Little White Lies: Reverse Harem/Bully/High School (Harvard Academy Elite Book 1)

by Sapphire Knight

  With a jerk of his head, he pulls me to his chest. My hands fall to his torso, feeling more strength there than I ever imagined. He may not play football or other organized school sports, but he must regularly work out with his brothers. Axel’s solid, and his sturdy grip feels soothing and sincere while wrapped around me. His nose tucks into my hair at the top of my head as he comforts and reassures me, “I’m sorry, Kresley. I don’t ever want you feeling that way. I do value you, and I want you to be confident that you can always count on me.”

  Tilting my head back, I take in his dilated, serious stare and his handsome features, offering up a genuine smile in return. He’s a good guy and I’ being too hard on him. It’s not fair for me to take my anger and confusion out on him when he clearly doesn’t deserve it. “Thank you.”

  He breaks out in a pleased grin, the sight causing my breath to catch. “Want to go to my house? We haven’t studied together this week, and I’ve missed it,” he offers, reminding me of an eager puppy—a big, gorgeous one, but still.

  Taking a step back, he releases me as I gesture out toward the field chuck full of sweaty football players and various other athletes. “Don’t you have to wait for Brent and Tristan to finish with their practice?”

  “No.” He shakes his head, flashing a smile. “I usually wait for them to give me a ride home, but if you don’t mind, you could drive us?”

  “Oh, definitely. I didn’t realize, or I’d have offered sooner. Let’s go...I mean, if you’re ready?” I retract, not wanting to come off as bossy. That’s Sam’s personality, not mine, and besides, I’m sure he deals with that enough being around Brent, Tristan, and Cole.

  He nudges his glasses up a bit on his nose and nods, turning to pack up his textbook and academy-issued tablet. “Lead the way, my dear Lois Lane.” He places his messenger bag strap over his shoulder and then reaches for mine to do the same. He’s a gentleman, unlike his pushy brothers.

  The nickname still manages to give me butterflies in my abdomen. The flutters hit me even heavier inside when Axel’s light touch comes to rest on the middle of my back as he follows me to my Jaguar. My feelings are already evolving with the guys, and I’ve only known them for two weeks. Throw in a touch here and there from them, and I’m quickly turning to putty in their hands.

  I’ve known the boys for over a month before it starts to hit me that they’ve fully integrated themselves into my life. Tristan is a given, of course, since he’s put an engagement ring on my finger for the entire world to see. Fiancé or not, I think he’s a spoiled dick most the time. I’m still stuck with him, though. There’s no way I can be rude or try to ditch him for fear of repercussions from Dad.

  Brent has filled the makeshift role of my personal protector, but only when he finds it to be convenient for him. There are times when he just huffs with annoyance and passes by when someone is picking on me. He said I need to stick up for myself, but I’ve been trying to ignore everyone rather than have an altercation. Of course, I could speak up, but what if the locker room incident becomes a repeat occasion? I’d rather deal with the occasional mean girl or hateful remark versus physical abuse or groups ganging up on me at the same time.

  Sam wants to help out, but I can’t drag her into this too much. What kind of friend would I be if I expected her to be involved, and they all start to turn on her as well? That’s not fair in the slightest, and I refuse to have her fight my battles. Brandon has barely spoken two words to me, so I don’t know if he’s truly aware of how bad things have gotten. He’s another friend I would never expect to put himself at jeopardy for my well-being.

  Cole doesn’t speak to me often. When he does break the silent treatment, it’s usually to remind me that his family now owns me. Another of his favorite things to say is how the quads run the school, and they’ll eventually run the country if they should desire. I’m not going to attempt to argue with him over it, because it will get me nowhere. Besides, Cole’s not lying, his family does possess me as far as Father is concerned. You’d think the four boys had hung the moon or something to that degree.

  Axel, however, has become my daily study partner and friend. I can confide in him and be confident he won’t throw me under the bus with his siblings. Nearly every day, we skip out on watching and waiting around for football practice to be over. Instead, we opt to hole up in his room or else take over the kitchen. Axel and I have made it into our own personal cooking class. I’ve never been around a boy I’ve felt so comfortable with, and that frightens me because I find myself wanting to get even closer to him. It’s worse when he touches me. The light brushes here and there have me craving more, and that can’t happen.

  Take today, for example. Axel and I got into a useless argument over the average time people are able to hold their breath under water. To prove me wrong, he declared that we were going swimming to rule out any dispute. It was completely dumb, but we had so much fun just goofing off together. We don’t have a normal friendship like we should; it’s more than that.

  Now, Axel lays spread out and relaxed on his bed, completely at ease with me in his space. His hair’s wet and messy, making him appear disheveled and ridiculously sexy while I peruse his room. I’ve done it many times by now, but I can’t help myself and decide to tease him some. We’re finally at that level that I know he won’t take any offense if I do.

  “I mean, I knew you guys had a lot of stuff with all the loaded moving trucks, but I didn’t realize it’d nearly all go in your room.” I snicker and point to the various items hanging from his ceiling. The room is massive, three times the size of my own across the street. It’s filled with diagrams, models, and in-depth architectural sketches. I’m convinced he’s a legit genius and he’s only humoring me when it comes to studying.

  Axel snorts, rolling over on to his back to watch me. I keep poking and lifting various items and then shooting him a raised brow or wide eyes to exaggerate my point. He’s been busy asking me questions for a review I have on an upcoming test this Friday. He’s seriously the best study partner, always trying to keep me on track. I never understood why teachers leave tests for the end of the week. I feel like it’s their one small victory to make us sweat over the weekend about a potential failing grade.

  “Stop slacking, Lois Lane, and get your inquisitive mind where it should be.”

  “Mm? And where is that exactly?” I tap my chin, grinning playfully. “I’m sure you have an answer for that as well?”

  “Yes, indeed, I do. It should be right here…on this bed,” he declares, and my breath catches.

  Axel has no idea how many times that exact bed he’s referring to has been the center of my attention and daydreams. He’s always lying there or sitting in his desk chair, completely alluring without having the slightest idea about it. When he peels his uniform shirt off after school and stretches out like he usually does in front of me, I find myself having difficulty breathing. Also thinking of anything other than him and how inviting that bed looks, for that matter. School work be damned...the reason I’ve needed all the extra help I can get is because my brain turns to mush when it comes to any of the quads being near me.

  Attempting to keep the mood lighthearted, I skip closer, making him chuckle and roll his eyes at my playfulness. Axel’s always so serious that I love making him smile and laugh, even if it’s at my expense acting like a dork sometimes. Plopping down beside him, I lie on my side facing his long form. He reminds me of a cat, but a powerful one like a cougar or a panther all stretched out watching it’s dinner, trying to decide if it’s hungry enough to move from its comfy spot.

  “Mm...and what interesting things would I find in your room if we decided to study over there instead?”

  Screwing up my nose, my heart beats quicker from being so close to his body and a bed. I respond a bit breathily, “Just an unfortunate amount of pink everywhere, nothing worth seeing.”

  “Nah, I can definitely see you as a pink girl, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” The pad of his point
er finger tenderly trails over my jawline, making me shiver with a delightful bout of telltale chills. He does this sometimes when I’m least expecting it, touching me sweetly and making me crave more than I should with him.

  “Ugh, let me guess, it’s the hair, isn’t it? Purple hair, so I’m automatically thrust into the girly girl category. I don’t not like the color pink; it’s just not my most favorite.”

  “Oh, and what is?”

  Biting my lip, I curl my toes as I admit, “Dove gray.” I’ve discovered it’s the color of Axel’s irises when he’s thinking about something hard enough. He has a brilliant mind. It’s one of the things I like most about him, along with how kind and patient he is with me.

  He stares intently into my eyes before moving his hands to cup my cheeks with his palms. They aren’t rough like Tristan’s, but not completely soft either. He has a balance. His thumbs lightly rub over the hollow of my cheeks and my lips part with pleasant surprise. He’s never gone this far with touching me before; it’s usually a single fingertip or wrapping me in a sweet hug.

  His name leaves me on a sigh, “Axel.” Upon hearing it like that, he leans in. His tender, careful lips barely brush against mine, releasing a shaky breath with the soft caress. My body stills with the touch, not wanting to jostle him out of the passionate spell. He’s not remotely finished, however, as with the next move of his mouth, he draws my lips in between his to gently suck.

  “Mmm.” I release a quiet moan at the feeling his mouth inflicts. My body hums with the desire to wrap my arms around him tightly, and for him to press his body closer against mine.

  He answers my verbal need with a returning groan as his tongue enters my mouth. He takes a tentative stroke against my tongue and then thrusts for more. Axel’s movements are slow and purposeful, drawing me out from under my shell in search of more. With the excited joining of our eager mouths, his hands slide into my hair. His fingers wind into my soft lavender locks, his grip tight but not too painful that it’s uncomfortable. Axel seems to be feeling this as much as I am and it’s a beautiful thing to feel wanted in return by a boy you can’t seem to get enough of.

  There’s a loud, quick knock on his door interspersed with a short, gruff, “Bro?” Brent calls through the thick oak barrier. His low, gravelly tone has me jerking back so quickly, I fall onto the floor trying to escape Axel’s touch before we’re discovered crossing that line of friendship and something more. My cheeks light with fire, embarrassment and shock quickly taking over. But not only that, I’m supposed to marry his brother, for heaven’s sake. Yet here I lie, secretly thrilled about making out with Axel while Tristan could be right down the damn hall! The worst part of all is that I can’t even make myself not like what just happened between us. I loved every minute of it, no matter my conscious screaming at me that it was wrong, and I should feel some type of way.

  Axel swallows and then clears his throat. He pushes his glasses up as they’re slanted crookedly across his cheek and yells out a disheveled, “Yeah?” His voice is gruff, sounding more like Brent’s in the moment. He must’ve been as enthralled with our kiss as I was. That thought offers me a small dose of satisfaction inside knowing I’m not the only one.

  The door opens with Brent poking his head in—short, closely-cropped hair making its appearance first. He takes in the scene before him, the indentions on the bed from our bodies, my flushed face and awkward placement on the ground, looking ridiculously disheveled. He frowns deeply and opens his mouth, then closes it. Inhaling deeply, as if collecting his thoughts, he finally speaks. “Dad will be back in town in about an hour or so. He wants us to have dinner together.”

  Patting down any stray lavender strands back in place, I stand. Wanting to make the discomfort disappear, I mumble, “I should get going. Thanks for your help, Axel.”

  Brent snorts, rudely interrupting. “That’s my brother, always willing to help out.”

  Swallowing, I dart a look at Axel through my lashes, but he’s too busy glaring at Brent. “I’ll see you guys at school,” I reply and close the flap of my messenger bag then position the wide strap in place over my shoulder.

  Brent’s intimidating, cerulean stare halts me in place as he rasps, “I’m sure our daddy dearest will want Tristan’s future wife to be in attendance. Problem with that?”

  With a silent shake of my head, I add, “I’ll go change into something more appropriate.”

  He grunts, not saying anything to me in return but pins his moody brashness back on Axel. “Also, you may want to clean the lip gloss off your lips, Ax. Sparkles aren’t your best look.”

  Axel huffs, getting to his feet and I manage to escape by Brent’s hulking form before anything else comes of it. I’m down the hall a few paces when I hear their deep voices rise in conflict. I’m able to catch Axel telling his older brother to mind his business, and it has me rattled. The real confusing part though is when Brent reminds Axel that I belong to all the de Lacharrieres not only him and demands he share.

  I can’t help but wonder what Tristan would say if he were to hear them. He’s come off as possessive toward me so far, and the thought of him catching Brent meeting me in the girl’s locker room or Axel kissing me has me a bit on edge. I don’t want to hurt any of them, and it gets harder each day when I find myself looking for their faces above all others. One thing’s for sure, I need the perfect dress for dinner. I have to keep Tristan distracted from the newfound edginess between his two brothers.

  I’m just about to dip into the girl’s restroom to take off my hunter green academy-issued sweater when my name rings out through the hallway’s loud speakers to report to the front office. There’s no time for me to worry about my name being scribbled on the restroom door. In bright metallic sharpie, it says how I’ll give free blow jobs to any boys who enter and bring a twenty-dollar bill. It’s demeaning in the sexual sense and also by making me appear inferior to my peers. Devon is richer than me, but I’m not hurting for cash, and amongst the rich, it’s a pretty nasty dig. She’s a bitch, and no matter how I react to her, it doesn’t change.

  I’ve been a bit nervous lately since the other girls around the school besides Devon have upped their tormenting. There are females glaring at me around every corner along with it being the same way in each of my classes. The real kicker is that I’ve never spoken to half of them before and they’ve decided they hate me, all because of Devon’s newfound negative attitude around me. The boys keep me on my toes enough without adding in extras to worry about. So not only do I have to deal with rude people, but the anxiety of four insanely gorgeous, temperamental guys is making me sweat more, and I keep feeling overheated on a daily base.

  There’s not much I can do about any of the girls taunting and ugly remarks either. I could attempt to report them to the front office or to my teachers, but with so many students involved now, it would be nearly impossible to get any kind of favorable outcome. I’m kicking myself for not reporting them when it first started. I foolishly believed if I ignored them all that it would stop and they’d eventually leave me alone. That’s not the case, though. Now it’s me against nearly every other girl in the school. Even if Sam was right about the girls wanting to be like me before, I doubt they’d want to be me now. I just wish I knew what changed so swiftly so I could try to fix it and regress back to my unexciting routine.

  Veering away from the bathroom and the door’s offensive remarks, I make my way into the office. “Hi, I was paged over the intercom,” I greet the lady at the front desk. She’s in the academy’s standard edition staff uniform which consists of black slacks and polo top. The classroom instructors wear suits as does any of the upper faculty, but all other school employees have the polos and pants. It makes it easier to dissect who is who around here for visitors and new students.

  “Yes, thank you, Kresley. Please head down the hall and to the left. The guidance counselor was requesting your presence in her office.”

  “Okay,” I reply, surprised. The only time I see a
counselor is when I need to discuss my schedule. Could one of my teachers have complained about my grades or asked for me to be transferred out? I thought with all the studying I’ve been doing that my grades were perfectly fine.

  Coming to a stop at the first door down the dimly-lit office hallway, I lightly knock on the door. It swings open immediately with a pensive looking Mrs. Shoemaker. She’s got her phone in one hand and a school issued walkie-talkie in the other. I’ve seen the custodians wearing and using them to communicate spills and such.

  “Kresley,” she sighs. “Thank you for getting here quickly. We need to discuss an issue before it draws any more attention and parents start calling us.”

  “Sure, am I, um, in trouble or something?”

  “No, but please follow me out to the student parking lot.”

  “Okay.” I fall into step behind her, wondering what on earth this could be about. Maybe they’re relining the parking area? But that couldn’t be it; they do all that kind of stuff during summer and the other shorter breaks. The only other thing I can come up with is if they were mowing and my car was scratched, though that is usually on the weekends, so I’m pretty much at a loss on what to think.

  Silently, I follow her down the school hall and out the double doors. We take the steps leading onto the sidewalk, and my curiosity only increases with each stride as to why we need to have this conversation or whatever it is outside, instead of in her comfortable office. My mouth slackens in shock when we reach the lot, and it registers. A devastated gasp escapes from my open mouth as my eyes adjust to the bright sunshine, and I can see my car clearer. My precious Jaguar has been vandalized, the navy paint no longer gleaming with wax. I’m scared to think of what the white leather inside must look like as well. The tinted windows are busted out, and there are glass shards all over the surrounding pavement.