“I’d rather not have any fans at all than one like her,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Fine. Whatever. Don’t direct your anger at me. I’m not your fucking problem, okay?” he says, sighing. “Now, can we finally get back to practice?”
My mind still reels from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I tell myself I don’t care, but I do. Popularity. I used to dream about it, but now I wish it away. Every fan I’ve gained is one more person I can’t ever trust. Because all they care about is getting an inch of that fame.
I’m merely a tool for them. A way to get to the top.
A kiss with me is nothing but an exchange.
This is why I don’t get close. Why I don’t let anyone get close.
I sigh out loud and hop back onto the stage, brushing it off again, even though it happens time and time again. I pick up my guitar, checking for any damage, but luckily, it’s unscathed. No thanks to me. I should really stop taking out my frustrations on this beauty. She’s the only thing keeping me from quitting … and the only thing that has never failed me.
“Ready?” Tristan asks as he sits down behind his drums, casually throwing his sticks.
I adjust the mic and play some strings before nodding.
We play our best song together because it’s the easiest one to do with just two of us here. Michael and Benjamin don’t mind if we practice without them. We’ll need the extra playtime for the big show coming up next week. We’ll be playing on a stage for a few thousand people, which is a huge deal for us. It could be our big break, and everything we’ve worked so hard for. The one way trip to true stardom.
But as we play our tune to the beat, I suddenly spot the girl from my class. Monica.
And she’s looking straight at me with those same eyes as before, those eyes that beg me to unravel the secrets layered behind.
Eyes that drive me mad.
For me, she stopped walking. For me, she paused her daily life.
Just to take a peek.
And it makes me want to show off.
So I smash the strings of my guitar and sing even louder, our eyes connected like the music tethers us together. It’s bold, but I want her attention. I don’t know why, but I’ll do anything for it. Anything to keep her from looking away.
And she knows. She bites her lip, clutches her bag ever closer, tiptoes around on her feet like she doesn’t know whether to stay or to run.
She’s indecisive … And she hates it.
Her eyes are on fire as she glares at the target of her rage. Me. An indescribable, unmistakable connection forged between us by that simple look that could destroy anything in its path.
And she fucking hates that it’s there.
I know the feeling too damn well.
All my disappointment in myself staring straight back at me.
It’s like looking into a mirror and not liking the person you see.
And for some reason, I can’t stop wanting to show her just how good I can be, because the more I do, the more she’ll hate me. And I need her to fucking hate me. Because it’s the only thing keeping me from destroying her.
Every note that slithers from my lips is one creeping into her ear like a whisper in the night. Her body leans toward me as though she can feel my tongue drawing a line through each of her crevices. And when her eyes close, I can almost hear her gasp.
The song rises to its peak, and so does my energy as I’m swept away in the magic that is her and me. And even though there are no fans watching this performance, I play like my life depends on it. I sing my fucking guts out until I’m left without breath. I torture myself … and her … just to feel alive.
Her body sways, and her lips part. It’s an invitation, one the devil inside me would gladly accept. It’s tempting … and easy. Too easy.
Her foot scoots a little closer to the door. Just an inch. But I saw.
And it’s enough to make me stop dead in my tracks, mid-song.
My penetrative stare makes her stop. Her body stiffens. Her mouth shuts again, and her lips are thin slits, just like her eyes.
Then she walks off.
Just like that.
And I’m left with the inexplicable need to scream.
Was it that easy to break the spell? Or did I force her to?
One simple, forceful gaze. That’s all it took to make her run for the hills.
One foot. One simple forward-inching foot. That’s all it took to make me want to storm off stage and drag her back inside.
Into the dragon’s den.
I lick my bottom lip.
She wouldn’t survive a day.
Chapter 8
Monica
My feet are walking, but it feels as though something is carrying me through the hallways.
My mind isn’t present even though I’m storming out like I’ve made up my mind.
Something about the way he looked at me made me do a U-turn.
He was playing that way, so seductively, with his eyes boring into mine, to get a reaction out of me. Not just to practice with his band, but to show off. To show me what I’m missing out on.
And for some reason, it captured my attention, made me stop when normally I never would.
Something about that guy forces me to see him.
Eye contact with him was all that was needed to stop me in my tracks. The mere sound of his voice blaring through the microphone called me like a siren luring me in. His eyes were blazing, lips talking dirt like he was whispering them straight into my ears.
And even though we were both fully clothed and not even in touching range, it felt like filthy, raunchy sex.
My body instinctively inched closer.
And then he shut me off.
Just like that, he broke the connection we had with a fiery rage unlike anything I’d ever seen before, and it made me finally come to my senses. I swear if I hadn’t left right then and there, he would’ve stormed off stage to force me out.
But my heartbeat is still going crazy fast as I run out of the building and into the open air. The wind hits me hard, and I take a few seconds to catch my breath. The hot sun burns on my skin as I stare up at the sky, wondering what the hell I’m doing.
I shouldn’t get distracted by a boy like him.
He’s all trouble and nothing good.
Still, I can’t stop seeing his face in front of me, his eyes penetrating my soul.
Shake it off, Monica. He’s only doing it to taunt you. Don’t let him get to you.
“Hey, Monica!”
My eyes burst open. It’s Mel. She beckons me to come over to where she’s sitting on a blanket in the grass with a couple of friends I haven’t met yet. “Sit down with us.”
Smiling, I approach the group as Mel introduces me to them.
“This is Monica. We have a few classes together.”
“Hi,” I say to everyone.
“Sit, sit,” Mel pats the blanket. “Don’t be shy. Tell them about yourself.”
“Yeah, Monica,” one of the girls says. “It’s nice to meet you.” She holds out her hand and we shake. “I’m Becky.”
“Hi, Becky. I’m the new girl,” I say, laughing awkwardly.
“We know,” a guy to my right says. “It was hard to miss.”
“How?” I raise my brows. I thought I was blending in quite well.
“Relax, I’m just messing with ya,” he replies, and he winks. “You’re already fitting in.”
I smile back at him as he opens his mouth again, “Name’s Troy.”
“So what brings you to Black Mountain Academy?” asks another guy in the back, who’s casually leaning on his elbows.
“Don’t answer that. Jason’s just trolling you like he always does,” Mel says.
“I’m just curious,” he interjects.
“It’s fine,” I answer. “I needed a … new start.” I shrug. I’m not about to tell some random people I’ve never met before my entire life’s history, but a tiny inch of truth can’t hurt, righ
t?
“A new start? From what?” he asks.
From what?
From …
Images from my previous school flash through my mind. All the people. Parties. Bobby.
I swallow, suddenly choked up.
“I …”
Everyone’s hanging on my words, but I don’t know what to tell them. I don’t know if I could ever say it out loud. Or if I even want to.
“Don’t answer if you don’t want to,” Mel says, placing a hand on my back.
“Yeah,” I reply, letting out a sigh of relief.
I don’t want to think about it.
“You know, you look like you could use this.” Some guy in the back suddenly pulls out a blunt he was smoking and tries to hand it to me.
All I can do is stare. Stare at the implications of taking a whiff. Of the effects it will have on me. Of all the things I wanted to forget.
My stomach churns, and I suddenly feel ill.
I stumble to get up from the blanket.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mel asks.
“Nothing, I … have to go,” I reply, trying to look at all of them, but I’m dizzy all of a sudden and can’t get my bearings. Mel grabs my arm and helps me stay standing. “Whoa, don’t fall.”
“It’s okay, I’m fine,” I reply.
“Sorry, I only wanted to offer you a smoke,” the guy says, sticking the blunt back into his mouth.
My skin feels prickly, icy and heated at the same time, as though I’ve just taken a cold shower and jumped straight into a hot tub. My brain is melting with the possible scenarios playing out in my mind, all of which are nightmares I never wished to imagine.
But to me, they are as real as can be.
Mel grabs my shoulders, the mere touch of her fingers on my skin, making me jolt up and down. She frowns as she looks at the goose bumps on my skin, and asks, “Hey, are you okay?”
I shake my head. I came here to escape it all, and now I’m confronted by it again. It never stops.
“Was it the question? I swear, they’re not normally like that. They’re just excited there’s a newbie.”
“I know,” I say, looking away because it’s not about that. Not at all. The question set me off, yes, but it’s the drugs that do me in.
I can’t. I just can’t.
I shake my head again, and say, “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
And then I turn around and walk off.
I can’t look back even though I can feel her eyes practically boring into my back, begging me to come back.
I won’t. I cannot associate myself with people who use, not in any way, or any amount, no matter how small or lighthearted the occasion. It reminds me too much of what happened to me. Of Bobby. Of my own past self, someone I no longer want to be.
So I run back into the school. Tears stain my eyes, but I push them away. I couldn’t stay there, and I hope Mel isn’t mad about it because I’d hate to lose her as a friend.
I don’t even want to think about this, yet I am. Why can’t I let this go? Why can’t I leave this behind me and be a new me? Forget all of it ever happened and continue with my life?
I’m so consumed by my own thoughts that I don’t look where I’m going, and the moment I make a turn into a hallway, I bump into a big, muscular guy whose rock-hard body easily knocks me down.
With an oompf, I land on the floor on my backpack.
Laughter ensues.
Then I look up.
It’s him.
Cole Travis.
And the look he gives me comes straight out of the devil’s playbook.
He’s surrounded by his buddies, one I recognize as a band member who was there when they were practicing. Behind them, a few girls tag along, giggling, waiting eagerly for them to do something. Anything. Good or bad.
“What the fuck was that?” one of his buddies with brown crew-cut hair balks.
I scramble up from the floor. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking.”
“You should be sorry!” one of the girls shouts over the crowd while I pat down my dress. “Do you even know who you bumped into?”
When I’m finally up on my feet again, I come face-to-face with Cole. I didn’t realize I was this close to him. The lines on his forehead crease as he frowns at me, clearly annoyed that I’m here and dared to bump into him.
“What are you doing here?” another band member with blond, wavy half-long hair growls.
It’s the one who was practicing with him a while ago, but I don’t know his name.
“None of your business,” I retort.
The girls start to laugh.
“What a joke,” one of the other guys with brown crew-cut hair says.
I make a face. “I already apologized.”
Cole cocks his head and checks his watch while tapping his foot. “Guys—”
“You’re such a fucking wuss,” the guy spits at me. “Apologizing? Don’t make me laugh.”
“Hey,” I say. “No need to—”
“To what? Laugh?” he says, and the girls laugh in conjunction like puppets on a string.
It’s disgusting. They’re only here because these guys are popular, following them around just to leech a tiny amount of fame. As if being around a celebrity suddenly makes you famous too. It’s so ridiculous, and they don’t even realize what they’re doing. I won’t ever be one of those girls. And I certainly won’t ever swoon in public over the likes of Cole Travis.
“Dude, just stop,” Cole growls at his buddy. “And Lindy? Shut up.” Cole glances over his shoulder at one of the girls laughing at me.
“No, she needs to learn a little respect,” the guy says, stepping forward. “New girls don’t parade around this school, acting as if it belongs to them.”
I cross my arms. “I didn’t know it belonged to anybody at all.”
“Yeah. Us. You’d better show a little respect,” he retorts.
“Respect?” I say with a tsk. “Good to know you’ve claimed this school. I wonder how the teachers and principal feel about that.”
“Don’t mess with us,” the guy hisses, pointing his finger at me as though it will add a threat to his statement.
“Michael,” Cole growls, and he grabs Michael’s arm, but Michael jerks himself free before Cole has a shot. “No. She needs to apologize properly and mean it.”
I narrow my eyes at him, trying not to feel intimidated, but it’s hard. All his groupies and friends are watching, and the twisted look on Cole’s face makes it hard not to get lost in rage.
I want to scream. Fight. Punch. Kick. Make a scene.
But that wouldn’t help me.
All it would do is make me more hated.
Especially by the countless fans who walk these very hallways.
It would be like career suicide but in high school.
Still, it hurts to be the target of their games. To have these people watch eagerly in anticipation of my demise as if I’m part of the show.
“Who are you even? Just some random girl thinking she can talk to us? No chance,” Michael says, and all the girls giggle again like it’s funny, but it’s not.
Now I know what Sam felt like when she was being bullied.
“You’re a nobody,” he adds. “Why did you even want to go to this school? You’ve got no friends. You’re running away from something, and I wanna know what it is.”
My eyes widen.
Panic seeps through my veins.
Run.
Run.
Run.
The word plays over and over in my mind, and I can’t escape the message it brings.
I should’ve run when I had the chance.
Should’ve fought when I had the time.
But I can’t change what happened. I can’t fix what someone else broke in me.
All I can do is try to ignore it and move on.
But the tears still well up in my eyes.
Suddenly, the look in Cole’s eyes shifts. His body grows rigid.
“M
ichael!” Cole intervenes, and he grabs Michael’s arm and jerks him aside. “Enough.”
It’s as if he’s reining in the dog meant to maul me.
Well, it worked.
I glare at Cole, who doesn’t say a word to me. One simple look, that’s all he gives me.
One soul-crushing, searing look.
“Fuck you all,” I say through gritted teeth.
The girls laugh. The boys laugh. Everyone laughs. Except Cole.
But they got what they wanted. They got to me.
They made me remember why I came here. Why I ran.
They made me break down.
And I hate that I let them, so I turn around and march off even though I can still feel Cole’s coal-hot eyes burning into my back.
I won’t glance.
I won’t turn around.
I won’t even grace him with my middle finger.
Because even though he’s not worth a tear, they still made me shed one.
Cole
The hallway is filled with rumors and chatter, people whispering about how bad this whole scene was, but none of them take a stance. None of them dares to speak up.
Just like me.
I was dead silent while my boys and the fans following us tried to fall in line as though they had to protect me from imminent death. Ridiculous. They made it a big deal, made her feel uncomfortable … and then made her cry as a final nail in the coffin.
“Yeah, run, little girl!” Michael calls after Monica.
I immediately grab his arm and turn him my way. “Stop.”
“What?” he growls, jerking himself free.
The look on his face makes me want to punch him, but I refrain because he’s my bandmate, and I need to be on good terms with all of them. Otherwise, we’ll never succeed in chasing our big dream.
But at what cost?
“You’re beating a dead horse,” I say as he looks around at all the girls eyeballing him. There are not as many as who usually follow me, but enough to make him want to show off. That much is obvious.
“So what?” he scoffs. “I was just having some fun. Besides, she ran into you, remember?”
I shake my head. “I don’t fucking care.” And I turn around and yell at the crowd, “Party’s over.”
Rowdy Boy (A High School Bully Romance): Black Mountain Academy Page 6
