Billionaire's Escort

“Yeah, lucky me. Are you stalking me right now? ‘Cause I'm pretty sure the balls and sticks aren't found on this side of campus.” I almost smiled when I said it, but I caught myself. No need to encourage him with friendliness.

My books were safely back in my bag, which was now slung over my shoulder, so that was my cue to start to walk away from him. He followed beside me quickly, in an annoyingly persistent way.

What was with this guy? He couldn't have actually been interested in me. I was nothing like him. But wow, he had a real hard-on for me.

“Will you hang out with me sometime?” He stumbled over his words as he tried to keep pace with me.

I stopped then and turned to look at him. “Hang out with you? Why would I want to do that?”

I turned again, and headed away from him. I couldn't think for the life of me why he was bothering me, out of all the girls on campus. I wasn't his type at all. I didn't know what he saw in me, or whether this was just a game of his to get me in the sack. My luck, I was some bet he had to win against his buddies. Oh man, I better not be a bet. Either way, I wasn't impressed at all by his behavior, and wondered what I could do to get him off my back. I had bigger issues to deal with than this guy.

“Come on, Natalie, just give me a chance. I'm really not a bad guy. Yes, I have a reputation, and I always like to have a good time in one way or another, but it's all in good fun.”

“I bet it is.”

“I'm not out to hurt you, Natalie.”

I ignored him. What did he expect me to say? Of course, he was going to say something like that. Did I really expect him to tell me he was going to stampede all over my heart? This guy was a real rich one.

I was headed to the library, and was surprised to find he stayed with me the whole way. He may be a glutton for punishment after all.

“Please, Natalie?”

“Why do you want me to hang out with you?”

“I like you, and I think if you lightened up, you would actually have some fun with me.”

I snorted, “Jet, please, I don't need to lighten up. I'm really not interested. It's not even so much you. I'm not interested in anyone right now.”

“That's the best news I have heard all day, and here I thought it was just me you hated.”

“Oh, well then, I'm glad to brighten your day.”

We arrived at the library, and I thought with no small amount of amusement, that there was no way a guy like Jet would be caught dead in a library where souls arrived to study. He was just a stupid jock; no real depth going on inside him, and I wouldn't be caught dating him, either. What the hell would the two of us talk about? That's why he couldn't be genuinely interested in me; it just didn't make sense for us to start dating.

“What do you say, Natalie, hang out with me sometime?”

I was in a hurry to get in the library to study, so I pushed through the doors, and yelled over my shoulder, “Maybe ... sometime. Bye.”

“Well, I'll take that. It's good enough for me.”

I didn't look back as I heard the door close behind me, and thanked God he hadn't followed me in. I looked around for a table in a quiet area. When I found one way in the back of the library, I settled there and got down to studying. I started taking my books back out of the bag, and lined them up on the table. Here I go again, I thought. I refused to think about that imbecile; all I wanted was to focus on my studies for the time being.

Chapter Four

Jet

I headed into the university's state-of-the-art training center, and strode to the locker rooms. There were a lot of guys training that afternoon, and the air in the room was electric with spirit and energy. Many guys were preparing for their own upcoming fights. We had a strong team for the school, and in the past two years had brought back many medals and trophies.

I opened my locker door and grabbed my hand wraps. I also grabbed shin pads and MMA gloves. I wasn't sure what training entailed that day, but I had to be prepared for anything. I went out to where the boys were training, and sat on the bench to watch. As I watched my teammates boxing or grappling, I started to wrap my hands. It wasn't something that I did all the time; it was really unnecessary for experienced fighters, but I liked the tightness of it. It made me feel in control of my own hands. I began putting my thumb through the wrap hole, and began wrapping against my knuckles, then against my palm, down my wrist, and then over and over again until the wrap ended, at which point I secured it. I started on the other hand as I watched the fighters, wondering what was in store for me that day.

My coach was just finishing up with one of my teammates. I saw him slapping the guy on the shoulder, congratulating him on a good fight session. He was a good coach, strong and dedicated to all the students that went through the MMA training program.

I spent a lot of time in the gym?more than I liked, but I planned on being a champion, so this was all part of the lifestyle of a fighter. You killed yourself for the chance at greatness, which was something that not everyone had a taste of. I lived for MMA?there was just no sport like it, and I thrived on it. I trained daily, always working on something different so that I never overworked or strained a body part. An injury was the last thing I needed, so my trainer was always careful to keep me fluid in one way or another. The goal was to master your craft, not destroy your body to the point where it could no longer perform properly. If you did, your MMA career was over, and no one wanted that.

I watched as my coach, Robbie, came over, all smiles, ready to kill me another day. “Hey, Jet. How's your day going?”

“You know me; always ready to kill it.”