Cocky F*ck: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Rejects Paradise Book 2)

by Sheridan Anne

  I skip up the stairs, taking two at a time while knowing that his sisters’ bedrooms are also on this floor and wanting to avoid them at all costs. I may be a glutton for punishment but I’m not fucking stupid. Okay, sometimes I can be accused of making stupid decisions, but not today, not right now. Actually, I’m sure others would argue that this is one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done but to me, it feels right.

  What kind of person would I be if I didn’t try to help him? Who cares if I get hurt in the process? Who cares if he goes running his mouth like he usually does? All that matters is that he’s safe and not completely fucked up. After all, there’s a funeral tomorrow. It's going to be the first public matter that Colton will have to face as the head of this massive empire and he’s going to have to appear as though he has his shit together.

  I reach Colton’s door and find myself pausing with my hand resting heavily on the doorknob. Am I making a mistake? Maybe I’m about to walk into a trap.

  I can’t back out. I have to see this through. I want to be able to look back on my life one day and know that I made the right decisions, not just for myself but for the people around me even though it might have been hard. That's the kind of life I want to live. I want to be strong. I want to be someone reliable, and someone that my father would be proud of.

  I can do this.

  I let out a shaky breath and slowly open the door.

  The smell hits me first. It’s like a fucking dirty bar from back home in here. Hell, it’s worse than that. It's like dealing with the bullshit that comes after one of the many Black Widow parties.

  I look around the empty room and find more than just alcohol scattered over his tables. There are empty bottles of scotch thrown carelessly over the couch, spilled drinks on his bed, plates of food fallen off his desk while a little white bag of powder has been broken open, spreading all the contents far and wide. From the looks of things, I’d say there’s probably more white powder in the carpet than in his actual bloodstream.

  I hear the shower running in his private bathroom and I pray to whoever exists above that Colton hasn’t collapsed in there. With the cocktail of alcohol pulsing through his veins, it’d be a miracle if he makes it through the night without getting alcohol poisoning

  Colton needs a fucking smack across the head and cleanup crew in here. And unfortunately for me, that job is resting heavily on my shoulders.

  I let out a broken sigh and start cleaning up his shit while keeping an ear out for the shower, making sure he doesn’t pass out or worse. I hurry around his room, opening the window and hoping that helps to clear out some of the smell, though that probably won’t happen until the couch can have a deep clean and the carpets are shampooed.

  I strip the alcohol-drenched sheets off his bed and quickly remake it, not doing nearly as good of a job that Maryne or Mom could do but at least he’ll have a clean bed to sleep in tonight.

  After clearing out everything that doesn’t belong and leaving it out in the hallway for the maids to take care of, I find my way into his massive walk-in closet. I can’t say that I’ve been in here before. It’s fucking massive. I don’t even know where to start.

  I switch on the light and watch as the room powers up. There’s a rotating wall of suits and I gawk at it. Why am I surprised by this shit? There’s a whole section for shoes, ties, watches and then on the opposite side are his normal everyday clothes. It’s insane in here. This whole closet is literally bigger than one of the classrooms back at Breakers Flats High. If Milo’s closet is anything like this, it’s no surprise why he’s been hiding out in it for so long.

  Hearing the shower still in full swing, I get busy going over the options. I find a nice three-piece suit, match it with a tie, shoes, socks, and a watch before finding the cufflinks and staring. There are fucking diamonds on some of these. It baffles me what kind of money is inside this home.

  I find the little cufflinks that I’d seen Colton wearing during the black and white party, the ones that read CC, and I don’t doubt his father would have owned an identical pair.

  I set out his suit on his clean desk before diving back in and finding him a pair of boxers to wear to bed. I look over the pajama section before quickly realizing that he probably isn’t a big pajama wearer. I grab a pair of sweatpants just to be on the safe side and as I walk back out, I find a small plastic trashcan just inside of the closet door and I scoop it up. After all, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

  The boxers and sweatpants get tossed down onto his made bed while the trashcan goes down beside it, knowing he’s bound to need that during the night.

  I’m in the middle of placing some painkillers on his bedside table when the shower cuts off and the bathroom door opens with a rush of steam blowing out into his room.

  Colton comes striding through with a white towel wrapped dangerously low around his hips, making me wish for a slight breeze to come through the open window and send it sailing down to the carpet.

  Nerves rush through me as I watch him walk out of the bathroom. His eyes instantly find mine and I immediately stop what I’m doing, feeling like a kid who’s just been caught with her fingers in the cookie jar.

  He glances around his room and it takes all of three seconds for him to notice what I’ve done and even less time to dismiss it all. “What are you doing in here?”

  ‘What are you doing in here?’ That’s it? The very first words he’s spoken to me in nearly two days. Geez, I could be wrong here but I thought I’d deserve a little more than that. A ‘sorry for being such an ass’ would have gone down well seeing as though the last time we actually had a conversation was when he was telling me how he needs me more than I could possibly know, how he’s madly jealous of me being with Charlie, and how the thought of me pushing him away crushes his soul.

  Yet here we are not even two whole days later.

  I swallow my pride and raise my chin, not letting him see how his dismissal kills me. “Someone had to come and check on you.”

  “Check on me?” he scoffs, noticing the clothes laid out for him on his bed. “I don’t need your fucking charity, Jade.”

  Jade. There’s that name again, the one that holds a power that I wasn’t even aware of until yesterday morning, though right now, that power seems more like a curse.

  Colton starts crossing the room and I take a few steps back, desperately needing to keep my distance. “It’s not charity,” I tell him, watching as he drops his towel and grabs his sweatpants. I try not to stare, but damn, I’m only human.

  His body is perfection, carved out of the strongest stone, though unfortunately for womankind, that stone went right through to his heart and soul and I'm not sure there’s a way to save him. I watch as he pulls on his sweatpants and stumbles on his feet. “Get out of here,” he says, turning his back and walking across the room to where he pulls another bottle of scotch.

  “No,” I say, knowing it’s bound to bite me on the ass. “You need to sober up and get to bed. Your father’s funeral is in the morning and you can’t walk in there like this.”

  He turns and his glare is sharp enough to kill. “What the fuck is it to you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He comes striding toward me and I find myself backing up a step until I realize what the fuck I’m doing and hold my ground. “What is it to you?” he repeats getting in my face, the anger rolling off him nearly enough to cripple me. “Why do you even care? Fuck off out of here.”

  I slam my hands into his chest, forcing him back a step and out of my face, hating myself for what I'm about to say. “I’m not going anywhere. Get your shit together, Colton. Look at you. You’re embarrassing yourself falling apart like this. It’s fucking pathetic. You’re weak. This past month, you’ve gone out of your way to show me that you’re the fucking man. You wanted me to see that you’re strong, untouchable, and fucking incredible, but right now, you’re none of that. You’re nothing. Yeah, you lost your father, and yeah, it fucking sucks
. Believe me, I know exactly how it feels but it doesn’t give you the right to fall apart and throw it all away. Your sisters are counting on you to hold it together, your father is counting on you.”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  Colton lifts the scotch to his lips while his eyes dance with the challenge, daring me to stop him. My blood boils and I clench my jaw, watching as he tries to destroy himself only I won’t stand for it.

  I fly forward and grab the bottle out of his unsuspecting hands then race straight toward the bathroom. “Hey,” he demands, bounding after me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  I get to the bathroom sink and manage to pour out half the bottle before he's on me and trying to peel the bottle out of my hands. “Leave it,” I demand. “You need to sober up and go to bed. I’m all for you making a fool of yourself here in private, but I won’t sit back and watch you destroy everything your father built publicly. Every one of his business partners will be at this damn funeral, every board member, every investor, every fucking person who means anything around here will be showing up and keeping their eyes on the Carrington heir who could potentially fuck everything up. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what they’re going to do if they don’t think you have what it takes to walk in your father’s shoes.”

  His grip on the bottle tightens and he tries to pull it into his chest but I hold on, refusing to release his stare. “Don’t think for one fucking second that I won't search every inch of this fucking mansion and get rid of every last bottle of alcohol that I can find.”

  His stare tightens until he finally releases the bottle. “Whatever,” he snaps, spinning around and walking back out of the bathroom. “Keep the fucking scotch if it means that much to you. I don’t care anyway.”

  Well, that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.

  I finish pouring the alcohol down the sink and when I turn around, I find him sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me as though he’s confused about something. I place the empty glass bottle down on the vanity and find myself walking out of the bathroom and crossing his room.

  I step up to him, putting myself between his open knees. “It’s okay to hurt,” I whisper, placing my hands upon his strong bare shoulders. “It’s okay to be confused and it’s okay to want to hate him.”

  As if on instinct, Colton’s hands find my waist and he pulls me in a step. “I don’t like you seeing me like this,” he murmurs and although he’s addressing me, it’s almost like he’s talking to himself. “You’re right, I feel fucking weak. I’m pathetic. I should be stronger. It’s you, you’re making me weak.”

  He pushes me away and flies to his feet in front of me. “You make me weak,” he repeats. “You’re like a fucking leech sucking all the strength out of me. You’re going to ruin me.”

  I swallow back, refusing to show how his words hurt while also struggling to understand why they do. They shouldn’t. For a month, I've let his words sail off me like water off a duck’s back but lately, they’ve been sticking like glue.

  “You know that’s not true,” I say, holding back the tears and struggling to get the words past the lump in my throat. “What happened to everything you said to me yesterday morning? Does that just not matter anymore? What about the party?”

  Colton steps into me, his stare boring down on my soul. I watch as his red-rimmed eyes blaze with fire before a smirk lifts the corner of his lips. “Fucking weak.”

  His bedroom door flies open and one of his twin sisters comes barging through with a dress in her hand. Our heads both whip toward her and as she takes me in, fury tears through her eyes. “YOU,” she yells, pointing a finger and storming through the room. “You little bitch. You’re a thief.”

  Say what?

  I fall back a step, but she doesn’t stop until she’s standing in my exact spot, her brother right beside her. “You stole my fucking dress.”

  “What?” I grunt as Colton stares between us. “I didn’t steal anything.”

  “My fucking dress,” she demands, holding the black gown up that I’d worn to the black and white party, the very one that has been dry-cleaned, bagged, and hung on the left side of her closet to show that it’s been handled with care. “I saw the fucking pictures. You had no right to enter my personal space and take whatever the hell you wanted. That’s a disgusting violation of my personal property. Now I have to throw it out. Who knows what kind of diseases you people carry.”

  “You people?” I demand, my eyes widening.

  “Classless scabs,” she says, pronouncing every syllable. “Trash who comes in here looking for any way to get ahead in life, but guess what? You’re done. You and your mother. You’re both out of here. You won’t get away with this.”

  “Excuse me?” I demand, stepping into her and watching as her eyes bug out of her head, proving that she’s all words and no action. Hell, she’s probably the type to cry over a broken nail. “Your precious dress is in your fucking hand. You can hardly claim that I stole it, and besides, your father was the one who told me I could borrow it. You don’t have a fucking leg to stand on.”

  She throws the gown down on the ground and straightens her shoulder. “You don’t want to start with me. I can guarantee that you’ll lose.”

  “Cora,” Colton snaps. “That’s enough.”

  I grin, ignoring Colton’s warning, the same way he’s done to me a million times before. Besides, technically it was her he was warning, he didn’t tell me to stop. “You think you have what it takes to win against me?” I laugh. “I get it, you have money bags at your beck and call, but apart from that, you’ve got nothing, honey. You’re just a bitch in Prada. All fucking talk.”

  Cora’s eyes narrow at me and just when I think she’s about to explode, she turns on her brother. “Do something,” she squeals. “How can you just stand there and let her talk to me like that? I want her fired and out of the pool house by midnight.”

  “No.”

  “No?” she rears back, unable to believe what she’s hearing.

  “You heard me. Get the fuck out.”

  My eyes bug out of my head. Did Colton just tell his little princess sister to get the fuck out? No way. If I knew shit was going to go down tonight, I would have brought a box of popcorn to help me enjoy the night.

  “Excuse me?” Cora demands. “Dad would be rolling over in his grave if he heard you speak to me like that.”

  “Well then it’s a good thing dad isn’t in his fucking grave yet,” he tells her. “Now get the fuck out. Ocean and her mom aren’t going anywhere. Dad hired them for a reason and you’ll fucking respect that.”

  “Like he ever respected me,” she spits.

  “Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking bitch, he might have tolerated you just a little.”

  My jaw drops as my eyes bounce between them like a tennis match. “Oh, shit. Shots fired,” I laugh, though naturally, I'm ignored.

  Cora sucks in a sharp breath and her eyes go wide before her hand slaps out hard, heading straight for Colton’s face. His reflexes are like lightning and he catches her wrists with the speed of a God, clenching it hard.

  There’s silence between the two, a mental fight for dominance, and the longer it goes on the clearer Colton’s victory becomes. Cora begins to cower under his stare and although he looks terrifying, he'll never physically hurt her.

  “Out. Now.” His voice is low and it sends shivers sailing down my spine. He sounds just like his father. It’s a tone he’s never quite used on me and to be honest, I think I'd probably shit my pants if he did.

  Cora swallows but they remain staring until he finally releases her wrist. As she scrambles toward the door, she grabs the forgotten dress and turns to meet Colton's hard stare.

  "I'm telling mom you're fucking the help!" She lets out an obnoxious squeal as she turns to leave again, disappearing with a sharp slam of the door.

  We’re left in awkward silence and I look up at him, desperately
wanting to diffuse the situation and somehow get the big fucker in bed to sleep off his bad mood. “You didn’t need to stand up for me like that. I can handle bitches like Cora and Casey.”

  He slowly turns his stare back to mine and I feel that same terror that Cora had felt, but unlike her, I'm not so much of a bitch. I was born with a backbone and I’m damn sure that he will never hurt me … physically. Emotionally, that’s a different story.

  Whatever he’s about to say, it’s going to be lethal and I know deep in my heart that it’s going to destroy me.

  I hold my ground as he steps into me, desperately needing to prove myself. He takes two more steps until my back is pressed against the wall and I find myself staring up into his eyes with the need to reach out and hold him pulsing heavily through my veins.

  “Get this straight, Oceania,” he says, using my full name, knowing it’s reserved only for my father. “I didn’t stand up for you. I can hardly stand you. My father wanted your mother working here and out of respect for him, that’s why I’ve allowed you to stay. You mean nothing to me. You were a fucking game that’s come to an end, a fucking joke, and now I’m done with you.”

  I shake my head, refusing to believe it. I know what I felt and it was real, so freaking real that it hurt. “You don’t mean that.”

  Colton’s lips pull up into a twisted grin, and just like that, he stabs the dagger deep into my back. “Don’t I?”

  I’m left staring as his low chuckle bounces off the walls and my heart silently shatters inside my chest. They’re just words. He doesn’t really mean that. I know he doesn’t. It was only one night together, but I know it had to mean something. I felt it.