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Hunted By The Player

Hunted By The Player

Amanda Aniston

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Determined, dreamy, irritating and self-possessed, Selena travels to Barcelona to study for a month to improve her resume and professional background. What she didn't expect was that it would enhance her love record as well. Arrogant, wealthy football player, Hunter not only enjoys his great form in football but also enjoys all the attention from the opposite sex on his night time hunts. Little does he know that in a second, his life will change just by spilling a drink on a feisty motormouth girl. Will Hunter be hunted or will he conquer his prey? Together Selena and Hunter will have to find out how to deal with fame, gossip, jealousy, and distance to make this relationship work. How many chances will life give them to do so?

Chapter 1 Preface

“Answer the phone!” I scream to myself for the fifth time after the fifth call goes to voicemail. Where has he gotten himself? He told me he would be off today. Did something serious happen?

I grab the keys to the new car I got from my parents for my birthday last month and hit the elevator button hard, over and over. As if that would solve anything, Selena! Once I’m in my car, and before starting the engine, I try calling one more time. Mailbox again. More than shit. I hate it. I just hate it when people don't answer! Why do they even have cellphones?

I get on the road and take the fourth avenue, which has good traffic; there’s a lot of cars, but we’re moving. When I arrive, I look up at the building. Looking from the outside, there is no way to see movement on the fourth floor, so since I already know the password for the door, I go in and take the elevator.

Instead of using the bell, I decide to surprise him. He hates surprises, but since we talked so little this week, he's sure to be happy to see me. The entire room is neat and empty, the curtains drawn, and the only illumination is the setting sun in the late afternoon. I heard movement in the room and follow that direction. Noises in the room ahead become more intense.

I approach his room and see something wrong. My boyfriend is all sweaty on the bed, and there is a woman on top of him who is moaning with pleasure.

I go static, and every cell of my body freezes when I realise that the blonde woman has been known to me since I've known myself: Samantha. I'm unable to even force a tear. The very next moment I see Mateo is staring at me, his face a little pathetic and scared!

I run back swiftly to the elevator that is still waiting on this floor, luckily. When I get back inside my car, I start it up quickly and see Mateo in the rearview mirror running towards me. He only has a sheet around his body. I break down crying right there as I screech the car back onto the street. How could he? He said he loved me. Never, never look him in the face again, Selena, I tell myself, noticing my red eyes in the rearview mirror. I can still see my ex-boyfriend standing almost naked on the street.

I have received flowers for the second week in a row now. Today marks the two-month anniversary of that episode that now passes by me unnoticed. Mateo is better at apologies than I imagined. He was treating me like a princess even though we didn't see each other as often. I was taking my time at forgiving him. People around us are still talking about it, but I don't give a shit about them.

I call him again to thank him for the flowers. It's on the fourth call.

“Hello?” A sensual, female voice answers my phone. “Mateo is in the shower and can't answer. Can he call later back later?”

“What do you mean call later?” Her voice to me is unfamiliar. “I’m his cousin. Can you inform me if he is at home?” I lie to the bitch on the other end of the line. I grab my car keys and run out of my building.

“Yes, do you want to leave a message?” The woman seems helpful... having sex with my boyfriend.

“No thanks. Just let him know that Selena called.” I am utterly cynical and don’t even bother to say goodbye to her. I just hang up.

I make my usual way to his house. My eyes are filled with tears for believing his damn words once more. Why did he fucking do it again?

I ring the doorbell and the woman I suspect had answered the phone opens the door for me. She is wearing a T-shirt and a bra underneath, and I don't even know if she is wearing panties. I felt crestfallen as I saw her wearing my old sweatshirt that I had left at his place, my anger is now at the extreme.

“Get out of my way. Where is he?!” I say, pushing her aside to enter the room. She starts to say some things out loud, but I don't care about her. I want him to look in my eyes and admit he cheated on me again. I barge into the bedroom and Mateo jumps out of bed in his underwear.

“You did it again!” I shout. “You betrayed me again!” Anger and despair fuel me. My heart aches because of it.

“What are you doing here?!” Now he is the one who is screaming, which is the first time this has happened. “Shouldn't you be studying?”

I think for a second and calm down.

“I love you. Why are you doing this to me?” My tears fall like a waterfall.

“I do not love you. Now stop your shit and get out of here now.” He points to the front door.

“You cannot do this to me, you insensitive idiot. You are a monster! You’re only good for catching piranhas.”

“Then remember you were one of them.”

My head explodes at that. I lunge at him to slap him, but he stops me. He hits me in the face so hard I fall to the ground, crying.

I don’t know what gets into me but I get with a new found strength and go to hit him. He tries to stop me again and being in the military had the strength and the moves but I dodged, slapped him once, kicked him in the groin and punched him a couple of times until he fell down in pain and I kicked his dick hard again

I look at the woman behind me. She looks at me in horror. Mateo is still talking, mainly superficial-level swear words, lying on the ground. I become aware, or at least my head stops spinning, and I walk out of there shattered.

“I hate you! Stay with your bitches and you will reap what you sow.”

It is the last thing I say.

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