Outcast: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Montlake Prep Book 2)

by Nora Cobb

  I try to keep my face neutral and look at anything else but him. Uncle Phil steps across the threshold and into my bedroom, then I feel his weight as he sits on the edge of my fluffy bed.

  “We haven’t spent much time together lately, but I know you, Natalie. I know sad when I see it.”

  I bite my lip and look into his worried eyes. Uncle Phil seems concerned in the way a person who loves someone would. Lucas babies me, Jacob fights for me, but my family, what’s left of it, truly loves me. I can see that now. I choke back a sob as I curl forward into a ball and place my forehead down on my crossed legs.

  Uncle Phil reaches over and rubs my back in circles. “Is it that bad, Natalie?”

  “It’s completely tangled up into a mess, and I don’t know what to do.” My shoulders shake as the hate and frustration spill out of me in hot, fat tears onto my bare arms.

  “You can start by talking to me. I can help you do something before the crisis hits.”

  Wiping my wet face on my forearm, I swallow down the rest of my tears as I sit up and lean against the headboard. I can’t make eye contact yet, or I may start to cry again. Uncle Phil’s turquoise eyes look exactly like my dad’s. And it’s obvious why it’s my new favorite color. I want to be held the way Mom and Dad held me when I needed love, but I can’t be weak right now. I started this mess, and I’ve got to clean it up.

  Taking in a big breath, I’m honest with my uncle. “It’s a boy … Well, it’s two boys.”

  Uncle Phil’s face free falls, and for a moment, he looks like a wide-awake pug with protruding eyes. He may know how to handle a business dilemma, but teenage girls are way beyond his scope of expertise. He clears his throat, and the weight of the bed shifts as he stands up quickly.

  “I have a friend who’s a doctor,” he stutters. “Maybe we should make an appointment. We … I mean, you can go next week.”

  His face is redder than a pimple ready to pop. And I start to laugh. I laugh so hard that I start crying again as I roll down onto my pillows. Gasping for air, I look at Uncle Phil’s confused face, and then that bright smile of his returns. He grins, then breathes a long sigh of relief.

  “I don’t need the sex talk,” I gasp for air. “I just need a friend to talk to about boys.”

  “I can use that talk too,” he sighs, and then he snaps his fingers. “You think you might be ready to talk to someone from your old school?” He looks hopeful that finally, I’m ready to talk about the past. “What about your friend, Lydia? The girl with strawberry-blonde hair and freckles?

  “Lydia King?” I smile knowingly.

  “Yeah, her.” He nods. “Why don’t you invite her over? Instead of you schlepping over to West Lake. Text her. She can come by for the weekend.”

  I bounce off my bed and give Uncle Phil a bear hug that almost winds him. “No wonder you’re a tech billionaire. You’ve got great ideas.” One of which I’d already thought of. But I don’t want to disappoint him, and I don’t want him to worry.

  “Thanks, kid, and I love you lots.” He kisses the top of my head. “You’ll be okay, Natalie. I have faith in that.”

  Looking around, my bedroom is clean enough for a friend visit. Some stray clothes on the floor, but nothing too tragic. Gathering up my backpack and my papers, I push them under the bed. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that while Uncle Phil was watching, but he smiles at my cleaning habits as he shakes his head.

  “Do me and my old heart a favor, Nat?”

  I bite my lip thinking it’s going to be a long list. There’s a lot that needs to be fixed since I started at Montlake, and I wish I could just sweep it all away as easily as I hid the mess under my bed. I can’t tell him about the selfies, and I hope I never have to.

  Standing up straight to face him, I nod and ask, “What can I do?”

  “Lay off the boys for a little while. Men can be trouble when you don’t know what you want.” He opens his arms again.

  Shyly, I go toward Uncle Phil and walk into his open arms for a hug.

  “We’re all that’s left, Natalie. And I’m going to take care of you the best I can. Are you okay now?”

  It takes some reassuring, but I tell Uncle Phil that he can go out as planned. I don’t want to ruin his evening, and I appreciate that he was willing to take me along. Pushing him towards the front door, we laugh and giggle about his love life. He lets it slip that it’s the third date, so he’s trying to look nonchalant though his heart is beating so fast that he wants to throw up. I have to laugh at that.

  After he’s gone, I check my phone for a text from Lydia. I decide to get a snack from downstairs. Heading into the kitchen, I switch on the lights, and the dark room is illuminated from overhead. The slick gray surfaces gleam under the recessed light, and I’m determined not to leave a mess behind for the staff to clean. Not that they ever care, but I care, and that’s enough. The patio doors reflect my image like a wall of mirrors as I pull the refrigerator door open and grab my carton of OJ.

  Taking a swig, I almost spit it out when someone taps on the glass behind me.

  Wide-eyed, I back away slowly from the center of the room, and I switch off the lights. Straining my eyes to see what’s out there in the dark, I see Anthony’s pale face pressing against the glass of the patio doors. His tall frame is etched against the darkening sky.

  Forgetting what was said only a half hour ago, I hurry to unlock the door and let him in. Maybe I should’ve left Anthony outside.

  He steps inside as the front doorbell rings and I’m confused. My phone is upstairs, and I can’t check if Lydia has sent me a text. If it is her, she must drive real fast.

  “Wait here,” I huff as Anthony pushes his stiff leather jacket off his shoulders. My eyes narrow at his presumption that he’ll be visiting. “You’re not staying. But we need to talk,” I call back at him as I hurry toward the front door.

  I swing the front door open and want to slam it shut again. Lucas and Jacob are standing on the doorstep. It’s not fair. I don’t want the drama, but drama has followed me home.

  “What are you doing here?” I demand.

  “I told you not to come,” Lucas smirks at Jacob.

  “I meant both of you,” I snap at Lucas. “So why don’t you both go home?”

  Jacob sucks at calculus, plus he’s not a good listener. He walks into my house like I invited him in, and then he tosses his letterman jacket on the couch before he plops down. Gaping, I look back at Lucas, and he smirks. Then, suddenly, his expression turns sour. I don’t have to look behind me to know who he’s looking at.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” he hisses at Anthony.

  “I thought you own Montlake, not Natalie’s house.”

  Holy comeback. Even I have to turn to stare at that boldness from Anthony. The shock is short-lived as Jacob shoots up off the couch and takes a menacing step towards him. The image of my first day at Montlake beams into my mind and I want to curse them all out for what they’ve put me through since that first day.

  “You didn’t answer the question,” says a threatening Jacob as he looms over a defiant Anthony. “What are you doing here?”

  “That’s none of your business,” I answer before Anthony can form the words. “It’s my home, and you have no rights here. It’s not Montlake. The Academy is up the road on the left.”

  Jacob spins around on me, and I take a quick step back, stumbling against Lucas. I don’t feel scared, but that look of hurt in his dark eyes makes my courage weaken. Maybe his heart is involved, and I’m not just another conquest.

  “We’re friends,” Anthony offers sullenly, “and nothing else.”

  Anthony rejects Jacob’s intimidation as he lifts his chin recklessly. He strolls into the middle of the hallway and stands in front of an abstract painting that covers a narrow wall. The fierce brushstrokes match the tension coming off his lean body. His emerald gaze is unbreakable, and I shiver, hoping that he’ll just play it safe and eventually back down. Because Jacob doesn’t ever p
lay.

  “That’s not what I heard, punk.” Jacob stalks him and expertly boxes Anthony in. “You took advantage, but it’s not going to happen again.”

  Anthony sneers and pulls his hand through his spiked hair, tousling it. “Take advantage?” His words are tense, like his jaw. “That’s what you do. Is that why you’re here now? To pretend that you care and then dump her when Daddy says she’s no good?”

  Lucas’ hands grab me, pulling me back and out of the way. Jacob lunges forward as Anthony steps back with his fists raised and ready to fight.

  “No!” I scream like a banshee. “Not here! Not ever! Stop it.”

  It is déjà vu as Jacob holds the front of Anthony’s jacket in his large hands, pinning his struggling body against the wall. The painting creaks as the wooden frame buckles under pressure, and my solemn promise to my uncle makes my mouth speak again.

  “Get out all of you!” I pull away from Lucas, tugging myself out of his firm grip. He looks shocked, as if I just shoved him. “I mean it,” I continue, “Each one of you has caused trouble for me at that fucking school. And I blame all of you for the shitstorm I’ve got to tolerate daily. I have to graduate. That’s all I have to do. And if you can’t help, then you’re hurting, so get out!”

  My voice ends on a shriek, and I’m so angry that my forehead begins to sweat. Each one of them has caused me pain, and it still hurts. It has to stop, but it won’t ever stop until I make them stop.

  “Natalie?” Lucas stares as if I’m the guilty one picking fights. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Oh my God, I want to pass out from his ignorance. The frustration inside me could launch me into space way past our galaxy. Fuck, is he really that clueless? I’m about to find out.

  “Seriously? You have to ask that?” My hands find my hips in an instant. “It’s your fault that Arielle went after me. You played it off like it wasn’t serious with her, but you’ve been dating the girl since the crib. You could have been honest. If not with her, at least with me.”

  Lucas’ eyes narrow into slits of anger that I’ve never seen from him before, and the look is directed at me. Even Jacob looks concerned as his hand slowly leaves Anthony’s jacket. They both stare at me as if I’ve gone too far. My stomach dives, and I feel as if I’ve skated out onto the ice only to discover too late how thin it is.

  “Maybe I can’t juggle two.” His tone is so cold it leaves goose bumps on my skin. “But you definitely can’t juggle three. Or maybe it’s four.” With a frosty gaze, he looks at Anthony. “Anthony, on homecoming night, was it you?”

  “No,” Anthony stutters. His eyes are wide, as if he was just hit in the belly. “We weren’t together.”

  Placing his gaze back on me, Lucas speaks to Jacob. “Was it you, Jacob?”

  “No.”

  “And it wasn’t me,” adds Lucas. I knew the boys had doubts about who I was with, and now, I learn that Lucas had concerns about me.

  Lucas’ eyes scan me up and down as if I’m less than him. “Maybe Arielle was right about you, Trashalicious.” His gaze mocks Anthony. “Oh, and nice pictures, by the way.”

  Lucas is out the door before I can catch my breath. Fuck the code, fuck Montlake, and each and every student can go and fuck themselves until they’re limp. It is “Team Page” from now on. And if the boys aren’t going to believe that I was tricked, then who needs them? I don’t. I stare at a point on the carpet, determined to hold back the tears. I’m not hurt. Being hurt is an old pain. Now, I’m furious with them.

  “You haven’t left yet,” I announce to Jacob and Anthony, “and you need to go.” My voice is steady, and I’m proud of my strength.

  Jacob grabs his jacket off the couch and takes a step near me. I can feel the heat off his body on my icy skin. He hesitates as if he wants to speak to me, and a part of me wants to talk. But I will myself not to look up into his soft brown eyes. Jacob sighs, then walks out the front door without closing it behind him. The only one left is Anthony.

  “I want you to go too.” I walk to the door and open it up as far as it will go.

  Anthony stands on the doorstep. He turns to face me, but before he can say a word, I shut the door. I don’t slam it in his face, because I’m not feeling the fury. More than anything, disappointment is breaking me down. I only shut it softly with both hands, pressing my fingertips against the wood. I feel numb and defeated by the results. There’s no denying it anymore. It was Troy that night. He got what he wanted. To turn me into trash.

  I’m not hungry anymore, but I go to the kitchen to make sure the OJ is in the fridge. No point in taking things out on Uncle Phil. Right now, he’s the only man I can trust. The Oreos in the pantry are taunting me, and one night of junk food won’t keep me out of my new jeans. I hope. I grab the cookies when I hear a tap on the patio door again. Sighing, my shoulders drop as Anthony taps again. Knowing better but not doing it, I walk over and let him in.

  “We really need to talk.” The words rush out of his mouth before I can shut him down again.

  “No, we really don’t.” I turn my back on him, but before I can walk away he puts his hand on my shoulder and swings me around. I’m facing him, and our eyes lock. There’s sincerity in his gaze, and I toss the cookies onto the counter, postponing my meltdown for another hour.

  “Natalie, we have to talk about what happened. I want you to know I didn’t do anything.”

  I tug away from him. “You did enough. You may think it was nothing, but you did enough.”

  Sullen and not leaving, Anthony grabs the cookies off the counter and sits down at the island. His long legs easily touch the floor. He pulls open the package and scoops out a handful. He pops one into his mouth, and his face screws up.

  “What flavor is this?”

  “Red velvet.”

  “Don’t you have plain?”

  “Choosy beggar.” I reach into the cupboard and toss him the Double Stuf. I pour us each a tall glass of milk. We keep our mouths busy chewing while we build up our nerve to talk. He goes first.

  “You know about the photos.” He avoids my gaze carefully though I’m sitting across from him.

  I nod. I may be out of the loop, but I’m not under a rock. “Yeah, one was taped to my locker Friday. My head was cut off, but I knew it was me.”

  “Oh fuck.” He slams his hand down on the counter, and the milk in our glasses wobbles.

  In my mind, I keep seeing Troy’s face sneering at me. “So how did it happen … this time?”

  Anthony winces at the note of reproach in my calm voice. He’s let me down too many times not to know that he’s fucked up again. I just want an explanation and then I’ll kick him out.

  His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “In the courtyard, Troy beat me up with a couple of the guys from his team. He went through my backpack while they punched me. He must have found them on my phone.”

  “Don’t you lock your phone?” I go from numb to furious in sixty seconds. “You deal drugs, for Chrissake.”

  “Used to deal drugs,” he corrects me with a snarky glare.

  Throwing my hair back, I scoff. “Give me your backpack.”

  Anthony frowns but hands it over to me. I pull out baggies of rolled joints with numbers written in black marker on each ziplock plastic bag. His phone is in the bottom, and I take it out. Anthony reaches for my hand, but I’m determined, which makes me quicker. Using my thumb, I swipe the blank screen, and the next thing I see is my bare breasts as his screen saver.

  “Oh, you are a pig. And it’s still unlocked.”

  “Give it back, Natalie.” He reaches for his phone again, but I push him away. But not for long. Though Anthony doesn’t have Jacob’s build, he has enough muscle to pin me to the island. We struggle over his phone, and something in me snaps. I start to hit him, not hard at first, but I rain down slaps against his head and chest. Shielding himself, he takes it like a stray dog that expects abuse.

  Suddenly, my body shakes with sobs, and I try to break free, b
ut Anthony won’t let me go. I lean into his warm, hard chest as he holds me tight, and I have my daily breakdown. The tears flow out of me as he strokes my hair softly, muttering sweet words to me and swearing that it will be okay.

  Lifting my head, I gulp in air, and my ragged sobs cease. Anthony’s expression is a mix of sorrow and regret, and I feel cleansed, knowing that someone truly understands how miserable I am. Everything is wrong. My world is crazy. And only an impossible miracle could make it right again. Holding him, I know he knows what pain is because he lives with it too.

  “Natalie, I would never have shared those photos with anyone. I don’t think you’re what they say you are. I know better. You’re special to me.”

  I wipe my face on a paper towel and hold it against my face. Sitting back down on the island, Anthony joins me, sitting beside me. Cautiously, carefully, he takes my hand. And I let him. He holds it firmly in his grip and, tired, I lean my head against his shoulder. We just stare at our hands, grasping each other.