The change ( his mate)

Chapter 2: New girl

Lara

It was the first evening of my cooking class and I was nervous as hell. I’d chosen nights because the classes were more likely to be quieter and less full than day classes. I was that really socially awkward, cringingly shy person who preferred sitting in a corner or standing by a wall at social gatherings.

This was a huge step for me, coming to Surrey from my hometown Portsmouth, I’d wanted a fresh start, actually, the truth was I’d grown up with my cold and cruel step father, my mother had passed away during a hit and run.

As soon as I’d turned eighteen I’d been kicked out of the home. I’d found a hostel, it had been scary, but it was either that or the streets. I’d spent time as a cleaner and saved up enough money to come here and rent a small apartment, a very small and dirty apartment that was falling apart, but it was mine and that was all that mattered.

I’d found a nearby church that needed a waitress for their small cafe and I’d been working there for the last six months, the problem living alone was I couldn’t cook and was living on ready meals and microwaveable ones, so I’d joined a cooking class in hopes of learning something.

College was half an hours walk so I got the bus, I hated public transport, but thankfully it was quiet when I got on and I slunk down in my seat at the back.

It was cold outside so I was wearing a red hooded coat and folded my arms from the cold breeze when someone opened one of the small windows on the bus. Brave person that I was I inwardly grumbled and cursed them for opening it when it started raining, drops of rain would get blown in and hit me in the face, in the end I moved along the back seat further away from the window, then they decided to close it, typical.

I pressed the button for the next stop and when the driver pulled up I thanked him and climbed off the bus.

I yanked my hood up to the heavy rain and hurried onto the college grounds. It was lovely and quiet this late in the evening and I felt a little less nervous. I had left early so I’d arrive early enough to hopefully get a back seat in class, yep, that was my socially awkward mind, avoid walking past everyone already seated and also needing to have a back seat. I walked into the classroom and my nerves grew when I saw it was empty, this was the right class wasn’t it? It had to be, there was a kitchen area further away from the tables and chairs.

The older lady smiled at me, wrinkles around her green eyes showing when she did. “Are you here for the eight o clock class?” She asked.

“Yes,” I smiled nervously and breathed a sigh of relief when she welcomed me in to come and sit. I chose the left back table and sat down finally relaxing. A few minutes later two girls came in chatting and giggling and took their seats, clearly friends, I wish I had a friend to come with, heck, I wished I had even one friend in general.

My shyness meant people didn’t bother with me, oh, they liked to joke and tease, like at work there was this one woman who was nice, and though it was friendly banter to her it grated on my nerves and hurt my feelings when she teased me, she would say things like, ‘oh, here’s noisy Lara.’ Or ‘gosh, don’t be so loud, you don’t stop chatting do you?’ I fake laughed with her, but the sarcasm wasn’t all that appreciated. I didn’t talk much so what? Why did I have to? Why couldn’t she be quiet and not talk? But I couldn’t say any of that to her.

It wasn’t like I didn’t want to talk, I just could not small talk for my life, what was I supposed to talk about with someone I knew nothing about? The crime shows I enjoyed watching? What if she thought I was a psycho? Horror movies or action movies? What if she didn’t like those things and found me even more weird, so I didn’t strike up conversation. I cared way too much about what people thought of me, I knew I shouldn’t and I tried not to, but I failed every time.

More people came into the room, mostly female, one middle aged man came and sat down, everyone else here were women. Or so I thought. The teacher was picking up her whiteboard pen to start when another man sauntered into the room. My eyebrows rose when I saw him, he did not look like the kind of man to come to cooking classes. He looked like some Greek god, no joke. I’d only seen men that looked like him in model magazines.

He was around six foot, maybe six foot one, not overly tall, he was wearing jeans tucked into leather brown toe capped boots.

I wondered if he’d got lost looking for this class because I noticed his grey hoodie wasn’t wet or his perfectly silky looking dark blonde hair that couldn’t seem to decide if it was wavy or curly and somehow seemed to be both. It was a sexy tousled mess and even the hoodie couldn’t hide that he had an athletic muscular body under there.

He had gorgeous blue eyes on a handsomely sculpted face with a chiseled jawline that kept his face a masculine beauty instead of just a pretty boy. He glared at the room as if it was somehow our fault he was late. Pfft.

All the girls and older woman stared at him, some giggling like the two friends and others batting their eyes at him, he didn’t like that. Probably some arrogant a.ss who was used to clicking his fingers and getting the girl he wanted, probably preferred one of those tall long legged supermodel types.

He stalked his way to the back table on the right and dumped his bag on the floor. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of staring at him or even looking at him. I did that a lot, if I saw a gorgeous hunk of a man in the streets I had this bad habit of purposely not looking at him, they always looked so arrogant and I preferred not to give their ego a boost when they were used to it from other women. Hence why I was still single, not that I could get myself a hunk like the moody one beside me. I was certainly no model.

I was chubby and a size sixteen sometimes on a bad day an eighteen in uk clothes, curvy with big b.reasts and if I wore makeup I looked pretty enough, but I was no Megan fox. I didn’t want to ogle him, but I still cursed myself for not bothering with makeup, I probably looked like a drowned rat right now.

I leaned on my right hand as class began, trying to hide my face. It didn’t matter, he didn’t notice me once. The class was mostly an introduction and when it was over she said we’d start real work tomorrow.

I rushed out of the room and breathed a sigh of relief he hadn’t seen my face, I didn’t think he had anyway. It was pitch black outside and freezing as the wind blew through my hair, but at least the rain had stopped. It smelt fresh, cold and damp outside and I enjoyed it for a moment.

I loved the smell of the night, it always smelt more crisp and fresh than the day. As I left the college grounds I grew more nervous as I walked. I didn’t like walking alone in the dark, I’d been r.aped a few years back from someone I’d known, my karate instructor, we’d all gone to the movies as friends and I’d enjoyed it until he drove me in his car on the way back.

He hadn’t taken me home, he’d parked up in some empty parking lot surrounded by bushes and trees, talked to me until I’d relaxed and then kissed me. I’d let him as I’d thought maybe this could be a date, but then he’d tried touching my b.reast and I’d pushed his hand away saying I’m not that kind of girl.

He’d stopped and encouraged me into the backseat to show me the roof window that could open up and we listened to some music. I wasn’t that interested in the music and just wanted to go home, but I was too much of a people pleaser to tell him. I should have, I should have firmly said I wanted to go home, but I didn’t, he touched me, he did things to me I didn’t want him to do, I’d laid there quietly and just accepted my fate after trying over and over again to tell him I didn’t want to that I wasn’t like that, it didn’t work, so I’d tried telling him we had no birth control, that didn’t stop him either, it had been like he was looking through me and not at me, his mind somewhere else.

He was my instructor, a black belt, I couldn’t have fought him, he could have hurt me or left me stranded on the roadside so I’d done nothing, I didn’t fight or scream, I lay there and cried with my hand against his chest, finally he’d stopped and then had the nerve to tell me that it was my fault, that I should have said no. I had, but I couldn’t argue that at the time, I’d been too traumatised.

Now I was left with this fear of men, I got scared walking in the dark alone, I got scared and angry if men tried to talk intimately to me online, I was left with this deep searing hate and rage inside of me and I had no idea what to do with it except turn it on myself.

I hated myself, I hated that I’d been so naive and stupid to think it was safe to get into his car, I hated myself for being stupid enough to get in the back, I hated myself for not fighting back or screaming, I wish I had, I wished it so much. I’d never experienced sleep paralysis nightmares until him. They weren’t as frequent anymore, but they still happened occasionally.

I wanted to go to the police after I’d gotten home, but in my shock I’d stupidly scrubbed myself in the shower until I was red, still, I tried to tell my father, but he’d laughed and said I was a stupid f.ucking b.itch for getting in the car in the first place, it was my fault. So I left it and I never said a word about it again. I was just left with the rage.

I realised I was thinking too hard about it and quickly shoved the memories away, that was how I dealt with it, blocked it out and refused to allow myself to think about it. The bus arrived when I reached the stop and I quickly climbed on.

I climbed into bed when I got home, I’d shower in the morning if I had time, It wasn’t the end of the world if I didn’t as I’d had a shower the night before.

I was not a morning person, I set my alarm for eight knowing I started work at nine, somehow I hit the snooze button about five times until it was half eight and I was rushing around to get ready. Sensible and organised I was not and I did the same thing everyday.

I pulled on some black leggings and a red low cut thin sleeved top. I wasn’t dressing for the hunk in class, honest.

I got to work just in time and helped my boss Teresa open up. She was a much older lady maybe in her fifties with a stern expression and way of talking, but a kind heart. Sarah, the one who irritatingly mocked my quietness wasn’t in today thankfully.

It wasn’t that exciting so I won’t bore you with the details, I cleaned tables, I brought food out , that was the gist of it. The cafe was connected to the church, you came out of the church room into a corridor that led you down to the cafeteria area and some toilets.

The cafe was small and cute with light brown flooring and wooden tables and chairs. The tables were circular rather than rectangular and had white frilled table cloths laid over them.

When work was over at five I rushed home, washed my face and applied makeup. It honestly wasn’t just for the cute guy. I’d spent school years being bullied and teased, mocked about my bad skin and looks in general, so even now, if I saw anyone that resembled the hot girls and boys I felt like I had to look my best, be presentable at least.

It was some form of defence mechanism I guess, it probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, but it did to me, I was weird and that was ok, or so I told myself.

It wasn’t long before I had to leave, so I made dinner knowing I’d be too tired to when I got back.