Fractured (BBW Erotic Romance)

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Fractured

My Other Titles

Copyright

Fractured

By

Evelyn Rosado

The Evelyn Rosado
Newsletter

College is about beer and sex. And studying - if
you’re not too hung over to squeeze it in. This is what my roommate
Candace said to me before we walked into the ladies bathroom at
Elias Hall. It was the first day of the fall semester and that
sentence was all I wanted to fill my brain up with. And not the
you won’t even make it to Thanksgiving
which was what my
Aunt Alice said to me before I left. My mind replayed her response
every day before I stepped foot on the hallowed ivy decorated
campus of State College.

I stood in front of the mirror above the
cold, white porcelain sink staring at myself – the start of a new
beginning looming before me. The water splashed against my face
didn’t help in settling me down.
Why am I so nervous? It’s only
the beginning of the rest of my life.

The women’s bathroom was stark white; my skin
appeared pale under the lights. It smelled sterile - like latex or
a doctor’s office. It was late summer, but chill bumps dotted my
arms. Frigid droplets slowly dripped off my face and rippled into
the pool of the half empty sink. I looked deep into my blue eyes,
hoping the girl next to me applying rouge to her cheeks couldn’t
see the brokenness I held within. The accident, the loss, the
tears, the scars – I wished they swirled clockwise down the drain
along with the water.

“
C’mon, Selena we’re going
to be late,” Candace said. She gave a light tap on my backside
making me jump out of my trance as she exited the door into the
Monday morning fracas called a hallway. It was jam packed with
students; as any first day of the semester would be. I wondered how
many of them would still be there come Homecoming.

This is a new start, Selena. A new
start.

“
I’m right behind you,” I
said. My voice echoed off the sterile eggshell-white walls. I
walked out into the traffic jam of people ready to take on the
world.

Candace held a seat for me in the front row
with her bookbag. Her face was buried into her tablet. I hated
sitting in the front row. But I had no choice; the classroom was
mostly filled up.

“
I hate sitting up front.
Everyone has their eyes on you,” I said to Candace. The professor
hadn’t arrived yet and most of the students were either slurping
down large cups of sugary caffeine or busy tinkering their fingers
on their phones texting about God knows what. I sat on the edge of
the seat, my spine straight as a number two pencil. Five years I’ve
waited for this moment. My notebook was wide open to the first
page. The blue ink on the first line wrote – Marketing
101

“
Selena, aint nobody
thinking about you. The front row is prime real estate. You get to
see all the hot guys walk through the door.” That’s all Candace
talked about – guys, guys, guys.
What are you planning to major
in Candace? Boys. What’s your first class on Monday Candace? Intro
to Boys 102. What’s your minor, Candace? Boys.

“
Whatever. I just hope the
professor isn’t a dick.” Candace’s brown eyes jutted from her
tablet to every guy that walked in the door. She judged them like a
Mr. Universe Contest.
Ehh. Meh. Damn! Pass. Whew. Ehh.
Hottie!
“Are boys all you think about?”

“
Why yes. Yes, they are,”
she said matter of factly. She talked about boys like a sommelier
spoke about vintage Malbecs. Candace and I hit it off the moment we
met at orientation. Our love of eyeliner and fingernail polish
forged a friendship which would outlast the test of time. But I
wouldn’t be able to put up living with her if the cramped dorm room
we shared was going to turn into a rotisserie of sex-crazed college
boys, hungry for a taste of what was between her legs.

My pen tapped the paper repeatedly. The boy
talk was annoying; I wanted class to start. Candace looked up and
fumbled her phone to the ground; her case and battery falling out.
Her bleached, blonde hair flew up. “Fuck me running! He’s hot,”
Candace exclaimed. My neck jerked towards the door. My pen banged
against the paper with a crashing thump.

The boy who sauntered into the room screamed
danger and pure rebellion. His hair was close cropped and almond
brown. Tattoos protruded through the short sleeves of his form
fitting black polo shirt. His arms fined tuned to hard granite,
perfected from dedicated hours of punching a heavy bag or bench
pressing rusty, iron plates. His eyes started fires – a fire
between my legs. Which hadn’t been extinguished since prom.

He went to the back of the room and sat down.
Everything about him exuded masculinity; from his strong chin to
his square jaw line. His face told a story of bare knuckle brawls
and busted lips. A small scar decorated his upper lip. He had a
dimple in the middle of his chin, but a pretty boy he was not. I
hated pretty boys. I hated guys who took longer to get ready or
spent more time in the mirror than women did. His face was a one
that never backed down from fight. A bit weathered, but still
handsome enough to walk on a runway in Paris.

“
Damn girl. Pick that jaw up
off the floor. Who knows if they mopped in here last night.” I said
nothing; my neck was stretched around, almost behind my shoulders,
still trying to get a glimpse. “Don’t leave too much drool on the
floor Selena, somebody might slip and fall. I might need to put up
one of those yellow caution signs.” Candace’s laughing became a bit
too loud for my taste. I didn’t want to draw any attention to
myself. “Go say something to him after class.”

“
And talk to him about what?
Botany? Look at him and look at me.” I looked at the floor and
shook my head. I already knew he wouldn’t like big girls. Most men
in shape like him wouldn’t be caught dead with a girl like me.
Especially in college. That’s social suicide. Story of my life. “If
I went up to him he’d probably laugh. Or vomit. Or both. Vomit,
then laugh.”

“
Maybe. But what if he
doesn’t?” Candace shot a glance at me, her head titled and her
eyebrow jutted upwards.

“
I bet he’s gay.”
More
excuses Selena.
Despite her cheerleading, as well as her being
right, if I did decide to go and talk to him, I’d wimp out at the
last minute. How could someone as cute as him be interested in
someone at my weight? I bet he has a box of stolen panties from all
the six foot, blonde, half anorexic bombshells walking around
campus. I’m too much woman for him anyways. He wouldn’t be able to
handle all of me. His loss.

“
Fuck. Never date a gay guy.
Trust me. Worst month ever. The idea of your boyfriend loving to go
shoe shopping only sounds good on paper. Absolutely
overrated.”

“
If you say so. Even if he
isn’t, I don’t look like his type.”

“
Whatever. You miss one
hundred percent of the shots you never take.”

“
What are you a TV
basketball analyst now?”

“
No, I watch a lot of Tony
Robbins clips on Youtube - sue me. But the thing is, I just know
boys. Go and introduce yourself. Before I do.”

I just knew he’d go for the ones who stick
their tongue down their throat after lunch. I loved food. But, more
importantly, I loved my body. Even though my hips were a bit wider
this summer, I still love them. And if
he
didn’t love them,
then I didn’t need
him
. But as bad I wanted to write him
off, I couldn’t stop looking at him. Surely I would have a crook in
my neck tomorrow morning. He sat alone in the corner with a
‘dontfuckwithme’
look plastered on his face. He looked
withdrawn, as if this class, this university was below him.

The professor finally walked into the class
and every student placed their phones down on the desk; except for
my Mr. Mysterious in the back. He didn’t bother to look up when the
Professor Samuels introduced himself. As he passed out the syllabus
to each of us he described the ongoing project we had to work on
throughout the semester. He would group us in pairs. Each pair
would need to create a product and develop a marketing plan for it.
It would be due before the final exam
. Oh, great – group
work.
I hated relying on someone besides myself for grades. He
asked us to raise our hand when our names were called. I hoped it
would be Candace.

“
Heath Gibson,” the Dr.
Samuels said. No hands shot up. “Heath Gibson,” he said. Mr.
Mysterious’s hand doggedly went up. “Selena Appleton.” I nearly
choked on the water I swallowed. I raised my hand. I looked back at
Heath. His eyes were back on his phone.

Candace gave me an elbow nudge and smiled at
me. “You. Lucky. Cunt-basket.” She shook her head as the professor
continued reading off names.

As the desks emptied when the clock struck
9:50am, I managed to catch Heath before he walked out of the door
to exchange information about the project. “Hi, I’m Selena.” I
extended my hand to him. He looked me up and down, then nodded up
as if to say hello. I pulled my hand back and brushed my hair away
from my forehead. “Maybe we should get each other’s phone number so
we can plan a time to go over things.” He remained tight lipped and
faintly nodded. “Sooo. Oookay. My number is 489-783-2341.” He still
said nothing. “Aren’t you going to give me yours?”

“
489-920-1390,” he said. His
voice was throaty and craggy. Man of few words, I guess

“
Okay, so I guess I’ll text
you a time to meet up.” He nodded up and down, turned around and
left.
That was interesting. Not at all how I thought that would
go.

Candace strolled up beside me. “So how’d it
go?”

“
Weird.”

“
Weird?”

“
He didn’t say
much.”

“
He’s probably hung over,”
she said shrugging her shoulders.

Maybe, but I wasn’t here for boys anyways, I
was here to put the past behind me.

A week later

Bright lights. Icy road. Car swerving. Jenni
and I signing along to the radio. SUV swerving into my lane. Too
late to swerve. Loud crash of metal twisting together. Hot steel
scraping my tender flesh. Intense white light. No sound. White
light.

“
Good Morning!” I screamed.
I sat up in my bed, my blue night shirt drenched with sweat. My
fist gripped the bed sheet. Veins protruded on my hands from
clenching so tightly. My lungs expanded rapidly and my lips were
twitching. I reached up and felt the fleshy scar on my right cheek.
The green neon digits on the alarm clock read 3:47am. First night
terror in months. Dad wasn’t there to hold me. For the first time,
I was alone.

Waking up screaming in the middle of the
night was my life everyday six months after the accident. Sometimes
my nightmares were different, but the end result was always the
same – waking up in terror, saturated in sweat. Good morning was
the first words I uttered after I awoke from my coma.

Later on in the morning, Candace and I
contemplated our collegiate aspirations over hardened bagels and
runny omelets. She was more interested in discussing the penis size
of the team’s starting middle linebacker. I was more concerned with
the dining commons serving peach cobbler for dinner later on.

The dining area was nearly empty. Most
students had already left for the 8AM classes. Some people were
eating alone which was something I hated doing. I was glad Candace
was there with me. Transitioning to a new city would be difficult
for me if I was alone.

I got out of my seat to pour another glass of
orange juice when I saw Heath sitting in the corner spooning corn
flakes in his mouth. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt and
headphones – closed off to the world even before noon. I wondered
if he saw me.

“
Don’t even think about
going over there,” Candace said as I sat down.

“
I texted him four times
last week and he didn’t respond. And he hasn’t shown up to class
since the first day. I’m not doing the project by
myself.”

As I walked over to his table, he looked up
at me for a half a second, only his eyes moved but his head
remained motionless.

Be bold Selena. Be bold.
I pulled up a
chair and sat down. I cleared my throat. He still wouldn’t lift his
gaze from his bowl. I cleared my throat again – louder this time.
He didn’t bother to respond. I reached inside his hood and removed
the expensive headphones from his ears. A hard driving beat and a
raspy, smoky voice rapping over the beat became audible.