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Resisting Ronnie
Resisting Ronnie
Resisting Ronnie
Ebook110 pages1 hour

Resisting Ronnie

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Kelly is always fighting. She feels like she's been fighting a war in her life since her husband died three years ago. It doesn't help much that one of her best friends, Liam, who she'd love to get a little closer to, is infatuated with Veronica Smith. Officially the nastiest woman Kelly has ever had the misfortune to meet. It isn't easy, it isn't always pretty, but eventually, Liam sees Ronnie for who she is. Will he see Kelly for who she is, anytime soon?

LanguageEnglish
PublisherKate Vivid
Release dateOct 26, 2011
ISBN9781466072770
Resisting Ronnie
Author

Kate Vivid

Kate is an avid reader, herself and has just started making a foray into writing short stories and romances. Keep an eye on her Smashwords author page to read more, if you enjoyed Finding Jake.

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    Resisting Ronnie - Kate Vivid

    This ebook is published by Kate Vivid at Smashwords.

    Copyright 2011 KATE VIVID

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Resisting Ronnie

    CHAPTER 1

    Veronica Smith was a pointless waste of time.

    Knowing it wasn't much help, though, he thought grimly to himself as he watched her walking away from him down the corridor. He stood, pretending to be supervising the clattering ebb and flow of kids swarming the corridors, bickering at the vending machines, queuing at the water fountain, swapping books, crowding around mobile phones and giggling in pairs at intensely secret teenage humour. She was a bloody difficult woman. That's what. He shrugged angrily and went back into his classroom. Shutting the door was bliss. Sometimes he was tempted to lock himself in. Having a free last on a Friday was the most ridiculous stroke of luck and although it felt like little consolation for the rest of his hideous timetable on a Monday morning; at 2:30pm on a Friday it was well worth it.

    He just sat quietly, feeling the throbbing silence as order descended again over the school. His room was at the end of a top floor corridor, with a store room opposite. So, right now, it was utterly undisturbed. Except for his thoughts. He had expected to be married by now. He was in his mid-thirties, had been teaching for a decade and five years at this school. Now a head of department, he loved his work, but he was pretty wound up about his 'romantic status' just at the moment. He grimaced, thinking of the weekend. His younger brother's wedding was on Saturday. He'd asked Ronnie to come with him and she'd said she'd think about it. After three weeks, he thought he'd give her a little nudge. Which had resulted in a refusal. Brilliant. It was suddenly blindingly obvious to him that she'd been flattered he asked, but never had any intention of actually going with him. Now he had no-one to go with, and he'd told Matt that he definitely needed his plus one. That would be a humiliating conversation.

    Just at that moment, Kelly slid in through the classroom door. She didn't see him at his desk tucked into an alcove along the same wall, and stepped along to the windows opposite. She stared out at the playground, rigid with tension, and then, just when he was about to cough, she spoke,

    Ahh, fuck it! She pounded her fist on the windowsill, and repeated the expletive another half a dozen times. He started to worry that if he had the nerve to cough, she would head across to his desk and hit him. He was still sitting, frozen in consternation when she turned around to lean her back on the sill and jumped a mile when she saw him sitting there.

    He couldn't help grinning at the gale of surprised laughter that spilled out of her.

    Hi Kel. How's Friday treating you?

    She headed over to him, her tense, short stride closing the distance between them quickly and sat on one of the desks in front of him.

    Oh, well, Mr Harris, I wouldn't lie to you – it's been eventful. He smirked, and reverted to her title – it was a running joke they had,

    I'm intrigued, Mrs Harris. May I offer you a drink? he gestured to the kettle and tea caddy behind his desk.

    She clenched her fists tightly, surprising him. He thought the mood had shifted to a better one. Actually, Liam – I think I'm going to just piss off home.

    Are you alright? Is it the kids?

    She frowned at him, and her voice was sharp when she spoke, "No it's not the kids. As if the kids could wind me up this much. I'm sorry I disturbed you – I thought you'd be in the department and it's quiet in here, I –"

    I don't mind.

    There was a little silence. Her lip quivered. He couldn't think of a thing to say. He'd been friends with Kel since she started at the same time as him, and then took over the kitchen completely, half-way through his first year. She was always funny, always upbeat, never sorry for herself.

    He took a steadying breath, for both of them, Care to tell me what's wrong before you do your pissing off?

    I…wouldn't know where to start.

    What happened just before you came up here?

    She smiled, knowingly. She recognised the coaxing, mildly authoritative tone.

    Well, Mr Harris, I took a call on my mobile.

    And were you already upset before you took the call?

    I wasn't angry before the call.

    What do you mean by that? Curiosity shocked him out of his professional questions mode.

    I'm always upset. She turned her back on him and walked to look out of the window. Always lonely, always fighting a bit harder than all the other mums. Always washing up on my own at 10 o'clock at night. Always watching the news on my own. I take my Mum to Hen's nativity play and prize giving. I'm never alright and I'm sick of pretending.

    He decided not to pursue that right now. That can of worms he really hadn't been aware of. But today, all of a sudden, you're angry?

    She whispered, tensely, miserably – So angry.

    There was another long pause. Then a horrible ragged sob. Screw being professional, he thought, and jumped up to go and put his arms around her. She really let rip then, and he wondered what he thought he was playing at. It had to be a really big problem for her to lay herself open like this and he still hadn't got a clue what was going on. Could you just tell me what's happened?

    My husband –

    He felt a horrible rush of rage and jealousy – he was sure the guy was out of the picture – she'd never so much as uttered those words in the last three years, and not much before that. He couldn't remember the last time he saw her wearing her wedding ring. He tensed and then realised she was still speaking, so he fought to process and catch up.

    His stone. It's been, she coughed, painfully, trying to wrestle the sobs back down, It's been vandalised. The cemetery administrator rang to tell me. I was supposed to go with Hennie at the weekend. It's got stuff painted on it, it's been attacked with a sledgehammer, it's been crapped on.

    I didn't know you were a widow.

    She drew back, her eyes still wet, but charged with her usual fire. He realised it was an odd response he'd given her, Oh. Sorry, Liam. I'm a widow.

    Ah. Yes, that's clear to me, now. He nodded solemnly, with just a tinge of humour at his own dense response. Do they know who did the stone? He had to catch up quick, and dive into this conversation as deep as she'd drawn him. He would really embarrass her if she realised his surprise. He liked her a lot, and sort of felt like they were close, but they'd never had a conversation that went beyond banter, really.

    No. But they've got CCTV on the streets around, and I'm insured, and there's a restoration company based just down the road, and it's all fine long-term and blah blah blah. She flapped a hand, dismissively, and then stilled, drawing in a deep breath. But now I've got to find a way to explain to Hennie tomorrow morning, that we can't go to the cemetery as planned.

    Is it a special day?

    It's his birthday. Her mouth trembled again, and she swore, turning away. She enunciated with gritty, broken-glass clarity, It was his birthday. Tomorrow.

    When did he die?

    Three years ago – she was seven.

    "I'm supposed to be going

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