Winter: A High School Bully Romance (Sunset Beach High Book 2)

by McKayla Box

  I've got my own friends now and they are far scarier.

  “Where's Trev?” I ask, scanning the lineup of surfers again, wondering if I've just missed him.

  They exchange a look and Brett drops down to his chest. “He left a bit ago. Was hungry.”

  “Is he coming back?” I ask.

  They exchange looks again and Brett shrugs. “Don't know.” He paddles off to his right, taking his spot in the lineup.

  I look at Jake. “Where'd he go to eat?”

  Jake runs a hand over his face and shakes the water off of him like a dog. “Don't know. He didn't say.” He smiles at me. “You shoulda come with us this morning. Was pretty nice out here.”

  “I wish,” I say. “Maybe another day.”

  He nods in Brett's direction. “You should go get in while waves are still coming. Probably gonna die soon.”

  I nod, drop to my stomach, and paddle out behind Brett. I wait my turn and when it is, a really nice almost four foot wave rises up and I paddle hard in front of it. The wave lifts me up and I pop to my feet. I wobble a little, but bend my knees a little more to get my balance. I move the nose to my right and the board slides down the face. The same thrill that rolls through my stomach every time I drop in makes its way through my body and I know I'm smiling as I cut through the ocean.

  I ride with Brett and Jake and the others on the water for an hour. I marvel at how good the two of them are, their boards seemingly glued to their feet, as they carve and dance on top of and through the water. People stand on the shore and watch them. They are that good. When Trevor is with them, it's like a mini-competition each time they are out here, as they each try to outdo the other two. It's years of doing that that's made them so good.

  I'm just happy to stay on my feet and not drown.

  The wind picks up and the water flattens out. We paddle in. My arms and legs are fatigued, but in a good way.

  I rip the leash off my ankle. “Are you guys sure he's coming back?”

  They both slide off their boards and bounce to their feet.

  Brett pulls off his rash guard. “Thought he was. But maybe not? I don't know.”

  Jake just shrugs as he reaches behind his neck and pulls down on the zipper of his wet suit. He wiggles out of the neoprene suit and rolls it down to his waist. “Maybe he thought it just looked like shit out here.”

  “He never thinks it looks like shit,” I say, frowning. “He'll sit and wait for hours for waves.”

  They exchange another look and both of them shrug again.

  “What the hell is going on?” I ask. “You two are acting like a couple of weirdos.”

  “He's been weird all day,” Jake says, gesturing at Brett.

  Brett frowns. “Fuck off.”

  “You have,” Jake insists. “Don't know what's up with you.”

  Brett picks his board up out of the water. “Nothing's up with me.” He looks at me. “I don't know, Pres. I thought he went to get food. Maybe his dad called him or something.”

  That is definitely a possibility. His father has started bringing him into his office to help with paperwork and other stuff that his father thinks is important. Trevor isn't crazy about it, but he also doesn't stand up to his dad. It's the one person Trevor doesn't stand up to.

  “That might've been it,” Jake says, rubbing at his chin. He pops his board out of the water and tucks it under his arm. “I heard Derek was looking for you.”

  “He was,” I tell him. “And he found me.”

  They both look at me.

  “Relax,” I tell them. “I don't need his ass kicked. Yet. I handled him.”

  Brett frowns. “What the fuck did he want?”

  “Just to hassle me,” I say. “But I handled him. It's fine.”

  “He shouldn't be messing with you,” Brett says.

  Jake nods in agreement.

  “He won't be,” I tell them, looking at each of them. “Trust me. You don't have to do anything to him.”

  “What if I just want to?” Jake asks.

  “Leave me out of it then,” I tell him. “You do what you want, but you don't have to do anything for me.”

  “Trevor know?” Brett asks.

  “I haven't seen him since this morning,” I say.

  He nods and the three of us walk up the sand.

  “Get your bike,” Brett says. “We'll give you a ride.”

  “You don't have to.”

  “I know that,” he says. “Get your bike and we'll give you a ride.”

  My legs are tired from the water so I get the bike and push it over to his truck. Jake lifts it up and puts it in the back, then takes my board and lays it on top of theirs. He tosses me a towel from the cab and I wrap it around myself before I slide into the truck. I scoot to the middle of the bench seat. Brett is already behind the wheel and Jake climbs in behind me. Brett turns the truck on, then whips the truck out of the parking stall, the wheels spinning against the sand and asphalt. Jake laughs and shakes his head as I lean forward, bracing my hands against the dash. The truck fishtails and Brett spins the wheel in the opposite direction, the tires screeching against the ground. The tires catch and the truck jerks forward and we jump forward out of the parking lot.

  “I might've been safer on my bike,” I say.

  Jake laughs, but Brett says nothing, staring straight ahead, one hand on the wheel, his other arm hanging out the window.

  I elbow him in the side. “Hey. Are you alright?”

  He glances at me like he's just realizing I'm in the car next to him. “What? Yeah, I'm okay.”

  “You don't seem okay.”

  He keeps his eyes forward. “How do I seem?”

  “I don't know.”

  “He hasn't had sex in two weeks,” Jake says. “He's probably just sad.”

  Brett cuts his eyes at him. “You offering to help me out?”

  Jakes throws his head back and laughs.

  Brett looks at me. “I'm fine. Just tired is all.”

  It seems like more than that, but I don't say anymore.

  He pulls the truck into my driveway. Jake jumps out and pulls my bike and board out of the back. I take the board from him and tuck it under my arm. I hold the bike up. “Thanks.”

  Jake nods. “Yep. And, seriously. If Derek comes at you again--”

  “He won't,” I say, cutting him off. “It's done.”

  He eyes me for a second, then nods. “Okay.” He climbs back up in the truck and pulls the door closed behind him.

  “Hey,” I say.

  He looks down at me through the open window.

  “Do you guys know some guy named Kane?” I ask.

  It's been bothering me since the guy came up to me on the beach. I don't want to ask Trevor because I'm afraid he'll freak out, so I decide to try with them.

  Jake stares at me for a long moment. “You mean Kane Tressle?”

  “I don't know his last name,” I tell him. “Big guy. Surfs. He came up to me at the beach the other day. He knows Trevor.”

  Brett leans across the cab so I can see his face. “He came up to you?”

  I nod.

  “The fuck did he want?” Brett asks.

  “Just the usual bullshit,” I tell them. “He knew who I was and he knew Trevor. He said to tell Trevor hi or some stupid shit like that, but I could tell it was to piss him off. I didn't say anything. But who is the guy?”

  “A real dick,” Jake says.

  Brett nods. “It's a long story. He goes to Del Sol. They used to be friends. Now they aren't.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Hey. Did Trev really go to get food?”

  He makes a fist and knocks it twice against the door. Then he nods. “Far as I know. Ask him when you talk to him.”

  Brett backs up out of the driveway and they take off down the street.

  NINE

  I go inside and shower. I change into a T-shirt and an old pair of shorts. I'm brushing through my wet hair when my dad comes through the door.

  “He
y,” he says, pulling immediately at the tie knotted at his neck. He tosses his keys and shoulder bag on the kitchen table. “How was your day, Pres?”

  “It was fine,” I tell him from my spot on the couch. “How was yours?”

  He makes a face and pulls harder at the tie. “Don't ask. You hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  He sighs and walks into the kitchen. He pulls the fridge open and stares into for a few seconds, then does the same with the freezer. He pulls a frozen pizza out and holds it up. “This work? I can do a salad.”

  “That works,” I say. “And I can do the salad if you want to change.”

  He gives me a tired smile. “That would be awesome.”

  He turns the oven on and pulls the pizza from the box. He goes to change and I put the pizza in the oven and throw the salad together. He comes back out in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. There are dark circles around his eyes.

  “You look exhausted,” I tell him, pulling plates from the cabinet.

  He opens the fridge again and pulls out a beer. “I am exhausted. Work is killing me.”

  I set the plates on the table. “Trevor's dad?”

  He purses his lips for a moment, thinking. “Not him, per se. Just...everything. A lot going on and still a lot to do. I'm going to be up late tonight.” He gives the same tired smile from before. “But enough about me. How are you?”

  I tell him how the day was, but leave out the bad parts. I tell him about surfing and I can tell he's not really listening. He's already thinking about the work he's going to jump into after we eat.

  I pull the pizza from the oven when it's done, slice it up, and put it on the table next to the bowl of salad.

  We're halfway through the food when he gets up to get another beer and clears his throat. “I talked to your mother today.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  He shoots me a look. “Easy, alright?”

  I don't say anything.

  “She's on me still about Christmas break,” he says, pulling the beer from the fridge. He twists the top off and tosses the cap on the counter. “Do you have any thoughts?”

  The pizza no longer looks appetizing and I push my plate away. “My thoughts are there's no way I'm going to see her, just like I said I wasn't going for Thanksgiving.”

  He comes back to the table and sits. “You know you can't avoid her forever, right?”

  I shrug.

  “Presley,” he says. “I'm serious.”

  I know he's serious because we've already had this conversation. My mother lives in Washington with her new husband, who she left my dad for. I have zero desire to spend a second with her, much less go visit her over the holidays. But she's pushing the issue and he's trying to play mediator and there's no way I'm getting on a plane.

  “At some point, she's going to push harder,” he says.

  “What does that mean?”

  He leans back in his chair. “In the divorce agreement, she has visitation rights. She's legally entitled to time with you. And if I know her like I think I do, at some point, she's going to remind us that she can make it happen if she really wants to.”

  My stomach knots. “Can she?”

  He thinks for a moment. “Well, because of your age, it's a little complicated. If we went to court, a judge is going to give you a significant say in where and how you spend your time. But a court will strongly encourage you to at least compromise in some way to not shut out a parent if there's no real reason to shut the parent out.”

  “Isn't hating her a real reason?” I ask.

  He frowns and picks up his beer. “You don't hate her and no, it's not. You may think you hate her and you may think you don't want to spend any time with her, but a court will at the very least push for you to give it a shot.”

  The thought of spending time with her and her new husband makes me want to spew up the pizza I've just eaten. We weren't close before they got divorced and when I found out why, it just got worse. Even our phone conversations are hard. I don't feel like I know her and I don't want to get to know her.

  “I'm not saying you have to go for Christmas Day,” my dad says. “I don't want you to go. But if we're going to tell her no, then I think it makes sense to offer up another alternative. Maybe send you up for a weekend or something. That feels like a compromise and I'm willing to back you on that if you don't want to do the holiday.”

  “I don't,” I tell him. “I won't go.”

  He nods as he sips the beer. He's heard me say it before. “Then we need to look at the calendar and see what weekend might work. We can offer that to her and see what happens.”

  “Can I just fly to the airport and we can have lunch there and then I can just get right back on the plane and come home?” I ask.

  He frowns again and shakes his head.

  “Just thought I'd ask,” I tell him.

  He finishes the beer and sets the empty bottle on the table. “Alright. I need to do some work. You have homework?”

  “Some, but not much.”

  “Alright,” he says. “What about Trevor? Is he coming over?”

  My dad knows Trevor and I are together now. He suspected it before I came clean to him, but it took me punching a girl in the face and then Trevor rescuing me from Shanna and Derek for me to tell him the truth. It's complicated because Trevor's father is his biggest client, so it feels like we're mixing business with pleasure or something. I know that somewhere in the back of his mind, he's worried that if we break up, it could have an effect on their working relationship.

  But I don't ever see us breaking up.

  “I don't think so,” I tell him. “But I haven't talked to him since this morning. Not sure what he's doing.”

  “Everything okay?” he asks.

  I stand and pick up the empty plates. “Yeah. We're not attached at the hip.”

  He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I was just asking.”

  “I'm not one of those girls, Dad.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I carry the plates to the sink. “I'm not one of those girls whose entire life is going to revolve around their boyfriend. That isn't me. It won't ever be me.”

  “I'm not disappointed to hear that,” he says.

  I grab the leftover pizza and pull a plastic bag out of the drawer to put it in. “Those girls suck.”

  “At least you aren't judgmental.”

  “Ha. Whatever. I'm just telling you that I have my own life and I don't have to spend every waking second with him. He's not like that, either.”

  “Good to know,” he says, standing up. “Alright. I'll be in my office if you need me. And thanks for putting dinner together.”

  “And cleaning up.”

  He smiles. “And cleaning up.”

  He leaves and I get to work on the dishes. I glance at my phone on the counter. The screen is blank. No missed texts and no missed phone calls.

  I frown.

  After my defiant speech to my father, I feel like a bit of a fraud.

  Because I'm wondering why I haven't heard at all from Trevor since the morning. I know that I should just text him and see what he's doing. He's probably left his phone in his truck or it's dead. He's a boy and it's amazing that he even knows how to operate his phone.

  But a little tiny spark of anxiety ignites inside of me.

  Why haven't I heard from him?

  TEN

  My dad comes into my room twenty minutes later and tells me he needs to actually go to the office because there's stuff there he needs. He's apologetic about having to go, but I tell him it's no big deal. He tells me not to wait up.

  I finish my homework and am thinking about texting Trevor because I still haven't heard from him when my phone chimes. I scramble to get it off my nightstand, thinking it might be him, but then feel deflated when I see Bridget's name on the screen.

  What are you doing?

  Just finished homework. You?

  Trying to decide if I want to go down to The Hump
. Supposedly a bonfire. You down?

  I'm not sure that I am. I've showered, I'm in sweats, and I'm tired. And I'm still hoping Trevor will text. I'm not really into the idea of heading down to the beach and hanging out. A quiet, empty house sounds better to me at the moment.

  I think I might be in for the night.

  Come on. I think I want to go, but I don't to go alone.

  Gina and Maddie?

  They're already there, which means I have to drive alone. Come on. We don't have to stay long.

  I don't know.

  Is Trevor there? Is he on top of you? Is that why you don't want to go??

  OMG STOP. No, he's not here. I don't know where he is.

  Probably at the bonfire. COME ON. PLEASE???

  I roll my eyes. I know she won't let up until I say yes. She'll wear me down by being funny and polite. It'll be annoying, but it'll also break me and I'll end up saying yes. So I decide to skip the whole song and dance and cut to the chase.

  Pick me up in 20 minutes.

  ELEVEN

  For the beginning of the week, The Hump is kind of raging.

  The Hump is a strip of land near the bay, named for the giant grassy hill that sits next to the parking lot. There are bonfire rings on the sand next to it and at least two of them are lit up as we pull into the parking lot. The grassy hill is littered with kids from school and people are standing in the sand around the fires and down near the water.

  “I'm not drinking,” I tell her.

  “I'm not, either,” she says, guiding her Mini into a parking spot. “Maybe.”

  We laugh and she shuts off the engine.

  “I'm serious,” she says. “We don't have to stay long. Just check it out, then we can bail. I was just bored at home and my mom was on my case about...everything.”