Spite: A Bully Reverse Harem

by Candace Wondrak

  Alec looked like he wanted to get up and walk away, but he didn’t. His green gaze flicked to me, but I already knew the answer, mostly. This was purely for Xander’s benefit. What he would say next would be for him and not me. He eventually broke his silence, “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” To say Xander was upset would be the year’s biggest understatement.

  “It was freshmen year,” Alec explained. “I didn’t want…I was a stupid kid who didn’t think about his actions, just like I didn’t think about what we were doing to Elle all those years. I know it wasn’t right, and nothing I can say now will make it okay.” He tapped his fingers on the metal below. “I’m sorry, Xander. For whatever it’s worth now, I’m sorry.”

  Quietly, almost imperceptibly, Xander whispered, “Do you have any idea how badly it made me want to cut myself again? I almost did.”

  “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry.” It was all Alec could say.

  I took over the truth or dare game for a little while, trying to play down the tension that had risen between them. With the deep shit out of the way, the rest of the stuff was pretty light. I chose easy questions and easy dares on purpose, attempting to make the two boys near me happy once again.

  And then, me being me, I might’ve taken it a bit too far.

  “Xander, truth or dare?” I asked. My back was on the roundabout, its metal cold, even through the fabric of my shirt. I stared at the dimming sky, watching as the stars began to appear. I’d have to go home soon, probably face another lecture.

  Xander stunned me by saying, “Dare.”

  Dare? That was the first time he’d chosen that option all night. I propped myself up, studying him. He seemed calmer than he did earlier, which was good, because I was about to ask him to do something he probably didn’t want to do. “I dare you to kiss Alec.”

  A childish thing to dare? Hell yes, but either it would work and these two would officially get over their issues with each other, or the rift between them would be permanent and we’d have to go from there. One way or the other, we’d know. It made sense, just not when I thought too hard about it.

  Alec’s mouth opened, like he was going to argue, and Xander himself looked even paler than he normally did—which was almost deathly pale. With both of their eyes on me, I shrugged and said, “What? It’s not like you haven’t done it before. You guys have gotten over being near each other to spend time with me, but you need to be okay with spending time with each other, too.”

  “Fine,” Alec muttered, his green gaze flicking to Xander. “One kiss, that’s it, and then we can all move on. No more bringing up the past.” I sure as shit hoped he meant his and Xander’s past, because my past was still very much important to me, and it would remain so, until I did what I had to do at the dance.

  Grumbling, Xander pulled himself along the bar near him, moving closer to Alec. His brown gaze landed on me, uncertainty in their amber depths. I gave him a nod, a strange part of me excited. I wanted to see them together. Anytime they were with me, they were careful to never touch one another. It always felt a tad awkward, but I never said anything.

  Here? Now? You could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

  Neither boy reached for the other; neither one went to touch the other, grip the other’s face and forcefully bring their lips together. They were both hesitant, both uneasy as their mouths neared. Xander’s eyes closed when he was a few inches away from Alec’s mouth, no longer needing to see to know where he was going. Alec took on this half-lidded expression; I recognized the look.

  The moment their lips touched, it was like something ignited inside me. Fireworks in my stomach, my whole body burning up at the sight of two attractive guys attached at the lips, as tentative as they might be about it. It was hot. Something about it stirred me up in all the right places.

  It was not a fast, quick kiss, like I was sure both of them thought it would be. The kiss lingered, turned into something a bit more than just lips pressing chastely against each other. Within a few agonizingly slow moments, their mouths melded against each other’s, and they were kissing each other back, pushing and pulling against the other’s mouth as if they couldn’t get enough. Like they needed the contact to breathe.

  “Damn,” I murmured, my voice taking on a husky tone I barely recognized, “that’s sexy as hell. You guys are going to make me jealous.”

  At that, they pulled away from each other, panting, their cheeks flushed and twinged with an adorable shade of pink.

  “I…” Alec couldn’t find the words to say, and neither could Xander, with how he was fumbling. If that kiss reignited something between them, who was I to stop them? As long as they could focus on me every now and then…

  “You don’t have to say anything,” I said, a grin forming. “But who’s going to kiss me now?” A laugh escaped me when both boys instantly reached for me, and for the next minute, I was caught in the middle of a tug-of-war, laughing my ass off, wondering just how this had come to be my life.

  It wasn’t too damn bad, if I said so myself. Not bad at all.

  It was one Friday night when Diane, my dad, and I were sitting around the kitchen table, eating lasagna, pretending to be a family. But we weren’t. We would never be a family. As soon as I graduated high school and went to college, these two people would not exist to me.

  I was silent as I poked at my food, resting my cheek in my other hand, not trying to hide the boredness from my face. I knew both Diane and my dad were looking at me, and I never met either of their eyes. After the whole shoe thing, I’d stopped responding to Diane altogether. Her voice, her texts, everything. I didn’t want to play nice with her. If that made me a bitch, I guess I was a bitch.

  Dinner was over soon enough, and as I dumped my plate in the sink, I heard Diane head up the stairs, saying nothing to me or my dad. Totally fine. I didn’t care.

  “Elle,” my dad’s voice stopped me cold. I didn’t like the tone lingering there, and I had a feeling I was going to hate what he was about to say. “We need to talk.”

  Still leaning over the sink, my hands gripped the counter’s edge. I didn’t turn to look at him. “About what?”

  “About your behavior. You’ve been nothing but rude to Diane since you moved in, and I—”

  I whirled on him. “And you, what? You’re upset I’m not playing nice with your shiny new wife?”

  “She has tried to be nice to you. She wants you to like her, and you’re acting like a child.”

  “Like a child? Like the child I was when I came home from school and found you screwing her in yours and mom’s bed? You didn’t seem to care how I acted back then.” My scars on my wrists itched in memory. “You didn’t care at all about me.”

  My dad shook his head. “You can’t really think that—”

  “So forgive me if I don’t want to play nice with Diane,” I hissed, practically spitting.

  He looked at me for the longest while, his hazel eyes totally unreadable. It was a long minute before he whispered, “I hope you don’t act like this to your brother or sister.”

  My breath caught. “What?” His next words made me want to vomit.

  “Diane is pregnant. She wanted to be the one to tell you, but you’ve done nothing but brush her off and ridicule her at every turn. We’re going to have a family of our own, Elle, and we both want you to be a part of it.”

  Those words barely registered. Diane was pregnant? With a baby? With my dad’s baby? With my…my brother, or my sister…

  How the hell was I supposed to take in this information? Was I supposed to be happy? No—no, I could never pretend to be happy. This family wasn’t mine, neither was this house. It had ceased to be mine the instant Dad had started stepping out.

  Like a robot, I spun and headed toward the front door, ignoring my dad and the yelling. He could shout after me all he wanted, but I wasn’t going to stop. I needed to get out of here, and I needed to go right now. No waiting. No sitting around while Alec or Xander
came over to get me. I had to go.

  I ran out the front door, not stopping, even as my dad followed me onto the porch. My phone was in my room, and I was barefoot. Oh, well. Whatever. If my feet hurt at the end of tonight…at least I was alive to feel it. More than I could say for my mom.

  My mom…would she be happy for him, if she was still alive? She’d probably want me to pretend to be happy, to smile and say congratulations. But I couldn’t. My life was one big lie; I didn’t want to add to it. I couldn’t fake happiness and watch Dad’s new family grow. I didn’t want to be there for Diane. A sister, a brother? They’d mean nothing to me, because they never should’ve been born in the first place.

  Bitter. I was still so bitter about what happened all those years ago. It was my dad’s fault that he cheated, sent Mom in a downward spiral. It was his fault that I lived in an apartment while Mom drowned herself in the bottle and forgot to do laundry and go to the grocery store. It was his fault that I wore dirty clothes to school. I was such a huge target in school all because of him. Him and Diane.

  Everything was his fault. Everything was her fault.

  My eyes started to tear up as I headed down the sidewalk. Maybe I just wanted someone to blame; I didn’t care. I was at the point where I just didn’t care.

  I ended up walking to the school, go figure. Since it was Friday night, there was a basketball game in session, and even though I shouldn’t, I found myself gravitating towards the glass front doors. It was dark out, and when I stepped inside, I found the ticket people were gone, which meant it was past halftime. You got in free if you came super late. Even the concession stand was starting to pack up.

  The women behind the concession stand watched as I walked in, their eyes falling to my bare feet, which hurt something fierce, but they said nothing. I blinked away my tears as I entered the gym, just in time to see the opposing team make a shot from halfway down the court. As the tennis shoes squeaked on the floor, I spotted Christian in the thick of the game, sweat coating his skin. He was playing with his mouthguard as he waited for his teammate to pass the ball.

  I turned, heading up the bleachers, sitting in the corner on the tallest row, far enough away from everyone. I leaned back on the wall, closing my eyes. Even though the gym was full of sounds, I was in my own little bubble, drowning in my own misery.

  Was this really the state of my life? How did I get here? Did I do something to deserve this? Before it all started, years upon years ago, I was a good kid. I listened to my parents, never acted out in school, never once thought about doing anything bad. I was the poster girl for sainthood. Now? Now everything was just a mess, and I felt too tired to try to clean it up.

  Funny how one sentence—Diane is pregnant—could break me like this, wasn’t it?

  Time was a haze. All too soon, the game was over, and everyone was clapping that we won. I kept my eyes shut, afraid that I would cry or do something equally as embarrassing if I opened them. I knew I’d have to get up and leave like everyone else, but…just five more minutes.

  Five more minutes, and then…then I guess I’d put myself back together, put on a brave face, and walk home. Apologize to my dad and Diane, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

  Just five more minutes.

  The bleachers started to shake, as if a stampede was headed my way. That, or someone obscenely large was moving toward me. I opened my eyes, finding Christian halfway up the bleachers. He had his bag around his shoulders, having changed out of his uniform already. The gym was empty, save for the two of us, and the coach, who was busy talking to a group of parents.

  I didn’t come here for Christian, for once. This was my breakdown, couldn’t I have it in peace?

  Christian tossed me something he was holding onto. Two things, actually. His basketball shoes. “Let’s go,” he said, blue eyes studying me for only a moment before he turned and began heading down the wooden stands.

  Let’s go? Why would I want to go anywhere with that dickhead? I know we had this flirting thing going on the past few weeks, but that was all part of my plan. Didn’t mean I really wanted to spend more time with him. And his shoes…

  I didn’t even realize he saw me walk in.

  This had to be some kind of joke, right? Had to be some kind of prank. I knew the shoes themselves couldn’t be bad, because they were expensive, but still. I didn’t trust him, for obvious reasons.

  When I didn’t immediately get up and follow him, Christian stopped about three-quarters of the way down the bleachers, tossing a look over his wide, muscular shoulder. “You coming?”

  The last thing I wanted to do was go with him. No, actually the last thing I wanted to do was go home right now, so I slipped on the shoes—which were way too big for me—and followed him to his car. A new SUV, because he was the typical spoiled kid. Or maybe I was, with how I’d been acting.

  It did feel much better to walk on concrete with shoes on, even if they didn’t quite fit.

  Once we were both situated in the car, he turned the ignition, and the radio came to life. Christian leaned his elbow on the dash between us, inching closer. He smelled of sweat and body spray. He smelled so good, damn it.

  “So,” he said, “you want to tell me why you came to the game looking like you want to cry and wearing no shoes?”

  Shit. I shouldn’t have shown him weakness. He’d take it and use it, like he had six years ago. Realizing how stupid I was, how foolish I’d been, I started to get out of the car, but he grabbed my wrist, pulling me back. Not hard, but firm. Firm enough to stop me, and because he didn’t immediately release me, I met his blue stare.

  I found myself explaining, even though I knew I shouldn’t, “The woman who my dad cheated on my mom with is pregnant, and I feel like the family we had before was just a joke.” The truth, it hurt to say it aloud, hurt even more when I realized I’d just told Christian something that was none of his business.

  “Shit. That’s rough.” He slowly released my wrist, and I set it in my lap, rubbing it in the hopes my body would forget his warm touch. “And you just now found out?”

  I nodded, biting my lower lip. This was not a heart-to-heart I should be having with him. We were enemies still, and we always would be, his pretty, handsome face or not. “I feel like I was trying so hard to keep it together, and it was just the last straw. I didn’t want to come back here. I didn’t want to see you, Alec, and Xander again. I thought this was all in the past.”

  “But here you are,” Christian said, hardly sounding like himself. He was oddly, bizarrely, utterly serious. A good liar.

  “Here I am,” I muttered.

  His next question caught me off-guard. “You up for some food?” When I gave him a curious, shocked expression, he added, “I’m starving, and I figure the last place you want to go is home.”

  Why the hell did he sound so sincere, and why the double hell did I start to feel myself falling for it? For him? A bad, bad idea.

  Somehow my mouth managed to croak out an “Okay.”

  I really wanted to hit myself. Smack myself. Yell at myself. Showing Christian any sign of weakness was a bad, bad thing, something I’d regret fully later on, I knew. This was a mistake. This was a God-awful mistake, and here I was, making it anyway. Willingly ignorant.

  We went to a small diner, taking up a booth. We were about the only customers there, minus some guy sitting on a barstool near the kitchen. I’d tied the shoes as tight as they would go, so they didn’t slide off my feet with every step. Christian was busy looking at the menu, and I was busy staring at him.

  How could a handsome face like that hide such cruelty?

  “I don’t have any money on me,” I whispered.

  Eyes not once leaving the menu, Christian said, “I never asked if you did, but I assumed not, since you were also shoeless.” The waitress chose that time to come back, and he ordered two platters of chicken fingers and fries, along with two milkshakes, one chocolate and one vanilla.

  When she left to
put the order in, I couldn’t help but ask, “Chicken and fries? What are you, five?”

  “Hey, you can never go wrong with chicken,” he said, shrugging. He leaned back in the booth, his lips spreading into a smile. “I even get chicken at those fancy steak restaurants.”

  Staring at his smile would only get me into trouble, and yet I could not look away. “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not.”

  I laughed. Not once in a million years did I ever think I’d be sitting across from Christian in a diner, while wearing his shoes and laughing at what he said, feeling…feeling good. I felt good. He was a good distraction from what I was running from.

  It was after our food came, after Christian had already started to dig in and chow down, when I asked quietly, “Why are you being nice to me?” A legitimate question, considering our past.

  “You’re the one who started it, not me.”

  I resisted my urge to throw a fry at him. “I did not. You’re the one who started it all back in, like, fourth grade. You made my life a living hell.”

  His gaze flicked up to me, his stare affecting my body in ways I wished it wouldn’t. “That was a long time ago.”

  I was ready to jump down his throat, and jump his bones, but the latter was an instinct I would ignore. Pointedly. “Oh, so just because it was a long time ago means—”

  “That’s not what I said.” He left it at that, and I didn’t prod him further. It was clear he was done discussing it. I couldn’t blame him; dredging up the past was a painful endeavor, one I tried to avoid, even though my memories sometimes got the best of me.

  “Then why don’t you just say what you mean?”

  He set the chicken finger he was holding down, half-eaten. His blue eyes were livid when he said, “I don’t want to think about the past. Why can’t we focus on now?”

  I stuck a fry in my mouth and frowned at him. “Easy for you to say. You weren’t the one who dreaded going to school every day for years.”