I’ve often sat around while my dormmates talked about their dates and how romantic or passionate they were. They would gush over guys they were head over heels for. I’ve never felt that. Maybe because all the guys I’ve dated always started out as friends. We’d all hang out together before I’d get asked out and, by then, everything would just feel so casual.
I’ve never had a stranger come up to me and ask me out. I’ve never met mystery or danced with butterflies. I’ve never felt that hot rush of lust that you read about in books. I’ve never met a guy I wanted to get naked for. Sometimes I felt stupid being a college virgin, but I didn’t want to give it up just for the sake of getting it out of the way. If nothing else, I wanted to at least be attracted to the guy in that punch-drunk lustful kind of way.
And, surprisingly, Michael hadn’t subscribed to that big brother stereotype where he objected to me dating. When I first got interested in boys, he had made his position on my virginity clear. I had better be grown before I gave it away. That had been non-negotiable. He had made it clear that if I gave it away beforehand, he would kill the boy who took it. It hadn’t been a threat. It had been a statement of fact. And, because I knew he was serious, I guarded that puppy like it was akin to The Hope Diamond.
Once I turned eighteen, Michael’s only stipulation was that I dated men who were good to me. If not, their fate would be the same as the imaginary teenage boy who took my virginity. But, again, I seemed to only attract casual guy friends, so there was never any real fear of dating a guy who treated me badly or giving my virginity to some tool.
I wanted passion, though. I knew that much. I wanted someone who could ignite that want in me. I wanted someone I could lose myself in. I wanted a guy who made me lose my mind and not regret my bad decisions as long as he was a part of them.
I wanted a fairy tale.
Only instead of Cinderella’s Prince Charming, I wanted Belle’s Beast. And that need probably stemmed from being raised by an alpha male. Not to mention the legendary stories about how The Holy Trinity treated their wives. It was hard to contemplate, but the rumors were that Luca, Ciro, and Phoenix adored their wives. There were no mistresses, no disrespect, no dictatorships. It was rumored that the three women were just as strong, smart, and powerful as their husbands. Having never met any of them, I couldn’t say for sure, but I imagined it took a special kind of woman to be married to any of those three. Although it was fact that The Holy Trinity referred to Phoenix’s wife as Church.
And I realized that was what I wanted too. I wanted a man who was strong enough to get me through whatever pitfalls awaited me, but who was also respectful enough to know when to step back and let me handle my own shit.
I wanted a partner.
I wanted a partner I burned for every night. I wanted a partner who made me blind to all other men.
I wanted that goddamn fairy tale.
Was that too much to ask?
Chapter 3
Nico~
It drove me nuts when she did this shit.
As soon as the announcement warning had rung throughout the library that they were getting ready to close, Mia had gathered her stuff, put the books back, and had headed out.
In the dark.
Alone.
And that little travel mace she carried around with her was bullshit. Mostly because she carried it in her damn backpack and not in her hand like she should have been. I lost count of how many times I called Michael and told him to tell her to start carrying it on her and not stuffing it in her backpack or purse.
The phone calls hadn’t helped in case you’re wondering.
And it hadn’t help my irritation levels that I had smoked my last cigarette over two hours ago. I’d been trying to give them up, so I kept a minimum on my person, but had I known Mia was going to walk home in the dark again, I would have brought more reserves.
And, even though, I hadn’t been privy to their conversation, I knew her friend, Justin, didn’t let her walk home alone often.