Bryce (Scandalous Boys #1)

by Natalie Decker

  Mrs. Issac steps into the room. “Madison Lynn Issac! My room, right now!”

  “But I didn’t …” she starts, but her mom points. Madison bows her head, cheeks flaming red, and leaves the room.

  Okay, now this is the highlight of my day. Watching Madison go postal on someone other than me and then getting yelled at by her mom? I might owe Graham for volunteering my help because this was so worth it.

  Chapter Four

  Madison

  My mom scowls at me. “Maddy, we discussed this! Why would you say that to your cousin?”

  Is she joking? Because my cousin is stealing everything from me! Like always. She talks to me like I’m her servant, and clearly I’m not. She brought the boy I love into my room. Probably made out with him because that’s how she is. She doesn’t waste any time. She just jumps on anything she wants.

  But I can’t say any of this to my mom. She’ll tell me I’m being selfish. And maybe I am, but shouldn’t I be? “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll go apologize.”

  “That’s better.” She ushers me out of the room and back to my bedroom, where twenty-five boxes take up most of the floor space.

  Sarah hooks her arm through Graham’s as they stand in the middle of my room. I swallow my feelings and start, “Sarah …”

  She looks at me with watery eyes. I know it’s an act. She does this when she needs something to go her way. And right now, she’s winning. It takes everything in me to push out the rest of my words. I can feel everyone staring at me like I’m the devil. Like I’m the one who did something wrong. “Sarah, I’m sorry for snapping at you. It was wrong. Of course I’ll help you unpack. Forgive me?” I ask, pasting on a smile.

  Sarah strokes Graham’s arm and sniffles. “Sure, I forgive you, Madison.” She pulls Graham out of the room with her. My mom follows. Bryce, for some reason, remains.

  He shakes his dark hair and smirks at me. “Have fun being her bitch, Madison.”

  I glower at him. “You’ll know all about being someone’s bitch in a few years, Bryce! That looks more and more certain.”

  He stops smiling. I immediately regret what I said. He helped me without complaint, carrying these stupid boxes up here. And how do I repay him? By telling him he’s heading to jail eventually. Smooth, real smooth, Mads.

  Bryce flips me off and leaves my room before I can apologize.

  Her clothes take up over half of my closet. Instead of shoving some of them back into the boxes, I remove more of my own clothes. Why? Because we have to appease the princess.

  Of course, you’d figure she’d be happy. She isn’t. She gives me a sour expression as she thumbs the closet. “Madison, you can’t cramp my bags like this. And this dress needs to breathe. What were you thinking? Are you trying to ruin my things?”

  “Sarah, we have to share a closet. I let you have most of it. What do you want me to do?”

  She yanks my clothes out and tosses them onto the bed. “How about I get the closet, and you can have the dresser?”

  I’m on the verge of blowing up again and need to escape. I run from my room, but it’s not far enough, so I leave the house. Once my feet hit the paved road, I sprint. Where am I going? I don’t know. I could run my usual route that I do every morning. Of course, I’ve got on the wrong shoes and don’t actually want blisters on my feet, so maybe not. I just need to get out of this place.

  At the park about a mile from my house, I slump down on a bench and let go. Tears fall—hard, snotty sobs. Oh yeah, I let it all out. Heaving deep breaths, I soak the palms of my hands with my sorrow. No one is here, so I’m not worried about anyone seeing me. Definitely not worried about anyone asking me what’s wrong.

  At least that’s what I think until I hear someone clear their throat nearby. I jerk my head up and look around. Bryce is puffing on a cigarette.

  “Damn, Smalls, who died?”

  “No one! Go away!”

  He looks around and laughs. “Not happening. This is public property. I’m allowed to be here as much as you are.” He takes another drag on his cig, and I glare at him. I don’t want him seeing me like this.

  “You know those things kill people.” I point to the cancer stick.

  “Really? I thought they increased your life span.”

  I know he’s joking, but I don’t find it funny. “I like living. You might not enjoy it so much, but I don’t want to breathe that crap in. So put it out or take a hike.”

  He throws up his hands and drops his cig to the ground, then grinds it out with his shoe. “Better?”

  “Much.”

  Bryce takes a seat beside me and looks up. Evening is settling, turning the blue Tennessee sky into an orange and pinkish wonder. “So … why are you out here? The park is usually my domain.”

  “I just needed to get some air. My house became too much.” I shrug. It’s an honest answer. Not the full answer, but I’m not spilling my guts to Bryce.

  He nods.

  We sit in silence for a few more minutes, and then I stand up. I need to get away from this bench, and him too. He looks me over and then shakes his head while his dark eyes look down at the ground. He chuckles.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No. What’s so funny?” I demand.

  He meets my gaze. “You. Well, all good girls are the same. Always running from the criminal as soon as they can. You owe me a cigarette.”

  “I don’t owe you anything!”

  He laughs louder. “Jeez, Smalls. Couldn’t even deny running away from me. Wow. Just wow.”

  “I’m not running away.” I fold my arms over my chest and snarl, “I need to get back home.”

  “Yeah. Whatever you need to tell yourself.” He waves, and I leave him.

  Stupid Bryce. Why do I care what he thinks anyway? I don’t. Why couldn’t he just let me cry?

  Footsteps fall close behind me, and I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder. Bryce is right there. “It’s getting dark, Smalls.”

  “And?”

  He sighs. “I’m being a gentleman and making sure you get home okay. All right?”

  “I can get home by myself.”

  “I know. Humor me.”

  Chapter Five

  Bryce

  When I came to the park, I thought I could enjoy my smoke, and it would be a good ending to a good day. I didn’t expect to see Mads bawling her eyes out on a bench.

  Shit, the way she was crying, I thought someone died. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. At the same time, I’m not buying her story of feeling overcrowded. No one would cry like that over feeling a little cramped. Something else is bothering her. And a good person, well, a person who isn’t me, would make her tell them. But I’m me. So I let whatever is worrying her go.

  I have my own problems to deal with.

  We’re silent most of the walk to her house. Not that I mind silence, but with my last cigarette until I can get another pack tomorrow snuffed into the ground, I need to end the quiet between us. “So, your cousin Sarah bought some paint for your room. Did you see?”

  She makes a noise that sounds like a growl. “Well, my mom said she could.”

  “Yeah, but it’s your room. Do you really want her to paint your walls hot pink?”

  She squeezes her moss-colored eyes shut. “Not particularly, but it doesn’t matter. It’s her room just as much as it’s mine now.”

  “Why is that?” I know she probably won’t answer.

  She sighs. “Her parents got into some trouble with the law. It’s all over CNN. You know, the news?” She makes her jab at me. I let her. Mads has been surprising me a lot today. “Anyways, now she’s living with us until she finishes high school. And goes off and becomes a supermodel or whatever.”

  I nod. “You don’t like her much, do you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Graham likes her a lot. Guess you better start getting used to it.”

  And that’s when I see it. Clear as day. She nods once, but the tea
rs glisten.

  “Holy shit! You like Graham.”

  “As a friend,” she lies as she swipes a hand under her eyes.

  “Nah. You like him way more than that.” I laugh. I shouldn’t, but damn, I should have seen this coming. All the homework she did and never once denying him a chance to copy, the tests she helped him through if they were in same class, and all the surprise gifts.

  She shakes her head as she bolts down the street.

  Shit. Should I run after her?

  Nah. It’s not like she wants me to. She hates me. Always has. Always will.

  So I let her run to her house, which is only four houses away. But I do watch her. I guess it’s the least I can do.

  But Madison doesn’t run to her house. She runs to mine. More specifically, my tree house. A decent person would say they were sorry for bringing up a sore subject. I’m not one of those people. Especially when I’m not really sorry. It’s not my fault the girl waited so long to tell Graham how much she liked him. It certainly isn’t my fault her cousin snagged him away. And it also isn’t my fault Graham will probably never look at her as anything more than a good friend and sister type.

  But I’m not about to tell her I know how Graham sees her. Girls say they want to know stuff like this all the time, and I’ve fallen for it too often. Truth is, no girl wants to know that the guy they like sees them as nothing more than a friend. Especially if the girl is really holding out for that dude. Yeah, they definitely don’t want to know.

  I make my way to my room and watch her from one of my windows.

  An hour passes and Mads is still there inside my tree house. So I gather up a couple of blankets and a pillow and head out to the back of my house. Good thing my mom isn’t home, and my dad, shit, he’s barely around much. Not that it matters, but I hate when they’re all up in my business asking me what I’m doing. Then they’ll give me a lecture on how I better not be smoking or doing drugs. It’s basically the same song and dance I get from them every freaking time.

  I snatch a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and go out the back door. I can’t believe I’m carting any of this shit out here. What’s wrong with me?

  Glutton for punishment, I suppose.

  Climbing the ladder to the top, I throw the latch and toss the blankets and pillow inside before I hoist myself in. The wood creaks under my feet as I shut the door and move a chair over it. Mads sniffles in the corner. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be here. I know that.”

  “Smalls, I don’t care.” I toss her a blanket and pillow. “I got a water here too.”

  She wipes her eyes again and nods. “Thanks.” She looks around the tree house. “I remember it being bigger for some reason.”

  “Well, you’re barely four feet; of course everything looks bigger.”

  She shoots me a glare and snorts. “Yeah.”

  I hand her the water as she fans out a blanket on the floor and lays her head back on my pillow. “I didn’t know how long you planned on staying. Didn’t want you to freeze. We’re supposed to get a cold front tonight.”

  She looks over at me with a surprised expression, and I smile. “Yeah, I watch the news.”

  “Didn’t think you would.”

  “I know. Because I’m heading for a prison in less than a year.”

  She props herself up on one elbow. “I didn’t mean it, Bryce. That was out of line. I’m sorry.”

  “Eh, it’s cool. I don’t really give a shit what anyone thinks about me.” I wave it off because that’s the truth. I’ve always known she sees me as a low-grade piece of shit. Truth is, most of those times I’ve gotten busted was to save someone else’s hide. Yeah, I’m that idiot.

  But it doesn’t matter. Only a few people actually see me as anything else. Everyone else believes I’m a shady character. An asshole. They believe my future will be a four by four with bars. And that’s okay. I know where I’m going to be next year—up in Michigan.

  Madison frowns. “I really am sorry. And I didn’t mean it.”

  I nod. I know her words are just that, words. I’m not putting stock into them. “Well, here’s another blanket to cover up with.” I start to move the chair from the door.

  “Stay. For five more minutes. Please.”

  I turn to her and ask, “Why?”

  “Never mind.”

  I shrug and then leave.

  Chapter Six

  Madison

  I’m sleeping in Bryce Matthews’s tree house. His pillow doesn’t smell of smoke but of cedar and soap. He brought me blankets so I wouldn’t be cold. All this surprises me.

  I can’t believe I asked him to stay. Why did I do that? He’s a jerk most of the time. He’s the same kid who tossed gum in my hair in first grade, and I had to get it all chopped off. I got mistaken for a boy more times than I could count that year, and it was awful.

  Emily, my only girl friend and also best friend, lives ten minutes from my house. That’s driving-wise, so of course I can’t go stay with her. Besides, Emily is in Florida on vacay. If she wasn’t, I still wouldn’t attempt the trip. My mom might tell me to take Sarah with, and I’m done losing people to her. I check the screen on my phone and sigh.

  I missed a couple texts. One from Graham, asking if he could come hang out tomorrow. Pfft. I’m not answering that. Next one was from Emily, asking how my day was going.

  Me: My day sucked.

  Emily: Yeah. Is she bossing you around?

  I call her. The phone rings once. “Holler at your girl.”

  “She’s a nightmare. She took my whole closet. She’s going to paint my walls pink. Oh, and she took Graham.”

  “What do you mean ‘she took Graham’?”

  “He’s totally in love with her. Whatevs. I can’t do anything about any of it because we’re supposed to walk on eggshells around her and kiss her butt. I hate her, Em.”

  “Girl! Eff that crap. Go kick her fat ass! Please tell me she has a gigantic booty.”

  I giggle. “No go. She’s flawless in the whole appearance area.”

  “Well, she can’t just take up space in your room and push you out.”

  I can picture Em parading the beach with her face all scrunched as she voices her thoughts into her cell. This is the reason she’s my best friend. She’s always got my back. I sigh. “She kind of did. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you where I am right now.”

  “Why? Where are you?”

  I inhale the scent coming off the pillow and laugh. “Bryce Matthews’s tree house.”

  “Shut up! You are not, liar. You and Bryce are like oil and water.”

  I laugh harder. “I know, right? Oh, Em, I’ve completely lost it, haven’t I?”

  “Nah, it’ll be all good. I come home this weekend. We’ll go do school shopping and figure out a way to get Sarah to stop treating you like her personal doormat. God, I just want to punch her in the face for being a brat.”

  I smile. “Thanks. And how is Florida?”

  “It’s awesome. Totally wish you could have came with.”

  “I know. I had to work.”

  “I know. What would two weeks be without those pesky people getting tickets to watch movies?” I laugh. She kids now, but she totally loves that I work in a movie theater. “Well, I’m heading to this beach party right now. Talk to you later, girl.”

  “Okay.”

  We hang up, and I feel a little better. Not a lot, but a little.

  I wake up to my phone buzzing softly against my palm. I groan slightly as I stretch and look down at the number on display. I don’t know who is calling me, so I ignore it. As soon as I do, the door to the tree house swings open.

  Bryce glares at me. “I called you.”

  “That was you? How’d you get my number?”

  He gives me a look like Are you kidding me right now? “Freshman year. We had English together. We had to give our numbers out to the people in our group. You were in my group.” He says it all slow and deliberate like I’m a moron.

 
I blink, trying to remember this, and I eventually do, but why would he keep my number? “Oh” is all I can manage.

  “You can head back to your house now. Graham picked Sarah up, and they went somewhere. Probably the lake.”

  Great. The most romantic place in the world, and Graham’s there with her. Again. I nod and toss Bryce’s pillow at him. He catches it, and his head jerks back a little when he does. “Ease up, Smalls.”

  “Stop calling me that.” I stand up and fold his blankets to distract myself and also to help shield my outburst. I’ve never told him how much I hate that name. I’ve never acknowledged how much it bothers me. Usually I could ignore him. Graham was always around, so it was easier to do. But Graham isn’t here now. So being around Bryce is awkward.

  I finish the first blanket and start on the second. My backside bumps into him, startling me. When did he get so close? His deep laugh follows. “Relax. I was coming to help you.” He drops the pillow and picks up one end of the blanket. “Why can’t I call you Smalls?”

  “Because. I don’t like it.” It also reminds me of all the parts of me that are small—like my chest. I swear, if I didn’t have a decent butt and long hair, I could probably be mistaken for a boy.

  He shrugs. “Okay. You could have told me that a long time ago, you know.”

  “I guess. I’m sorry. I’m not a morning person.”

  He nods. “I know. That’s why I got you some coffee.” I start to tell him how he didn’t have to do that, but he waves me off. “Had to make a run into town anyways.” He shows me a pack of smokes, and I glower at him.

  “You should really stop that.”

  “I should, but I’m not. I can quit whenever I want. I just … don’t want to.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s a stupid reason.”

  He narrows his eyes and sets his pack down. “Don’t touch those. I’m going to get your coffee.”

  He leaves the tree house and comes back up in less than two seconds. “This is the reason I was calling you. So you could open the door for me while I carried these up.”