Bambi

Kieran POV

At the fourteen-minute mark, I decided I couldn’t stand another fucking second sitting next to her. My chair nearly fell to the ground as I made my way towards the exit, ignoring the burning of the professor’s eyes.

She’d pissed me off enough already today to dare speak of my early exit.

Of all the people I could have been paired up with, it was fucking Raelynn Hazelwood.

We went to the same high school, and from the look of it, she ain’t changed a bit.

Raelynn was like a shadow. An insignificant presence that you barely notice on a day-to-day basis. She went to school but rarely participated in extracurriculars. She seemed kind to people but ate lunch alone. She never showed up to parties and wore weird as fuck clothing.

Like today, for example. The girl was wearing fucking overalls. Babies wear overalls, not grown ass women.

Being paired with her is like a fucking nightmare. I’d almost rather Freddy Krueger himself come to be my partner than Raelynn.

“What. Is. Good?” Malcom nudged my shoulder. He was a damn nuisance too, but given he’s a family friend, I can’t get rid of the asshole.

“Nothing at all, actually.”

“How’d your psychology class piss you off this bad already?” he muttered. “All my professors have been a damn blessing.”

“You remember Bambi?”

Malcom clicked his tongue, “Deer in the headlights or the movie?”

I shot him a warning glare. I was a fucking asshole, but deer in the headlights was a step beyond even someone like me.

Raelynn’s nickname in school was Bambi because she had these big doe eyes that bordered fuckin’ creepy. It was as if she could see into your soul or some shit. The color was something straight out of a magazine, but that didn’t lower the creep factor.

“Yes, Bambi. Blonde hair. Big blue eyes. Weird as fuck,” he pretended to be lost in thought. “What about her?”

“My professor decided that she wanted to pair everyone up with their opposites for some Chameleon effect project.”

“And you got Bambi?” Malcom whistled low. “You gotta find out if she’s a witch or some shit. I need status reports on how odd she is. I’ve always been a little curious, but I don’t want my soul sucked out of my body by her. At least not like that anyway,” he chuckled with a wink, sending his elbow into my ribs.

“You sound way too fuckin’ excited about this,” I grunt, walking towards the little coffee shop in the middle of campus. The girl behind the counter has jet-black hair and dull green eyes, but even beneath her apron, I can tell she’s got a killer body.

And the look on her face screams she’d be down for a good time.

“I mean, you can’t say you ain’t ever been curious about her,” Malcom is still fucking going about Raelynn.

“Can’t say that I have. Oh, and by the way, you remember when you grabbed my wheel this morning to hit that puddle?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. "That shit was hilarious.”

“It was real fuckin’ hilarious when Bambi came into class late looking like a wet ret.”

“No way,” Malcom stuttered. "That’s some dumb luck. You apologize?”

I plastered on my greatest fuck-boy smile as I moved to the counter, ignoring Malcom. The girl, whose name tag says Vee, glides her tongue along her lower lip, “What can I get for you?” she purrs, the sound far too seductive for any normal customer.

“Your number on the side of a tall black coffee.” I wink for good measure, because chicks dig that kind of thing, and her cheeks flush at my forwardness.

“Comin’ right up,” Vee smiles.

“You are shameless,” Malcom smacks me on my back. “But you gotta promise to update me on your whole Bambi experience. I want all the deets. Play by plays.”

“No.”

Malcom grabs my shoulders, shaking them before allowing one arm to drape around my neck, “Come on, baby,” Malcom acts like a fool. “You know you love me and want to satisfy me.”

Vee decided at that very second, she’d spin around, cheeks flushed at Malcom’s fooling around, and hand me the cup, but shocking us both, she glanced over at Malcom, “If you’re interested in joining the fun, I’d be down.”

I could practically feel Malcom’s gears turning, but I shoved him off me, “No thanks. He’s not my type.”

“Aw come on,” Malcom calls at my back, but I’m already leaving the situation. I don’t fuck with my friends. They can have my sloppy seconds, but I ain’t sharin’.

“Back to Bambi though,” Malcom catches up, leaving the threesome talk back at the coffee shop, but my patience is already worn thin. I don’t like doing shit I don’t want to do, and the thought of being forced to partner up with her makes my skin crawl.

I have a basic regime that I know for a fact Miss Goodie-two-shoes can’t keep up with. I sleep, eat, fuck, and fight. Rinse and repeat.

And right now, I’m itching to get back in the ring. I need to burn off some steam, and my fuck-ass father has some important business brunch on Saturday that a few bruises and a split lip would look real good at.

Malcom has been talking this whole time, but I’ve tuned him out.

“If you want to fuck Bambi, talk to her yourself. I’m not your fuckin’ matchmaker.”

“You’re a dick. Ya know that?”

“When you’re packing as much as I do, you have that right.”

“You going to that big sorority party on Saturday night?” Malcom finally changed the subject, and he’s lucky cause' I was close to sending my fist down his throat.

“Dunno,” I shrug. “Daddies got a mandatory brunch that morning, and I’m sure I’ll get my shit rocked when I show up after tomorrow night’s fight.”

“Heard they’re bringing in some newbies over the next few weeks. You ready for some fresh meat?” Malcom’s excitement is back. He loves the fights. Being my best friend, he’s not missed a single one. I don’t know if it’s me he comes for, or the easy pussy, but I don’t really care.

It feels a fraction less lonely knowing how consistent the asshole is.

“Didn’t you say you had to spend time with Bambi?” Malcom couldn’t leave things alone.

“Unfortunately.”

“You should invite her to your fight tomorrow.”

I stopped walking, turning towards Malcom with a glare that would scare any normal person, but Malcom was an idiot… or immune, and a lazy smile pulled on his lips, “What if she’s secretly cool or some shit? Maybe she’ll like seeing you all bloody and fucked up.”

“I don’t give a damn what she likes, but that’s not a bad idea. Maybe it’ll scare her so badly, she’ll cry to the professor, and I’ll get a new partner.”

“Either she’ll love it, or you’ll get rid of her,” he winks, “Sounds like I’m a genius.”

I don’t indulge him with a response, walking past him, and heading outside. The rain had stopped, but thick layers of gloomy clouds still cast a darkness over the city. The humidity was a bitch, making my textured hair a fucking mess.

The L.E.D’s on my sports car illuminated with the click of a button, and I slid down onto cool leather.

Pulling out my phone and the notebook where Raelynn scribbled her number down, I added her number in under the name Bambi.

What a fucking joke that psychology professor is…

Maybe Malcom was right. Maybe inviting her to that fight will force her to realize that no matter how much Professor Gallows want us to work together, it just won’t fucking work.

Raelynn Hazelwood and I were practically different species.

I’ll text her later about the fight.

I connect my phone to the stereo, putting my playlist on shuffle, and get the fuck out of this place.

As I drive, I think of how pointless it is to be at this fucking college. My father expects me to take over the company, but I hate business. I hate the idea of sitting in my fancy chair, bossing people around, meeting with clients, the whole nine.

He doesn’t give a damn about what I want or what direction I’d like to take in my life. My very existence was created to be his successor. But I’d even failed at that.

It’s fucking exhausting just upholding my image at the stupid brunches and dinner parties.

Needing to let off steam, I headed home, in desperate need of an appointment with my punching bag. It’s the closest thing I can get to fucking something up in between fights.

Dropping my bag by the door, Icarus greets me at the door. He’s a fat fuck, but loyal as hell. His meows are incessant, and I glance at the clock.

“Yeah yeah, I got it. You want lunch.”

After popping her open a can of his favorite wet food, I headed into my second bedroom, turned home gym, and connected my phone to the Bluetooth speakers before wrapping my hands and wrists.

It’s just enough to keep my mind off of this stupid project.