Trinity High: High School Bully Romance

by Savannah Rose

  After all these years, I doubt there’s even the slightest chance that Elias and I might end up together. Too much poison. Too much hate. Too many missed opportunities and hurtful words between us. Besides, he’s with the very bitch who caused my ankle problems in the first place. It’s kind of hard to see past that.

  “That’s good, though,” Janelle says. “He took care of you.”

  “I expected him to dump me in a ditch somewhere,” I chuckle. My throat is dry and sensitive, so I gulp down a glass of water. I need about six liters to see clearly again. Good grief, that stomach pump really did a number on me.

  No, I did a number on me. The procedure was merely a consequence.

  “I’m telling you, Kira… This feud you two have going on… it needs to stop,” Janelle insists. “Martin Dressler is dead. William Malone is… well, he’s not going to be around forever, either.” I frown slightly, and she gives me an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, but it’s the truth. Are you two really going to live like they did? Hating one another? Letting all that poison destroy a potentially amazing relationship?”

  “I don’t know what relationship you’re talking about,” I mutter, sinking back into my pillow. Janelle smacks me over the arm. “Ouch…”

  “You two were almost friends once. You told me yourself. And, as you can see, life keeps bringing you two back together. Maybe it’s time to let that old shit go, Kira.”

  I stare at the TV. It’s turned off, mounted on a metallic arm coming down from the ceiling, and I can see my reflection on its screen.

  “What’s the point?” I ask. “Giselle is around, and I’m certainly not able to forgive or accept her in any way. Hell, I reckon he got with her just to piss me off.”

  “God, you’re both still so immature,” Janelle sighs, getting up. She slips the leather bag over her shoulder, then gives me a brief hand squeeze. “I’ll be in touch. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  “Okay,” I sigh, thankful that she won’t go any further with these pro-Elias arguments. The guy might’ve saved my life, but it doesn’t mean we’ll ever truly be alright. I’d want that, sure… but there are too many bridges to mend where the both of us are concerned and I’ve already got a mountain of work to do on myself.

  I watch Janelle as she steps out of my private reserve. Voices travel through the hallway. Nurses, doctors, patients… relatives who want to know what’s going on. It’s a busy day here, it seems. For me, it’s a new beginning. A second shot at life.

  Will I do the right thing and keep fighting for what I want? I’d like that very much. But my ankle hurts again. I could use a pill.

  “Fucking hell, Kira,” I mutter, reprimanding myself for my weakness.

  There is only one way that this is going to end. And I had better give it everything I’ve got. If I fail, I will prove my dad right, and there’s no way I’m letting that happen. It’s time to make a change. Elias’s words still resonate so deeply within me, my limbs tingle, my very spirit suddenly energized.

  I think I need to check myself out. I can’t wait any longer.

  9

  Kira

  “Where were you?” My father’s actually upset that I’ve been gone. It’s actually refreshing, if not a little surprising. I’m wearing the clothes I got from Janelle, and I know I’ve got dark circles around my eyes.

  I catch a glimpse of myself in one of the lobby mirrors. By the stars, it’s even worse than I thought. My cheeks are sucked in. My skin is pale, off-white even. This is really my lowest point, and I need to pull myself up from here-on out.

  “I thought I texted you. Spent some time at Janelle’s, catching up,” I say, already headed for the stairs. If I get rid of him quickly, I can soak in the bathtub for a couple of hours before I go ahead with what I’ve already got planned for myself.

  Change might not happen overnight, but I have to do something to at least invite it in.

  “You bailed on me, Kira,” Dad replies, unwilling to let this go.

  Of course, he won’t let it go. Why would he? The wound is still fresh. I’m starting to regret not spending another night at the hospital. At least he’d have a workday tomorrow and he’d be too busy and distracted to nag me about the party.

  I stop at the bottom of the stairs and turn around to look at the man who’s partially responsible not only for my existence, but also my misery. “I got bored. You really didn’t need me here,” I say. “Stop making it into a bigger deal than it is. You’ve thrown enough of these parties already. You know how they work.”

  Dad isn’t ready to let go yet, though. “Someday, you’ll be hosting these events in my place. Will you be bailing on the guests then, too?”

  “You’re talking about a distant and only probable future,” I reply, taking deep breaths. The last thing I need is to let him ruin what is pretty much the first day of the rest of my life. I have no intention of winding down the same road as before. It’s what got me into this mess in the first place. I start climbing the stairs, waving my dad away. “Leave me alone. Enjoy what’s left of this weekend. I know I will.”

  “This isn’t how it’s going to end, you know!” he shouts after me, but I do my best to ignore him. Looking back, I become increasingly aware that this dysfunctional relationship with my dad is at least partially to blame for many bad decisions I’ve made over the years.

  I don’t want to do the same thing, over and over again, expecting different results. That’s the definition of madness, and I’m not loony bin material. I’m too well dressed to end up in a strait jacket.

  Leaving it all behind, I go into my room and lock the door. I can hear him banging pots in the kitchen, pretending he knows what he’s doing. It’s the maid’s day off, and he’ll end up ordering takeout, as usual. We haven’t had a family meal since mom died. Not for lack of trying, though. Every time I performed some miracle waffle in the kitchen, dad had to leave—for work, for golf, for whatever reason he could come up with in order to not spend time with me.

  After two hours of resting in the hot tub, my soul temporarily delighted by lotus fragranced bath oils and my skin pampered with three kinds of lotion, I slip into my workout gear and head out on the terrace. The treadmill looks lonelier than ever. It’s been months since I’ve touched it, but Margaret, our maid, has kept it clean, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I’ll get back on it.

  Well, today is the day, Margaret.

  It’s a beautiful late morning. I can hear the bay waters whispering in the distance. The wind blows through our estate, and it’s making me promises of better moments ahead. All I have to do is reach out and snatch them.

  My ankle hurts, still, but the treadmill looks so appealing right now. I get past the physical discomfort and put on an easy walking program first. My feet are giddy as I step onto the band and start walking.

  This is it. This is where it all begins again.

  One.

  Step.

  At.

  A.

  Time.

  Soon enough, I slip into a running program. Something light enough to get my leg muscles pumped again. By the third mile, my ankle is perfectly fine, though my form could do with some improvement. My breath is short, and sweat starts dripping down my face, but I am happy. I am so fucking happy I could shout it for the whole world to hear me. I keep going, pushing myself until there’s nothing left to push. Running, faster and faster – quicker than I’ve moved in a long damn time. It’s only when my lungs feel like they’re about to cave in that I stop and get off the treadmill, panting and smiling. My calves burn, but it’s a wonderful sensation and one I’ve missed thoroughly.

  Eyes closed, I swipe my towel over my forehead, removing the waterfall of sweat the cascades down my face. Finally able to catch my breath, I sit back, looking out in the distance. The thoughts that flood my mind are filled with Elias and my heart jumps, sending a nervous jolt through my entire body.

  I wouldn’t be here, if it weren’t for him. Maybe in the process of fixing myself, I ne
ed to also work on fixing us.

  WHEN WE WERE YOUNGER

  Junior high is like a fucking nightmare.

  I have to go to the same school as Kira Malone, and that just adds unpleasant tasks to my to-do list on a daily basis. I’ve actually tried to be nice to her, despite the feud between our fathers, but not only does Kira not trust me, she frequently tries to belittle me in front of the other students, which is one hell of a no-no. I may be thirteen, but I am not an idiot. I am Elias motherfuckin’ Dressler, and I take shit from no one.

  Sometimes, I do wonder where Kira gets all that spunk. Had she not been such a daddy’s little girl, maybe things would have gone down differently between us. She’s too stuck up and gullible for me to even try to reason with. Lord knows I’ve tried.

  Mom used to say that girls go through this “meanie” period between the ages of twelve and sixteen, but I’m certainly not going to cut this little bitch any slack because of hormones. Screw that. I’m a teenager, too. I’ve got my own share of stuff to deal with. I don’t need to put up with Kira’s, too.

  It’s been six months since my mom left us, and dad has been a soppy mess, since—in private, of course. In public, he’s as heartless and as driven as they come. I don’t necessarily agree with him on a lot of things, including his weirdly hateful competition against Fowler & Malone, but I have to give the man some credit. He’s one hell of a businessman. I’ve got a lot to learn from him.

  Mom calls me, once in a while, just to check up on me. She knows she’ll never get custody of me. I’d run away with her, if I could, but I know Dad would go to the ends of the world just to drag my ass back to Hampton Heights. I’m his only child. I’m the heir to the Dressler fortune… Honestly, I want it, too. But I also want my mom.

  “Hey, Elias,” Joshua calls out to me from the middle of the lacrosse field. There’s a practice game going on, and I’m all dressed up and ready to go, but the coach has kept me on the side for the entire season as punishment for the Halloween prank I pulled on Kira. “You wanna join us?”

  “Shut up and get your ass back into defense!” Coach Harding shouts at him.

  He’s a hard-ass, but he’s a good coach. I respect him. Part of me knows I deserve to be on the sidelines for the rest of this season, but my ego won’t allow me to admit it. Not out loud, anyway. Kira is an entitled little bitch, sure… I tend to get carried away where she’s concerned, though. Carried very far away. It’s not something I can control. Whenever I see her, my senses catch fire. Anger burns through me, and I just… I just let loose.

  “Coach, come on! I can help on offense!” I say, loud enough for him to hear me.

  He points a stiff finger at me. “You’re benched for now, Dressler. And if you keep bitching about it, I might push the penalty into the next season, too!”

  I swallow back any follow-up I would’ve liked to throw at him. The last thing I need is a whole year sitting on the bleachers like this. At least I can practice after they’re all gone.

  I don’t know why I still show up with my gear and everything, hoping he’ll take me back sooner… I messed up, and Coach Harding is not the forgiving type—much like my father. Maybe that’s why this is getting to me. The punishment comes from someone I deeply admire…

  For the next half hour, I watch the practice game as it unfolds. I spot the weak spots in our defense, and I send Joshua a series of texts with pointers and advice. He’ll check them later and see what I mean. Our offense is shoddy, too, but I doubt much can be done about it until I’m back in the fold. Coach Harding would rather suffer through a mediocre season than put me in the game before I complete my “sentence.” The hardest of hard-asses, for sure.

  Mom has advised me to bury the hatchet with Kira. But mom’s not one to talk. I begged her to bury the hatchet with dad. I know they say parents aren’t supposed to stay together just for the sake of their kids. But what happens when the kid is no longer a kid and he’s the one asking? Point is, she should have stayed, no matter how much she thought being around dad was going to drive her insane. So, like I said, she doesn’t get a say in what happens with Kira. Plus, it’s not like I’ll be around her forever.

  After junior high, she’s going to Trinity High, and I’m already signed up for Saint Columbine’s, two towns over. Hopefully, I’ll never see her again after next summer.

  I do find comfort in one thing about her, though… I know we won’t be business rivals. I’m taking over Dressler Corp when I grow up, sure, but Kira—she’s into ballet and dancing and shit. Much to her father’s dismay, she has no interest in Fowler & Malone. The girl’s an artist. She’s beautiful and smart beyond her years. She’ll have a good life, I’m sure of it. And lucky for the both of us, her good life and my great one, won’t need to coincide. It’s kind funny if you think about it. Or at least, it always manages to give my dad a good laugh. Malone’s only child rejecting his throne.

  William Malone will be a heck of a lot easier to tear apart when there’s no apparent heir to his side of the business. I know Dad’s been trying to convince Fowler to buy Malone out, but the guy won’t even hear about it. I guess Kira’s father still has one friend in this whole fucking world… for now.

  “What’s up, dickwad?” Kira’s voice cuts through my thoughts, much like an unexpected migraine. I turn around to find her sitting next to me on the bleachers. She’s wearing her softball gear, probably waiting for our practice game to end. Her team is coming in next.

  The sun dances in her hair, shades of honey and endless wheat fields briefly mesmerizing me. Her big blue eyes watch me with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, but I don’t see a speck of hatred in them. There are times when I wonder how much of her animosity towards me is real, and how much is manufactured solely to please her father. William Malone is an asshole, pitting his own daughter against me just to piss off my dad.

  “I really hope you’re not looking to stir any shit,” I say to her, my tone clipped as tension rises through my body. Kira is pretty and quite distracting, and sometimes I can’t help but wonder what we’d be to each other if we weren’t on opposing teams. “It’s bad enough I can’t play lacrosse because of you.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one who doused me in pig’s blood at the Halloween Prom,” Kira replies, looking at the practice game. “For what it’s worth, I can tell they miss you out there.”

  “Well, I’m on the bench for the rest of the season.”

  “Consequences, Elias.”

  “Seriously? You’re the one who wants to talk about the consequences of bullying, Miss ‘I took nudes of the boys in the locker room and then posted them online for ratings?’” I laugh, throwing my head back for good measure, though my cheeks still burn at the thought that I was not in the locker room at the time. “You could’ve gotten yourself arrested for child pornography, you dimwit. You’re lucky your daddy paid off the principal to keep your name out of the whole affair.”

  Her cheeks burn red as she scowls at me. “For the last time, Elias. I only took the pictures with the purpose of a little blackmail here and there. That bitch Dina stole my SD card and posted them.”

  “Which is why she’s spending three more months at a juvenile correctional facility,” I say, shaking my head. “You really need to pick better friends, Kira.”

  “Any suggestions?” she snaps, crossing her arms. Her posture is different, like her body is changing. Her legs are longer but slender, with muscular calves. Her neck is delicate, her skin made of porcelain. Fucking focus, Elias! “Dina almost got me arrested. Bianca and Maeve talk shit about me behind my back. And don’t even get me started on Giselle. I think she was born a spiteful bitch. The worst part is that she’s dragging Lorna into it, too…”

  “What are you trying to tell me, Kira? That you don’t have any friends?” I raise an eyebrow at her, trying hard not to laugh.

  “I’m merely pointing out that this school is filled with idiots. So, when you tell me that I need to make better friends, I feel like it’s
my duty to point out the obvious,” Kira shoots back.

  “I tried to be your friend. You told me to fuck off.”

  She pauses, her eyes wide for a moment. “Comes with the territory of being a Dressler,” she says, almost mechanically.

  “You’re parroting your father again,” I tell her, and she cringes, though I’m not sure she notices it.

  “Screw you!” she hisses and gets up. Instinctively, my hand shoots out. I’m surprised by the lack of resistance when I try to pull her back down.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. This beef we have going on, it’s fucking exhausting. More exhausting because of the fucking pull we have to each other. We’ve always been like two opposite magnets, needing to coincide, but allowing the strength of our families to rip us apart.

  Kira pouts a little and her eyes zero in on mine. For a moment, I know she’s as lost in my gaze as I am lost in hers. My heart picks up its pace and the hand I’d used to pull her back to me, remains gripped around her soft skin.

  “Kira,” I say, my voice, hoarse and shaky. Other words want to come, but I’m not sure just how to say them.

  Can we quit this?

  Can we be friends?

  Can we start over?

  Can we forget the past? Forget the hate?

  “What are we doing?” I ask instead, the words packed with more meaning than I expect her to decipher. Kira bites down on her lower lip and I can feel that pull between us again, so strong that it almost forces me to crash my mouth to hers. If only to stop her from saying the wrong thing.

  Catching herself, however, Kira straightens. The smile that curves her lips might be fake, but it’s still marked with cruelty.

  She yanks her arm from my grasp and flips her hair over her shoulders. “I was just trying to be nice and make conversation because you looked all lonely and pathetic here!”