Mine First Read online

  Contents

  Blurb

  Other Titles

  Copyright

  Prologue

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  Epilogue

  Author Note

  Is it Love or Obsession?

  Lori is a university lecturer.

  Addy is a student.

  In her head, Lori knows better. But the pull between her and Addy isn’t something she finds easy to resist—despite her friend’s warning about Addy’s questionable past behaviour.

  After a fun night out that ends in a major lapse in judgement, Lori wakes up in Addy’s dorm room.

  And her whole life unravels.

  Mine First is an age-gap thriller romance filled with forbidden love and broken hearts, suspenseful obsession, and a fight to stay alive to reach that ever-wanted happy ending.

  Time Undone

  August

  Where The Light Lasts Longer

  Mine First: A Thriller Romance

  All She Wants: A Christmas Romance

  Prose & Procrastination: A Zine

  Vol 1- Call It What You Will

  Copyright © A.J. Marchant 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  If you’d like to get in touch-

  Click here to see other works by AJ

  Email: [email protected]

  Insta: @ajmarchantwrites

  Website: www.ajmwrites.com

  PROLOGUE

  ‘SHIT.’ HEART THUMPING in his throat, Detective Cooper measured his steps, gun aimed at the closed door at the end of the hallway. He strained to hear any movement, hard to do with the echo of boots through the ceiling above, the reports of the other officers clearing their sections, and the whomping blades of the chopper hovering low over the house.

  Coop adjusted his grip on the gun, finger alongside the trigger. He shifted and steadied himself as he levelled the barrel with one hand and reached for the handle with the other, swinging the door wide.

  Light flooded the hallway. His eyes adjusted as he scanned the room. No one. Empty. Just muddy boots, jackets on hooks, a laundry basket close to overflowing. And the overpowering smell of bleach.

  Coop holstered his gun and stepped in, leaning over a stainless steel sink. At the bottom was a crumpled shirt, blood soaked and streaked with mud. Bleach vapours made his eyes water and the copper tang of blood caught in the back of his throat.

  After digging a glove from his pocket and snapping it on, Coop lifted the shirt. Underneath lay a hunting knife covered in blood. He touched a fingertip to the cold blade. The blood was still wet, and the blade lifted a little, sticking to the glove as he pulled his hand back.

  The suspect had come and gone. Just as they’d thought.

  Out in the backyard, a line of officers combed the ground, their collective breath rising in clouds. The line paused when one of them signalled they’d found something. Snapping off the glove, Coop watched as a forensic tech crouched to take a look. He leaned over the sink, forehead hovering close to the window as the tech raked a hesitant hand through a disturbed patch of icy dirt. Coop had already guessed what they had found before the tech turned away, nose buried in the crook of his elbow, the tall man almost losing his balance in his haste to stand.

  Coop stepped to the side, away from the sink. There was a void in the shoes and boots, making it possible for Coop to stand at the window and look out, making him wonder if the suspect had cleared the space for exactly that purpose. Another call went up and this time a young officer crouched. Another patch of muddy snow, darker. This one was closer to the house, right in Coop’s sightline. A little digging revealed something grey and mottled. It was a hand.

  Coop stood frozen to the spot, watching on as Detective King, his partner, stepped in and relieved the officer. A careful brush unearthed the length of an arm, King’s movements gentle, following along the curve of shoulder and neck.

  Another sweep of dirty snow revealed a fold of plastic. King looked up through the window at Coop. A nod passed between them, and he peeled the plastic back.

  ‘Shit.’

  Her hair was neat, tucked behind her ears. Lips slightly parted. Eyes closed. She could have been asleep, her stillness mistaken for peace and dreaming—if it wasn’t for the livid bruises ringing her neck.

  1

  THE BLUE WHITEBOARD marker was running low. It squeaked with the pressure needed to write in a legible bold, taking longer than it should have to write out the topic of discussion. Lori didn’t mind. It gave her time to revise her notes, memorised that morning. With a stamped full stop, she turned from the whiteboard. And forgot everything she was about to say.

  It’s never fun to lose your train of thought. Especially when you’re standing in front of a lecture room filled with blank-faced twenty-something-year-old students staring back at you. It’s unsettling, even on a good day.

  But all Lori could focus on was one seat, one face in particular, in the third row. Addison Brooke. Addy. Eyes bright and binding, tracing a small circle just below her collarbone. Lori could almost feel it on her own chest, her skin growing warm and itching for her to reach up and touch it, scratch it.

  Lori slapped the marker against her palm, reeling her mind back to the topic she’d been about to introduce. Pens tapped on dog-eared textbooks and students leaned forward in their seats, waiting.

  Someone coughed, cutting through the strained silence. Lori blinked away from Addy and glanced at the clock over the door, relieved to see it was almost time to wrap up the class.

  ‘Okay, let’s call it a day. Topic for next class is on the board, take note. Read your pages, come up with some questions and talking points. Oh and don’t forget about the clinic and our project this weekend. Bring friends along to help.’ Lori tossed the failing marker into the bin by the door. ‘Papers on my desk as you leave and have a good weekend.’

  The room erupted. Lori started collecting things into her tub, flashi
ng a smile at each student as they added their essay to a stack that steadily grew taller.

  The room was almost empty when someone slid up onto the desk beside her. Lori didn’t look over. She knew it was Addy. Ignoring her, Lori straightened the paper stack then glanced around at the last few students who were taking their time to leave before whispering, ‘You can’t keep sneaking in like that. People are noticing.’

  Addy grinned, her legs kicking beneath the desk. ‘What… how distracted you get? I noticed that too.’

  ‘Interrupted. Not distracted.’

  Addy slid down off the desk and Lori let her guard drop. But then a fingertip tucked into the side of her jeans, running around her hip, dipping into the soft skin of her stomach, moving so slowly it felt like a minute passed before it reached her belt buckle, pausing.

  It wasn’t just the cold touch that took Lori’s breath away as Addy’s hand slipped up under her shirt, a fingertip tracing a pattern across her stomach. It was the closeness of their bodies side by side, their breathing falling into a rhythm, the uncontrollable twitch at each surprising touch.

  ‘Miss Tate?’

  Lori grabbed Addy’s wrist, twisting away out of reach. She turned around to a handful of crumpled sheets of paper being held out, looking up at the uncertain face of a boy whose name she could never remember. She waited for him to speak, hoping he hadn’t seen anything.

  ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t find a s-stapler.’ He poked out the papers a little further.

  ‘That’s okay—’ She took the essay, glanced down at the name scrawled in pen at the top, memorising it, ‘—Jeremy. I can fix that.’

  ‘Thanks.’ And with his eyes glued back on the ground, he nodded and left.

  ‘Weirdo.’

  ‘Be nice, Addy. He’s just shy.’ Lori batted Addy’s hand away as it reached for Jeremy’s paper. She added it to the pile and slid them all into her bag, heaving it over her shoulder and reaching for the tub. It wasn’t where she’d left it.

  Addy had it cradled against her hip. ‘Ready?’

  2

  LORI OPENED THE door, following Addy out into the hallway. She looked around, assuring herself that a lecturer and student walking together wasn’t an unusual sight. It was still something she was getting used to, being in the same university she attended, but a generation older than the students she now taught. ‘Don’t you have your own class to go to?’

  ‘Yeah, but my professor hates me.’ Addy glanced back at Lori, spying the dip of her eyebrow. ‘What?’

  ‘Maybe they wouldn’t hate you if you actually showed up?’

  There was a guy weaving his way towards them through the crowded hallway and Lori stepped out of the way at the last second, pressed in close to Addy’s side. ‘Anyway, Emmie says you’re failing—’

  ‘Coach can mind her own business. I got one bad grade. A few bad grades, it’s nothing.’ Addy waved as someone passed by, lowering her voice so Lori had to lean in. ‘I’m not failing, okay? You know how it is in the final year, things get hectic.’

  ‘But not too hectic to sneak into my class?’ Lori scanned the other offices along the hallway as they approached her own. Addy didn’t have any excuse to add, just leaned on the wall while Lori unlocked her office door.

  Addy sat on the corner of her desk while Lori rolled the chair out of the way into the corner. She emptied the tub, dumping out a random collection of markers and pens into her top drawer, and then dropped it in the footwell. She felt self-conscious as she packed up her desk, shoving things in her bag to work on over the weekend, seeing Addy in the corner of her eye, aware of her watching every move.

  Addy picked up a little ceramic bowl, turned it upside down, and wiped it out with the hem of her shirt. ‘There’s a new pizza place open. Supposed to be terrible. Wanna go get a slice?’

  ‘Is that even possible, to make bad pizza?’ Lori pried the bowl from Addy’s fingers and put it back. ‘Anyway, I can’t. I have a thing.’

  Addy touched a fingertip to the bowl, nudging it until it lined up with the circular outline in the dust. ‘So? Cancel.’

  Lori struggled with a folder, trying to get it into her bag. It wouldn’t budge, caught on something. Addy reached in and freed it, the folder sliding in with a thud. A knock on the door startled them. Their heads snapped up and Addy’s hand pulled back.

  Lori’s friend, Emmie, leaned in the doorway. ‘Ready to go?’

  ‘In a minute.’ Lori wheeled the chair back to the desk, flicking an apologetic look at Addy who’d slid off the desk, arms crossed.

  ‘Have fun.’ Addy mumbled under her breath, trailing her hand across Lori’s back as she passed behind her.

  3

  SALVATORE’S FAMILY RESTAURANT wasn’t a place you went to if you were in a hurry. It was full most nights, and noisy, though tonight most of the racket was coming from the table in the corner; Lori’s table.

  Friday night dinners had become a tradition, a chance to bitch and moan and catch up. The group had started as three friends going to the same university, growing over the years into three friends who taught at the same university, although in three different departments.

  The biggest difference now were the partners they dragged along for the ride. Olivia—who goes by Olly to friends—the psych professor, and her husband, Matt. Emmie, the sports scientist, and her wife, Lena. And then Lori, a humanities lecturer, currently unattached.

  Being the only single person left in the group meant it didn’t take long before Lori’s love life became the centre of attention. Advice came from every corner of all kinds. Welcome or not.

  Lena was usually the one to defend her, wave the others off, tell them to leave her alone. But tonight Lena’s seat was empty. Em had said she was on her way, but not to wait. Lena was never late, and this raised a flag in Lori’s mind. Even more so at the fact that Em wasn’t glancing at the door or the clock or her phone, not even pretending she was waiting for Lena to show.

  Right on cue, Olly leaned forward and asked if Lori was seeing anyone. A big sip of red wine and Lori shook her head, hoping a quick and simple answer would cut the conversation off before it got going.

  It seemed like her plan had worked, but then Em mumbled into her wine glass. ‘She’s too busy flirting with a twenty-two-year-old who has a crush on her.’

  Lori gave her a kick under the table. Best friend or not, it didn’t help that Em was the university’s swim coach, Addy’s swim coach. It helped even less that Olly lived on gossip, fascinated by any kind of human behaviour, especially the things people tried to hide.

  ‘Really? Who?’

  ‘Addison—’

  Lori cut her off. ‘It’s not—I don’t… Addy’s just a little—’

  ‘Obsessed?’ Emmie leaned over her plate.

  ‘… forward.’

  ‘Tease, more like it.’

  Her interest piqued, Olly shifted in her seat. ‘Pretty?’

  Em gave an emphatic nod.

  ‘You should bring her to dinner.’

  Lori jumped in before Em could, ‘She’s a student, Olly,’ and then watched as they turned to each other.

  Both spoke at the same time.

  ‘Out of bounds.’

  ‘Against the rules.’

  Matt had been silently following their conversation, a smirk hidden behind his beer glass. He put it down with a clunk. ‘Fuck the rules, and fuck h—’

  But Olly cut him off with a warning elbow to the ribs. ‘Don’t listen to him. He’s drunk…’ They smiled sweetly at each other. Olly pressed her thumb into the divot in his chin, pinching it. ‘And disgusting.’ A quick kiss on his cheek, a pat on his chest, and Olly dismissed Matt from the conversation. But not before he winked at Lori, the cheeky glint in his eye reminding her not to take a word of what they were saying too seriously or to heart.

  Olly turned back to Em. ‘What about the professor you two were talking about last week?’

  ‘Josie,’ Em said, in the same breath as Lori asked, �
��Dean DeLuca?’

  ‘I thought Lori and her had a thing.’

  Apparently Lori wasn’t part of the conversation anymore, just the subject, but she interjected anyway. ‘We went on a few dates, that’s it. She’s my boss.’

  Em rolled her eyes. ‘And too good for her, supposedly.’

  ‘She’s a professor of literature.’ Matt frowned into his empty glass and signalled to the waiter for another, ‘And a dean at a sought after university, and Lori’s too good for her?’

  ‘No. Lori thinks Josie is the one who’s too good.’

  That was just what Lori had told Em to get her off her back. In all honesty, she liked Josie. But lately every relationship had been a disaster; she’d eventually get comfortable enough to let them in, everything going smoothly, nice and stable and wonderfully boring. And then it would end.

  After that, Lori had been a little hesitant to jump into another nice and stable and wonderfully boring relationship that could fall apart at any moment.

  So, she went along with Addy’s flirting, knowing it was all in fun and wouldn’t go anywhere, knowing it would be a simple and easy out. Uncomplicated, predictable, no chance of getting her heart broken as long as she didn’t get attached.

  Lori gave up trying to defend herself, focusing instead on twirling pasta onto her fork.

  ‘Josie. Smart, right? She’d have to be.’ Olly put her wineglass down.

  Em picked hers up. ‘Very.’

  Even Matt chimed in. ‘How smart?’

  ‘PhD.’

  Matt couldn’t help himself now. ‘Probably right. Way too good for her.’

  Lori could see he’d said it as a joke, sarcasm written all over his face, but Olly and Em were too busy agreeing to notice.

  ‘Oh, come on. Really guys? I’m right here.’ Not actually offended, Lori still felt she should say something, even if it meant talking around a mouthful of pasta.

  All three turned to look at her, sitting there with her wine glass in one hand, an overloaded fork in the other floating halfway to her mouth which was already full, a sliver of red sauce lining her bottom lip. It started as a nervous hiccup, but the looks on their faces were too much. Lori burst out laughing, wiping at her mouth with a napkin, and soon all of them were laughing, the heat and the alcohol going to their heads.