King of Nothing: An Academy Bully Romance (Boys of Almadale Book 1)

by Jacie Lennon

  He doesn’t have that kind of money to spend on me.

  I can’t help but be impressed though. They might be expensive, but they are thoughtful. They are things I would want and things that benefit my end goal. To become an artist—something I’ve dreamed of my entire life. But I seem to have lost sight of it these days, which is weird since my portfolio is all I’ve lived and breathed during the past three years. I’ve been working toward entering an art institute, and I know that I have to be a cut above the rest, but everything I do seems to fall below average in my eyes. I’ve sculpted, painted, and sketched, unable to focus on one medium to present.

  I open my sketchpad, flipping through pages. The haunting images stare back at me. Even though I don’t want to admit it, the proof is in these pages, holding the likeness of Corbin on every page I’ve worked on. I cringe as I think about the idiot I’ve been, mooning over a boy when I should be focusing on what’s important.

  My future.

  I slam the sketchbook shut, planning to burn the pages when I can find time, and drag a blank canvas from the closet. I set it on the easel, turning it a little where it faces the window, and then I stand there with my hands on my hips.

  I’m glad that the secrets are out in the open between the four of us, but I feel like it’s even more complicated now. I don’t know how to feel, who to side with. I know that, really, I’ve already picked a side, but I hate to know what will happen when my mom finds out.

  “Hey, babe,” Trixie says, shutting the door behind her and walking to her bed, kicking off her shoes. “Whatcha doing?”

  I tilt my head to the side, staring at the stark white canvas in front of me, and sigh in frustration. “Trying to start my final portfolio piece to submit.”

  “What do you have so far?”

  “I have some sketches, some drawings with charcoal, and a sculpture that’s back home with my dad. But I wanted to paint something, show my diversity with the art mediums. I am drawing a blank though. I haven’t been able to think of anything.” I turn to look at her, narrowing my eyes. “Where have you been?”

  “Oh, here and there.” She dodges my question, and I cock my head to the side.

  “You don’t have to tell me, but if you are in trouble, I want to know. I want to help.”

  Trixie has been gone for longer and longer periods. Missing classes and having me pick up homework. She won’t talk about it, but I figure it has something to do with what happened the summer after her freshman year. I get that I’m new here, but I’ve grown to like Trixie, and I want what’s best for her. Something tells me this isn’t what’s best for her as I look at her sunken eyes and hollow smile.

  “I’m fine, Lan. Don’t worry about me.”

  I nod and turn back to busy myself with pulling paints and my palette from the bags, where I carefully packed them away before moving. Thankfully, they weren’t in the third bag I left outside the day I moved. I never got my original uniforms back.

  A knock at the door interrupts our comfortable silence, and I groan. Trixie shoots a weird look my way and goes to open the door, finding a box sitting on the floor.

  “What’s this?” she asks as she sets it on my bed.

  My name is written across the top in large block letters, like all the others, and I simultaneously itch to open it and want to throw it in the trash.

  “Corbin has been sending me boxes,” I say.

  Trixie’s head whips toward me, the surprise written all over her face. “Corbin? You two are talking again?”

  I haven’t said anything about what happened with my mom or the guys after. In my defense, Trixie hasn’t been around much, and she’s keeping secrets herself.

  “Not really. He wants to, but I’m not convinced. I guess that’s what these gifts are for—to convince me to give him a chance.”

  “Gifts? As in more than one? What all has he given you?”

  I step to the closet and bend down, pulling the box of gifts I have stashed there. I opened them, but I haven’t used any of the presents. That doesn’t mean I don’t look at them longingly every day. Trixie’s eyes widen as she looks at the overflowing box filled with art supplies, books, an iPad Pro with drawing capabilities, new state-of-the-art swimming goggles, and a gift certificate to get a new swimsuit. Not to mention all the random odds and ends that were fillers in the boxes. Chocolate, a note from Corbin to accompany every gift with a poem inside, and some candy.

  You would think it would be cheesy, but it’s not. I love it all. And that’s the problem. He’s wanting to break down my walls, and it’s working, but I don’t want it to work. I don’t want sweet Corbin anymore. I need asshole Corbin back. The one who would ignore me and use me to get what he wanted. That would make it so much easier for me to hate him.

  “I don’t know how he can afford it all,” I say with a shrug, setting the box beside her, watching as she rifles through it.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know how he can afford it? Have you met his best friends? They have so much money that they probably use it to wipe their asses.”

  “Everyone here has more money than they know what to do with.”

  “The Montgomerys have three times the money that anyone else here has. But it is weird that they would give him money to buy you stuff.” She looks up at me, and once she sees my face, she throws up her hands. “Oh, come on. Everyone here knows they don’t like you. Why do you think I’m your only friend?”

  I wasn’t thinking that at all. It just dawned on me that maybe they feel bad.

  Could Brock and Bodhi truly feel remorse for what they did to me? It doesn’t seem likely.

  “I’m sure Corbin didn’t tell them what it was for,” I say, acting nonchalant. But part of me wonders if it’s an apology to me, for believing I was stealing from them.

  “Either way, these gifts are nice. What’s keeping you from giving him a chance?” Trixie lies back on her bed, crossing her stockinged feet and hugging a pillow to her chest. Her short blonde hair fans out around her face, making her look young and girlish, even with her current expression of sadness.

  “I opened myself up to him, and I got burned. He made me feel special, and then once he got what he wanted, he left.”

  “It doesn’t look like he got everything he wanted.”

  “Well, sometimes, you can realize things too late.” I fiddle with my comforter as I sit down, tucking my legs underneath me. “I want to give him a chance, but my heart hurts. I told him I needed time. I need to heal. There’s been a lot going on, not just with him, and I’m confused, lonely, and maybe a little lost.”

  “What else is going on?” She raises her head a little to look at me, and then she turns on her side, propping herself up on her elbow.

  I wrestle with myself, not wanting to divulge how ashamed I am of my family. But the urge to talk it through with someone who has been there for me since the start of school wins out.

  I tell her everything that happened, all the details that I left out before the yacht trip and then everything that happened after with my meeting with my mom to the bomb that Brock, Bodhi, and Corbin dropped on me. She listens with rapt attention, inserting shocked gasps where necessary, and I appreciate having her to lean on. Once I’m done, she sits up, mirroring my position with her legs tucked under her, and leans forward.

  “Damn, Landry. That’s …” She trails off.

  I let out a sigh. “I know. I can’t get past the fact that Corbin knew the whole time. He explained why he did it, but it doesn’t change the hurt inside me, you know?”

  “Yeah, I understand more than you think. Except I think my situation is the complete opposite.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Trixie stares out the window for a while, and I stay silent, not wanting to push her. When she looks back at me, there’s a lone tear trailing down her cheek.

  “Oh, babe. Forget I asked. You don’t have to tell me anything.” I hop off my bed and climb up beside her, wrapping an arm around her shou
lders.

  “No, I want to. I think it might help unburden me a little,” she says with a sniffle.

  I nod, pulling her head to lay on my shoulder, and I rest mine on top of hers.

  “I’m engaged,” she says.

  I gasp. “Engaged? At seventeen?”

  “I’ve been engaged since right before sophomore year.”

  I sit there a moment, thinking about the tidbits she’s given me, and then gasp even louder. I realize this has something to do with the secret she’s been keeping from the twins and why she split up with Bodhi over that summer.

  “I’m assuming, you aren’t engaged to Bodhi?”

  “No.”

  “And he doesn’t know about any of this?” I ask and feel her head move side to side.

  “No, he doesn’t know,” she says. Reminding me that I need to keep this under wraps.

  “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  “I was scared at first. My parents want to keep it a secret until I’m out of school; some weird part of the agreement between the families is that they get to announce it when they want. I was young when they told me. Even though it was only a few years ago, I feel like I’ve grown up now. I see the world through different glasses. But now, I keep silent more for Bodhi’s safety than anything. I don’t think it would fix the problem with me and him after all this time. That part of my life is over, and now, I’m moving on. I can’t have Bodhi, so I can’t encourage him.” Her shoulders slump even more, and she reaches one hand up to brush underneath her eyes.

  “Is this like an arranged marriage? How could your family do this to you? Wait, it is your family doing it, right? You didn’t fall in love with someone else?”

  “Hold up. So many questions.” She laughs quietly as she sits up straight again, looking me in the face. “I can’t say much else, just that I am definitely not in love. And you can’t tell a soul. I mean it, Landry. This stays quiet.”

  I nod solemnly at her request, my heart breaking for her. As much as I think it’s a horrible thing happening to her, I want to respect her decision. She’s truly been my best friend here, and I want her to be able to trust me.

  “I won’t speak a word of it. Though I want to say, it’s bullshit that you are essentially being sold into a marriage,” I tell her.

  She wraps her arms around me, pulling me against her in a tight hug. “Thank you. It feels good to talk about it with someone.”

  “I’m always here if you need me.”

  “Can I open your box?” she asks, letting me go.

  I look at the box sitting on the desk. I breathe in deeply and exhale before relenting. “Yeah. I can’t bring myself to not open them.”

  Trixie excitedly jumps off the bed and grabs scissors to slice through the tape. With a grin at me, she throws open the cardboard flaps and gasps. I wait on pins and needles as she reaches in and pulls out an envelope.

  “This is all that’s in here,” she says, holding it up, and we both stare at it.

  “What do you think it says?”

  “Uh, you have to open it to find out,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  “I know,” I say, leaning forward to wrench it from her grasp. “It was a hypothetical question. I wanted you to guess.”

  “Then, in that case, I’m sure he’s telling you that he’s the long-lost son of royalty of some faraway, albeit small, country, and he wants you to become his wife and rule by his side.”

  “This isn’t the freaking Princess Diaries,” I say with a giggle, and Trixie laughs too.

  “You only said I had to guess. I think that’s an awesome guess.”

  “You are a romantic at heart, aren’t you, Trix?”

  “Deep down to my core,” she says, her face falling, and my heart breaks for her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly.

  She shakes her head. “It’s okay. But right now isn’t about me. Open the envelope,” she says in a game-show voice.

  I slip my finger under the paper flap and pull, breaking the seal. I scan the words once and then twice.

  Meet me on the south lawn.

  8 p.m.

  Bring a blanket.

  I flip it around and check the back, making sure I haven’t missed anything. Then, I hand it to Trixie.

  “Oh my gosh,” she squeals after reading it. “This is so precious.”

  “What does it even mean?”

  “Obviously, he has something planned,” she says, huffing. “Honestly, it’s like you’ve never watched any sort of romantic movie.”

  “Maybe you should come with me in case this is a trick,” I say.

  She presses her lips into a thin line. “I am not going on your date with you. What a buzzkill that would be. He leans in to kiss you, and there I am. Oh, hello. Don’t mind me. Just enjoying the show.”

  I laugh at the scene she described, and she smiles.

  “Okay, serious question. What are you going to wear?”

  I glance down at my uniform that I’m still wearing and frown. “Not this,” I say, holding out my pleated skirt.

  “I have just the thing,” she singsongs while rushing to her closet.

  I shudder when I see the stupid doll sitting in the corner. “You really should burn that thing.”

  She lovingly glances down at the cracked and peeling face. “Yeah, I probably should,” is all she says before ripping a hanger from the closet and victoriously holding it up. “This would look beautiful against your dark hair.” She holds the cream-colored cowl-neck sweater against me and drapes a lock of hair over it. “Pair it with some skinny jeans and booties, and you will look perfect. Can I curl your hair?”

  I smile at her eagerness and nod. I want her happy, and if her dressing me and fixing my hair will do that, I’m all in. It’s one less thing that I have to think about. And I have a lot to think about. Namely, how Corbin is wearing me down with each thoughtful gift he sends my way.

  22

  Landry

  I’m dressed and ready to go by seven fifty, and Trixie is pushing me out the door with a wave and a, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do … or do,” followed by a devious smile.

  I smooth my hands over my stomach, relishing in the soft material of the sweater I’m wearing. It’s a light one, not enough to make me sweat, but enough to take the edge off the fall breeze that coats each night now. I’ve got my heavy-duty blanket tucked under one arm, and after a deep breath, I make my way to the south lawn.

  As soon as I round the Chemistry wing of the school, I see Corbin standing there. He’s about a football field away, and he has something propped against his leg. His hands are tucked in his jean pockets, giving him a relaxed air. I drink in the sight of his shoulders stretching his long-sleeved gray shirt. He has the sleeves pushed up past his elbows, and I swear all of that, combined with it being him, makes me weak in the knees.

  Stop, I chastise myself.

  For all of my I need to think talk, I haven’t been doing much thinking. Instead, I’m finding myself swooning over the tall drink of water standing there, looking at me. I’m feeling particularly parched right about now.

  As soon as I’m in front of him, he grabs the blanket from my arms, unfolding it and flapping it in the air before lowering it to the ground.

  “Take a seat,” he says, grinning up at me in the fading sunlight and patting the blanket where he’s crouched down.

  “What is this?” I ask as I sit, thankful I wore pants.

  I watch as he pulls something close to us, setting it in the middle of the blanket and flipping a switch. Immediately, a low-light lantern comes on, bathing us in a glow, and I smile.

  “It’s an evening picnic,” he says, pulling food from the bag he has with him. “I didn’t have a blanket, but I figured you would.”

  He figured right. As a girl, it’s a rule you should have at least three separate blankets available at all times.

  He unloads a meat and cheese tray, some fruit, and a container of chicken salad, setting it all next to th
e lantern. Then, he pulls forks and napkins from his bag.

  “Damn, you look like Mary Poppins right now,” I say with a laugh.

  He grins. “Well, I did have a lamp with me,” he says with a shrug.

  “Oh my God, you’ve watched Mary Poppins?”

  “Yeah,” he says, grinning. “But don’t tell anyone.”

  I mime zipping my lips closed, and he starts to open the food up. He reaches back into his bag and then looks at me with a smirk.

  “Now, the real winner of the picnic,” he says, pulling a bottle of white wine out and two plastic cups.

  “I feel so fancy.” I pull my legs under me and grab a glass, waiting for him to pop the cork out and pour. “Where did you get all of this?” I look around me.

  “I can’t reveal my sources,” he says.

  Once we cheers and take our first sips, he levels me with a look. I take in the flicker of light against his skin, mesmerized at how it shows his sharp jawline. He’s so tough to resist, and I know this won’t be any different.

  “Did you get my gifts?”

  “Yes, but they were unnecessary,” I say, taking another sip of my wine.

  “They were very necessary,” he says, his tone serious. “I want to show you that you are important to me. And I know I’ve done a shitty job of that. I’m sorry. But now, I know exactly what I want, and that’s you.”

  “You don’t know that, Corbin. You are focused on graduating and taking custody of your brother. That should be your main goal. And I don’t know what’s going to happen with me once they out my mom. I’m not guaranteed to be around. You and I aren’t a sure thing.”

  Corbin busies himself, fixing two plates for us, and then he shoves one into my hands. I twirl the fork around in the chicken salad as I stare down at it.