, flaunting their god-given assets instead of hiding them under big jackets and smocks. And even if my figure’s not popular per se, it still changed my life because I feel more confident, and people can sense the vibes. Some kids invited me to be in their study group, I have a lab partner who actually treats me decent, and best of all, I’ve made a couple friends. Okay, maybe I don’t know these girls that well yet, but you know what? It’s nice to be part of a group for a change.
“Oh my god, did you see Nelson Peters the other day?” whispered Natalie, a bubbly blonde with a slightly crooked nose. “He looked sooo hot in his letter jacket.”
We were hanging out by the fountain in front of school and Trina, the top dog of our group, snorted, scrunching her perfect ski slope nose and letting out an unladylike harrumph.
“He wears his letter jacket every day Nat, it’s nothing new,” she remarked sarcastically, twirling a lock of platinum hair around her finger while snapping her gum, looking bored. Trina has been queen bee since freshman year, holding court after school each day in front of the fountain and I was excited to be there that afternoon, part of the clique surrounding her, standing in a semi-circle of supplicants.
“Oh right,” squealed Natalie. “Well, Nelson looks good, he’s really rockin’ football this year, Coach says he’s going to be a starter.”
Trina just snorted again.
“Don’t get your panties in a scrunch because you never know what’ll happen,” scoffed Trina. “Besides, high school boys are boring.”
High school boys are boring? That was new, I’ve never been asked out by a boy of any age before. But I wanted to belong, so I said the first thing that popped into my mind.
“Yeah, I agree, teenage boys can be so boring,” I said almost in a whisper, looking around, not even sure that anyone could even hear. And it seemed that no one had, continuing their own conversations, animatedly talking about this or that.
Except Trina heard. She cast me an odd look before tossing out, “Yeah, I’m not into Pokémon Go or whatever the new shit is with these guys,” she said. “I like real men.”
I smiled at her.
“Me too, real men rock,” I said a little more boldly.
Trina stared at me even harder then.
“Who are you again?” she asked. By now, more girls had turned towards us and were listening, watching avidly.
I hesitated for a moment.
“I’m Daisy Smith, I have English with a bunch of you guys,” I said, swallowing suddenly. I’d never felt the full force of the group’s gaze on me and it was uncomfortable, like being in a powerful tractor beam, unable to budge.
But Trina snapped her gum again, looking at me thoughtfully before smirking.
“Well you’re about to get your chance because a real man is coming,” she grinned lasciviously. “Daisy Smith, why don’t you go talk with Mr. Ranger? You said you were in English with us right? He’s coming around the corner, go strike up a conversation.”
And I flushed. Because John Ranger is a new teacher to the district, a recent grad who couldn’t have been more than in his late twenties. He was great at his job, explaining books to a bunch of kids who had no interest whatsoever in plot development or other literary devices. But Mr. Ranger definitely had the attention of his female pupils because he was built like a tank with muscles popping out everywhere. Personally, I didn’t think it was attractive, his muscles had muscles, but there was definitely a contingent of teenage girls who swooned whenever he walked past.
“Yeah go talk to him,” squeaked Maria, another hanger-on. “Go! Go! He’s coming, he’s coming.”
And she practically pushed me onto the walkway, my round body tumbling forwards, boobs bouncing up and down. I shook my head frantically, frantically making my way back to the group when Trina’s voice cut like a knife through the air.
“Get his special pen,” her voice taunted in my ears, “or get lost.”
And I whirled around, eyes wide in shock. His special pen? Unfortunately, I knew exactly what she was talking about. Mr. Ranger had a blue pen that he did everything with, from grading papers to writing up summaries. There was nothing remarkable about it except it was inscribed with the date of his college graduation, May 2010. He carried it everywhere with him, whirling it in the air, passing it through his fingers like a baton. And I could see it poking out of his breast pocket even now, the blue tip a small dot against his overly-muscled chest.
“I can’t!” I gasped, “He’d notice immediately. I can’t take that from him!”
But Trina just smirked again.
“You will or don’t come back,” she said nastily, whirling around like a haughty princess, blonde hair flying. And the other girls did the same, tittering behind their hands before turning away as well, pretending like they weren’t watching.
I choked a bit. This was the Twilight Zone, I was caught in some sort of sick rite of passage, making me walk through fire to be part of the group. Had the other girls suffered the same? Had they all had to prove themselves somehow, offer themselves up as sacrificial lambs before “fitting in”? I flushed. I didn’t want to do this, I was still new in my skin, unsure of myself and didn’t want to talk to anyone in front of the judgmental eyes of the clique.
But on the other hand, the Queen Bee had just spoken to me for the first time, and I had to reply. It was life and death, my entire social career on the brink of collapse before even beginning. So I took a deep breath and braced myself.
“Hi Mr. Ranger,” I said, stepping into the big man’s path, putting a shiny smile on my face. I half expected him to brush by me, ignoring me, my self-esteem was that low.
But my new body is like a magnet for men, even guys who are allegedly off-limits.
“Heya,” the musclehead said, blue eyes peering out from that overly-bronzed face. Had Mr. Ranger used a tanning lotion of some sort? My nose wrinkled involuntarily, filled with the scent of coconut and some type of citrus. Oh my god! He was using Hawaiian Tropic, and I could see a tell-tale brown drip staining his collar. But this was no time to dilly-dally, I had work to get done, so taking another deep breath, I went for it.
“I really like the book we’re reading in class, Pride and …” I stumbled. Oh shit, what was that book called again? It was some Victorian classic, pretty good actually, but I couldn’t remember what the title was. It was Pride and something. Pride and the Pauper? Pride and the Prince? Oh shit, oh shit, my cheeks flushed and I bit my lip.
But Mr. Ranger seemed amused more than anything else.
“Pride and Prejudice?” he supplied with a wry grin. “There’s a re-make of it out right now in the theaters, I thought you said you saw it.”
I flushed again. I had, but being caught in the spotlight threw me off. I tried to act casual, winking, laughing lightly like nothing was wrong.
“Oh yeah, I saw the movie, it was really good,” I rushed. “I felt really bad, the main character was from a poor family and needed to marry rich. Isn’t it just so awful that women had to do that back then? I’m so glad those days are gone.”
Mr. Ranger looked at me amused.
“Well our heroine ended up with the right guy, I guess that counts for something,” he said wryly. “But you knew that, right Daisy? Because you read the book, right?”
I nodded fervently.
“Absolutely, I absolutely finished the book, it was really good,” I babbled. “I was just wondering …”
My voice trailed off. How to get that pen? How to mix Pride and Prejudice with that damned pen? My mind worked furiously, reaching in all directions.
And Mr. Ranger drawled again.
“Wondering what?” he rumbled, this time not bothering to hide his wandering gaze. It trailed up and down my curves but all I felt was grossed out, my skin curdling. How could anyone think that an overdeveloped gorilla was hot? Sure Mr. Ranger was tall and muscular, with frosted hair and a flashing smile, but that was the problem. The spiky highlights were too obvious, the white smile too white. I wasn’t attracted at all.
But still, I was desperate to fit in, and my mind seized on anything to keep the conversation going.
“My guardian is interested in donating money to the English department,” I blurted, “Tristan Marks, my guardian, is interested in making a contribution. Could you come over and talk with him, explain to him how he could help Central Prep?” I rushed.
I almost smacked my forehead. WTF was I thinking? My guardian was a cold, domineering, hard-assed man, remote and out of reach. And I’d acted such a dumbass, volunteering Tristan’s time and money to benefit my high school. There was nothing Mr. Marks would be less interested in. My mind spun furiously, trying to think of ways to backtrack, to make up for my boo-boo.
But it was too late because Mr. Ranger nodded.
“Sure, I’d love to chat with him,” he said with a wry grin. “How about tonight?” he said casually.
I stood stock still, stunned.
“Tonight?” I parroted faintly. “That’s a little soon.”
But Mr. Ranger wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Next week then,” he said swiftly. “And I’ll help you prepare for the upcoming quiz too,” he threw in. “Given that you didn’t know the name of the book we’re reading, you could really use it,” he added with a suggestive quirk of his eyebrows. God, did this guy frost his eyebrows too? They looked suspiciously golden and shiny, liked they’d been dipped in Vaseline.
So I smiled back faintly.
“Um, okay, let me check with Tristan first, he’s really busy,” I mumbled, fidgeting a little, “but it sounds okay for now.” This was like a runaway train taking off, I was way in over my head, but my mouth kept talking like it was disconnected from my brain. “Should we meet in your classroom or in the library?” I asked, babbling still. “Maybe if Tristan sees the facilities, he’ll have some ideas of what’s needed at the school.”
But Mr. Ranger shook his head.
“Naw, your place is good,” he drawled with a wink. “Besides I’ve always wanted to get a look at the Marks Estate.”
And I stopped short. Oh shit, I’d forgotten that everyone knew who my guardian was, he was a billionaire constantly in the papers for some business deal or other, sometimes photographers even camped outside our property, ready to snap a pic of the man getting into and out of his car. I was in deep ka-ka for sure, he’d never welcome this invasion to his privacy.
But the snowball just kept on rolling, becoming a full-on avalanche.
“Alright, next week at your place,” Mr. Ranger chortled with a grin before walking off, swinging side to side, almost bow-legged he was so overbuilt. What the hell? What had I gotten myself into? My jaw was slack, body drained of energy, and I could only manage a small “bye” that no one heard before the gaggle of girls swarmed me, voices cacophonous, ringing painfully in my ears.
“Oh my god, he was soo hot!” squealed Mandy.
“Did you get the pen?” asked Carly, “I thought I saw you reach for it in his pocket.”
Trina cut them off.
“She didn’t get it, I was watching,” the blonde said authoritatively. “But,” she added with a sly grin, “Daisy’s got a date with Mr. Ranger now. Better work it girl, work it!” she whooped.
And the other ladies began tittering too, letting out little squeals and gasps of anticipation.
“Oh my god, a date with the hottest teacher here!” giggled Carly. “Get his pen then. Get it? Get his pen,” she said meaningfully, making googly eyes at her friends. And the entire crew collapsed into giggles, high-pitched and grating to my ears.
So I had to at least try to put a stop to it.
“It’s, um, it’s more of a business meeting,” I said hesitantly. “Mr. Ranger’s coming over to talk with my guardian about a possible donation to the school.”
“Oh please Daisy,” said Trina authoritatively, rolling her eyes. “It was all a set-up. Don’t tell me your guardian’s actually going to be home. What is this guardian thing anyways?” she said dismissively. “Just get Mr. Ranger to come over when no one’s over and then feel him all over for that pen,” she said lasciviously, making disgusting popping noises with her mouth.
The crew was practically a group of shrieking hyenas at this point, the innuendos out of control, each one taking things to the next level.
“Hey,” I began futilely. But my protests were drowned out by the escalating noise.
“Daisy and Mr. Ranger, sitting in a tree,” Carly chanted. “P-E-N-N-I-N-G!”
WTF? This made no sense whatsoever, what the hell was penning? But it didn’t matter because the clique was expecting results now.
“Let us know how it goes!” sang Trina, swinging her designer purse over her shoulder. “Let us know or go back to where you came from!” she said forcefully, throwing that platinum hair over her shoulder in a cascade. And majestically, she strode off, the other girls trailing in her wake.
“Let us know!” repeated Mandy, trilling the words like a woodpecker. “Let us know, let us know, let us know!”
Oh shit, if I was in trouble before, then I was in even bigger trouble now. Because my English teacher was no match for my guardian, my crush, my secret love … Tristan Marks, billionaire alpha.