Rowdy Boy (A High School Bully Romance): Black Mountain Academy

by Clarissa Wild

  “Monica?” Mom enters my room. “How was your first day? Did it go well?”

  “Yeah, sure. Fine,” I lie.

  I don’t want to worry her. She’s already worried enough about me.

  “You sure? I mean, you came home, and you didn’t even grab a Coke like you normally do,” she says, stepping farther inside.

  I clear my throat. “I was just busy texting, I guess.” I shrug. It didn’t cross my mind.

  She frowns. “With who?” A sudden smile overwhelms her face. “Did you make new friends already?”

  “Mom.” I roll my eyes. “It’s just school.”

  “I’m just happy you’re doing okay,” she says. “Is it a girl … or a boy?”

  Of course she’d worry about that. “Relax, no penises involved.”

  She makes a face. “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, I know, but I know what you mean when you ask,” I say. “You can stop worrying about me. I’m fine.”

  “I just don’t want anyone to … well, you know …”

  Use me. I get it. She won’t say it out loud. It’s like this forbidden word that never gets uttered, but we all know it’s hanging in the air.

  “I know, I know. There are no boys, so don’t worry. Just assholes.” I laugh it off, but it’s not really that funny.

  “Okay,” she mumbles. “I trust you.”

  That means a lot to me. I just hope it’s true.

  “Soooo … about that friend I made. She kind of invited me to a party tonight,” I say, tucking my hands into my back pocket. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just an indie concert in a club.”

  “Oh.” My mom makes a weird face that I don’t know how to describe because it shows all kinds of emotions, from surprised, to worried, to angry, to fearful.

  “Are you … sure you’re ready for that?” she asks. “I mean, what if it goes wrong again?”

  I swallow back the nerves. She means well, but sometimes it’s almost as if she blames me for what happened. “I don’t want what happened to me to hold me back. I want to be happy again, Mom. I just want things to be normal.”

  She nods. “I understand. You’re a teen.”

  I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.

  She grabs my shoulders, and says, “If you think you’re ready, then it’s fine by me.”

  I smile. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

  She pulls me in for a big hug. “I’m proud of you, always. Remember that. Nothing will ever stop me from loving you.”

  “I know,” I reply. “I love you too, Mom.”

  “What time does it start?” she asks.

  “Um … in like three hours, so there’s plenty of time.”

  “Will you be eating dinner with us?” she asks hesitantly.

  “I’d love to,” I say with a genuine smile.

  Dinner at home. Before, I never used to consider it my favorite place to be, but right now, normalcy is the only thing I crave.

  A month earlier

  Falcon Elite Prep

  Breathe.

  Just breathe.

  You can get through this.

  It’s just school. It’s nothing special. You’ve walked down these halls a million times before, and you can do it again.

  The little voice inside my head sounds like my mom. It doesn’t make it any easier.

  It feels as though her hand is on my shoulder as I approach the school doors. She told me she’d be here, in spirit, walking right alongside me. Even though I brushed it off when she said it, now more than ever do I need her strong voice supporting me.

  This school and all the pain it harbors for me … is my biggest hurdle yet.

  It’s the first time in months that I’m back here, back where I left behind everything I ever knew and cared about, just so I could repair what another had broken.

  Just so I could mend my heart and heal the scars a boy left on my soul.

  A boy whose name even now I refuse to say out loud.

  He broke me.

  He broke the trust I had in people, and now it’ll take months, maybe even years, to rebuild.

  At least, that’s what my therapist told me, but I don’t know if that’s true in my case.

  I take a deep breath and stare down the door I once walked through clutching that same boy’s hand. This time it’ll be different. I won’t ever let a boy trick me like that again.

  Clutching my books close to my heart, I push past the door and enter the big hallway to our school. Kids are bustling all around, people are chatting near the lockers and going up and down the stairs, and watching them go about their daily lives is overwhelming.

  Because all this time, I stood still.

  Going to intense therapy for so long really did a number on me.

  But I know I can do this. This is still the same school as it always was. At least, that’s what I tell myself while I walk down the hallway, trying to keep my bearings.

  I feel as though everyone’s looking at me, and it’s making me uneasy.

  The more steps I take, the more the buzzing hallway grows silent.

  And when I look up, several students gape at me as though I’m a living ghost. But it’s just me.

  I’m now that girl.

  That girl who was used by a boy named Bobby. Whose drunken, drug-induced haze was put on camera for all the world to see. That video of him doing all those disgusting things to my body was shared around the school as though it meant nothing. As though my life meant nothing to them, and it was all a cheap trick to get some laughs and attention.

  And it hurts … because all these students are still looking at me.

  That one video is etched into their brains like a permanent tattoo, and nothing I do or say will erase it from their minds.

  It doesn’t matter that Bobby went to juvie. It doesn’t matter that Lila, who helped spread the videos and brought him his victims, is also doing community service.

  None of it will undo what happened to me.

  And all these people know who I am … and what happened to this girl.

  And I stop moving in the middle of the hallway. I’m frozen to the floor, my body shaking. This isn’t me. I was the bubbly girl, the girl who took every challenge head-on, who wasn’t afraid of anything, and certainly not any boy. But that was the old Monica. And the old Monica no longer exists. All that’s left is a broken shell of the girl she once was.

  And I feel it in my bones—everyone’s looking at me, judging me. They’re whispering things I can’t hear, but I know they’re talking about me.

  Tears stain my eyes, and I blink them away. I told myself I could do this, that I was ready, but am I really? Am I really willing to fake my way through my education and pretend nothing ever happened?

  No.

  I turn around.

  I can’t. I just can’t.

  My feet march faster than tears can flow, and I quickly make my way outside again so I can breathe.

  “Mo?”

  Sam’s voice makes my heart shudder, and I turn my head.

  She’s standing near the door, clutching her bag over her shoulder. That same worry is in her eyes that’s always there when she knows I’m in deep shit.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been in deeper shit, and we both know it.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  She wouldn’t be my best friend if she didn’t know exactly what to ask to make me fall apart.

  And I shake my head, tears flowing freely. “No. I can’t do this. I can’t go back.”

  When Mom opens my door, I sit up straight in bed. The book I was reading drops to the floor. I try not to look guilty, but I know I do. After running from school, I’ve been home all day, avoiding the inevitable, and she knows.

  “Mom, I—”

  She holds up a hand. “No more excuses.”

  I lower my eyes. I got caught in the act. I’m not trying to hide it. I just … wish I could’ve kept my promise to her.

  “I’m
sorry,” I say.

  She sighs and sits down on the bed, grabbing my arm. “Stop apologizing.”

  “I promised you I’d try. But …” I rub my lips together. “When I saw all those people, I just froze.”

  “Oh, honey,” she murmurs, pulling me in for a big hug. “I know things have been hard on you. I’m so sorry it has to be like this.” Her body grows rigid. “If I could get my hands on that boy, I would’ve strangled him myself.”

  “Mom!” I gasp, leaning away to look at her.

  She grabs my face with both hands. “You know I’d do anything to protect you. And I’m sorry I failed you.”

  Tears stain my eyes. “You didn’t fail me. But I can’t … I can’t go back there.”

  She gives me a heart-wrenching smile. “I know, honey.”

  She’s been trying to tell me for months that it’d be beyond hard to return, and that it would never be like it was before, but I wouldn’t listen to her. I didn’t want to believe her because it was easier than facing the truth.

  But I saw it with my own eyes now. I don’t belong there anymore.

  “That school may not be the right fit for you anymore. But there are options. Your cousin’s school is close by. You could go there,” she says.

  I frown. “But then … I’d leave everything behind.”

  “Exactly. It’d be good for you. A fresh start. Somewhere new, where no one knows you.”

  My heart feels like it’s bleeding. “But what about Sam?”

  “Sam will understand,” she says, grabbing my shoulders. “You need to do what’s best for you now.” When she sees my hesitation, she continues. “You can stay friends. You just won’t be able to see each other every single day. But you can see each other every other day,” she adds, smiling.

  “Yeah …” I say, but a tear still manages to escape my eye.

  “I think it’ll be good for you,” she says, brushing away the tear. “I’ll go ahead and call your cousin. I’m sure she’ll be willing to help out. What do you think?”

  I nod, and she immediately hugs me again. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

  But it’s not. Even though a new school means no prejudice and no one who knows I’m that girl, it still means separating myself from everything I ever knew. My friends … my life.

  I’ll be starting all over if that’s even possible after everything I’ve been through.

  But I gotta give it a try because I deserve to move on. I deserve to be happy.

  Chapter 5

  Monica

  Now

  After dinner, I go to the address Mel texted me and wait outside.

  “Hey!” She’s right behind me, and I’m a bit startled when she calls out. “I’m glad you made it. Please tell me I didn’t make you wait too long.”

  “Oh no, I’ve only been here for like five minutes,” I say with a fake but cheerful smile.

  “Cool.” She returns my smile.

  She opens the door and lets me inside first. It’s loud and noisy, but there’s no guard inside and no one to take tickets, which surprises me.

  “It’s a free concert to get donations for charity,” she says when I look confused.

  “That explains it. I was expecting a ticket counter,” I reply.

  “They have these free indie concerts every month. The club pays for them to play,” she explains.

  “Cool. Who’s up tonight?” I ask. “Any bands I know of?”

  She rubs her lips together. “Hmm … maybe …” She giggles to herself.

  Now I’m really curious. “What?”

  “Oh, fuck.” She points at the stage. “If I knew TRIGGER was gonna play right now, I would’ve come later,” she scoffs.

  When I look at the guy on stage, it’s as though the whole room has gone icy cold.

  It’s him.

  Cole Travis, with his dark hair all gelled up and combed back, playing the electric guitar and singing into the microphone, right there on stage. The only thing he’s wearing is a pair of black leather pants and a blazer … no shirt … which puts his thick, taut abs on full display, and it’s making me swallow … hard.

  Suddenly, he stares back at me with that same smoldering gaze, lighting my whole body on fire.

  Fuck.

  Something tells me this isn’t going to be a fun and easy night out.

  Cole

  I love the way the girls hang on my lips as I sing the notes to our dirtiest song yet. How they scream my name between every sentence as if they’re begging me to give them a simple glance. Performing is one of the only things that can truly get me going.

  Until I spot her.

  The girl with the long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders and that wistful stare that could crush a guy’s soul if he dared to get close.

  What the hell is she doing here?

  She’s in the back of the room near the bar next to Melanie.

  So she managed to find out what her phone number was after all …

  I smirk to myself.

  And here I was, thinking Monica would give up easily. Guess this one’s got more bite in her than I thought.

  She glares at me with contempt in her eyes, and I know damn well why that is. I was a complete asshole to her, and now she’s here watching my fucking show. She must be pissed as hell that we’re performing here tonight, judging from the grumpy look on her face.

  It’s the first time I’ve ever seen any girl look at us like that, and I can’t say I like it, but I don’t hate it either.

  There’s something about her that’s so defiantly pretty that I can’t stop looking even though I should be paying as much attention to my actual fans standing in the crowd. She captures my attention without even trying, and it’s annoying as hell.

  I run my fingers through my hair and scream out the last few notes to the chorus. Sweat drips from my eyebrows as I give it my all. Any night we play, we play our best because you never know who might be watching and who might be offering us a deal.

  But this girl … this girl’s eyes have me in their grip, and I can’t fucking look away no matter how much I try. Not even as I grip my junk while singing, making all the girls in front of me squeal their lungs out.

  Nothing seems to faze her.

  Why?

  And why do I care so much?

  I shouldn’t even be thinking about Monica. If I even try to get close to her, I’m sure Ariane would stir up plenty of rumors about me just to punish me.

  I’m already a bad guy as it is, and I’m not about to make it worse. Especially with one of Ariane’s friends being in the crowd too.

  As the song ends, I put the microphone back on the stand, and my tongue darts out while staring at her, just like she’s staring at me. My eyes fall to her lips as I imagine ravaging them until they’re swollen and pink, and all the other filthy things I could do to those pretty lips.

  But I don’t like that she’s looking back at me as though she wishes she was somewhere else. And it makes me want to lash out.

  So I grab the nearest girl standing at the edge of the stage and whisk her up into my arms, smacking my lips onto hers as if I already own her when I don’t even know her damn name, and I don’t fucking want to.

  But my eyes … they still can’t stay focused on anything other than Monica and the scornful look on her face, even while I’m kissing another girl.

  But I don’t fucking care.

  I hope she fucking looks as much and as hard as she can.

  Because that’s the closest I’ll ever get to her jealous little heart.

  Monica

  I can’t stop looking. Can’t stop homing in on his eyes when his tongue licks his bottom lip. Can’t stop picturing all the things he could do to me with that same tongue.

  But this boy is so much sin wrapped in a single package that I cannot, under any circumstances, ever unwrap.

  So I falter and force a frown on my face to send a signal that I’m not interested, and I’m not to be messed with. Even when I secre
tly am.

  But then he picks another girl from the crowd and smashes his lips to hers, and my jaw practically drops. A pang of unwanted jealousy hits me in the stomach.

  I don’t know this boy, and I certainly don’t nor should ever want to.

  Yet I can’t help but wonder if he did that on purpose to mess with me. Or has he always tried to grope one girl while looking at another?

  Because his eyes never stop boring into my soul.

  Fuck.

  “Earth to Monica. Hello?” It’s only when Mel snaps her fingers right in front of my face that I finally manage to break the connection between Cole and me. “Are you okay?” she asks, laughing a little.

  “Yeah,” I reply, clearing my throat. “Is it hot in here, or is that just me?”

  “Um … no, not really,” she says, looking confused. “I was just about to order drinks. Want something?”

  “Ahh … just a Coke, please,” I reply, and I fish in my pocket to grab some cash for her to pay for the drinks with. “Here.”

  “Keep it,” she says, waving it off. “It’s on me.”

  I smile as she walks off, but my eyes instantly resume gawking at Cole. I wish I could stop. I should stop. But something about him forces me to look, forces me to find him wherever he goes. But it isn’t a pretty sight. He’s practically ravaging a girl right behind the curtains off stage but close enough that I can still see. He gropes her butt and kisses her voraciously in a way that makes my stomach churn … and my mouth water at the fantasy that it could be me in her shoes.

  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

  “Here you go,” Mel says as she hands me my drink.

  I almost gulp it down in one go.

  Mel’s eyes widen as she stares at the glass. “Boy, you’re really thirsty, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I say, leaving a few sips in so it’s not awkward. “It’s just really hot in here.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks, raising a brow. I don’t know how to reply, but she immediately adds, “I can see you staring at him, you know.”

  I choke on the Coke and swallow it down so fast my eyes water and turn red. “Staring? Me? No, I was just—”