Gah, I hate him! Lizzie thought as she crossed the room, heading to the kitchen. She had just spotted John Pritkin, the bane of her existence. Lizzie hated him with every fibre of her being. She hated the way he spoke with that pretentious upper class British accent. She hated the way his blond hair stuck up in wildest of ways. She hated the way he moved with a skilled fighter's grace. She hated his crooked smile. She hated the sparkle in his emerald green eyes. She hated his deep resonating laugh. She hated the way he was able to hold an incredibly interesting and intelligent discussion while managing to make everyone laugh. She hated his charming ways. Basically, Lizzie hated everything about him. Spotting one of her best friends, Cam, Lizzie crossed the kitchen. Cam held out a beer for her, and Lizzie snatched it, downing half in one big swig.
"Whoa there, girl," Cam exclaimed. "Slow down; the beer's not going anywhere! Let me guess, you saw him." Lizzie knew exactly who the 'him' was, and she was determined not the think about him that night. It was a party, and damnit, she was going to enjoy herself.
"I hate him," Lizzie sighed. There goes not thinking about him. "I don't understand how you all can like him so much! He's so annoying and rude and annoying and mean and annoying and conceited! Did I mention he was annoying?"
Cam laughed. "He's really only annoying to you. I, personally, think he's charming and nice. And if you gave each other half a chance, you'd see what we all see in the both of you!" Cam, spotting her hotter than hot boyfriend Mikey, patted Lizzie on the shoulder, told her to hang in there, and rushed into Mikey's arms, leaving Lizzie to contemplate the object of her hatred.
It had been eight months ago when she met the man who drove her insane. Lizzie's roommate, Christine, a.k.a. Chris, suggested that she go to her cousin's mixed martial arts class, after Lizzie complained about how she never got any exercise. Lizzie jumped at the idea, being a huge UFC and MMA fan. She had done some kickboxing previously, and loved the work out, not to mention that she got to hit, punch, kick and grapple with some rather fit and hot men. So two days later, Chris led Lizzie into the MMA class, and that's when she saw him. He was easily one of the best looking guys she'd ever seen. He was tall, lean, and all muscle. His face could have graced the pages of any magazine. He had full luscious lips, a square jaw and eye lashes that cast a shadow on his high cheekbones. He had looked over to where Chris and Lizzie were standing, smiled, sending a sparkle to his eye, and jogged over. He stopped right in front of them, gracing the ladies with a smile that almost caused Lizzie to swoon. He playfully punched Chris in the arm, looked at Lizzie and asked, "So who've we got here, Chris?"
Chris smacked the guy back and introduced Lizzie to the stud. "Lizzie, this is the trainer, and my cousin, Mikey. Mikey, this is Lizzie, the woman I was telling you about." Lizzie had sighed inwardly. Of course she'd heard about Mikey; all the ladies with whom she had lunch, most of whom were in the class, spoke of the sexy, sexy trainer. Lizzie knew that Cam in particular had had a thing for Mikey, even though she had insisted that they were just friends. Lizzie would never, ever make a move on someone her friend was interested in. Mikey had smiled again and told her that she was to take it easy that day, and that he only wanted to see what she could do. To that end, he had explained, he was going to pair her up with his top student, someone who was a master in his own right, but just took the class because they were friends. Mikey had called him over, and that was when she had first laid eyes on him.
Lizzie remembered the moment exactly, in excruciating detail. He had walked over, moving with a grace befit a natural athlete and bespoke of his talent for martial arts. He had been wearing a black t-shirt that fit loosely, but still managed to showcase the lean muscles of a fighter and a pair of loose fitting black pants that covered his long legs. His blond hair was spiky, but had moved with his every step, and when he had looked her in the eye, Lizzie's breath had hitched and her mouth had gone dry. He was gorgeous. Mikey had introduced him as "John Pritkin, master martial artist and British charmer," and John had smiled crookedly, hit Mikey and shook his head. And Lizzie had known she was lost; lost to everything except the tempting man who stood in front of her. John had held out his hand and she had taken it, an instant spark passing between them. John's eyes had widened slightly, and Lizzie had known he felt it too. He had mumbled a "Nice to meet you, Ms. Chang" in a decidedly sexy British accent, and Lizzie found herself stuttering a "You too."
She had shaken herself out of her dreamy stupor and told him he could call her Lizzie. His response had floored her. He had insisted that, due to his proper upbringing, he would never call someone to which he was not properly acquainted by their first name. And that was when the war had started. Nobody dared insult her family, which is what John had done when he insinuated that Lizzie didn't have a proper upbringing. She had kicked his ass that night, getting out her frustration (both sexual and emotional), and showing him and Mikey that she was a fighter.
Pulling herself back to the present, Lizzie sighed and looked around. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of Pritkin (which she had called him ever since that first meeting, refusing to use his first name -- ever) with Lynn, one of the newer students. In the few seconds her eyes rested on them, Lizzie became increasingly upset. Lynn was a few years younger, tall, slender and pretty. She knew how to work her body to get a guy's attention, and now she was using all that skill toward Pritkin. Lizzie snorted with disgust -- at the way Lynn was throwing herself at him and his buying into it -- downed the rest of her beer and reached for another one.
Across the room Pritkin (as he now liked to be called) watched her take a sip of another beer. His eyes travelled down her enticing neck and further, taking in the full sight of her. That was her third beer, and if she had another one in the next half hour he knew she'd be well on her way to drunk. Pritkin smiled slightly to himself, thinking that she could definitely hold her alcohol for a tiny Asian chick, and then his brow furrowed as he thought that even she wouldn't be able to properly hold four beers consumed in less than two hours. He tried to bring his attention back to the 'conversation' in which he and Lynn were engaged, but couldn't bring himself to pay attention to her inane prattling. Instead he found his thoughts drifting to the infuriating, talented and oh-so-sexy china doll who invaded his dreams and fantasies.
