Bully: A High School Bully Romance (The King of Castleton High Book 1)

by Ellie Meadows

  Aiden: I do like you, Tarryn. I don’t think any other girl in this school would have gotten that dumb root beer joke. You’re different.

  I exhaled a breath I felt like I’d been holding all day. “Okay, say something that doesn’t sound so freaking clingy,” I mumbled to myself as I debated what to type back.

  Can you tell I’ve never really had a boyfriend? **laugh emoticon** “Shit, no. Idiot.” I erased the message. I’m awful at reading people. They’re not like facts and figures where the answer’s always clear.

  Aiden: I’d take an advanced calculus problem over figuring out people any day.

  Yeah, exactly.

  Aiden: Ready for Paulson’s pop quiz? It was a whiplash subject change, but one for which I was grateful.

  Almost. I think. Speaking of…

  Aiden: You need to go study?

  Yeah. Talk tomorrow?

  Definitely.

  I was going to put the phone down, but Aiden wrote again.

  Aiden: Just confirming you like me too.

  No. Not at all. **wink emoticon**

  8.

  T A R R Y N

  “No Aiden today?” Sasha stole a fry off my tray. “You two seemed cozy yesterday.”

  “I don’t know,” I forced myself not to glance round the cafeteria looking for him. I mean, I’d already looked half a dozen times, not finding him in the crowd of loud, eating students. “Maybe he left early today?”

  Sasha shrugged. “Eh, who cares? Boys take up so much time. And it’s your first week here. Give yourself ample time to fish the pungent, filthy waters of testosterone before settling on one rancid dick sack.”

  “I guess,” I sighed, taking a bite of Caesar salad. “You know, I really hope you plan to be like a writer or a really-outspoken politician, because I think mankind could use your particular brand of phrasing shit.”

  We both chuckled and after chugging down the rest of her water bottle, Sasha pushed her tray away. “Hey, a few people are getting together at Peterson Lake tonight. You interested?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What exactly does that entail?”

  She shrugged. “Booze, shenanigans, bad choice make-out sesh in the woods. It’s good fun, and you’re guaranteed to wake up with a hangover and bug bites up your ass crack.”

  “That’s your scene? I wouldn’t have guessed…”

  “I’m a woman of varied interests, what can I say. And a little buzz helps me get past how moronic some of these guys are.” Sasha glanced around the room. “I mean, even a brilliant gal of sound mind and substantial standards gets horny.”

  “Okay. Sure.” I chewed on a piece of rubbery chicken, thinking. “I don’t have a car yet. How far is the lake from here?”

  “I’ll pick you up.” She shrugged. “It’s no biggie. I’ve got wheels and a gas card from my parents. Think of me as your taxi to teenage shenanigans.”

  I smiled. “I hope your mileage rate is nominal, because when it comes to cash supply, I’m no Castleton.”

  “First ride’s free, like it is with most girls in this school.” Sasha winked, I burst out laughing—loud enough to make a few heads turn in our direction.

  “It’s a date then.”

  “See, isn’t this way better than waiting for a guy? Hoes before bros, bitches.” She gathered up her things and stood. “I’ve got to hit the library before next class. See you tonight.” She walked away, then turned back suddenly. “Shit, I might need your address.”

  I ripped a page from my notebook and scribbled down my address and number. “Here. Ha. I’m glad you thought of that.”

  Sasha took the torn paper. “It’s not that big of a town; I’d have tracked you down somehow. Later!”

  “Later.” She walked away and I returned to the notes I had open beside me. It might not be a date with a guy; it might not be the potential of a first real boyfriend. Yet, I was really excited. Aiden? Aiden who?

  ***

  “Mom!” No answer. “Mom, where’s my blue skirt?” I questioned louder.

  “Which one?” Mom yelled back from her room, her voice muffled and absentminded.

  “The one with the daisies!” I shouted, starting to walk towards her room. Ten to one, she had it in her closet. Even though it was annoying that she constantly borrowed my clothes, I never felt like I could get too upset… considering she and Dad paid for most everything. This skirt was my lucky skirt though, and Mom knew that. The master bedroom door was open, so I walked in and got an eyeful of hot pink leggings stretched over mom’s butt as she did downward dog along with the meditative yoga video playing on her laptop. Talk about an eye assault. “I need the navy blue skirt with the daisies on it.”

  Mom stood up, taking a deep breath and arching her spine to stretch it out. “Oh, that’s in the laundry.”

  “How could it be in the laundry? It’s been hanging in my closet since we moved in.” I crossed my arms and gave her the stink eye.

  “I spilled something at work and ran home to change. And then I went back to work and got home really late and you were in bed—Tuesday, I think. Whatever day you walked home and Dad had to come home early with the key. Remember? I was in a hurry and I just grabbed the first thing I saw.” Mom put her hands on her hips and turned at the waist, left and right, limbering up for her next pose.

  “The first thing you saw out of my closet. You know that’s my lucky skirt, mom.”

  “Your room’s closer to the front door.”

  “By like five feet, mom!” I went to her walk-in closet and started digging through the laundry, cringing when I picked up a pair of Dad’s underwear. I found the blue skirt at the bottom of the basket. It was wrinkled and coffee-stained. “Crap,” I sighed. Sasha would be here in an hour and there was no time to wash it. I came out of the closet and held the skirt up for mom to see. “Seriously. You know I don’t normally care when you borrow my clothes. You pay for them, but it’s getting to be like I have a bratty little sister who ruins my stuff. And look,” I walked back into her closet and pulled out some more of my things—which was easy considering I could count at least ten plus items without even trying.

  Holding up the items, I waved them with a ‘see’ look on my face.

  “All right. I get it.” Mom laughed, holding up her hands in defeat. “I honestly didn’t even think about it being your lucky skirt. I’ll wash it for you and scout’s honor, I’ll stay out of your closet from now on.” She held up three fingers in a mock promise salute, but her mouth was fighting a smile and her eyes twinkled.

  “Sure you will. And tomorrow, I’ll wake up blonde, leggy, and bound for New York fashion week.” Disgruntled, I took my reacquired clothing and my wrinkled favorite skirt back to my room.

  Okay, I have an hour. I can find something else to wear that fits perfectly, isn’t too short or too long, and makes me feel great. I stared at my open closet frowning. After twenty minutes of trying on a dozen outfits and tossing literally everything else on my bed after instant ‘no’, I decided turnabout was fair play.

  I marched back to mom’s room and into her closet. She had one leg up in the air, her upper body tilted forward, her hand holding her ankle. Her video was telling her to hold the pose for another minute. “Hey, what did I do now? If you’re looking for your round brush, it’s under my sink.”

  “That’s where that went,” I mock-gasped. “I never would have guessed. But no, that’s not what I’m here for. I don’t have my lucky skirt. I can’t find anything else to wear. So I’m going in your closet for a change.”

  “Hey!” Mom dropped her leg and scurried over to me. “No way. My clothes cost way more than yours.”

  “And I don’t have a lucky skirt for my first high school party ever.”

  “Touché. Hmmm.” Mom scrunched up her face, considering her clothing. “Okay, let’s do this.” Confidently, mom pushed around her clothes hangers until she revealed a red casual dress. It had a small flirty bow at the neckline with a triangle peephole beneath. Fitted to the wais
t, A-line from there. Mom was taller, so it would probably come to my knees. “This. This is perfect. Not too fancy or casual.”

  “Are you sure? It’s really nice.” I felt the material, fingering it gently. It looked like it would be stiff and itchy, but it was actually quite soft.

  “I’m very sure. Look,” Mom fished a tag from the inside of the dress. “I’ve never even worn it.”

  “Okay,” I took the dress from her, smiling and forgetting all about my daisy skirt.

  “And now… a jacket. It might get cool tonight. And shoes.” A few moments later, mom handed me a light-wash denim coat and a pair of dainty gingham flats.

  “Oh, I can just wear my flops,” I eyed the pale-colored shoes. “These might get dirty.”

  “Right. A lake party at night in the woods. And I love those shoes.” She took the shoes out of my grip quickly, holding them to her chest protectively and making me laugh.

  “So…” I let my voice trail off. “Are you sure you’re okay with me going?”

  “Tarryn, you told me you were going to a high school lake party with a girl you just met. And that there was probably going to be booze and sex.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “I have my reservations, but I trust you completely. How many kids would go home and be so honest about their plans? Huh?”

  “I guess that’s true.”

  “But,” she continued, “if you’re not feeling okay about this, you can tell your new friend that you can’t go. Blame it on me and your father. Part of our job is to be the bad guys.”

  “No, I’m okay. I want to go. But do me a favor?”

  “Sure, anything.”

  “Please keep your phone on and charged in case I need you to come and get me.”

  “Deal.” She looked around her room. “We really should get a house line.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Us? With a convenient line of communication in our house? That would be novel…”

  She soft-punched me in the shoulder. “Hush.”

  “I will never understand how you and dad run a business, but don’t have a home phone.”

  “I have a personal cell phone, Dad carries the business cell phone, and the wonderful world of video conferencing and emailing makes all magical things possible.”

  “But,” I poke. “What if your precious only child was at a party and she really needed help and your cell phone had one percent battery life left and it died when you tried to answer and Dad was still at work with the strictly-business phone and you had no way to contact your darling, wonderful daughter that makes your life complete? Then, wouldn’t it make total sense to have a house phone?”

  “I’ll walk to gossipy Meg’s house,” Mom pushed me gently towards the door to her room. “Now go get dressed. Look at the time.”

  I glanced at the alarm clock by her bed and my eyes bulged. I had ten minutes before Sasha was supposed to get here. “Crap,” I breathed out, not needing another push in the right direction.

  I dry shaved my legs—wincing when I nicked a spot—lotioned-up—once again wincing when the cocoa butter hit the cut—and then I did the simplest makeup look I could manage. Two coats mascara and two coats of lip gloss. I’d planned on wearing my hair down, but I didn’t have time to encourage the curls, so I pulled it all up into a high ponytail instead. When I put on the dress, jacket, and my flops I looked in the mirror and was surprised to see… how pretty I looked.

  Not Veronica Lodge pretty—perfectly made-up, designer clothes, flirty attitude. But I was Betty Cooper pretty—girl next door, wide-eyed, open to the world. Even my lackluster pale brown hair looked nice.

  Mom walked in as I was still appraising myself in the mirror. She whistled gently. “Holy crap, sweetheart. I think you just blossomed.”

  I did a little turn for her, the skirt of the dress blooming upwards and falling back down Marilyn Monroe style. I had to do my middle namesake proud. “Thanks for your help,” I darted forward quickly and pecked mom on the cheek. The front door bell rang then, and I left mom to pad down the stairs.

  Sasha was on the other side of the door. “Hey, Sasha. Come in. I’ve just got to grab my bag.”

  “Sash, remember?” She gently reminded as she walked in. “And travel light. Shit disappears at parties like this.”

  “Not much. Just my phone, lip gloss, book.”

  “You do not need a book, babe.”

  “No, I do.” I shook my head. “Trust me.”

  “And trust me. There’s not going to be one second of tonight that makes you think ‘damn, I wish I had a book to read’. If you’re not thinking ‘boy, I’m buzzed’ or ‘hell, this boy is fine, but he’s all tongue’, then I’m not doing my ‘welcome to River Valley’ job right.”

  I snorted, less in amusement and more in nervous anticipation. “I’m going to be totally honest with you here.” I leaned closer to her, pitching my voice low. “I’ve been on three really shitty dates and the only real kiss experience I have is pillow talk. Like… actual with my pillow… talk. I mean, there was this assault-by-tongue incident and a cheek peck eons ago, but those do not count.”

  Sasha considered me for a moment, looking me up and down. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve,” she motioned up and down with her hand, “not only are I’m guessing a virgin, but you’ve never been kissed. You’ve never had a boyfriend.” She didn’t make them questions. She just stated the brutal facts of a less-than-popular teen girl.

  “That would be correct,” I turned away from her to grab my small bag off the foyer table and the book beside it. I made sure Sasha saw me stuff the small paperback into the purse, raising both eyebrows and daring her to say anything. I’d just admitted I was about as inexperienced as a girl could get; I was taking my damn security blanket novel.

  We stood in the hallway for a moment, a modern day western standoff of personalities, until Sasha’s face broke into a wide grin. “Bae, let’s get to a party and change your ever-loving world.” She moved towards me and slinked an arm through mine. Gently, she pulled me to the door.

  “Mom, we’re leaving!” I yelled upstairs as Sasha kept pulling me towards, apparently, a world-altering experience.

  “Okay! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Was mom’s response from upstairs, soft from traveling the distance and breathy from continued yoga.

  “Great! I’ll get drunk, laid, and do a line!” I shouted back.

  And then the house door was closed. Sasha and I walked arm-in-arm towards her funky yellow car—which was all angles and had a soft top. I felt a thrill in my stomach. Nervousness, excitement, anticipation.

  When Sasha started driving, I pulled out my phone and made sure I’d turned it on after school. I had. There was a red notification on messenger.

  Aiden: What are you doing this weekend?

  Going to a lake party thing with Sasha.

  Aiden: You’re going to the lake party? Get ready. That thing’s a mad house every year.

  Sasha made it sound like a small-ish sort of thing. She said a few people.

  Aiden: More like the entire school.

  Does that mean you’re going?

  Aiden: It’s not really my scene.

  He stopped writing, and I didn’t want to seem too eager. Or pressure him. So I waited a moment. When I got impatient and was going to say something back, the little dots appeared signaling he was writing.

  Aiden: Even if I wanted to come this time, because you’re there, I can’t. I need to watch my kid brother. But have fun and be safe. Be careful of root beer in square cups.

  LOL. I’ll be okay.

  Maybe I was a little disappointed that Aiden wasn’t coming, but that was drowned out by the fact that I was heading to, not an intimate gathering, but a possibly crowded kegger.

  “Hey, mind if we make a pit stop?” Sasha took a left turn, not waiting for my response. “I want to grab food before we go. There’s always a bitch load of cheap beer, but Katie Winchester handled the food last year and it was all country club shit. No one
goes to a high school lake party for fucking salmon puffs.”

  “Fish appetizers at a lake party… kind of sounds sensible.” I smiled and she balked.

  “These things were not sensible and they tasted like excrement residue from the bottom of an anchovy tin.” Sasha stuck out her tongue and made a ‘yuck’ sound.

  “Okay, let’s definitely get some non-shitty food. I need to have something not gross to eat.” I shrugged, wondering if it was TMI, but I shared it anyways. “Just FYI, in case I get like sick or something, I’m hypoglycemic. Like normal hypoglycemic, not reactive or anything… I just have to eat right. Keep quick carbs on me in case my blood sugar drops. It’s not a big deal. Diabetes runs in my family, so that’s a concern, but I’m not going to die or anything if I get dizzy.” I realized I was babbling and I pressed my lips together quickly to stop the stream of words vomiting from my body.

  “So,” Sasha said and then paused. “So… getting edible food before the party is a good thing.” She smiled and steered the car deftly.

  “Yeah,” I said, awkwardly laughing.

  “Hey, if it makes you feel better,” Sasha took another turn, this time into the parking lot of a strip mall of shops and restaurants. “I’ve got a third nipple. So, welcome to weird club.”

  This time, I snort-chuckled in startled surprised and Sasha donkey-brayed (the sound unapologetically gleeful).

  9.

  D R A K E

  The back-to-school lake party—a town tradition since my father was a high schooler. I wasn’t going to go; I had too much on my mind. But then she’d answered my message.

  I didn’t want her going to that fucking den of iniquity. More girls lost their virginity at the lake party than they did after prom. Not that I knew for a fact she was a virgin, but I had a God-given sixth sense that made me fairly sure.

  No one was going to have her.

  And I told myself that I was only feeling so protective because of my need to be her first. My need to break her, not just fuck her and use her like the new girls before her, like every girl before her.