THORN: A High School Bully Romance (Rosewood Book 1)
Page 4
Just as I’m about to look away, Poppy glances over her shoulder. Her eyes lock on mine and a small, sad smile twitches at her lips.
Ripping my eyes away, I continue to the sidewalk and make my way toward Ethan’s.
“How many of them do we need to give you before you start talking?” Mason asks, handing me another bottle.
Releasing the hit I was holding, I look over at him. The buzz from the joint Ethan handed me is mixing with the alcohol and giving me the release I was craving.
“When has that ever happened before?” They know me better than that. No amount of weed or alcohol will get me to unleash the ugliness I hold inside.
“It’s gotta happen one day, Thorn.” He sits back and tips his bottle to his lips, swallowing down the last of his beer.
A knock sounds out around the house and Ethan jumps up excitedly. He’s by far the wealthiest of the three of us. Not that it’s all that difficult to have more than me, the guy who lives in the hidden trailer and mostly lives on handouts from my friends or ramen noodles. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s my life nonetheless.
He runs from his den, leaving Mason and I slumped on his giant couches. The sound of excited girly chatter filters down from the front door and my stomach drops.
“He didn’t say he’d invited them.” Mason looks at me like I’ve just sprouted another head. “What?”
“Nothin’. It’s just not like you to turn down any offer of pussy.”
“Yeah, well. Maybe today’s different.”
“Fuck me, man. That girl’s got you all tied up, hasn’t she?”
“Girl?” I ask, trying to play it cool but when his response is just to roll his eyes, I know I haven’t succeeded.
“Maybe Chelsea can distract you, help you chill the fuck out.”
Just as he says that, she slides herself onto my lap and helps herself to my beer. “Who needs distracting?” Her voice is high and squeaky, and it makes my skin crawl.
None too gently, I push her from my lap and she lands on the polished tiled floor with a thud and a squeal. Slamming my beer bottle down on the coffee table, she turns to me, pushes her chest out and rests her hands on her hips.
“What the fuck, Jake?”
“You okay, Chelsea? It looks like you’ve had a little accident,” Mason asks, nodding down to the wet patch on her micro skirt.
Her cheeks flame red and her eyes darken before she huffs out a breath and storms away.
“I’m gonna need more of these if she’s planning on sticking around.”
Mason fixes his stare on me but one look at my narrowed eyes and tense shoulders and he seals his mouth closed.
Looking out over Ethan’s garden, I watch as some of the other girls strip down to their bikinis and jump into the pool. Ethan soon follows their lead and in minutes has two backed up into the corner. I shamelessly watch as he thrusts his tongue into one of their mouths quickly followed by the other. Normally I’d be doing the same, or better, dragging one off to one of the guest rooms. But I’m not interested. Tonight I want to sit in a dark corner surrounded by bottles of beer and a handful of joints.
9
Amalie
By some miracle, I make it to the end of my first week at Rosewood High without too much drama. Jake has kept his distance. I’ve caught his piercing eyes across the hallway more than once, but he’s never come any closer. I’m not sure how I feel about that. A huge part of me wants to think that his warning on Monday was just a joke, his sick way of welcoming the new girl. I was there though, it was my chin prickling under his hard grip, there wasn’t anything jokey or light-hearted about the move. He meant every word he said to me outside the diner and although I try to push the concern down, I know he’s waiting in the wings, planning his move. If only I could figure out what his issue is, then I might stand half a chance of seeing it coming.
“For this assignment, you’re going to pair up. I want detailed research and then some kind of presentation, I don’t mind what form that takes, use your creativity. We’ll start them next Friday.” There’s chatter amongst my classmates as they start planning their new history assignment. “I’ll be choosing the pairings,” the teacher barks causing everyone around me to groan.
He starts rattling off names, I’ve no idea who they belong too but I sit back and watch either the happy or pissed off expressions appear on their faces as they accept who their partner is.
“Amalie,” he says, meeting my eyes. “You’re with Poppy.”
A girl with dark hair and even darker eyes turns and offers me a soft smile. I relax slightly when at first sight she doesn’t appear to be a wannabe cheerleader or football player groupie.
The teacher reels off the rest of the names on his list before instructing us to sit in our pairs and start planning.
“Hey, I’m Poppy,” she says, dropping her bag to the floor and falling down into the now vacant seat beside me. “You’re in my film studies class, right?”
“Maybe. Sorry, this week’s been a little overwhelming.”
“S’all good. Lucky for you, you just acquired an excellent partner for this project.”
“Is that right?” I say with a laugh, realising that I like her already.
We make a start, but the bell goes before we make much progress.
“So I’ll meet you after school Monday and you can come back to mine?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“You at the pep rally tonight?”
“Apparently so.”
“You sound really excited about it.” She laughs and pulls her bag up over her shoulder before we start making our way toward the door.
“It’s not really my kind of thing.”
“Na, mine either but my cousin’s on the team so I go to support him.” I smile but the mention of family has my heart sinking into the pit of my stomach. “So I’ll see you Monday?”
“Sure thing.” I give her a wave as she heads off toward her next class and I turn to do the same.
“Today is draaaaging,” Camila complains when she finds me hiding in the back corner of the library at lunch. “You know,” she says, looking around at the dusty shelves, “I always thought unquestionable stuff happened at the back of libraries. You’re kind of ruining that for me.”
“Sorry to disappoint. I’m definitely not up to anything unquestionable.” In reality, I’m surrounded by art books trying to come up with an idea for our history project.
“That’s a shame. You could use some excitement. I bet Shane would be up for it.”
“You’ve noticed that too, huh?” I drag my eyes from the book I was flicking through and look into Camila’s knowing eyes.
“It’s hard not to. He’s practically followed you around like a lost puppy since you arrived. It’s kind of cute.”
“It might be if I were interested.”
“He’s hot, what’s the issue?”
“I’m just not interested in a relationship. My life’s a mess right now, I don’t need a guy making it worse.”
“I’m sure the right guy could make it better. Relieve some of that tension you’re carrying around.” I scoff at her, close the book and add it to the pile next to me. “Wait... you are single, right? Or have you got the whole long-distance phone sex thing going on with some British hottie?”
“No, no hot phone sex.”
She picks up on the sadness in my tone that I was trying to hide. “But there was a guy, right?”
“Yes, no... I don’t really know. We were just messing about, I guess. It wasn’t anything serious.”
“But it could have been?”
“Who knows,” I say with a shrug. “Guess I’ll never find out now.”
“I’m sorry,” Camila says, her eyes darkening as my sadness seeps into her. “Any news from the detectives?”
“Not that I know of. They promised to call if they found anything.”
I’ve been trying to put the idea out of my mind that my parents’ deaths might not h
ave been an accident, it makes the whole thing worse to think someone on this planet wanted them gone. I blow out a breath, fighting the tears stinging my throat from filling my eyes.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Come on, let me buy you a piece of cake to make up for it.”
“I’m okay here.”
“Amalie, you need to stop hiding. Or if you refuse to stop then you at least need to tell me what’s bothering you.”
The image of his harsh eyes as he dished out his threat that’s been haunting me all week pop into my head again, but I refuse to admit that he’s sent me into hiding. I’ve endured the worst life can throw at me over the last couple of months, I refuse to admit that I’m scared, and the school’s bad boy has me cowering like a wimp in the library.
“Nothing’s bothering me. This week’s just been a bit much is all.”
“I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling and I’m not going to pretend I do. If I push you too hard, you need to tell me, but you only live once, Amalie. I might never have known your parents but I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t want you hiding in here when you could be out there living.”
My stomach twists and I fight to drag air into my lungs. The sudden wave of grief that hits me threatens to break me. But I’m stronger than that. I spent the first month of my time here locked in my room at Gran’s, hiding from the world and drowning in grief. My life was good, it was settled and then what was meant to be just another trip to Milan for my parents ended in tragedy when their helicopter got into trouble and unexpectedly came down over some French countryside.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I focus on my breathing and will the panic attack I’m on the verge of away. No one needs to see that side of me.
“You’re right,” I announce once I’m feeling strong enough and jump to my feet. “Let’s go and find that cake.”
“I should warn you that the cafeteria cake will probably be dry and as hard as a rock.”
“How bad can it really be? Cake is cake, right?”
“I’ll let you be the judge of that.” Camila threads her arm through mine and I somehow manage to walk out of the library with my head held high, with someone who’s quickly turning into a very good friend beside me.
As we stand in line, she catches me up on her week so far and the dumb shit Noah’s been up to.
With our cake in hand, I’m starting to feel like everything’s going to be okay and that it might actually be possible to enjoy my time here, that is until I look up and lock eyes with him. My steps falter and Camila all but crashes into my back.
“Amalie, what’s—oh!” I feel her stare flit between the two of us and when I manage to pull away from his tormented eyes and look back to her, her brows are drawn and her lips are pursed in anger. “What the fuck’s his problem? Hold this.” She shoves her plate at me and storms off in Jake’s direction. Every single one of his friends turns to watch her journey, some are amused by the angry brunette marching his way, other’s lust-filled eyes trail over her body, but it’s one set of eyes in particular that catches my attention. Mason, the guy who seems to be Jake’s right-hand man is staring daggers at her.
I’m busy wondering what the hell the story is there when she comes to a stop, places her hands on her hips and rants at Jake. Fair play to her because I can’t imagine many students in this school would willingly go up against him.
Eventually, his lips curl up in an unamused smirk and he waves her off. She takes two steps back, her eyes not leaving his before she quickly glances at Mason, turns and storms back to me.
“That cake had better be bloody good.”
“What did he say?” I ask, racing after her when she takes off for an empty table at the other end of the canteen.
“Just a load of bullshit. Didn’t believe a word of it.”
“Bullshit like what?”
She stares at me and chews on her bottom lip. “He really doesn’t like you. But seriously, don’t sweat it, he’ll get over it.”
I’m not sure whether her words are meant to be comforting or not, but they don’t make me feel better in the slightest.
“Yeah, we’ll see. So what about you?”
“What about me?” She keeps her expression blank, but the darkening of her eyes tells me she knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Oh come off it. Mason looked at you like he wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. I might not have known you all that long, but it’s enough to know you wouldn’t hurt a fly. What’s his deal?”
“Our moms are best friends. We used to be, we’re not now. That’s about it?” Lifting an eyebrow, I wait for her to elaborate but she just fixes me with a stare before totally changing the subject. “Are you looking forward to your first game?”
“Um…”
“It’ll be awesome, you’ll see.” She gives me her megawatt smile, but it does little to kickstart any excitement.
10
Amalie
Turns out that Camila’s car is already packed with everything she’s going to need tonight so when we pull up outside Gran’s house after school, she climbs out and pulls her giant-ass bag from the back.
“Coming in, huh?”
“I’m not letting you out of my sight. You know as well as I do that given the chance you’ll bail on tonight and I won’t allow that to happen.”
“Maybe.” Her brow lifts. “Okay fine, probably.”
“You need to let your hair down and that’s what tonight is about. Just for a few hours you can let go and just be you, the eighteen-year-old high school student. Get drunk, have fun, maybe have a kiss...or two,” she says with a cheeky wink.
I can’t deny that just the thought of what she’s proposing doesn’t make it sound a little appealing. The fun and drinking part anyway, I have no intention of kissing anyone. That kind of thing will only lead to making my already messed up life more complicated.
“Come on then. I’ve no idea what I should be wearing to this thing.”
“Sexy, Amalie. Always sexy.”
Gran’s on the phone as we walk through to the kitchen to grab something to drink. She smiles at me and it’s so genuine that it makes tears burn the back of my throat. She’s been desperate for me to integrate myself with life here and finally accept that this is my home now. She never said it out loud, but I think she was worried that I was going to jump straight on a plane the second I turned eighteen and could legally look after myself. Of course, I thought about it time and time again. It would be so easy to go back to London, crash at a friend’s house. I might even be able to get myself into university, I’ve got enough money sitting in my account to make it possible. But do I want to go back and be alone? I might have only been here a few weeks really, but even that is enough to know that I need to be here. I tell myself it’s for Gran, my presence lifts the dark shadows her daughter’s death has clouded her eyes with, but I also know that being away from London and all the places that will remind me of them is helping me too. I’ve no idea how I’d be able to go back to my old life when they’re not there. In reality, they weren’t around all that much, the business took up the majority of their time, but they were only ever a phone call away, even if they were off in a different country.
“There are freshly baked cookies in the tin,” Gran says, having hung up the phone.
Camila immediately turns toward the tin Gran nodded at, pulls the lid off and stuffs one in her mouth. “You’re a legend, Peg.”
Gran and I both laugh as she stuffs her face. “So, game night?”
“Apparently so.”
“You’ll love it. I used to live for game nights as a kid. The excitement, the thrill of the win, the hope of catching one of the player’s eyes.” She gets this faraway look and I can’t help wondering what she was like as a young woman. She’s always been in my life, and we visited quite a few times, but it’s only now that I’m living under her roof that I’m really getting to know her.
“I do not want to get anywhere near a football player.”
“She’s already got two under her spell, Peg.” I groan, grab a couple of cookies and leave the room.
“Of course she has, she’s her mother’s daughter. She’ll have them all tripping over themselves.”
My stomach muscles clench at the thought of my mum and I race faster toward my room, afraid to hear any more. I know that Camila’s only winding me up, but I don’t need reminding of everything I’m trying to ignore at school. Shane’s interest and more importantly, Jake’s anger. I don’t need either of them in my life right now and I’d rather Gran didn’t get involved, because if I’ve learned anything about her it’s that she’s a hopeless romantic who will jump at the chance of helping to set me up.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Camila says a few minutes later having followed me down to my room.
“It’s fine. You don’t need to apologise.”
“Your gran made us hot chocolate. It’s not quite the start to the evening I had in mind, but I’m not one to refuse chocolate.” We’re both silent as we sip from our steaming mugs. “I think he really likes you, you know.”
Catching me off guard, I turn to her, my brows pinched together. “Who?”
“Shane,” she says with a roll of her eyes, like she could be talking about anyone else.
“Oh, right. He’s not really getting the idea that I’m not interested.”
“Why not? He’s hot. And I have it on good authority that he’s pretty talented...if you know what I mean.” She wiggles her fingers in the air and I groan.
“Magic fingers or not, I’m not interested.”
She gives me a disappointed look. “That better not be because another member of the team—the captain—has captured your interest.”