Brutal Bully (Bad Bullies Book One): A Dark High School Bully Romance

by Fox, Logan

  He beckons again.

  Fuck!

  I stand, take my phone out of my pocket, and glance down to make sure it’s locked before I hand it over to him.

  He takes it without a word, slips it into his top drawer, and points back to my seat.

  I go reluctantly, my mind whirring like a spinning top.

  She’s so fucking trashed, bro.

  I remember Marcus saying that. I remember that exact moment. It’s a little vague — there’d been so much vodka, weed, and coke flowing through my blood, I’m shocked I managed to make it up Marcus’s stairs.

  To his bedroom.

  That’s where it happened.

  Marcus’s bedroom.

  Nausea floods me, and for a moment I think I’m gonna puke right here in Kruger’s class. But I fight it back with iron determination. Again. Again.

  It dissipates, but reluctantly.

  Think I’m bluffing?

  The frame was too dark — I have no idea where the camera was that took that shot. But it was close enough to catch Marcus’s voice.

  Far from damning. Except…I never got to see the rest.

  What if whoever took that footage followed the three of us — Marcus and Jess and me — up those stairs? What if they hung around on the landing and recorded whatever sounds could be heard through the door?

  I remember sitting down on Marcus’s bed.

  Jessica, looking hot as shit in her little blue dress. Marcus by the door, looking high as fuck, silhouetted by the landing light.

  That’s it.

  If it was a book, then all I’d read was the fucking prologue before skipping straight to the epilogue.

  I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover I’ve ever had. I was on Marcus’s bed, spooning Jessica. She was naked. I was naked.

  I bask for a few seconds, counting my blessings and all that sentimental crap before the feeling went away. Because try as I might, not a single memory came up when I searched. So I thought we hadn’t sealed the deal, maybe just fooled around a bit. We’d done that before. Some kinky shit.

  But then I drew back the covers and I saw the dark streaks on my dick, and I knew I’d taken her virginity.

  Unbelievably, I was more pissed off that I couldn’t remember anything than I was about the fact that we’d both obviously been too drunk to remember.

  My first virgin.

  My first virgin, and I couldn’t remember a thing.

  And then Jessica woke up.

  There was a moment, this brief, strange moment, where she smiled at me, and I could picture myself waking up beside her every morning for the rest of my fucking life. And then it suddenly didn’t matter anymore if she’d been my first, because right then and there I’d decided she would be my last.

  But then her expression changed. She frowned. Her lips thinned. Her arms darted under the covers, fumbling around down there. Shock widened her eyes, and parted her lips, and turned her face a whiter shade of pale. Words tumbled out of her mouth while I lay speechless beside her.

  You…

  How could you?

  I didn’t…

  You raped me.

  * * *

  Kruger’s lecture goes on for an eternity. I know it’s just because I want to know what’s on the rest of that clip. I have to know.

  Because as much as I’d argued with Jessica—

  I don’t remember—

  You never said no—

  Prove it, Jess! Fucking prove it!

  —I’d never know exactly what happened, because she had all the proof she needed. Her cunt was torn, and my dick was full of blood.

  One and one make two.

  I have to endure a lecture from Kruger about phones in class before I can snatch it from him and leave the classroom. I rush to the closest restroom and lock myself in the stall. Flipping closed the seat, I perch on the edge and plug my earphones into my phone.

  The video plays.

  A black screen.

  Marcus: “She’s fucking trashed, bro.”

  Me: “Tha’ was the point, wa’nt it?” I’m slurring so much, I don’t know how the fuck I was even able to stand.

  The film’s so dark, I don’t even know if I am standing. Obviously, whoever took it used a very poor quality camera phone.

  Marcus: “Almost there.”

  Me: “Jess? Still with us?”

  My stomach clenches in anticipation, but Jess remains silent.

  A few pixels appear on the screen. The vague outline of a doorway appears. And then a silhouette. But it cuts off before I can make out anything useful like where the person taking the shot was standing, whose silhouette it was…anything.

  That’s it?

  I replay the video, cranking up the sound and zooming in on every pixel I can see.

  Nothing.

  I’m a second away from hurling my phone at the wall before I can control myself. As soon as I manage to curb my hand’s furious shaking, I type out a message.

  That’s it?

  I wait, feet tapping on the tiles.

  There’s only one new message on my phone, and I read it before considering a reply to Addy.

  Marcus: Thanks for the drinks.

  So Marcus’s father has left again. Good for Marcus. Although I wouldn’t have minded having him at my house for a few days. At least the house doesn’t echo as much.

  I hesitate, and then type out a reply to Addy.

  That’s your proof? You haven’t got shit.

  I wait, but there’s no response. She’s probably in class already, not daring to take out her cellphone. I wait another minute, my hand in my hair, but no response.

  Fuck this. I’ve probably scared her off. If it was just a voice recording, I hardly see how it could be evidence. Whatever her plan was, it didn’t work.

  I head for my next class, doing my best to keep Addy from my mind. Unfortunately, all that does is let Indi slip in.

  Christ, her mother was murdered? There was no way I could have known, of course, but I still feel like shit for what I said to her. No wonder she went off the fucking rails.

  I should apologize. But would she let me? She looked pretty pissed off when Denard handed her a detention slip.

  Hmm. I get to have detention with my little virgin.

  * * *

  Indi

  I have no idea if Marigold’s been notified about my detention yet, and I have no wish to find out either. Addy and I meet for a late lunch at a bistro down one of Lavish’s prettier roads. We smoke before going in, so I’m baked when we take our seat outside in the dappled shade of one of the many oak trees lining this street.

  Addy orders a milkshake and some fries, but I need proper food. I missed lunch, after all, and tears are a poor source of sustenance. I upgrade my order to a burger, double thick strawberry milkshake and a massive plate of fries.

  “Wanna know something weird?” I say, toying with my straw as I watch the play of light on the brick road. Sitting out here makes me think of what it must be like dining in Italy or something. “Briar seems so different when we’re alone.”

  It’s the weed talking, of course. I would never have brought up the subject if I hadn’t been robbed of my inhibitions by a few solid hits of Kush.

  “Serial killers are like that,” Addy says dryly. “Handsome, charming psychos.”

  I laugh. “Serial killer? Damn, that escalated quickly.”

  Addy rolls her eyes. “He’ll turn into one if he isn’t stopped.”

  I shrug. “I just mean, if you hadn’t told me about what had happened to Jess, I would never have suspected he was…capable of doing something like that.”

  I don’t mention Sunday, obviously. In my mind, it turned out to be an anomaly. I can’t explain Briar’s behavior that night — maybe he was high or something. I don’t do drugs — to me, weed doesn’t count — so I may have missed the clues.

  “I need to get him alone again,” I murmur, nodding my head as I take another sip of my milkshake.
<
br />   “You wound up getting detention last time,” Addy says, pursing her lips.

  “You know, for someone who’s determined to find out who killed her best friend, you’re making this very difficult.” I narrow my eyes at her.

  She shrugs a little. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I won’t.”

  Our food arrives. I hurriedly sit back, swallowing drool as the server sets our plates down. I don’t even bother with dousing my fries in ketchup — I go straight for the money shot. Grabbing my cheeseburger in both hands, I tear out a chunk with my teeth.

  Fucking delicious.

  I chase it down with a slurp of milkshake and then dab a napkin to my lips as if that will somehow make up for being a pig.

  “But you’re right,” I say, wagging a finger at Addy without releasing my burger. “School’s not the place.”

  “You planning on rocking up at his house and hoping he’ll let you in? Because he will.” Addy grabs a fry and stabs it in my direction. “But who knows if you’ll ever leave?”

  I laugh, and she glares at me. “Stop being so dramatic.”

  Her glare intensifies. “Stop being so stoned.”

  “Would if I could, but your shit’s gooood.”

  We grin at each other over our food, and tuck in for real. She gets a message on her phone a few minutes later and types out a reply without looking up. Then she flips her phone over and gives me another grin.

  “What?”

  “Don’t you have detention with him tomorrow?”

  I pause with my third-last fry by my lips. “Fuck. I forgot about that.”

  “That’s a whole hour with him.”

  “Yeah, but we won’t be alone.”

  Addy drops her eyes. “True. But you could pass messages or shit.”

  “We’re not five, Addy. And plus, you know he wouldn’t dare put anything incriminating on a piece of paper. The last thing he wants is to give us proof.”

  Our eyes lock. Addy stops chewing. She nods a little, and then looks away to take a last sip of her milkshake. Her phone vibrates again, but this time she ignores it.

  “Then I don’t know,” she says after a bit. “It’s not like we move in the same circles anymore.”

  “Well, maybe we can change that.”

  Addy looks at me with narrowed eyes.

  I push my plate aside and lean in. “Let’s wave the white flag. Tell them we’re done.”

  “He’ll never—”

  “After today, he just might.”

  Addy’s eyes touch briefly on my mouth before darting away. “And all it took was a horse ride?”

  I lick my lips, sigh, and sit back in my seat. Addy watches me from the corner of her eyes.

  “We…kissed, okay? That’s it. Then I told him about my mom and we left.”

  “Must have been a long kiss.”

  The last thing I want to do is admit to Addy everything that went on. I’m not a gossip, and my private life has always been just that — private.

  “We rode around for a while. None of us wanted to go back to class. We decided to skip class and walk around in the woods.”

  Addy doesn’t seem convinced, but I shrug at her and she eventually looks away.

  “He won’t trust us. Me, especially.”

  “We’ll never know if we don’t try.”

  Addy purses her lips and lifts a hand, signaling for the waiter to bring our bill.

  I reach for my backpack, but she tuts me and lays a cool hand over mine. “It’s on me.”

  “I have money.”

  “I have more.” If there’d been even a shred of condescension, I’d have flipped over the table. Well, I’d have tried. But it’s obvious that she’s just stating a fact, and she doesn’t even look even vaguely interested in noting my reaction.

  “So…we’ll do lunch with them tomorrow?”

  Addy shrugs and smiles at the waiter when he hands her the bill folder. “If they let us, sure.”

  “Can you behave yourself for long enough?”

  She snorts, tosses a bill in the folder, and snaps it closed. “I’ll do my best,” she says dryly as she hands the folder to the waiter without breaking eye contact. “But no promises.”

  I laugh at her, shaking my head. It’s not the greatest plan, but if today was anything to go by, then it might just work. Briar hasn’t pranked me again, so maybe he’ll be receptive to us becoming friends.

  I know he wants to fuck me. As much as Addy doesn’t like thinking about it, maybe I can use the promise of sex to lure him into unburdening his darkest secrets.

  It kinda worked for me, didn’t it?

  * * *

  Briar

  I head straight home after school, and spend the rest of the afternoon studying and shoving food into my mouth. It almost feels like a normal Wednesday. I have one more assignment to do, then I plan on vegging out in front of my X-Box. But I’m interrupted by another message from Addy.

  Hey, handsome.

  I frown at the message and do my best to ignore it as I carry on with the assignment Kruger gave us for homework today.

  My phone vibrates a few minutes later. When I flip it over, the new message shows up on my lock screen. It’s so short, I don’t even have to open my app to read it.

  Smile. You’re on camera.

  My stomach twists into a cold knot. I stare at the phone for a few seconds, waiting for more, but nothing comes.

  Fuck this. All she’s doing is trying to get into my fucking head.

  I turn off my phone, sigh, and stretch.

  I should go for a run, clear my head.

  If I’m lucky, I might even run into Indi.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Indi

  Denard came through on his promise. When I get home, I see Marigold’s car parked out front, not in the garage, which means she came home specifically to crap me out.

  Count on Marigold not to do this face-to-face.

  Bitch.

  I slam my car door shut and walk inside bristling, ready to handle whatever shit storm’s blowing my way.

  Cigarette smoke taints the air. I hesitate, then track it down the hallway. I stop outside the door that’s always locked. The smell’s definitely coming from here. I lick my lips and carefully knock on the door.

  There’s a thump, and then Marigold’s wavery voice calls out, “Come.”

  I turn the knob and walk inside. After two steps, I stop.

  This isn’t a study. It’s a bedroom. Paintings litter the walls — most done on letter-sized sheets of paper. Some pencil, some paint. Two large canvases dominate the wall opposite the bedroom’s large windows. But there’s no time to take in any details, because my eyes fix on Marigold.

  She’s sitting in the middle of the floor, an ashtray beside her and a cigarette in a long holder trailing smoke into the air.

  Her back’s to me, but I don’t need to see her face to know she’s been crying — the pile of tissues beside her legs is evidence enough.

  I stand there, not knowing what to say, and instead finally take scope of the room.

  I’d recognize my mother’s art anywhere. She had such a unique style. Her art concentrated on mythical creatures that looked somewhere between elves and fairies. She called them pixies, but they were nothing like the Tinkerbell I grew up with. Her pixies have sharp teeth and long limbs. Jagged nails and evil eyes.

  The backdrops were always breathtaking. Fantasy settings full of strange flowers and twisted trees. But in each piece of art, there would always be one of her creatures. You wouldn’t see it at first — she liked to hide them away — but once you did you couldn’t stop looking.

  I’m still staring at the right-hand canvas, trying to spot Mom’s creature, when Marigold speaks.

  “The Lakeview police department called.”

  My heart flies into my throat. I hurry forward, turning so I can see Marigold’s face. She’s got a photo frame in front of her on the floor. It’s a photo of my mother, prob
ably no older than seventeen.

  She looks just like me, but so, so much prettier.

  “What…what did they say?”

  Marigold takes a long pull at her cigarette. Then she gets up, moving stiffly but batting away my hands when I reach out to help her.

  “They’ve closed the case.”

  I grab her wrists, holding on even when she tugs at me. “They found him! They found him!”

  Marigold’s red-rimmed eyes narrow. “Course they didn’t, you stupid child.” She tears herself free, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “The police these days are a joke. They said there wasn’t enough evidence for them to continue their investigation.”

  “Can they do that so soon?” I throw my hand into the air. “It’s barely been a week.”

  “I’m not a police officer, Indigo.”

  I snap my mouth closed. Tears prick at my lids, but I refuse to let them fall. Despite the fact that I know Marigold’s been in here crying — possibly for more than an hour, judging from the ashtray — it would feel like surrendering.

  I spin around, the paintings blurring as the first tear works its way past my defenses.

  Moments later, I’m in the woods. It was the only place I could think of to go where I’d be alone with my thoughts. Where I could scream, and no one would hear me.

  Except Briar, perhaps, if he happened to be out here. But what are the chances, right?

  * * *

  The straight lines of the church pull me out of the thoughtless fog I’d lost myself in. I stop walking, staring ahead at the blackened shell of a building.

  Now I regret coming here. It reminds me too much of my house that night; black and gray and white with char, ash, and smoke.

  Marigold must have heard wrong. No one can close a case that quickly. Maybe she’s overreacting. I’ll contact the Deputy and speak to him. That’s what I should have done instead of coming here. The sun’s already dipped behind the Devil’s Spine mountains. It’ll be dark soon.

  But maybe I want to get lost in the woods again. At least, then, I’d have something else on my mind.