Trapped (Bullied Book 4) (Bullied Series) Vera Hollins (best large ereader txt) 📖

I moved to sidestep him, but he didn’t let me. “Yes and no.”

“Why don’t you miss it?”

Since there was no way for me to get anywhere closer to the basket, I hoped for the best and shot. He could’ve jumped and grabbed the ball, but he didn’t move. He was definitely going easy on me.

I missed, the ball hitting the backboard instead. I coughed a few times. I was exerting myself too much, but I didn’t want to stop.

He let me have the possession of the ball again, but I returned it to him. “Don’t go easy on me,” I told him. “If I score, I want to do it on my own.”

Something resembling respect passed over his face, and he nodded. He bounced the ball slowly as he went to the other side, and I used that as a chance to steal it. I reached for it once, but he backed away. I reached for it again, thwarting his attempt to sidestep me, but then he caught the ball with both hands and spun on his heel to the side.

I blocked him at the last possible moment, planning to smack the ball so he would drop it, but our bodies collided when he turned around and both of us lost our balance. I crashed down on the floor with him falling on top of me as the ball bounced away from us. For a long moment, his body was fully atop mine, the hard ridges of his frame pressing into each inch of me.

“Fuck,” he growled as he brought himself up to his elbows, caging me with his arms. His masculine scent enveloped me, and my heart began its wild tempo.

His eyes drifted across my face, reminding me I wasn’t wearing any makeup. Just great. Without foundation, the imperfections on my face were visible from a mile away, along with my double chin.

But he looked like he couldn’t have cared less about my physical flaws. In fact, he kept looking at me, his gaze turning darker and more intense. My chest grew tight. He didn’t say anything as he studied my face, and I could have sworn his lips got a few inches closer to mine…

He grazed the bridge of my nose with his fingers, looking at it. “You have freckles.”

Blushing, I moved my head to the side. “Yeah. So?”

He didn’t smile, but his eyes got a shade softer. “They’re cute.”

Cute. Blake Jones had just said my freckles were cute. The same freckles I wished I could magically remove.

“I don’t like them,” I blurted out.

He gave me a half-smile. “You should.”

He moved his knee higher between my legs, shifting his weight as he leaned even closer to my lips, and I struggled to breathe, at war with myself. I shouldn’t have been allowing him this. He doesn’t deserve me, he doesn’t deserve me, he doesn’t deserve me—

“Thank you,” he said, voice barely audible.

I snapped my gaze from his lips to his eyes. “For what?”

“You helped me again.”

That one sentence affected me a great deal, and I found it harder to fight against the flurry of my feelings. “What did I do?”

“I was able to deal with the pain more easily because you distracted me.” His breath fanned my lips, and I moved my head to the side, fighting this, refusing to let him kiss me. I knew I shouldn’t let my compassion for him outweigh the bitter truth that I should stay far away from him.

His breath was now on my neck, sliding over it in short, warm puffs…

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. I could almost feel it. His lips on my neck…

Don’t, I thought, or did I whisper it?

The kiss never came.

He got off me and sat next to me. I stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, my heart thudding in my ears.

“So? Are you going to answer me?” he asked, and I looked at him reluctantly. “Why don’t you miss your hometown?”

I sat up and sighed, looking at my chipped pink nail polish. I didn’t understand why he was interested. He was prodding into my life so he could…what? Satisfy his morbid curiosity? Gather more material he could use against me?

But as I examined his face, I didn’t find anything malicious. Unless I was hopelessly naïve, there was no bad intent behind his question.

“I was bullied there too,” I finally answered. My face warmed as the influx of bad memories hit me. Back then, I hadn’t fit into what some of my peers deemed acceptable or attractive, hence all the body-shaming and laughter on my account.

They thought they were funny. They thought they had the right to make fun of me like I was any less worthy because I had extra weight. Like there wasn’t a person with feelings beneath that outer appearance. Like all that mattered was that you were considered beautiful on the outside. So they mocked me and laughed at me, making me feel like I didn’t belong anywhere.

“Who would’ve thought?” I said when he remained silent.

“Why were you bullied?”

I let out a chuckle of disbelief. He, of all people, should have known the answer to that. “You tell me.” I stood up. “You’re the one who labeled me as fat the day I got here.”

He frowned and jumped to his feet. “I didn’t actually mean it.”

My eyes rounded. “Come again?”

He went to take the ball, avoiding my gaze. “When I first saw you in the school cafeteria, I didn’t think you were fat.” He began bouncing the ball. “You weren’t skinny and you had curves, yes, but that didn’t stop me from checking you out.”

I scowled at him. “Let me get this straight—you didn’t think I was fat that day in the cafeteria.”

“Right.”

“You thought…” I had to brazen it out and ask the question I was burning to ask. “You thought I was attractive?”

He glanced away, tilting his head down. “Yes.”

My stomach did a few flips, betraying my anger. I ignored it.

“But you told me I