The Body

By Arabella Abbing

Brianna:
They called him The Body.
A fitting nickname for the hottest man I'd ever laid eyes on.

I spent eight years watching Adam Reed from a distance.
Envious not only of the girls he chose to bed, but of the man himself.
Bitterness was an unpleasant side effect of watching his easy life.

Now, at our high school reunion, I've finally worked up the nerve to confront him.
I'm determined to get to know him. Learn his secrets.
But I never expected what I discovered.

Adam:
After college, I landed my dream job in professional football and escaped my past.
I shouldn't have come back. Especially not for something as stupid as a reunion.

But my luck seemed to turn around when I hooked up with Brianna Larson of all people.
I always thought she was too smart to get mixed up with a guy like me.
I can't decide whether it's good or bad that I was wrong.

Because now she's tangled up in the mess of my past and I can't get her out.
If I'm honest, maybe I don't even want to.
But will she run away when she learns the truth about who I really am?

** The Body is a full-length romance novel. No cheating, no cliffhanger, and a guaranteed happy ending. 18+ ** 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arabella Abbing
• Release date: Sep 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386327929

Book preview

Chapter 1

Brianna

Whoever said that high school was the best time of your life was totally full of shit.

Despite my thinking it was literally impossible for him to do so, Adam ‘The Body’ Reed seemed to have even more fun in college than he did back in high school. At least if the rumors about him sleeping his way through over half of the female population were to be believed.

Thing was, I did believe them. After all, I went to high school with the guy and saw first-hand just how many of my friends and other classmates got tangled up in his web of sweet talk and his notorious ‘hit-it-and-quit-it’ attitude.

Not that I didn’t understand the appeal. Adam didn’t get his nickname for nothing—he was literally the only guy at our high school with the body of a fully grown man in his teenage years. He was ripped. Washboard abs, a broad chest that could make any girl feel small in comparison, and arms that were as thick as my thighs.

And while I’d never had any personal experience with what he kept hidden beneath his loose basketball shorts, I had heard enough gossip over the years to know that what he was packing there was just as glorious as the rest of his body.

Adam redefined the term heartthrob. Some of the girls even called him Adonis.

I just called him by his name.

Not to his face, though, because that would require actually speaking to him, something I hadn’t once done during the entire eight years I had known him.

I wasn’t a shy girl by any means, but I was hardly a social butterfly. I also wasn’t naïve enough to think I was unique because of my preference for computers over people, but my teenage geekiness stuck with me through college and instead of boyfriends and parties, I wound up graduating at the top of my class with a Bachelor’s degree in computer engineering.

Unfortunately, that also meant I had very few stories that I would be fondly reminiscing about later in life unless you counted the experiences I vicariously lived through my roommate.

Adam graduated with barely a passing grade, but it hardly mattered. He was drafted onto a professional football team straight out of college whereas I spent the year after graduation feeling like I was throwing my applications straight into the wind while splitting my time between an unpaid internship and a part-time barista job.

Life wasn’t even close to fair.

My degree hung on the wall of my bedroom—a constant reminder of the student loans I still had to pay off.

My graduation cap sat on my desk—a constant reminder of the valedictorian speech I gave about the future that Adam had zoned out during, staring down at his phone with a frown while I tried to force myself not to look at him.

Not that I could fault him. Why did he care about what I had to say about the future? His future was golden from the moment he hit puberty and became God’s gift to women and the ultimate man’s man. Even if he hadn’t been blessed with athleticism, I had no doubt in my mind that he would have gotten a job offer right out of the gate.

The Body could do no wrong.

Adonis would always be handed opportunities while the rest of us flailed around aimlessly, desperate for anything we could possibly get.

I slammed my high school yearbook shut and tossed it across the room, wincing when it thumped against the wall and landed on the floor with a loud thud. A moment later, my roommate appeared in my doorway, looking between me and the wall with wide eyes.

What happened?

"I don’t know. I don’t know. I wish someone would tell me what happened because I’ve tried and tried to figure it out and I worked my ass off through school and for what? To be slinging coffee and interning? To be up to my eyeballs in debt even after the scholarships I’d been given? To see people who have seemingly worked for nothing get handed everything every time I turn a corner?"

So… yeah. Maybe I was bitter. I wouldn’t go so far as to say jealous, but definitely bitter.

Stacy blinked a few times, clearly at a loss for how to respond to my tirade or how to comfort me. But—bless her heart—she did the best that she could.

You want to get fucked up?

I slammed my hands down on the mattress and pushed myself into a sitting position.

Why the hell not?

"It’s just—It’s not fair, I whined after slinging back my fourth shot of vodka. Or maybe it is fair and I’m just too pissed off to see it."

"What’s got your panties in such a twist over fucking Adam? Stacy asking, blowing a raspberry with her lips after speaking his name. I thought you’d never even talked to him before."

I haven’t and that’s not the point, I drawled—or maybe slurred—hard to tell. "The point is that he got everything he wanted with minimal effort. I-I’m busting my ass, Stace! How much harder can I try? What more can I give? What am I missing?"

A six pack and a huge schlong?

I huffed and slammed the empty shot glass on the table, my brows drawn together in a frown. Well, huge schlongs don’t just grow on trees and I’m too out of shape to get abs. I can barely make it through yoga class.

The female equivalent would be fake tits, Stacy helpfully supplied as she refilled her own shot glass.

I don’t have the money for that, I muttered, trying to picture myself with blown-up boobs and giggling at the imagery.

Stacy suddenly burst out laughing, causing me to frown at her while I waited for an explanation.

Sorry, sorry, she panted, breathless from laughing so hard. "It’s just—I really hope you aren’t planning to get drunk and unload all this on Adam himself. But if you are—I’m so glad that I’ll be present for it. I want a front row seat."

I snorted and Stacy began to laugh harder at the noise. I raised my voice to speak over her as I asked, What the hell are you talking about? I’ll probably never see him again. Not in person, anyways.

Don’t you remember? she asked, all traces of laughter gone as she fixed me with a quizzical look. Your high school reunion is in two weeks.

"What?"

That was news to me.

You RSVP’d like three months ago. I saw it on Facebook.

I vaguely recalled the moment when I first saw the invite. Mostly, I remembered groaning at the thought of a five-year reunion. Why couldn’t my school wait until ten years had passed before they insisted on rounding us all up for a glorified bragging opportunity?

I didn’t accept that, I said surely, grabbing my phone and opening the app to check. There’s no way in hell I would have agreed to that unless I was— My sentence cut off when I saw the event reminder on my phone and it suddenly dawned on me. I turned accusing eyes to Stacy and shouted, "You! You got me drunk and badgered me into accepting the invite!"

She raised her hands in surrender, but her expression was nothing short of amused.

Guilty as charged. But you don’t have to go it alone, remember? I promised to go with you.

I nodded even though I had no memory of that part. Looking back down at my phone with a frown, I scrolled through the list of confirmed attendants.

He’s listed, I numbly said. Adam. He RSVP’d two days ago.

He probably needed to make sure he’d actually be able to be here first, Stacy pointed out with a thoughtful nod. "Which is all the more reason for you to go. Maybe you can actually talk to him for once."

I don’t want to talk to him, I mumbled before I closed the app and tossed my phone on the couch. I wouldn’t even know what to say.

"Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you need to. We were roomies for three years of college and even though I’m pretty damn sure that you didn’t even realize it—you were kind of obsessed with him. And apparently, you still are."

I scoffed at the absurdity. Am not!

"Then why are you bringing him up again? Just admit it—if not to me, then to yourself or to Jesus—I don’t really care. But the sooner you realize it and actually accept it, the sooner we can come to the root of your fixation and finally move on from Adam fucking Reed."

She stood up on wobbly legs, freezing for a moment with her arms outstretched while she waited for her balance to return. Once she was stable, she turned back to give me her parting words of wisdom.

Don’t beat yourself up about it, Bri. It’s perfectly natural for any sane, straight woman to be interested in a man like that. Now if you’ll excuse me—I need to go pass the fuck out.

As she walked away, I frowned at her back and muttered, "I’m not interested in him. It’s just... curiosity."

I lifted the almost-empty bottle of vodka and took a swig, shuddering at the taste.

"And—okay—maybe a little bit of envy. But who wouldn’t be jealous? He’s had a charmed fucking life."

Another swig.

"But it’s not like I’m bitter just because he never once looked my way during the entire eight years that we knew each other. Nuh-uh. Not this girl. I couldn’t care less. He’s not my type anyways."

I killed the rest of the bottle and let out a long, slow sigh as I leaned back against the couch and let my head rest on the cushion.

"I’m not obsessed with him, I adamantly told the ceiling, daring it to call me out. Seriously. Idle curiosity is not obsession. There’s a huge difference."

A loud snort came from the hallway.

Stop lying to God, Bri!

Go to bed! I yelled back, muttering under my breath about nosy roommates while her laughter echoed through the apartment.

Chapter 2

Brianna

I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, I said as Stacy dragged me into the third department store of the night. "It’s not even that I hate shopping. I just hate shopping with you. "

Don’t kid yourself, Stacy replied with a chuckle. "You do hate shopping. Or at least real, legitimate shopping. You know, like when you actually try things on to make sure they fit first? Yeah, that’s shopping."

I scrunched up my nose and shrugged. Okay, fine. Maybe I do hate it. But I like to shop online!

Uh-huh. And you always find the cutest outfits and then get super disappointed when the seller didn’t properly measure and they don’t fit, Stacy mumbled as she flipped through a rack and pulled out a dress. Hold this.

My eyebrows went sky-high as I took the hanger from her and warily eyed the short bodycon dress.

"I pray that this is for you."

Just try it on. Please?

Stacy, I can’t pull this off. There’s no way in hell.

She turned away from the rack to put her hands together and pout, silently begging me to try it on. I rolled my eyes and gestured for her to resume browsing while I tried to ignore the unpleasant sensation swirling around in my stomach as I imagined myself in the dress. The mental image I summoned up was just… all kinds of wrong.

But I supposed I could just try it on for Stacy’s sake. It was the least I could do considering she was helping me find an outfit for the reunion at the last minute.

I originally hadn’t wanted her help, but she made a very convincing argument when she said, ‘Bri, you haven’t seen most of these people in five years. You’re complaining about not having anything accomplished to brag about, but you can at the very least let me dress you and show off how fucking amazing you look.’

Bullseye.

She had aimed right for my weak spot and hit it without breaking a sweat.

Because she was right. I’d lived pretty frugally in college and dropped a few pounds due to cutting back on my grocery money, but the biggest changes to my body were simply from growing up. I definitely didn’t look like an entirely different person or anything, but the changes had made me more comfortable in clothing that I wouldn’t have ever dreamed of wearing in high school.

Stacy let out a gasp and drew my attention back to her. She pulled a sexy red dress off the rack and her wild eyes ran up and down its length multiple times before she finally nodded and said, "Huzzah. Winner, winner, chicken dinner."

I smiled and tilted my head to the side, waiting for an explanation before she yanked the bodycon dress out of my hand and shoved it back on the rack.

This is it, she said with a nod of finality. I can feel it. Dressing room. Now.

But aren’t you going to get—

"Now! I’ll meet you there in a second."

I rolled my eyes and walked away, glancing back to watch as she moved to another rack of dresses to find one for herself. I narrowed my eyes at the dress in my hand—nowhere near as convinced as Stacy was that I could pull this off.

But it was less of a stretch than the bodycon dress and I found myself silently hoping it looked good just so that this shopping trip would finally be over.

The nice lady stationed at the dressing rooms gave me a kind smile before giving me a tag for my door and directing me off to the women’s area on the right. I found an empty room and quickly undressed before gently slipping the dress off the hanger and up my legs. It was quite a challenge to zip up the back by myself, but I managed to get it done.

Once it was on, I spun around to look in the mirror and my eyebrows raised high with surprise. It fit like a second skin, but I couldn’t deny that Stacy had been right.

The girl knows her clothes, that’s for sure, I whispered to my reflection as I leaned in closer.

A loud knock on the door to my dressing room made me jump.

I heard you in there talking to yourself, Bri! Stacy called out as she knocked on the door again. Open up and let me see!

I unhooked the lock and opened the door, grinning when she let out a low whistle and started bouncing up and down in excitement. The feeling was contagious and I allowed her to pull me out into the main room to make use of the larger mirror panels at the end of the hall.

"What’d I say, girl? You look fucking ridiculous! Stacy happily said as she spun me around. You’re going to knock them dead tomorrow. I’ll do your hair and makeup, too."

You don’t think it’s too short? I asked as I spun again, watching my ass closely to make sure it wasn’t showing from any angle. I think it was made for women a little shorter than me.

"Your ass isn’t showing and your legs look amazing. This is it, Bri, she replied, twisting me around so she could rest both hands on my shoulders and fix me with a serious stare as she whispered, This is the one."

I laughed and pulled her hands away, nodding as I said, All right, all right. I’ll get it.

Yay! I’m going to try this one on real quick and then we can get the hell out of here.

"Thank you, I breathed with relief. My feet hurt."

She just shook her head and chuckled as we both entered our respective changing rooms. I was just stepping out of the dress when I heard Stacy as she said, So are you ever going to tell me what brought you-know-who back to your mind?

Since I appreciated her candor for not using his name in public, I decided to fess up.

I saw him in the paper.

Yeah, I saw that, too. He looked good.

I grunted. "When has he ever not looked good?"

Valid point. So have you decided what you’re going to say to him?

I sighed as I pulled the jeans up my legs and buttoned them. Stace, I’m not going to speak to him. I have no reason to.

"Bullshit. You have multiple reasons to."

Care to fill me in on these reasons? I asked as I opened the door and stepped out of the tiny room to wait for her.

I heard the sound of fabric rustling before she growled in frustration. A moment later, the sound of a zipper going up hit my ears followed by her triumphant sound of satisfaction.

How’s it look? I asked through the door.

She opened it and held her hands out to the side for a moment, showing off the front of the dress before twirling around and propping her hands on her hips to model the back.

I love it, she said. What do you think?

I tapped my chin thoughtfully before I said, "I think that even though I may not have anything to brag about at