Sparrowood Academy (Book 3): Bully Romance

by Angel Lawson

  She moans into my mouth, setting my nerves on end. She tastes like the chocolate-covered strawberries from the party, and she rubs her body against mine. What started off as painfully slow escalates quickly; hands groping, fingers tugging, hips pushing, until my lower back hits something hard. I glance back.

  The pool table.

  I spin her around and lift her up, sitting her on the edge. We’ve been in this position a million times, but with a different kind of pool. This time we’re both fully dressed, but she spreads her thighs, giving me room to step closer.

  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you kiss me like this?” she asks.

  “You did?”

  She laughs and brushes back the fringe of hair that’s dipped in my eyes.

  “You asked for space, and I gave it to you, but it’s been hard.” Her fingers pluck at the buttons of my shirt, slowly unfastening them. Her hands spread across my chest, running over my hard-earned muscles. “You’re a beautiful boy, Theo Stevenson, taunting me day in and day out in that swimming pool.”

  “I nearly cracked a million times,” I confess, then kiss her on the column of her neck.

  “But you didn’t, because even if you don’t believe it, your willpower is fierce.”

  I tease her mouth, coaxing her with my tongue. Her nails run down my chest, igniting my flesh on fire. We ease apart. “I was afraid I was transferring one addiction for another.”

  “There’s addiction and then there’s balance,” she says, pulling at the shoulders of her dress. I swallow, my mind a jumble as she exposes her chest, breasts bound in black lace. It’s no more than I’ve seen before in her bathing suit, but the packaging is different. Intentional. Her eyes meet mine. “Tit for tat.”

  I drop my shirt to the ground and reach behind her back, unclasping her bra. Tit for tat, indeed. She pulls me to her, laying her back flat on the pool table and I dive in, swimming on land, drowning in this girl; someone I know won’t let me run out of air.

  15

  Eden

  The cold air breaks for a day or two, making it possible to sit outside during lunch. I’ve been distracted ever since the birthday party with Theo. What we did up in that pool house was…wow.

  We didn’t have sex, but we did get a chance to explore one another without roommates or the risk of Trip’s spying cameras. We’d returned to the party breathless and overheated, our relationship having moved to another level, and I haven’t stopped thinking about his magnificent body ever since.

  “The guys are already outside,” Rochelle says, pointing to the glass doors.

  I’m walking with her and Morgan when someone slams into me from the side.

  My tray flies back and I land hard on my ass.

  “What the hell?” I shout at the same time Rochelle screams, “What the hell?”

  Glancing up at my roommate, I see a seething look on her face and my lunch dripping down her shirt.

  “Watch where you’re going,” Ro roars. Everyone in the dining hall is looking our direction.

  “Sorry,” the girl says, her apology not exactly sincere. She’s younger—probably a grade below. I see the flash of something gold on her collar. A pin of some kind. Morgan helps me off the floor as Rochelle stalks off to go change.

  Later, I’m in the bathroom of the science hall when two girls walk in.

  “Denise said the party starts at ten. Her room.”

  “Are any guys coming?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Is he coming?”

  They glance at me and snap their mouths shut, moving to the sinks to check their makeup. I don’t know either of these girls and don’t really care about their parties or hook-ups, but when they step in front of the mirror I catch a glimpse of gold. It’s the same pin. A tiny bird.

  A sparrow.

  That night I walk down to Morgan and Stella’s room with the dress I borrowed for Theo’s grandfather’s birthday. I knock on the door, looking down the hall at a cluster of girls at the other end. Morgan opens the door.

  I hand her the dress. “Thank you. It was perfect.”

  “Good! My mother is constantly buying me 'appropriate' dresses in hopes that I’ll get invited to something like that.”

  “A party with a bunch of old rich people?”

  “Yep, exactly. She’s holding out hope someone will introduce me to a nice, wealthy grandson and she can stop worrying about my love life.”

  “I guess at least she cares?”

  “I came out to her last summer. She still hasn’t accepted it.” Oh. I’d wondered. She peers down the hall. “Ugh, I forgot Denise is having that party tonight.”

  “Yeah, I heard about it in the bathroom this afternoon. I guess my invitation got lost.”

  She laughs and waves me in. “Mine, too.”

  Stella is sitting on her bed with her books spread out. “Hey, Eden.”

  I wave and sit on the desk chair. “Have you guys seen these girls wearing those gold pins—little sparrows?”

  They glance at one another and Morgan says, “Yeah, I saw that on the girl in the cafeteria today and then earlier in my physics class.”

  “All younger girls?”

  “Yep.”

  “Any idea what they’re about?” I ask.

  “No, but if I had to guess I’d go with the usual suspects,” Stella says, flipping through her notebook. “It feels kind of like the type of hazing Camille used to do. It’s a signal.”

  Morgan nods. “Yes, when we were younger, Camille was the queen of this sort of thing. Everyone had the same shoes or the same charm on their necklaces. Similar phone cases or scarves. It’s little, obnoxious things that are there to let those on the outside know they’re excluded.”

  It makes sense. “So you think Denise is trying to step into her shoes?” Again, they share a look. “What?”

  Morgan frowns but says, “When everything happened with Trip before break, things kind of shifted. Before that, you’d sort of taken the role Camille left, but when you came back it was clear you didn’t want to be a leader. Denise is an idiot and not really capable of managing a coup of any kind, but with a big opening it was easy for her—or someone directing her—to take over.”

  “You’re saying this is my fault?” My feathers ruffle. “Because I never wanted to lead anyone in this place.”

  “No,” Stella says, “but there was a power gap and someone had to fill it. Those pins didn’t start showing up until the last week or so. They were probably waiting to see what you would do.”

  “They? Who else do you think it is?”

  They both give me a pointed look.

  “Trip?”

  “And probably Phillip, Adam, Mitch. Did you really think he was going to stand down?”

  “He’s being watched, like me and the guys.”

  “And that’s why he has Denise building an army of young, pretty girls, all eager to fit in.”

  Denise, who has always wanted to be with a guy like Trip. She saw an opening.

  “Fuck,” I say, hating that I didn’t realize this was going on. I’d been too focused on myself—on separating myself from the drama at this school. The problem is that this is what we’d been brought in here to do, shut down this kind of behavior. When me and the K-Boys pulled back, it left a gap for the snakes to slither back in.

  It’s a long shot, but I head down to Dorian’s office to see if he’s still here. Going to his apartment is out of the question. Not since I embarrassed myself last time. Desperate girl had never been a good look for me. Unfortunately, he got to see it in humiliating action.

  A sliver of light appears under his door and I hesitate before I knock. Other than a few brief moments during detention, I’ve managed to avoid being alone with him. This is important. Keeping information from one another is how we got in so much trouble earlier. Coming here is the right thing to do, or so I tell myself as I tap on the door with my knuckles, wincing at the sound in the quiet, deserted office.

  The door sw
ings open and his eyes sweep over me. His mouth settles into a frown. “Eden. Is everything okay?”

  I glance over my shoulder, knowing I shouldn’t be here alone. Trip had implied he knew I had an inappropriate relationship with someone in the administration, but Trip can go to hell.

  “Can we talk?”

  He steps aside, and I walk in the office. His bag and jacket are on one of the chairs. He was about to leave. When I look back he’s hesitant, holding the door knob with his long fingers. The expression on his face says everything and damnit, it hurts.

  “I’m not going to try to seduce you, Dorian.”

  He grimaces. “That is not what I’m worried about. It’s late. You and I being in here alone—if someone walked by, it would look inappropriate. I don’t want to put either of us in a compromising situation.”

  “Or are you worried that my reputation may harm you? That I’m the slut from the streets that can’t control herself and your dick may end up in my mouth unexpectedly.”

  “Eden!”

  He looks horrified. I kind of like it.

  “No one thinks that about you. No one, other than Ms. Banks and I, are aware of what happened with you and Cohen.” He pulls the door shut. “And no one thinks you’re a slut.”

  Maybe he doesn’t think so. Maybe no one does, but there’s a tiny part in my soul that wonders why I really did it. Did I really do it for Hope and the K-Boys or did I have other motives? Is it a case of you can take the girl out of Kingston, but you can’t take the Kingston out of the girl? Was I just fulfilling my destiny?

  Dorian sits on the edge of the desk across from me and looks at me with concern. I push aside my breakdown and say, “I’ve noticed something going on and thought you’d want to know. It’s either hazing, some light bullying or maybe a code for something else.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest. “Go on…”

  I tell him about the pins—the sparrows—affixed to the younger girl’s shirts. “Apparently this falls into a Sparrowood pattern, and with Trip still on campus, who knows what it means.”

  “Thank you for letting me know,” he says, looking genuinely grateful.

  “You’re welcome.” I exhale. “I’m sorry for being so hostile when I came in. I guess I’m still a little defensive.”

  “That’s understandable.” He watches me. “How are you doing—really?”

  “Besides daily detention, mandatory swim lessons, living in a school of entitled, petty brats?”

  A small, adorable smile quirks at his lips. “Yes, besides that.”

  “Pretty good, actually.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He crosses his legs at the ankle, and I can’t help but notice the nice fit of his pants. He has good hips. Perfect hips. “Are you having any problems with Trip or the other students?”

  I drag my eyes up. “A few, but luckily someone taught me some fast moves.”

  “What did you do?” His head tilts curiously.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  He sighs and rubs his chin. “No, I suppose not.”

  That familiar, unnerving, exciting tension ebbs between us. Dorian is too old, has too much authority, and is too out of my league.

  With that harsh reminder, I stand and gesture to his belongings on the chair. “Looks like you were on your way out. I should let you go.”

  “I was heading to dinner.” His jaw tightens for a second. “Want to come?”

  “Off campus? Or at your place?”

  “Off campus. My cabinets are ridiculously bare.”

  The thought of food, greasy and not from a cafeteria, makes my mouth water.

  “If you’re worried about being seen with me alone, going with you off campus seems like a bad idea.”

  He holds my gaze, eyes twinkling. Under that façade, the nice clothes and leather bag, a former K-Boy lurks. It strikes me suddenly that if there’s one thing a K-Boy loves, it's breaking rules.

  It’s in that moment that I become aware that for Dorian, that’s what I am. A rule to be broken. A temptation. This is as hard for him as it is for me.

  Things just got exponentially more complicated.

  And exciting.

  He shrugs off my prior comment and says, “You in or out?”

  So many times that has been poised to me and every time a K-Boy wants to make a deal with me, it’s turned into something bigger than what it seems. It turns into a relationship. A bond. An unspoken alliance. Trouble.

  Dorian may be offering to take me to dinner, but the way my heart pounds in my chest, I know it means more, which is why when I accept, I know the only person to blame if this goes wrong is myself.

  He takes me to a 24-hour pancake house, thirty minutes away from Sparrowood. The distance and out-of-the-way location confirm this is out of bounds, but then again, everything about me being in this situation is out of bounds. I never should be at this school, wearing plaid or doing a million other things I do now. How is this any different?

  Dorian orders a stack of pancakes, eggs, and a side of bacon. I get a waffle and when it comes I fill every nook with a droplet of syrup.

  “That’s quite a system,” he says, cutting into his stack.

  “My dad taught me.”

  He takes a bite, slightly more refined than the other K-Boys, who treat each meal as though it may be their last. He chews, swallows and says, “You don’t talk about him much.”

  “There’s not much to say. He’s dead. My mom spiraled. Life didn’t turn out the way any of us expected.” I look down at my uniform. “Like, at all.”

  “I never knew my sperm donor,” he says, taking a bite of bacon. “It’s hard to miss what you never have.”

  I sip my orange juice and eye him. “So joining the K-Boys and becoming their leader didn’t fill some big, daddy-sized whole in your heart.”

  He dips his head, digging into his pancakes again, but I see the smile curving his mouth. A moment later he licks the syrup off his lips and says, “You act above it all—above the K-Boys—but you like slumming it a little, don’t you?”

  “Are you calling the K-Boys trash?”

  “I know what we are.” He takes a sip of coffee. “Survivors, like you. It’s why you’ve connected with Rochelle, and why you’re working so hard to protect these girls at school. It’s not about income.”

  “I’m not protecting them, I’m trying to take down The Brats and their disgusting empire.”

  He doesn’t look convinced. I don’t try to change his mind. He can think what he wants.

  We eat in silence for a moment and then he asks, “How are things between you and the guys?”

  “If you really want to know, I’ve gone on a few dates. Gray took me to the winter bonfire, and Theo invited me to his grandfather’s birthday party.”

  I tell him about the country club, the food and the music and the lush facility. I don’t tell him about making out with Theo and how good of a kisser he is and how much I like him.

  “What about Hawk?” he asks.

  “What about him?”

  “I know things were especially hard for you before break and he’s—”

  “Stubborn?”

  “Complicated.”

  I snort. “Seriously, you’re defending him?”

  “I just know what it’s like to be the leader of the K-Boys. It’s not easy. There’s a lot of pressure to do the right thing and sometimes you fuck up.”

  “Yeah, well he fucked up big time.”

  “He’s aware.”

  “Has he told you that? Because we’ve talked a little bit, and I keep thinking we’re good, but he’s not making any effort to move forward. There’s just tension and regret.”

  “Because protecting you was and is his number one priority. He failed, Eden. It’s killing him.” He balls up his paper napkin and tosses it on his empty plate. “Back when I was leading the group there were a few priorities. Some you create out of your own interests, others are kind of grandfathered-in. One that was gra
ndfathered-in for me was this little old lady named Mrs. Manahan. She was in her nineties and had lived on the fringes of the park since she got married when she was twenty. She’d lived in that same house for seventy years. She moved in at the peak, stayed during the bad years, dug in when everyone else moved to the suburbs, and just didn’t budge. It was her home and she wasn’t leaving. The police, the community members, everyone made it clear that you don’t mess with Ms. Manahan. Don’t rob her house. Don’t vandalize her yard. Don’t touch her property. She was off-limits.”

  “That’s pretty cool.”

  “She was pretty cool,” he says, a faint smile appearing, “but one night some punks decided to trash her yard. Threw all kinds of garbage over the hedges and went up on her porch and tore up her furniture. Dumped her plants. She was terrified, and it affected her health.” He leans forward. “The next morning the police, the neighborhood groups, the news and everyone else heard about it. People were pissed. My mother was pissed.”

  “Were you there? Were you part of it?”

  He shakes his head. “No, but it happened on my watch, Eden. I was down at the movies, trying to convince Shelia Johnson to go to third base with me. I’d been so focused on that girl—on my dick, really—and how I thought I had control over the situation that I didn’t even realize how out of touch I was with my crew. After that is when everything went wild and I got sent away.”

  “So you’re saying Hawk screwed up because of me?”

  “I’m saying people make mistakes, even good guys like Hawk.”

  “Maybe you need to tell him that story, or maybe you should step up and take back the leadership if he can’t handle it.”

  “That’s not going to happen, Eden.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the K-Boys are my past.” He tugs at his sleeve and shows me a tattoo with their symbol on his shoulder. “They’re a part of me and always will be, but I don’t want to go back. I clawed my way out of there for a reason, to be a better person, and help people because I don’t want to go back. I clawed my way out, and I’ve learned a better way to fight than with my fists.”

  “What are you trying to tell me?”