Lord Have Mercy (The Southern Gentleman #2)(7)

That was where I would die.

I just knew it.

But I made it there.

I also made it about a foot past the X off to the side and collapsed in a heap right next to Raleigh who’d only finished a minute ahead of me.

‘Finished’ being a really loose term. She gave up on doing it the ‘correct’ way and moved to ‘girl’ push-ups—or so Flint called them—when you were down on your knees. I, on the other hand, managed to stay up on my toes for the entire fifteen push-ups. However, I was regretting it now that my arms were screaming at me in pain.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be fat?” I panted, vomit threatening to roll up my throat.

“I think Ezra would love me fat,” she admitted. “I think we can just call it quits.”

Elation poured through me.

“I quit!”

Flint, who I hadn’t realized had sat down next to me, leaned over me, his sweat dripping onto my chest and face as he said, “You’re not quitting, Presley. You’re going to stick this out because nobody likes a quitter.”

With that, him and his dripping sweat were gone, and I was left staring up at a ceiling as I tried to breathe for two reasons now. One, I’d most definitely liked the way it felt to have Flint hovering over the top of my body. Two, because I’d literally given it all that I had and was about to throw up.

I got up as fast as I could force my legs to move, and walked straight outside and threw up in his stupid potted plants.

“I’m sorry,” a woman said softly. “He’s not normally so confrontational. You should see him with the kids when he teaches their class. No joke, he’s so good with them. I’m not sure what got into him.”

I smiled thinly at the soft-spoken woman, then offered her my hand. “What’s your name?”

She smiled back. “Carmichael.”

I blinked. “That’s a man’s name.”

She snickered. “Everyone calls me Mikey. But then people will ask what it’s short for, and then I’ll just have to tell you the rest of the story anyway.”

I blinked. “My name is Camryn. I don’t like my name.”

Her mouth opened. “Me neither!”

I grinned.

Just then, a pissed off looking Flint walked by, followed shortly by Croft, who had a massive ball of some sort on his shoulder.

Both men were shirtless, and surprisingly, my eyes didn’t automatically go to Croft like they would’ve a long time ago. They went to the angry man that made my blood boil and made me want to smack him across the mouth.

“My brother’s a turd,” she stated suddenly.

I blinked. “Your brother? Flint’s your brother?”

She nodded. “He is. That’s why I know that he’s not usually like that.”

I snorted. “Funny, because he’s always like that with me.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s not Flint.”

Well, I didn’t know what to tell her.

That was Flint, at least when I was around him. I’d seen him be nice to other people, but that’d never extended to me. I had no clue what I’d done to earn his anger, but one day I’d figure it out.





Chapter 3


Roses are red, violets are blue, if he’s busy on Valentine’s Day, the sidechick is you.

-El Arroyo sign

Camryn

I was contemplating which donuts to purchase for my class that morning when I heard the bell behind me jingle.

Being too caught up in the selection process, I didn’t bother to turn. Maybe I should have, though. If I’d turned, I might not have groaned when I bent forward to check out the sprinkled donuts at the bottom of the case.

“How many more do I have to make forty-eight?” I asked, looking up at the woman behind the counter.

“Seven,” she answered. “You want me to fill them out with plain glazed?”

No, I sure didn’t. If I got plain glazed, I’d be eating them when I got home. And I sure the hell didn’t want to be doing that. Not with all that nonsense Flint had spouted as we were leaving class.

“I want to challenge each and every one of you to give up donuts and sugary stuff for breakfast. That includes muffins, most breakfast cereals, and pastries,” he’d said.

When his gaze had landed on mine specifically, I knew he was talking about me and me only.

But, these donuts weren’t for me, so it was okay. Right?

As long as I didn’t get any glazed, I could manage to stay away from them. Sometimes having the tastebuds of a toddler helped. Like now. But, other times, like when I tried to choke down a salad yesterday for lunch and threw up in my mouth, I disliked it.

“No, fill them up the rest of the way with just random ones. The kids will like whatever I bring,” I told her.

“No glazed for real?” she asked, her eyes wide now.

I shook my head sadly and stood up, or at least tried to. I was so sore that I barely managed it.

The only thing that managed to save me from staying down there all morning was the fact that there was a counter I could hold on to and help pull myself up.

Who knew that squats, sit-ups, push-ups, and those goddamn burpees would be so bad? Sure, by themselves they were likely a lot more harmless than when they were strung together like Flint had forced upon us, they became a lot suckier.