“Come on,” my killer pressed, condescendingly. “Was it magical? Did you look at him and know he was it for you?”

“No,” I murmured.

I certainly didn’t. Not for a long time. Not until he was gone, even.

“How old were you?”

“I was nineteen…” I began, and suddenly all the moments with him, the good, the bad… all those moments began flashing before my eyes.

*

The first time I officially met Marcus Borden was five years ago at a house party my College friend invited me to. It was far from where I lived, in a neighbourhood I didn’t belong in, and surrounded by people harder than I was.

He was on his own, completely separate from the group in the far back corner of the yard. He was wearing a baggy pair of jeans that hung low on his hips, and he was shirtless, his lean abs covered in tattoos. Actually, his entire upper body was riddled in them, these sexy intricate designs that other knockabouts like him had.

I watched him light up a cigarette and stare up at the dimming sky, and I remember feeling intrigued by him. I wondered just then what was going through his mind, what kind of thoughts lurked in the recesses of his soul, causing him to look so melancholic. I imagined the depth that resided in him, or maybe that was just the artsy hopeless romantic in me.

I knew all about Marcus Borden.

Knew he was just a thug.

An untameable man, one that’d been with several girls at my school, and they weren’t afraid to let you know about it, singing their praises about the man with the magic mouth that was capable of the most wicked things.

He was the man I’d often admired from afar and could never admit out loud.

Everywhere I went, it seemed like he was always there. He knew everybody, and everybody knew him.

And there I was, a privileged naïve woman who came from wealth, moving to him like my body had its own agenda, while my brain was muted by the two or so beers I’d hastily downed. Maybe I wanted to get back at my father for this, maybe I was just trying to step out of my comfort zone, or maybe I had a severe soft spot for dysfunctional bad boys after all the hundreds of romance books I’d devoured between study sessions.

I didn’t know what it was.

I just knew I wanted to break free of the monotony. To stop being people-pleasing Kate Davenoth, daughter of Judge Douglas Davenoth the third, the first in all her classes, a straightA student that towed the line all her life.

I stopped a few feet behind him and glanced around the yard. There was chatter everywhere. People laughing, screaming, calling for more shots over the loud thumping music. I glanced at my friend Sophie chatting up some hot guy beside the pool I was sure she’d go home with, and I remembered her words before we got here. Be loose, she’d said. Do something crazy for once! Learn to have fun. Find a hot guy at this place and get laid! I watched her confidence radiating out of her, and I wanted that confidence too. I wanted to be alluring and sexy. I wanted to be able to crook my finger at this sexy thug and bring him to his knees.

But I didn’t.

No, I couldn’t.

I was suddenly too chicken-shit. I went completely still behind him, asking myself what the hell I was trying to do. Dad would kill me if he knew I was here, let alone talking to a guy like him, a guy that had probably seen the prison bars one too many times.

Shit.

I turned around.

This was insane! I wasn’t that girl that obliterated caution and jumped into bed without going on the normal fifteen to twenty dates. I didn’t mingle with guys like him. I was upper class, goddammit! And boring. So damn boring. I couldn’t let loose. I couldn’t even change my daily routine without having an anxiety attack.

“Don’t go.”

His voice, hard and smooth, broke through my warring thoughts, washing them away like waves retreating from the shore. I turned around, still stiff, still cowardice and feeling out of my depth, and met his gaze. His head was turned in my direction, his mouth pulled up in a mouth-watering smirk as his eyes danced along my face and body.

“You made it all the way here,” he added, that voice laced with confidence. “No point turning back now.”

Then he gestured to the plastic chair next to him, inviting me to sit with him, and I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t help myself. I was on this side of the yard for him, after all. I’d made the epic twenty four step journey. No point turning back now just because I was scared as shit.

Conscious of his gaze, I shot him a hesitant smile and walked over to the chair and sat down. My body was straight as an arrow, my hands nestled in my lap, my face timidly turned in his direction. He eyed me again, and this time his smirk turned into a full blown grin. Wow, he had a nice smile. It was slightly boyish with dimples at the end and full lips. While I swooned just a little, I also felt like the butt of some joke, and in hindsight, I understood why. I was the prissy type, all dressed to impress in my girly pink clothes, and I was sitting next to a half-naked guy with tattoos everywhere, smoking a cigarette I fought not to wrinkle my nose at.

“Relax,” he softly told me, looking between my straight back and the amount of space left on the plastic chair.

“I am relaxed,” I assured him.

“You look a little stiff.”

“I’m not.”

Fib.

I was completely stiff, and I was sure I didn’t sound believable.

We sat in silence for several minutes. He was completely at ease, finishing the rest of his cigarette off while he curiously glanced at me, meanwhile I was on the verge of losing my mind. Just how did a girl loosen up around a man like him? He was nothing like the stuck up guys I grew up with. The complete eyesores who drove their daddy’s Lamborghinis around town with their popped collars and ten thousand dollar watches.

It was possible the allure was that he was hard and I was just a naïve moron seeking a thrill. Just a lick of something forbidden. For one night, nothing more.

“So what did you have in mind when you came all the way over here, beautiful?” he suddenly asked, his bright blue eyes on mine. “Looking for some good stuff?”

I paused. “Good stuff?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, you want some weed? Looking to get high with your Barbie doll friends? What’s your poison, babe?”

My jaw dropped, and I immediately shook my head. “N-No poison. I don’t smoke weed.”

“Snort any shit?”