Flawed Heart

PROLOGUE

Ana

NOW

Dear Max,

I wanted to write to tell you why I ran. There are things you need to know. I know you were hurting, but I just don’t understand why you didn’t speak to me, why you pushed me away . . .

Max,

I am writing this letter because I want to clear some things up. You hurt me. You broke my heart. There are no words to describe how you made me feel. I don’t know what I want; I just need . . .

Max,

There’s something I need to tell you. It’s important. I don’t know how to do this, but it’s imperative you know. She deserves to have you, even if I don’t want her to.

Max, why did you do it?

Do you regret it at all?

To Max,

Do you still think about me? Does your heart still ache? Do you remember the good times? Is there even a small part of you that wishes you never lost me?

Is there any love in your heart left for me?

Any at all?

Do you remember when you used to call me Blue Belle?

Max,

I just don’t think I can ever forgive you.

Belle.

CHAPTER ONE

THEN – COLLEGE – MAX

I stride down the halls like a rooster, puffing my chest out, nodding at the girls who smile at me. It’s my second year in college, and in that time I’ve created somewhat of a name for myself. Star quarterback, popular, good with the ladies—I have it all. College, so far, has been one of the best experiences of my life.

“Max!”

I stop walking and turn, staring at my best friend, Reese. He’s jogging towards me, bag in his hand, which is trailing behind him, bouncing with each step. He stops in front of me, dropping down so his hands are on his knees. His dark hair falls over his face and he’s gasping like an unfit, old man.

“Dude you need to get fit,” I smirk down at him.

“I ate too much pizza over the summer break,” he groans, patting his stomach.

“Excuses, excuses,” I scoff. “Coach will make you do double the training if he sees you hunched over, huffing like that.”

He flips me the bird and straightens. “Where’s Demi?”

I shrug. Demi is my on-again, off-again girlfriend. Right now, we’re on more than we’re off, which is surprising, but I have no doubt it comes down to image. She’s the equivalent to me in her social circle, so it works. Plus she’s hot. That makes her stuck up, spoiled personality that much easier to handle. If it weren’t for the fact that people consider me higher in my social circle for dating her, I’d give her the flick.

“Fucks me,” I say, continuing my walk towards class. I don’t do this often, I hate class. I hate studying. I hate fucking school. But, I have no choice. If I want my career in football, then I have to get good grades.

“Bitch,” he grumbles to himself, then looks at me. “I don’t know how you put up with her.”

I thump his shoulder. “Yeah you fucking do.”

He laughs, wiggling his eyebrows. “Anyway, bro, I’m going to class. See you at practice?”

I nod, giving him a fist bump. “Yeah, man.”

He disappears and I dig the phone out of my pocket as it vibrates inside my jeans. It’s Demi. I read her text and start typing out a reply when I slam into something, or someone, to be clearer. A small squeak sounds out and then the sound of pens scattering echoes through the corridor. I look up, see nothing, so I tilt my face down and see a girl, hair falling over her face, scurrying about on the ground trying to get her pens.

Shit.

I tuck my phone away and reach for the pens and books I sent flying by running into her, and lift them up, handing them to her. She flinches and lifts her head, looking at me. Color creeps up her cheeks, and her mouth opens and closes as if she wants to say something but has absolutely no idea how to do that. I have that effect on women.

“Sorry about that,” I say, studying her face. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Her eyes focus on mine and they’re the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, captivating even. The sky holds no candle to her eyes. I study the rest of her, really taking her in. I don’t think I’ve seen her around here before. She’s got this thick mass of strawberry-blond hair that’s bundled on top of her head, with thick strands falling around her face. She’s wearing a pair of thick-framed glasses that seem too big for her petite face.

Her skin is creamy white and flawless, and she’s got pouty little pink lips. The clothes she’s wearing don’t seem to fit her tiny frame, but I get the feeling she likes it that way. She’s not a nerd, far from it, but she’s certainly not in the same league as Demi. What she is, however, is beautiful. Not hot. Not sexy. Just fucking beautiful.

And she’s staring at me.

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?” I ask, and she flinches.

“Ah, sorry, I, um,” she stammers, and I grin.

She’s shy, and I can see she’s nervous around me. More often than not, I’d leave her alone, but she’s so fuckin’ cute looking up at me with those big blue eyes, I just can’t make myself walk away.

“You got a name?”

She runs a hand over her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Ah, Anabelle. People call me Belle, though.”

I meet her eyes. “You’re new here.”

She nods.

“You lost?”

She swallows, glances around, then sighs and nods again.

“My name’s Max,” I say, extending a hand.

She reaches out hesitantly, and shakes my hand. Hers is so small against mine, her fingers so delicate and tiny. I let go and then reach over, plucking her class list from her hands. I study it, and then point towards the door to our right. She was so close to where she needed to be, but I can imagine how daunting her first day is. I got lost the entire time I was here on my first day.

“And your class is right there, you weren’t far off.”

“Oh, um, thanks.” She smiles, and it lights up her whole face.

“Max!”

I look over my shoulder to see Demi stalking towards me, her eyes on Belle. She’s the jealous type. Obsessively so. When she reaches me, I tuck an arm around her shoulder and her blond hair falls over my chest as she snuggles into me. She smells like strawberries. “It’s time for class,” she croons into my ear, while shooting daggers at Belle.

She couldn’t give a second shit about class, but she doesn’t like the fact that I’m talking to a girl that could possibly be prettier than her. Maybe not as hot, but most definitely more beautiful. Belle has a rare kind of beauty, it’s soft and alluring, the kind that never fades. She certainly will be in my thoughts today, a face like that is hard to erase.

I turn away but glance over my shoulder at the girl still staring at me, blue eyes wide. “Later, Blue Belle.”

Her mouth drops open.

I grin.

Demi’s head bobs up and down as she works my cock with her mouth. I stare down at her, seeing nothing but blond hair falling all over my lap. It feels good, but she’s sloppy, far too much saliva. I’m trying to focus, but I keep thinking about the girl in the hall, Belle. Her eyes are calling to me and I have no fucking idea why. Girls like her and men like me . . . we don’t mix.

Yet I can’t stop thinking about that face, no matter how hard I try.