Her Spite: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (The Forgotten Elites Book 2)

by Eden Beck

  Though from the sounds of it, overbearing father is what I would put money on if this was a bet.

  “It’s not something I’m proud of,” he says as he diverts his eyes to look out at the campus buildings instead of at me, “but people just don’t get how hard it is to deal with certain kinds of parents.”

  I know what he means.

  It may have started out as rebellion, but now it’s become something more than that. Something it was never meant to become.

  Overbearing father or not … I suddenly find myself feeling more than a little guilty. It’s an emotion I shove down deep, burying it beneath a reminder of what I’m actually here for.

  Because, like Sterling was so kind to remind me only moments earlier, this is not a date.

  We both stare out vacantly in front of us for a moment. I know my mind is reeling, trying to piece together how this new information could be useful to me.

  But I can’t help but wonder what’s turning over in his mind.

  That was a valuable little piece of information that could help me break him down the line—but it was given so freely, something feels wrong about using it. These guys are proving to be a lot easier to crack than I had expected. Either that or they are just dead awful at keeping secrets.

  Either way works for me.

  “Do you still take drugs?” I ask. I’ve already opened Pandora’s box on the subject, might as well do a deep-dive.

  “Not right this moment,” he says as he shifts his eyes back to look at me.

  His eyes are really gorgeous in the dim light. I can see why Bridget is so crazy over him.

  I wonder what their relationship actually is.

  I mean, I guess I know they’re dating now, but I haven’t gotten a feel as to how serious it is. From the way that Bridget makes it seem, she’s already planning their wedding. But Sterling seems like he’s having a little bit too much fun with me tonight than he should be for a guy that is seriously involved.

  Seriously involved.

  I stare ahead, my eyes level with the darkening line of trees.

  It’s hard to imagine Sterling being seriously involved with anything, let alone anyone.

  And certainly not me.

  No matter how much his eyes sparkle in the dying light.

  Chapter Six

  “Here,” Bridget huffs as she dumps all of her clothes onto my side of the room.

  Half of them land on the bed and the other half land on the floor. There are enough clothes here to last the rest of the semester without ever having to wear the same outfit twice. And that’s even if I didn’t have to keep wearing some variation of the school uniform during the week.

  “Thanks,” I say as I scoop them up and start to look through them.

  I can see that she’s still standing there staring at me.

  “What the hell made you think that you could go on my date with Sterling?”

  I turn around to look at her and see her face contorted into a bitter frown.

  “He told you about that huh?” I ask. Of course, I knew that he would … I just don’t know why I didn’t think she’d find out about it so soon.

  I guess she got ahold of her burner after all.

  A little part of me wonders if Sterling knew all along.

  “Of course he told me,” she hisses. “We’re dating.”

  I have to stifle a laugh. Dating is a strong word. All of a few weeks ago he was dumping another girl at her house party. Even if they have managed to sneak in a couple dates since then, I’d hardly call it dating.

  Anyway, I’m not sure that word can be used in context to Sterling, not at least in the traditional sense.

  “Well, I was just trying to help,” I say, knowing that my reply will make her even more mad than she already is.

  “What kind of girl ‘helps’ another girl by sneaking a date with her boyfriend while she’s not around?” she asks.

  Oof.

  She catches my look, but only presses her lips tightly together.

  “A slutty one, I guess,” I say before turning back around to ignore her and continue rooting through my newly donated wardrobe. It couldn’t have been a more perfect answer to fit into my new persona. I am totally turning into the monster that they painted me out to be, and I am loving every minute of it.

  Give them what they want.

  Bridget doesn’t have anything else to say to me after that. Not that there’s much that she could say. She drops down onto her bed and buries her face in some book on anthropology since she did not end up getting into that ethics class she was hoping for.

  Not that anyone did. I’m not even sure if Mr. Peters is still lurking somewhere on campus anymore … I know I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.

  So much for a ‘thorough’ investigation. All it would take is one glance at that file of his to know that something has been going on for some time. Long before he came onto me, anyway.

  Tomorrow is Monday and Bridget definitely plans to forget about everything I put her through this weekend and get back to being adored by her followers first thing in the morning.

  That gives me another idea.

  “Hey Bridget,” I say after I finish folding all the clothes and putting them away in my otherwise empty dresser.

  She looks over at me with a simultaneous eyeroll.

  “What is it now?” she asks.

  “I think it’s time for you to invite me to sit with you at lunch tomorrow.”

  “No way,” she says. “Seriously, you need to stop trying so hard to fit in. No one likes you no matter whose clothes you steal or what table you sit at. Just sit with your weird friends and leave me alone.”

  “I wonder if Sterling will notice any stretch marks when he sees you naked,” I say, in an attempt to remind her that if she doesn’t do what I want her to do, I can go running to him in a heartbeat and spill her secret all over the place. It feels a little wrong, having this much power over someone. But when I remind myself about all the things that Bridget has done to me, the feeling of remorse quickly fades.

  A feeling that doesn’t fade quite as quickly, however, is that of missing my true friends … and it’s not likely a feeling that’s easy to be rid of.

  Alaska. Clark. I haven’t seen as much of them lately because of this whole thing I’m trying to do.

  I miss the ease of having Alaska as my roommate.

  But it’s too late for that now, I suppose. C’est la vie.

  My words must have struck some kind of chord with Bridget, because the next day she dutifully calls across the lunchroom to me when I walk in and invites me to sit with her and her friends. But before I have a chance to accept, I feel an arm around my shoulder and Sterling is suddenly sidled up against me.

  My entire body seizes up.

  “Why don’t you come sit with us today, Aubrey?” he says. “The boys and I would love a chance to chat with you.”

  There is definitely a reason behind Sterling’s invitation to come and have lunch with him and the boys instead of taking Bridget up on her offer. They obviously have some ulterior motive, but that is to be expected.

  “Sorry Bridget, maybe tomorrow,” I say loudly enough for everyone in the lunchroom to hear.

  Having to invite me to sit with her at all was already embarrassing enough for her, and somehow, without me even planning for it, this is even worse.

  Not only had she invited me, but now I’ve very publicly declined. It’s very high school, the kind of drama I managed to avoid during my years at the Sisters of Virtue … but it’s also just the kind of thing that I know will be absolutely humiliating to Bridget.

  And for that, for once, I owe my thanks to Sterling. Of all people.

  I can see her face turning several shades of crimson from the corner of my eyes as I walk with Sterling to go sit with the guys. I also think that seeing Sterling with his arm around me is enough to make her self-combust. Granted, he is doing just for show and everyone knows not to take it seriously … but I can
tell that she hates it all the same.

  And sometimes, that’s enough.

  She isn’t the only one who hates it. As soon as I sit down at the table, Warren looks up at me with something that resembles a glare. Except there doesn’t seem to be as much anger behind it as there does frustration, and maybe even a bit of angst. He looks like he wants to yell at me to leave, but when I sit down, he can’t seem to take his eyes off me.

  I guess whatever it is Sterling’s pulled me over here for he hasn’t run past Warren yet. That in and of itself is surprising. Enough to make me cross and uncross my ankles nervously under the table.

  “So, Aubrey,” Sterling starts off. I guess he figures that he’s the closest to me now, so whatever it is that they want, he’s the most likely to be able to get me to do it. “We have a little favor to ask you in regards to Warren’s volunteering assignment.”

  I’ve never seen Warren’s cheeks flush so fiercely.

  “I’m not switching back with Bridget,” I say. “So, if that’s what you called me over here for, sorry to say that you’ve wasted your time and effort.”

  “We don’t need to you switch with Bridget,” Chase chimes in. “How about you just let him slide a bit on some of those shifts.”

  “And by slide, you mean … what exactly?”

  “We mean let him skip out on some shifts,” Sterling picks up. “Cover for him with the staff and tell them that he’s there doing something, or that he’s sick, or that he’s doing such an extra great job and he’s around somewhere.”

  Warren ducks his head, his eyes staring intently down into his lunch tray. “Shut up, you two,” he growls.

  He’s thoroughly ignored.

  “No way,” I say, glancing between the three of them, my eyebrows rising. “Why would I let you guys break more rules than you already do? Besides, it’s volunteer work. It’s just a bit of cleaning and random busy work, not heavy manual labor. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  Unless maybe it is.

  That brings me right back around to wondering where he goes and what Warren does when he skipped out on his shifts last term.

  “Then again,” I say to the boys, noticing Warren look up at me in surprise. “I’ll consider it … but not until you tell me why Warren wants out of the volunteering.”

  They exchange a glance that confirms my suspicions. Something is definitely up.

  “Forget it,” Warren says, head ducking back down as he reaches for his fork like it’s some kind of weapon instead of an eating utensil. He looks down at his plate and stabs a forkful of food before shoving it into his mouth.

  “Alright, well if that’s all you wanted me to come over here for,” I say as I start to get up from the table.

  “What actually happened with that advisor?” Warren asks without even looking up from his food. “The one from last term. You haven’t been the same since. Did he rape you?”

  The question is so blunt and bold, and Warren says it with such a lack of restraint, that I’m a bit taken aback by it.

  More than a little.

  I’m honestly downright shocked by the bluntness of it and the fact that he’s asking the question directly to me. I have to sit back down to answer him. Not that I feel the need to explain myself to anyone anymore, but simply because he seems to be earnestly asking me what happened, and I realize that no one has ever actually come out and asked me directly without accusing me of being the problem first.

  Not even Alaska or Clark, and they’re supposed to be my real friends.

  It’s surprisingly nice having someone asking me about it to my face, even if it is Warren posing the question.

  “No, he didn’t,” I tell him honestly. “But I’m sure it wasn’t far from his mind. I didn’t do anything to lead him on either, like not even one little bit. I still see that bastard’s face in the dark sometimes.”

  It’s like a small weight lifts off of me at the words.

  All Mr. Peters ever did was kiss me, but it felt like far more than that. I felt vulnerable, exposed.

  It’s hard to believe it happened only weeks ago, but it feels both so buried that it was a lifetime ago, and at the same time so raw … it could have happened just yesterday.

  It’s my turn to find myself staring intently down at the tray in front of me.

  I really didn’t mean to be so vulnerable and open with them. Not like this. Not now.

  Chase and Sterling both stare at me in stunned silence. I don’t think they expected to hear me be quite so honest with them. I also don’t think they expected to give a shit about it. Which—from the looks on their faces—they do.

  And that is the greatest surprise of all.

  Warren is quiet. But he’s gripping the fork in his hand so tightly that it actually snaps.

  I look at him and am completely confused at his reaction.

  “Cheap cutlery,” he says, “only thing it’d be good for is stabbing that motherfucker in the eye if he ever has the misfortune to run into me.”

  For a moment, Chase and Sterling look back and forth between Warren and me. And for a moment, it almost seems as if the thought of someone hurting me, made Warren angry enough to break something.

  Chapter Seven

  I’ve already started getting used to seeing Warren nearly every day that we volunteer together, though used to it isn’t a term Warren seems familiar with. After my ‘date’ with Sterling, I seem to be running into him on campus more frequently now too. But I don’t think anything of it until Chase starts actually running into me on my way to classes for more than a couple of days in a row.

  That I take note of.

  I already knew Chase was athletic—at least he was before he came here to Ridgecrest. I’ve even seen him working out on campus every now and then, but up until recently I never really paid much attention. It was always best not to pay him, Sterling, or Warren much attention. Not unless I wanted to run into trouble, anyway.

  But now, it’s like I can’t avoid spotting him. Sometimes he’s doing calisthenics, other times he’s jogging, though his new favorite challenge seems to be chasing me all over the campus grounds.

  He says that he’s just ‘running into’ me on my way to classes, but when I change up my route to class just to see if that’s the case; he shows up on my new path too.

  He might be literally running, but he’s definitely not just bumping into me on accident. Even as the days pass and it gets late into fall and almost wintertime, with the weather turning cold and snowy—he still finds a way to run into me almost every day.

  At first it was kind of annoying, but the more it continues, the more I find myself actually enjoying getting the chance to see him … despite my better judgement. I should be focusing on getting closer to Bridget’s friends to try to get an invitation to this gala of theirs so I can get the hell out of here, but it’s proven harder than I thought.

  “Come on,” he says as he jogs alongside me on my way to class one morning, his breath fogging up like smoke in front of his face. I’m reminded, ever so briefly, of my volunteer assignment with Sterling last semester.

  I feel the slightest stab inside me, but it takes me a moment to realize what it is. Do I actually miss volunteering alongside him?

  Instead of considering what that might mean, I just pick up my pace. It’s cold outside and I’m trying to walk briskly so that I have enough time to grab a coffee from the bookstore before I have to head to class.

  “Just let him off the hook,” Chase presses.

  He’s still really trying to go to bat for Warren and get me to let him out of his volunteering shifts. I’ll never understand the grip that boy has over the other two.

  “Look, I’m not forcing him to be there,” I say again for what seems like the millionth time. “If he doesn’t want to go, then he shouldn’t go. It’s not my fault whether or not he gets into trouble.”

  “Yeah, but you could cover for him and then no one would know, and he wouldn’t have to get into any trouble at all.�
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  I stop in my tracks and glare at him.

  “If you don’t let up and stop pestering me about this every single day, then I’m going to find a way to make Warren do more volunteer work than he already has to,” I say. “And you know all you have to do to get what you want is tell me why he needs to skip out so badly. Everyone else has to volunteer. Why shouldn’t he too?”

  I feel a smidgen bad about it when I see Chase’s face drop. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Why then do you keep making a habit of jogging up to me and annoying me about Warren and his extreme aversion to volunteering? Anyone else would have dropped it by now.”

  “What can I say,” Chase says with a smirk slowly spreading across his face. “I’m not used to letting up, I guess. Besides, I don’t jog up to you just to try to get you to let Warren off the hook. We talk about other stuff too.”

  He’s right, we do.

  We’ve engaged in a number of different chats and variations of small talk over the past few days on my way to class. I find most of them amusing—reminiscent of those first few weeks here at Ridgecrest, when he was actually friendly to me in class.

  But he does find a way to always make the chats end with some sort of comment about Warren getting out of his volunteer work again, and I’m reminded of how that all turned sour so fast.

  If I didn’t like talking to him so much, I would act more annoyed than I already do. It’s definitely odd how Chase seems to be making it his personal mission to spring Warren from his volunteer responsibilities though, and I wonder why he’s so concerned about it to begin with. Neither he nor Sterling seem to mind their volunteer assignments.

  Not much, anyway.

  It can’t all be just because Warren doesn’t like having to work with me. I’m still convinced that there’s something else going on, and the more all three of them refuse to tell me the reason, the more I’m convinced of this.