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

by Clarissa Wild

  He leans in and plants a hand on the wall beside my head, trapping me inside. “Why can’t I call you Mo, Mo?”

  “It’s a name reserved for friends,” I reply in all seriousness even though he’s messing with me. Again.

  “Ouch … That hurts, Mo …” He grabs his heart with his free hand. “Almost enough to make me care.”

  My stomach churns. “Why are you doing this? Do you enjoy taunting me?”

  He wets his lip with his tongue. “Maybe … Or maybe I want to find out what makes you …” He taps my chest with one finger. “Tick.”

  “Why? Why do you care so much?” I ask, my lips shuddering when he leans in so close that I can feel his breath on my skin.

  A tepid, angered smile appears on his face, one that makes my heart stop.

  “The question is … why don’t you?” he whispers, the tension between us almost visible with the naked eye, crackling in the air. He bites his lip, right where I left my mark the last time he tried to kiss me. “You pretend you don’t like it when I look at you. You pretend you don’t care when you see me play … but you want me.” He brushes along my cheek with the back of his hand in such an addictive way that I almost want to give in. “Admit it … You loved it when I kissed you … and you wanted more.”

  His hand slides down my shirt, down along my nipples, which immediately peak from the attention, and I gasp in response. He’s never been this direct, this bold, and it literally takes my breath away when he grabs my waist and pulls me closer to him.

  “Tell me I’m wrong … tell me I’m lying …” he whispers into my ear, his hand diving underneath my skirt. He’s unrelenting as he slides up my thighs and pulls at my panties, tugging them down in one go. His hand cups my pussy, and my eyes almost roll into the back of my head as he starts fondling me without hesitation.

  “Tell me then …” he whispers. “Tell me the truth, and I might just care enough to leave you alone.”

  My lips part, but my voice chokes up completely from his lips grazing my skin right beneath my ear.

  “You can’t, can you?” he whispers, and I can hear him smile.

  Suddenly, he pulls his hand away, and my pussy is left throbbing with a need I didn’t know I could ever feel. Fuck.

  “Fuck you …” I growl as I quickly pull up my panties. He smirks with pleasure, as though he’s just won the grand prize.

  Right then, the door opens, and a teacher steps inside. She stops the moment she notices Cole standing there, half-naked like some rock god on stage. He doesn’t even grant her one look. All his attention is focused solely on me, and I don’t know if I should be mortified by her catching us or scared of the consequences of Cole fucking Travis setting his eyes on me.

  The teacher swiftly passes Cole and enters a stall, which breaks his attention.

  Then the bell rings. He makes a face and shakes his head. “You got off lucky, Mo …” he muses, and he grabs his shirt and throws it over his shoulder. “You won’t be so lucky next time.” As he turns around to walk off without even putting on his shirt, he still manages to throw me a wink … one that dizzies and confuses me more than ever. Because I swear to God I’ve never wanted any guy more than I want Cole Travis.

  And it’s going to destroy me.

  Chapter 13

  Monica

  “So tell me, Monica. How have you been?” my therapist asks. “Is everything going well at your new school?”

  I sigh and lean back in my seat. “I don’t know … okay, I guess.”

  “It must be quite the change,” she says.

  “Yeah …” I reply. “I mean … everything’s new. I have to get used to the new schedule and new classes.”

  “And what about friends?” she asks.

  “I have one good friend right now, Melanie. She’s nice.” I smile. “She keeps inviting me to stuff, so I don’t feel left out.”

  “That’s nice of her,” she replies. “You must feel lucky with a friend like that.”

  “Yeah, I mean, Sam was like that too, but I don’t see her as much as I used to nowadays.” I choke up a little. I really miss my girl. “But I guess that’s a part of changing schools.”

  “You can still meet up with her if you both want to,” she says. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  I rub my neck. “I know, but I don’t really know what to talk about.”

  “You can talk about your new school and what you do with your friends,” she says.

  “It’s just weird,” I say. “But I know, I should talk more with her. She’s the only one who knows …” I avert my eyes. “About what happened to me, you know.”

  “She was there when you needed her,” my therapist says. “And she will be as long as you keep her in your life.”

  “I don’t want to push her away,” I say.

  “Then don’t. Meet up. Invite her.” She shrugs. “What could happen?”

  I nod. “You’re right. Maybe we should hang out more.”

  “It’s good to connect the old with the new.”

  “Because it helps with letting go?” I ask.

  “Because it helps you accept what happened to you,” she answers, leaning forward. “Talking about it helps.”

  But that’s just it. I don’t want to think about it. A part of me wants to run away and never look back. But trauma doesn’t work that way.

  I sigh again. “I don’t think I can move on from it. But I want to. I just want to be normal. I just want to be me. You know? Be the smart-ass, have fun, hang out with boys.” I close my eyes, trying to find that happy-go-lucky girl again that I once was, full of energy, no fear, no anger. I hung out with all the boys. I belonged, and I fucked and had fun. Now all I see is threats. Everywhere.

  “Think of yourself as a painting that never finishes,” she says. “You’re never the same you.”

  “I’m too young to think about all that,” I reply.

  “You have a right to feel that way, Monica.” She nods. “Just make sure you take things slow if you choose to start hanging around boys again.”

  “I know.” I bite the inside of my cheek.

  “Is there … a boy you’re talking to right now?”

  Why does she always notice? Am I such an open book?

  “Well … we’re not actually talking. Not much anyway.” My cheeks glow red hot.

  “Do you feel you’re ready?” she asks.

  I hate those questions. “I don’t know. Shouldn’t I be? It’s been so long.”

  “That’s up to you to decide.” She shifts in her seat. “Have you told anyone about him? Your mom or your friends?”

  I gulp. “Well … Melanie sort of knows, but not really.” I lick my lips. “Then there’s Ariane.” When she looks confused, I add, “My cousin. She knows him, apparently.”

  And boy … do I know him too.

  I still get sweaty thinking about how he had his hands all up in my skirt until I almost wanted him to fuck me. And all that from a bit of fondling. What is wrong with me?

  I shouldn’t be thinking about him at all with the stunts he pulled, yet I am, and I can’t fucking stop thinking about how good his lips tasted and how I wished he’d kissed me again in the bathroom.

  “Monica?” my therapist suddenly pulls me out of my thoughts.

  “Huh?”

  “I asked if you want to talk about him? If you feel comfortable.”

  I shake my head. No. Not at all.

  “That’s fine,” she says. “You know you can always come and talk with me when you want, right?”

  I nod. “I know, but I’m too confused about my own feelings.”

  “That’s understandable,” she replies in her typical therapist manner. “The first time after something so huge can often feel strange or confusing.”

  “Right,” I say. “But the confusing part is that it doesn’t feel strange at all.”

  She cocks her head and leans in. “How so?”

  “It just feels … good.” I mull it over for a second. “But at
the same time, it also doesn’t feel good.”

  “So you’re conflicted,” she says.

  “I can’t really explain it. Like, I know he’s bad for me, and that I shouldn’t get close, or feel any of this, but—”

  “But … your feelings are valid. And you’re allowed to feel things, even if you think they’re wrong.”

  “But what do I do if the boy is wrong?”

  “Is he?” She raises a brow.

  “I’ve been told he is … and … well … he’s been kind of …”

  “Kind of what?”

  My whole face turns red, and I struggle to even say a word at this point.

  All I can think about are his wet lips against my skin, his fingers on my thigh.

  Fuck.

  “I can’t do this,” I say as I get up. “Can we continue this another time?”

  I should leave now before I say or do something I regret.

  “Sure. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. And if you prefer, you can always confide in your friends.” She gets up too. “You know I’m always available when you need me.”

  “Thanks,” I say as I hurry out the door.

  “Call me when you want another appointment,” she adds, right as it shuts.

  But I don’t know if I want to do that anymore.

  I should.

  I definitely should.

  But with Cole tempting me so much, this little devil inside my heart doesn’t want to be constrained by my past anymore. It wants to come back out and play.

  As I walk out of the building, I get a text from Mel.

  Mel: Bonfire party tonight up at Devil’s Bluff Lake in the mountains. Wanna come?

  Mo: I’m game

  Mel: Cool, pick u up at ur place at 9

  Mo: Awesome

  I don’t even think about it before I hit send.

  I’m so tired of being that girl, that meek girl who’s got issues, that tentative girl with the past. No more of that. I want to enjoy my teenage years before they’re over, and I’m not letting any boy get in the way of that.

  Cole

  Being at home is one of the worst places I could ever be. But since the boys wanted a free day without band practice, I’m all by myself today. School’s closed, and there’s nowhere else I can study, so I’m stuck here in this huge, expensive mansion.

  Not the worst place to be, but the best? Far from it.

  When I was a little kid, I thought my parents were cool because they were rich, but I know better now. Not all money is money to be proud of.

  I grab a Coke from the fridge to prepare for studying, but on my way to the stairs, my eyes land on my dad and his partners having a heated discussion about funds and packages. One of them slams his hand on the table, and my dad stands up, enraged.

  On the table is a whole stack of money, being counted by my mother. But the moment she sees me stare, she stops and immediately gets up.

  “Cole? What are you doing?” she asks.

  My dad turns toward me, the thunderous look on his face as he realizes I’ve caught him in the act of a deal makes me tense up, expecting a fight.

  But then my mother closes the doors, shutting us both off.

  “You know you’re not supposed to look,” Mom says. “Why are you even here? I thought you’d be with your friends.”

  “They’re busy. I thought I could study here,” I reply, completely flabbergasted. “What are you doing? Are you really counting money in our home?”

  “It’s none of your business how we do ours,” she says.

  “Yeah, it is. I’m your son. I know what you’re doing. I know how you make money, and I know it’s against the fucking law.”

  She places her finger on my lips. “Don’t ever talk about it. To anyone. You hear me?”

  When she removes her finger, I scoff, “So what? You’re gonna pretend nothing’s happening? That everything’s okay?”

  She grabs my arm and squeezes hard. “Listen. This is how we’ve always done things. This is our family, and you’d better damn well be proud of everything we’ve accomplished.”

  That’s not fucking okay. “By selling drugs to poor people?”

  SLAP!

  Her hand stings against my cheek.

  Fuck.

  “I told you not to fucking eavesdrop on us,” she says. “Now listen to me. We worked hard to get where we are. To give you everything you could ever want and an amazing home. You wouldn’t be in that expensive high school if it wasn’t for your father’s hard-earned money.”

  She scowls at me. “So be happy we allow you to stay here with those ignorant and disrespectful comments about our method of income.” Her condescending tone is as harsh to the ears as her hand was to my cheek.

  “Go upstairs and wait until I call you for dinner. And don’t play any of that horrid music or I’ll come and end it myself, you hear me?” she growls, raising a brow. “And don’t fucking mention any of this to anyone. Do you understand?”

  “Fine,” I say, and I turn around and run upstairs before she changes her mind and makes me face my dad.

  Because if there’s anything I know, it is that he can hit ten times as hard as her.

  And there’s way too much at stake to risk getting another bruise.

  When I get to my room, I slam the door shut and throw my bag in the corner. So much for a quiet day studying. Who would’ve guessed my parents actually did these illegal things at our own damn home? Not me. I mean, I knew how they earned their money, and I’ve always known deep down they were dirty … but bringing the danger into our own house? How long have they been doing this? And why did I never notice?

  I run my fingers through my hair and try to shake off the rage, but it’s tough because all I can picture is my dad’s chauvinistic face barking at me for interrupting him and his trade.

  Suddenly, my phone buzzes, and for a split second, the thought of Monica chatting with me crosses my mind. I haven’t given her my number yet, but it’s easy to come by when I dish it out to fans. It isn’t smart for my number to be out there in the world, but it helps with getting laid. And if it helps me get ahold of Monica’s phone number, that’s an even bigger plus.

  Disappointment sets in. It’s not her. Guess I’m getting a little too excited at the prospect of her talking to me.

  It’s my clock, which I have no recollection of setting. There’s a bonfire tonight at Devil’s Bluff Lake in the mountains, held every year by class seniors. I completely forgot, thanks to my mom and dad. But there’s still enough time.

  I grab my bag and fill it with swimming trunks, a towel, and some other stuff. Then I open the window and check to see if anyone’s watching before I jump out onto the balcony and go down the canopy right beside my window.

  Fuck my parents, and fuck dinner. I’ll eat some snacks at the lake … a particular snack I’m very hungry for right now, and it starts with the letter M.

  Chapter 14

  Monica

  When Mel and I are dropped off by a friend at the bonfire, the sun is already on its way down. She immediately joins the crowd, while I’m struck in awe at the beauty in front of me. There’s a pristine freshwater lake hidden in a crevice between the mountains, surrounded by luscious trees and moss all around, giving it an earthly vibe. It’s like a secret hideout, a romantic escape, but with the bonus of partying teenagers and a fire they built in a stone circle right at the lakefront.

  Everyone’s dancing to the music blaring through someone’s speakers that they put on a stump, most of them holding drinks that were served from a keg in someone’s truck. To the left, someone is placing bowls of chips and cookies on a long chopped down log, while a few others are roasting marshmallows in the bonfire, the smell wafting my way, making me smile.

  “Want some beer?” Mel yells at me from the sidelines, holding a cup.

  I saunter toward the lake, but as I approach, there’s a particular group of people drawing my attention. A bunch of girls gawk at four boys standing on a b
ig rock at the edge of the lake.

  It’s Cole and his band in swimming trunks, getting cheered on by the crowd. One of them, Tristan I think, makes the jump, a cannonball straight into the lake. Everyone screams in excitement, even the people below him who are splashed with water.

  Then Cole looks in my direction, almost as if he could sense I was here.

  Our eyes connect, and at that moment, images of him sliding his hands down my body reappear at the forefront of my mind. The look in his eyes, filled with fervor and hunger, makes me gulp. Even though I’m wearing a bikini, I’ve never felt more nude than I do now.

  That familiar half-smile on his face forces me to stop and watch as he approaches the edge of the rock. He stares down at the water, just one second, then glances back at me.

  He takes a leap and jumps.

  More squeals follow as excited girls wait in line to get some attention from him. But the second he rises out of the water, body glistening in the bonfire, hair slick and thrown back, he immediately looks my way. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t take my eyes off him either.

  Suddenly, someone grabs my shoulders and pulls me out of my trance. “Here.” It’s Mel, and she pushes a cup in my hand. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I laugh, trying to shake it off.

  “You weren’t looking at those TRIGGER boys, were you?” she asks, but a fiendish smile immediately follows. “Fuck, you’re one of them now.”

  I quickly punch her arm in a playful way. “Fuck no. You wish.”

  She laughs. “Good. I don’t wanna lose a new friend to those fuckers so soon already.”

  “I’m not gonna make any promises, though,” I reply, not wanting to lie when I know damn well what’s happening between Cole and me.

  She narrows her eyes. “You’re hiding something.” She nudges me with her elbow. “Spill it.”

  “It’s nothing,” I say.

  “You don’t have to lie,” she muses. “I know you’ve got a crush on Cole.”

  “What?” I gasp, adrenaline shooting through my veins. “I do not.”