Striker: A Dark Bully Romance (Redwood Rebels Book 1)

by Rachel Leigh

  “How are we supposed to do that?” Wyatt whisper-talks. “He’s been watching you like a hawk since you stepped out of his car this morning. Which, by the way, is really fucking weird because I’ve never even seen you talk to the guy.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, I silently beg for them to stop talking. “How was the haunted trail the other night?” I ask Wyatt in an attempt to change the subject.

  He drops his arm from my shoulder and begins talking with his hands. “Scary as shit. I may have accidentally grabbed Shane’s cock when I all but jumped into his arms.”

  I laugh. “Accidentally my ass. You probably planned that shit.” Wyatt and Shane have a secret crush on each other. Well, they think it's a secret, but everyone knows. Personally, I think they need to just scream it from the rooftop because they’re cute as hell together.

  When we reach the cafeteria, I stop and turn around to face Tommy with a hand on my hip. My eyes plead with him, and he knows exactly what I’m asking. When he shakes his head no, I stomp my foot like a child. “Really?”

  “Really.” He nods in the direction of the line. “Your friends can come, but you will sit at my table.”

  Shay and Wyatt exchange glances with each other and then look to me for answers that I can’t give them. Not yet.

  “Come on,” I say to them, “we’re eating with Tommy today.”

  “You two go ahead. I’ll pass,” Wyatt says. I’m not surprised. He hasn’t had the best experiences with these guys. Bullying is too kind of a word to use. They’ve made the lives of half of the student body hell just because they existed in their world. Yet, everyone still goes to their parties because there is free booze and zero parental supervision.

  Shay leans in and whispers in my ear with her eyes on Tommy, “Would you mind if I sit this one out, too?”

  Dropping my shoulders, I scowl. “Seriously you guys! You’re both ditching me and leaving me to sit with the likes of that?” I point to the table where Tommy’s buddies are sitting. I don’t even know all of their names, but I do know that the guy with the leather jacket and purple mohawk was caught selling pills out of his locker junior year. I don’t even know why Tommy associates with those guys. Sure, he doesn’t exactly belong with the jocks, but I get the feeling Tommy has more layers than the people he calls his so-called friends. He’s artistic and, every once in a while, shows a glimmer of kindness. Now that I think about it, he might be my only hope for survival in all of this.

  With a shrug, they head to the line while I’m left there with Tommy. “Better get in line before all the good food is taken.” He grins, giving a nudge toward the line that is now stretched to the door.

  “This is so stupid. Do you guys really think that I’m going to say anything? You think I want my friends to know what I’ve done. That I pushed Josh’s—” Tommy’s hand claps over my mouth.

  “That…” he snaps. “That is exactly why I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He removes his hand and looks around, making sure no one heard us. Everyone is carrying on with their conversations about football, dances, and the luxurious life of a high school student. While I’m here. With him. Drowning in thoughts of dead bodies, asylums, and cliffs. “You can’t say his name. Ever. Got it?”

  Tommy steps in front of me in the line, and I’m drawn to his back pocket that bulges out. It looks like a rolled-up newspaper stuffed in there with his black t-shirt curtaining it. I lift up his shirt from the back, curiosity getting the better of me. “Why the hell are you carrying around a can of spray paint?” I chuckle then let his shirt fall back in place.

  His head turns while his body still faces the line. “Because you never know when an opportunity will arise.”

  Sighing, I shake my head in disgust. “Please don’t tell me you huff that shit.”

  “Not gonna lie and say I never have, but that’s not why I have it. I like art.” We take a few steps forward, filling the empty space as the line gets smaller.

  “You mean you like graffiti?”

  He turns around to face me, a look of wonder in his eyes. “How hungry are you?”

  “Not at all.” It’s true. I don’t think I could even force myself to eat right now. Nausea is swimming around in my stomach, and if I let myself, I could probably throw up.

  Grabbing me by the hand, he pulls me out of line and walks us briskly toward the doors. “What are we doing?” I look back and see Shay and Wyatt watching us with confusion. Ignoring them, I turn back around and follow Tommy’s lead.

  “I think we both deserve to let loose and have a little fun. What’dya say? You down for that?”

  As I continue to walk beside him, my mind's made up for me. Something about Tommy gives me this feeling of contentment. Like I can trust him. I really shouldn’t, but even the excitement in his eyes right now is something that is foreign to the others. Tommy is different. “Alright, I’m always game for a little fun. As long as it doesn’t involve dead—”

  His finger presses to my lips. “Shh. Don’t say it.” He smiles, then winks, which sends a rush of adrenaline through me.

  Pressing my lips together, I refrain from smiling back. “Cows. Geez, what did you think I was gonna say?”

  Looking back and forth down the hallway a couple times with a serious expression on his face, he pushes open the gymnasium doors and nods for me to go in. It’s dark inside, aside from a sliver of light coming from the men’s locker room. “What’s the plan exactly?” I ask, when the door closes behind us.

  Pulling out the spray can from his back pocket, Tommy begins shaking it. The sound of the metal ball inside hitting the aluminum trumps the sound of my reverberating heart. I love the thrill of a rush—being sneaky, taking risks. I always have. These sort of pranks and games, I’m okay with. It’s ones that involve murder that I’m not a fan of.

  Tommy begins walking behind the bleachers, and I follow him. “What’s your favorite quote?” he asks, as we both duck our heads and step underneath the backside of the bleachers.

  “That’s an odd question.”

  “Come on, everyone has a favorite. Let’s hear it.” He begins spraying something onto the brick wall in front of us. Black splatters hit the white slab of brick, and I can’t make out what it is just yet. His arms sweep the air as he extends his reach, making the circle of whatever it is bigger.

  “She wasn’t given wings to keep her feet on the ground.”

  Tommy stops spraying for a moment. With the can straight out in front of him, he turns to look at me. His eyes are soft and inviting, and I see something in them. I see purpose and depth. Light in the darkness. I see a guy who has dreams and plans for the future but no idea how to reach them. When he turns back to the wall and leans closer, bringing the can right in front of it, he releases small spritzes that form the face of a snake. I watch him work intently, creating his own beautiful art. He takes a step back and I slide over to his side to get a better view of it.

  “What’s the meaning behind this?” I ask him, as we both face the snake infinity symbol. Same as the tattoos, same as the door handle at Briarwood, and the same as the trinket box left on my bed.

  “It’s the beginning and it’s the end,” he pauses, glancing over at me to see if I’m following, “the Ouroboros reminds us that every life starts and stops somewhere. The only control we have is the in between. We can live to die, or we can live to survive. We choose survival.”

  I nod, thinking that I understand. Though, I’m not really sure I do. “Why do you all have the tattoo? Is it some sort of occult symbol?”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “Not at all. It’s a pact. No man left behind. No man falters alone. We face the in between together and we ride ‘til we die.”

  Taking a few steps to the right side of the sprayed symbol, he begins shaking the can again. “We might seem like we’re just a bunch of fuck ups to the world, but really, we have purpose. Everyone does. Me, Talon, Zed, and Lars have our own scars. Scars that brought us together, and scars that keep us bo
und.” Pressing his finger to the nozzle, he begins spraying. This time, his arm spreads and sweeps. He bends and slouches, and I’m mesmerized by his intensity.

  When he finishes, I’m in awe. My breath is taken away, and my eyes are cemented to the angelic painting in front of him. “You’ve got your wings. Use ‘em,” he says as his arms drop to his side.

  Two black, unclipped wings. Fringed with tousled edges. If I could touch them, I imagine they’d be weightless—delicate—soft in the center with pointed ends. “I can’t believe you just did that with a can of paint.”

  The bell sounds, and his eyes widen. “We gotta get out of here,” he says a moment too late. The gym door opens, and voices carry over to us as we stand beneath the bleachers. Taking my hand in his, I notice that his fingertip is stained black and his nose is freckled from the out spray of mist. “This way,” he says, as we duck all the way down and walk beneath the low seats of the bleachers, trying to hide our steps and faces.

  Basketballs dribble against the floor continuously as sneakers squeak across. Five seconds later, the whoosh sound of the ball going in the net has everyone shouting.

  “Fuck,” Tommy bellows, as his head scrapes against the metal of the bleacher. He rubs his hand over it, and I'm not sure why, but I laugh, and his laughter follows.

  “What have you gotten us into, Tommy Chambers?” I whisper-talk. We may be late for fourth period, might possibly get caught vandalizing the gym wall, and possibly create rumors about ourselves, but this is the first time I’ve felt alive all week—possibly longer. Definitely longer. Ever since Mom passed away, the days have sort of just blended together in one big fog. Then Axel left. Dad’s always gone. I often question what this life is even for and then I have a moment like this and I’m reminded. Sometimes life is simply about living. It’s not wrapped in fancy paper in a pretty box. It’s a mess of emotions that change from one moment to the next. It’s the highs and the lows—and like Tommy said—everything in between.

  We finally make it to the end of the bleachers, and Tommy looks from me to the door in front of us. “Slow and quiet,” he whispers, before we both emerge from under the stands. I don’t even look over at the class, out of fear that someone is looking back at us. Tommy slowly opens the door, and I book it. Hurried steps lead us down the hall and we both burst out in laughter.

  Stopping at my locker, I pull it open. I have it rigged up so I don’t even have to turn it to my combination. “You better get going. You’re already late,” I tell Tommy as he lingers next to me.

  “I’m always late. I’ll walk you to class and maybe I’ll make an appearance in mine.”

  There is something about his expression and tone. It’s comforting and kind, and I get the feeling that him walking me to class has nothing to do with the rules the guys set forth, but more so because he wants to.

  As we’re walking at a leisurely pace down the quiet halls, I start to feel a sliver of respect and dare I say trust in the guy walking next to me. “Hey Tommy?” I pause when he looks at me. “Everything is going to be alright, isn’t it?’

  “With J? Yeah, it’ll all be fine. Don’t worry.”

  “No,” I grip my books tightly to my chest, “with the guys? With me?”

  When he doesn’t speak, but looks over at me with a face full of remorse, I get my answer. Nodding my head, I accept my fate.

  When we reach my class, I stop before opening the door. “It was fun. Thanks.”

  Tommy begins walking away but turns and looks back over his shoulder. “I’ll never hurt you. That I can promise.”

  His words give me a warm and comforting feeling that has the corners of my lips tugging up.

  I think I may have just made a friend—and I could really use one right about now.

  10

  “Would you quit pacing and sit your ass down,” I grumble from the couch as Zed takes long strides in front of the door. He’s been there since school got out ten minutes ago, while chewing nervously on the skin of his thumb. “Tommy texted and said everything’s been fine. No suspicion, no questions.”

  We’ve all been a ball of nerves ever since Josh was deemed a missing person. It won’t be long until his car is found, and they assume that he’s lost in the bottomless lake.

  His movements stop. “She’s a loose cannon. I don’t trust her.”

  “We’ve got enough insurance. Don’t start plotting again. There is no way that girl is gonna say anything.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  Dropping the PS4 controller on the couch, I jump up. “It is enough. If you push her any further, it’ll be too much. Just let this play out.”

  My phone begins vibrating in my pocket, so I pull it out. My gaze darts to Zed. “Fuck. He’s calling again. I thought we settled this shit last night.”

  “Don’t answer it. They’re here.” He pulls the door open and walks outside.

  Dropping the phone down on the couch, I get up and meet them at the door.

  Thirty seconds later, they all come inside. Marni actually looks happy for a split second until her eyes meet mine. “How was school?” I ask, as I walk over to her and position my hand between her back and the straps of her backpack. Sliding it down her arm, I take it and drop it on the couch.

  When her only response is her nose in the air and a scowl, I look to Tommy for an answer.

  “It was fine. No problems. She was a very well-behaved student,” Tommy says, as he and Marni catch a look from each other and both smile.

  Marni grabs her bag off the couch. “I’m going to my room.”

  “What was that all about?” I ask Tommy, who is still sporting a shit-eating grin.

  “What?” He plays dumb. “It was nothing. Just a good day. Is that a problem?”

  Zed untucks a cigarette from behind his ear. “Shit, maybe we should have had Tommy get the goods from her. She seems to like him more than your ass.” He walks out the front door, leaving it open as he takes a seat on the porch steps and lights his smoke.

  Just because they had a good day at school doesn’t mean she’s suddenly falling for Tommy. A burn smolders inside my stomach. If he seriously thinks he’s gonna form some unbreakable bond with Marni just so he can try and weasel his way between her legs, he’s dreaming. I’ll break every fucking bone his body before I let him, or any of these assholes, lay a finger on her.

  Tommy holds out his hand for a fist bump. “I’m out. I’ll pick her up tomorrow.”

  Refraining from bumping it back, I push it away. “Don’t bother. I’ll bring her to school.”

  Cocking a brow, Tommy scowls. “What’s with you lately?”

  “Nothing. There’s just no reason for you to drive all the way here when I can just bring her myself.”

  “He wants her all to himself. That’s what’s with him.” Zed huffs from the steps.

  Sweeping the air with my hand, I brush them off and stalk toward the stairs. I want this plan to work. That’s all I care about. That’s why she’s here. I need her leash short so I can keep an eye on her. Any move that draws attention to us could destroy everything. It also doesn’t help that I don’t trust Zed. Tommy’s harmless, but I could see her falling for his wit and charm and I can’t let that happen. I’ve staked a claim for her—they just don’t know it.

  Knocking my knuckle on the bedroom door a couple times, I wait for Marni to open it. When she doesn’t, I knock again. “Open the door,” I grumble.

  Pressing my ear to it, I wait for a sound of movement, but there’s nothing but silence. I wriggle the handle, but it’s locked. “Marni!” I shout. “Open this goddamn door.” I knock more aggressively this time, but still nothing. The only sound is the wallop of multiple feet coming up the steps down the hall.

  “What’s the problem?” Zed hurries to my side. Nudging me out of the way, he begins tinkering with the handle to no avail.

  I pound my fist on the door continuously. “She’s not answering.”

  “Jesus, you guys. She’s probably sleepi
ng.” Lars comes toward us. I didn’t even know he was here yet.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, as Zed disappears down the stairs.

  “My bitch of a step-sister is losing her damn mind and decided to throw a fucking vase at my head, so I figured I should probably skedaddle before I kill her, or vice versa.”

  I chuckle. “Good call.” Reaching into my pocket, I remember that I left my phone downstairs.

  “Hey, go get my phone off the couch. I’ve got her location turned on. Even if she’s not in there, she won’t get far.

  A minute later, Zed comes back with a screwdriver in his hand. “Move,” he orders us both.

  Two minutes later, Lars is back. “Couldn’t find it.”

  “I assume the cameras are up if you got that video?” Lars asks, as he pulls out his phone and I know exactly what he’s doing. He’s going to the app to check the footage.

  “They’re in there, but I shut them off.”

  “Why the hell would you do that?” Zed grumbles. A screw drops to the floor beside him, followed by another.

  “Because,” I raise my voice, “I’m not letting you bastards sneak a peek whenever you feel like it.”

  Lars is still fucking with his phone when I catch his glower. “So you just figured you’d be the only one who sneaks a peek.” He holds his hand out to show me that the password failed, but I don’t need to see it. I know, because I’m the one who changed it.

  Zed springs to his feet and the door handle drops to the ground. Grabbing Lars’ phone out of his hand, rage consumes him. With one glance at the screen, his arm extends up and Lars’ phone slams to the ground. “What the actual fuck, Talon!”

  “Dude, that’s my phone.” Lars bends down and picks it up, brushing off the screen, even though no damage was done.

  “What kind of game are you playing here?” Zed steps closer, but I give him a push, sending him two steps back where he belongs. “Give me the fucking password, now!”