Lane (Made From Stone Book 1) Read online

  Made From Stone

  Lane

  T. Saint John

  Copyright Information

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales are purely coincidental.

  Made From Stone Book 1- Lane

  Copyright © 2016 Trina San Juan

  All rights reserved

  Cover photos owned by Trina San Juan and Darren Birks. You may not copy these photos without written permission of its owners.

  All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or photos herein is prohibited without the express written consent of the author.

  First eBook edition 2016

  kindle edition

  Acknowledgements

  Natasha Harvey, my PA. Thank you for being my jack-of-all trades. You put so much hard work into getting my books out there and I can’t thank you enough. I value our friendship and hope to meet you some day. I can’t wait to hear all your ideas moving forward. Love you, girl.

  Tricia Riley, thank you for coming on board and helping me turn Lane into the man he is. Your storyline ideas and changes benefit this book immensely. I can’t wait to return home. Drinks on me?

  Kelsey Keeton, what can I say? When I shared Lane with you, I was shocked to get your feedback. The way you turn a scene into a story is amazing. You hooked me with your first suggestion in the Lane and Jill scene. You’re so talented and I will read anything you write.

  Noelle Vallance, you’ve been on this crazy ride with me from the very beginning and it means the world to me. Thank you for standing beside me, and thank you for actually not killing me. Maybe one day we can vacation together and get those sangrias.

  My cover model and photographer Darren Birks. Female cover model Rachel Morris

  https://www.facebook.com/darrenbirksphotography

  From the Author

  Books currently available by author T. Saint John

  Finding Stone (Lane’s parents’ story) http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00UIZALWO

  Rebuilding Stone http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ZLVVXGI

  Uncovering Stone http://www.amazon.com/Uncovering-Stone-Brothers-Book-ebook/dp/B01597FHRO

  Upcoming books

  Gavin Stone-- Book 2 in the Made From Stone Series

  Expected release April 2016

  Please follow me at https://www.facebook.com/T.SaintJohnAuthor

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Lane

  “PICK UP THE DAMN BALL AND RUN A MILE WITH IT!” I scream at my sophomore running back. I swear that kid can’t handle a ball, even if it meant saving his own life.

  “Sorry, Coach,” he says and takes off running, football in hand.

  Coaching isn’t what I planned to do growing up, but it sort of fell in my lap. Throughout my childhood, my family and I were big Chicago Bears fans. We never missed a game, but I was the only one to play football in high school. My brothers and sister chose different paths. Logan and Lucas shined on the basketball court while Landon played baseball, and Lacey finally stuck with something when she started to dance.

  I never wanted to make it into the NFL. I surprised everyone when I didn’t enter the draft. They kept talking about how I was giving up millions, but life has never been about money for me.

  I like teaching; it’s what I’ve always wanted to do. My mom called me her “studious one” because I never slacked off in high school or college. When I took the job at Lakemont High, I thought I would just be a History teacher. When word got out that I played at Notre Dame and could’ve gone pro, the sports administrator asked if I could help out coaching football.

  The team had only won three games in the previous two seasons, so I agreed. I started out as assistant coach but this year I’m head coach. This team is a great group of young guys who have failed only because of the previous coach’s lack of knowledge about the sport.

  I don’t expect us to win the state championship this year, but I do expect to show that we are a team to watch out for. That is, if I can get Lewis to, “HOLD ON TO THE DAMN BALL!”

  He’s just running; no one is chasing him, no one is tackling him, and he just dropped it - again. Idiot!

  “What the hell, Lewis?” I ask.

  “My hands are sweaty,” he explains. It’s July and the temperature is in the high 90s.

  “So are mine, so are Mark's, so are everyone else's on this damn team. Do you see them dropping the ball?” I ask angrily.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then pick it up and run it again.”

  Chapter 1

  Mallory

  “Wake up, you’re going to be late!” I hear my sister Amy say.

  “Five more minutes,” I plead.

  “No, get up! It’s the first day of school,” Amy says. God, she can be so annoying.

  “Alright, I’m up,” I groan as I roll out of bed.

  I slip on my shoes before putting my feet down on the disgusting carpet and the even more disgusting bathroom tiles. I'm sure if a forensics team were brought in, they would solve some cold case murders. The smell in the bathroom suggests the lack of bladder control of past occupants. I can’t believe I have to start my senior year off like this.

  I shower quickly but only because it just takes a couple of minutes before the water turns ice cold. Grabbing the clothes I picked out the night before, I give them a good shake just in case any bugs decided to get comfy in them last night. In a pair of white shorts paired with a blue V-neck t-shirt, I’m not dressed fancy, but at least I don’t look like I’m living in Mike's motel, and for that I’m grateful.

  It doesn’t take long for me to get ready in the morning. I’m a redhead and my skin is pale; I can’t overdo the makeup without looking like a hooker, and luckily, my hair is straight, so I don’t have to tame curls or fight frizz. I can just blow dry, swipe on mascara, and go, which is what I do before I grab my backpack and head out to my Honda Civic.

  Once I’m in the car, I make the 30-minute drive. It could be much faster, but I refuse to take the freeway, even the thought of it gives me chills. So, for now, I stick to the side roads leading to my new school. Thankfully, nobody knows me here so it’s a fresh start. I’m actually excited to start over.

  After parking and heading into the building, it takes no time to realize I’m lost. This place is huge. I can barely move in any direction as students and teachers alike are bumping into each other in a rush to get to class, maybe it’s only this chaotic because it’s the first day.

  I have my class schedule in hand, and I’m trying to decide which direction I need to go when I’m bumped from behind, and pushed straight into the back of some guy
standing in front of me. I have to grab onto him to keep myself upright. What a way to start my first day.

  “Easy now,” he says, as he turns with an irritated look.

  “Shoot, I’m so sorry! I got pushed,” I rush to explain. His face softens, and I’m immediately drawn to his dark eyes; I’m locked into them. Someone needs to push me again, because I can’t stop staring.

  “It’s all right. You new here? You look lost,” says the gorgeous man standing in front of me.

  “Ah. . . well. . . I. . . ah. . .” I mumble, unable to answer his question. Who can concentrate on anything when they’re staring at someone who looks like him!? He must be used to girls drooling because he does this thing with his mouth. It’s like his grin is naturally cocky on its own, parting just enough to where his tongue pokes through. I find myself noticing this and it makes me blush.

  Lane

  As usual, the halls are busy, and I hate this crap. The school is trying to get a system in place so we don’t have this happen every day, maybe having the upper-classmen meet in the gym and the lower-classmen in the cafeteria. They better do it quickly, I think to myself, just as someone slams into my back and holds on by grabbing me just above my cock. Praying it’s Miss Conley, I turn around and am annoyed to find out it's a student. I’m even more annoyed that she is staring at me all doe-eyed.

  Every year one or two girls have some sort of obsession with me. My brothers and cousins joke about me being around barely legal, beautiful girls. I hate to disappoint them, but young girls do not appeal to me, maybe because I see their daily over-the-top drama. High-school girls are honestly mean; I’m pretty sure venom runs through their veins.

  This girl is no different as she mumbles and fails to answer my simple question. So, I ask another.

  “Whose class are you headed to?”

  She gives herself a little shake and replies, “I’m sorry. I am new, yes, and I’m looking for Mr. Stone’s class,” while clearing her throat multiple times.

  “You’re in luck. I’m Mr. Stone and we're going in that direction," I point toward my classroom, "if you want to follow me.”

  Before we move, I take hold of her firmly planted hands and remove them from my hips. I have to stifle a laugh because her eyes go wide, and her cheeks blush scarlet for the second time since we first spoke.

  “Oh. Ok, sure,” she says and follows behind me the rest of the way.

  “Here we are,” I say.

  “Thanks. I’m sorry for bumping into you, I was pushed from behind,” she rushes to apologize again.

  “It’s ok,” I say, leading her into the classroom.

  Mallory

  Oh, my God! He’s my teacher. I don’t know why that disappoints me, but it does. Heck, I’m sure it disappoints all the girls in this school. I need to get him out of my thoughts fast, because I can’t afford any distractions this year. I’m depending on scholarships to pay for college. If I don’t get any, chances are I won’t go.

  “Settle down, everyone,” Mr. Stone says, trying to get the attention of the very loud class. It takes a few moments before it’s completely quiet. I take a seat in the back; I don’t want to have full view of this good-looking man all year.

  “I start every year with brief introductions. I like knowing my students and some of their goals. I’ll go first, you all know I’m Mr. Stone and that I coach the Lakemont Eagles,” everyone cheers at this. “I graduated from Notre Dame, and I’m a huge fan of the Chicago Bears and the Fighting Irish.”

  He looks around the room before speaking again, “Okay, we’ll start in the front and work our way to the back,” he says, and points to a girl who has on enough lip gloss to stick to the wall if someone pushed her. She’s twirling her hair through her fingers, and all I hear are a bunch of 'umms’ and 'so yeahs.’

  I guess I was right; all the girls have a thing for Mr. Stone. Why do I feel so jealous? I know I’m being silly, but I start thinking about what I’m going to say. I must get completely lost in thought, because the boy in front of me taps on my desk to let me know I’m up. Well this is embarrassing; everyone is looking at me like I'm a freak.

  Lane

  I can already tell this will be a very long year. Not one person has any plans after high school, not one! No one has mentioned college, but they have their summer parties lined up at least, and this is the future of humanity.

  It’s Red’s turn now, and I expect to hear much of the same from her. I head to my desk to prepare for the rest of the morning, but I stop dead in my tracks as she opens her mouth and starts to speak. Her soft voice carries through the room like silk, and I notice all the guys are frozen in place, but the girls are busy giving her death stares.

  “I’m Mallory Carter, I’m new here. I loved cheering at my last school, and I hope to do well enough academically to receive scholarships to my top two college picks, Loyola or Northwestern,” she says and sits down. I hear a few people call out nerd, and the mean girls start laughing. Snobby little bitches!

  She seems to take it in stride, because she shrugs and opens her books. I have to say, I’m surprised to hear the girl who fumbled her words actually has respectable goals. Good for her. I think.

  Chapter 2

  Mallory

  A couple of months in at my new school, and I can honestly say that things are just okay. I made the cheerleading squad, but that hasn’t really helped in the friends department. I hate lunchtime; I never know where to sit, and nobody really offers to let me join.

  Today I’m in luck, a table is completely empty for once, and I rush to sit down. I face the wall so I don’t have to feel embarrassed about sitting alone. I used to love coming to school, but now, not so much. I just have to keep reminding myself that in seven months, I’ll be done. My thoughts are interrupted when I hear my name being called.

  “Mallory?” says a cute blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy. I know him, well, I know he plays football, and I think his name is Chad.

  “Yes?” I respond.

  “Can I sit?” he asks.

  “Uh, sure. I guess,” I answer, but it comes out as almost a question. I have no idea what he wants, and I'm not really one to draw attention.

  I watch as he slides the chair out with ease and sits down with purpose. Scooting his chair closer to mine, he cockily asks, “You’re not seeing anyone, are you?”

  “No, not at the moment,” I reply, still unsure of where this is going.

  “That’s good,” he says as he takes a bite of my celery. He says nothing else, but he smiles without revealing his teeth. He doesn’t have that same confidence Mr. Stone has when he smiles. Still, it's cute. For the first time in months, I feel a little giddy. I know I can’t date, but it feels good to know I might not be the outcast I thought I was after all.

  I continue to sit in silence, but I’m also paying attention to the cues my body is giving off. I can’t help but smile every time he smiles, and to eat every time he makes a move to do the same. This might be the most awkward lunch I’ve ever had, while also the most meaningful. It’s like he knew I was alone and embarrassed, and instead of forcing me to talk about it, he’s embracing it. I think I like this guy.

  The bell rings and I stand to pick up my tray, when he beats me to it. “I got it. My name's Chad, see you tomorrow, Mallory.”

  Not wanting to sound ungrateful or uninterested, I quickly flash him my sweetest smile and say softly, “Thanks, Chad. See you tomorrow.”

  I watch as he walks away, and I notice the girls whispering. I didn't think I could be less liked at this school, but it appears I'm wrong. I let out a sigh and remind myself that I'm not the typical teenager anymore; gossip and drama no longer affect me.

  Lane

  I saw Jill in the stands tonight, and as usual, she was sexy as hell. She found me after the game and asked me to come over, and I agreed, of course. I can’t think of a better way to sulk after a loss than sinking my cock inside her.

  The team shows continuous improvement, but tonight was a t
ough loss on all of us. We had been on a five game winning streak, and maybe that’s why we lost. I need to find a way to keep my boys from getting overly confident. I also need to keep Chad's eyes on the game, and not on the sidelines. I’m not sure which one of those cheerleaders he’s fucking, but someone has that boy pussy-whipped and it’s annoying the shit out of me.

  When I arrive at Jill's, I head straight up to her apartment. Hopefully, she’s in the mood for a quick fuck, because I’d like to meet up with my brothers and cousins for a drink at Hansons. The moment I open the door, I know it’s not going to be a quick fuck kind of night. The candles are lit, the music is playing, and Jill is sitting on her dining room table, legs spread wide open. If any other man walked in on this sight, he’d be overjoyed. I’m not sure why, but I groan internally.

  “Took you long enough!” says Jill as her eyes do a sweep of my body from head to toe. I walk over to her and place a kiss on top of her head.

  “Yeah, sorry. I was thinking about the game. But, I’m not now,” I respond while running my finger from her knee to the inside of her thigh. I can feel her shiver in anticipation, and it turns me on.

  “That’s good. I have plans and they don’t involve football,” Jill says seductively. I do like the sound of that, I think to myself as I start to remove my shirt.

  “What are these plans?” I ask with my brow curiously arched.

  “I thought we could pull an all-nighter. You know-- start on the kitchen table, then again on the couch, the shower, the patio, and then we can end it with you fucking me against that wall over there.”

  “I came prepared...but not that prepared.” Since I only had three condoms on me, I say, "How about I fuck you on this table, then on the kitchen counter, and end the night with you riding me in the bed.”

  “You know I’m on birth control?” she reminds me.