How is it that I can find all of this out and not be very social, yet Jenna, my supposedly best friend, who just so happens to be the social butterfly of campus, has not?
She doesn’t. She knows who Easton is, and fuck if I can’t be mad at the fact she’s letting him dick her into her mattress. None of those losers deserve anything except a stick shoved up their ass.
“Easton and I …”
I shake my head. “Not my problem. But when he has another bitch hopping on his dick, I don’t want to hear nothing.”
Jenna’s eyebrow’s slant inward, but I can tell she doesn’t really take it to heart. Even after all this time, our friendship has never changed.
“Seems like someone got an extra shot of bitch in their coffee this morning.”
I sigh, feeling that familiar pressure building once more like it did earlier. Only this time, I can’t stop the tears as they leak down my temples and fall onto my bed.
“Fuck. What happened?” She hurries over to the bed when she sees my distress, scooting in beside me.
Turning on my side, I sniffle, meeting her concerned eyes. “I just wish I knew what I did that makes him hate me so much.”
“What did Hunt do, Lo?”
A gut-wrenching sob comes out of nowhere, shaking my entire body. It’s painful to breathe, let alone tell her all of the nauseating things Hunter’s done to me today.
That’s just today, too.
What’s going to happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that?
“The longer I fight him, the more vindictive he’s going to get, Jen.”
Through my hazy vision, I see tears building in her eyes, too. “You can’t give up. You just can’t.”
What hurts the most? The thought that maybe I will have to scour colleges once more to see if they’ll take me. I spent most of what was supposed to be my senior year scouring the internet in search of a university with an on-campus daycare.
I tried online courses, and I just couldn’t hack it. Kudos to those who can sit in front of a computer screen for hours and study. I can’t. I need to be in a classroom full of my peers. I need to be surrounded by education, so I can get myself in the right headspace.
Doing homework with a toddler in your lap and a stained shirt tossed over your body won’t allow you to get the correct education you need. At least, not for me.
Hunter is slowly but surely ruining any chances I have of making something out of myself. No matter how strong I am, how long will I be able to fight without crushing under his opposing weight? How long can I go head-to-head with the golden boy of Golden Oaks before he squashes me under his heel like a pesky insect?
Sooner or later, even if I put one hundred percent into fighting him, Hunter will win.
Everyone may say this is giving up and cowering to my enemy. No, I call this self-preservation. And if I’m in Hunter’s sights now, I will continue to be when Maverick comes here. What excuse will I come up with then?
I was stupid to believe that Hunter would just leave things alone and live his life. He has a mean streak a mile long and holds grudges like a pit bull. This is just the first time I’ve been on the receiving end of his wrath, and I’m woman enough to admit I don’t like it one bit.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Jenna isn’t known for giving the best advice—at least she wasn’t in high school—but I’m hoping she’s grown a little since then because I could use some stellar guidance now.
She’s the only person I have to turn to. I can’t call my dad or Duncan. They’ll both tell me to pack up and leave, and that’s not something I can do. Not because I don’t want to give in, but because financially and assistance wise, it’d be a pretty dumb thing to do.
She’s silent a moment, searching through her thoughts. “Maybe find out why Hunter’s acting this way.”
My eyes round, and I jerk upright on the bed. “You want me to have a willing conversation with him?”
She’s close behind, shrugging as she sits up straight. “Wouldn’t hurt.”
“Wouldn’t help, either.”
Is she insane? A lot could go wrong with that situation. Not only would Hunter and I being in the same room pose a problem, but digging up the past will only further set one or both of us off. Our relationship with one another is beyond complicated. We’re both stuck in a deep, bottomless pool of hatred. Maybe a little bit of that is self-loathing as well.
“You don’t know that,” she argues.
“Unfortunately, I do. Nothing good will ever come out of Hunter and me being in the same room. That’s the very reason I have to switch to a different business ethics class now.”
She sheepishly smiles at me. “Found out he was in there, did you?”
Sliding to the end of the bed, I rub my face and weave my fingers through stands of wayward hair. “You could’ve warned me a little better than what you did.”
“I tried,” she says with a smirk. “You just wouldn’t listen.” She jumps up from the bed, I startle and stare up at her, watching as she watches me. “Anywho, I don’t know if it will make a bit of difference, but at least you won’t be the one to say you never tried to bury the hatchet.”
I shake my head sadly. Even after all this time, just knowing that Hunter hates me—even though he’s bullied me and treated me like shit—it still hurts. More so than anything he could ever do to me.
“He really hates me, Jen, and to be honest, I’m not too fond of him, either. I don’t even know why he’s still pissed after all this time. After the way he treated me, and still treats me,” I retort in an agonized breath.
“Don’t you think it’s time to find out?” she asks, a new light glimmering within her depths. “Now, get dressed.”
“Why?”
She smiles a grin that nearly blinds me. “We’re going to a party, and you’re either going to get your answers, or some jock is going to get a cup check.”
CHAPTER 12
Leaning back on the couch, I lazily bring the beer to my lips and swallow a mouthful. Condensation slides down the bottle and onto my arm. It’s warm and disgusting, but I choke it down anyway because I need something—anything—to get me out of my own head. Liquor is too strong, considering what I have to do tomorrow. I don’t want to be laid up in bed for most of the day with a hangover.
Still, I don’t want to think anymore. The dull thrill of becoming numb is what I crave. Because if you’re numb, you’re not hurting.
“Sugar” by Maroon 5 blares off the walls of the house we’ve managed to rent for the year. Not the best out there, but it’s doable. Right on the edge of campus and easily accessible to anything close by. It’s a freshman’s dream come true. Getting out from under parental supervision, but not so far away the ‘rents can’t bail us out if we get into a bind.
Of course, my dad balks at anything with the word “rent” attached to it. He’s too uppity for his own good. But to each their own, I guess. The idea of renting has never bothered me. Regular people do it every day, so that means a Prince can for at least four years. No biggie.
Yet, that’s not what has my balls in a twist tonight. Nope. Not even close. What has my balls in a twist is the fact Harloe didn’t react to Easton’s presence in their apartment this afternoon. In the past, Harloe would have been all over him and raking his ass across the coals. According to Easton, with his long face and dim perception, she didn’t even bat an eyelash.
The fuck?
A warm body sidles up next to me. Being uninterested in pretty much anything, I don’t even turn my head to acknowledge them. Of course, that familiar buzzing I get whenever she’s around, as well as the tiniest hint of floral perfume mixed with fruity mixed drinks, tinge my nostrils.
“What do you want?” I sigh, finally bringing myself to peer in her direction.
Her doe eyes widen as she smiles. “Come dance with me, babe.”
Babe? I roll my eyes.
“Cassandra, you know I don’t dance.” Not anymore.<
br />
“If your hips move the same way they do when you’re fucking me, then you can dance,” she snarks, causing every cell in my body to cringe at her meaning.
When her body pushes closer to mine, and she presses her breasts into my arm, it takes everything inside me not to immediately push her away. Her touch just … doesn’t feel right anymore, and I don’t know why. But it’s pissing me off.
Cassandra, whether I like it or not, has been the only person who puts up with my bullshit. No one else will. I’m screwed if anything happens to this arrangement. But I’m not going to let her know that. Cass is known to get a big head when it comes to being with me for some reason.
“Go on with that bullshit,” I brood, shrugging her off the right side of my body. “It’s getting pathetic.”
Her feminine growl can barely be heard over the loud base. “Why are you acting like a damn grizzly bear all the time? You orchestrated this party. I’m your woman. Now get the fuck up and show me a good time.”
My eyes drift to hers, brows nearly touching my hairline. “My woman?” Is she mental?
Until right now, I didn’t know how fed up I was with her. But for the life of me, I can’t break it off. Cass was there for me when no one else was, not even Easton, Zeke, and Leo. While she didn’t know the logistics of why I needed her, she was there.
I’ve spent the past three years burying my feelings inside her body, and now, I can’t be fucked.
She nods several times before she says, “Yes. I don’t care about what you said at orientation. It’s me you’ve been regularly fucking since sophomore year, and technically, whether you’ve said it or not, it’s only been me. That’s a relationship.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
Before she can respond, probably with something snarky because that’s how she just is, the guys show up. Easton has two girls on his arm, the one on the right dressed just as slutty as the girl on the left, with their micro-minis, tube tops, and flip flops with heels. They’re both pretty if you’re into that sort of thing. But they don’t do it for me.
“Get up and party, brother,” Easton quips, emphasizing his meaning by grabbing a handful of breasts in either hand. Both girls giggle and flush, enjoying his attention.
I shake my head. “I’m good right here, nursing this beer.”
Zeke flips his eyes away from the crowd as if he were searching for someone to stare down at me. “That the same beer you’ve had all night?”
He knows it is. Zeke is the one that usually stands guard over the drinks to make sure no one roofies anyone. When he’s not there, a member of the baseball team is there watching it. We don’t mess with that date rape shit. And any motherfucker who tries that kind of shit with a girl on my watch better be ready to miss some of his teeth.
Cassandra smacks her lips what feels like right beside my ear, and it garners all of our attention. “Please, go somewhere else with all that trash,” she says, staring Easton’s girls up and down with pursed lips. “Hunt and I were talking.”
I snort out a laugh. “We’re done talking.”
Getting up from the couch, I guzzle the last half of my beer, grimacing at the disgusting taste. Cassandra huffs from behind me, but I can’t be fucked to give a damn about her right now. Sometimes, she can be a real bitch. I guess that’s why we’ve been fuck buddies for so long.
I see Easton give each of his girls an openmouthed kiss before he pats their butts and joins me. Great. Here we go.
Just as soon as I open the cooler in the kitchen, he’s on me. “When are you going to drop that skank?”
I shrug. “Her mouth means nothing to me unless it’s wrapped around my cock.”
“She’s a bitch.”
Grabbing a Bud, I hit the cap off and put it to my lips. I guzzle it until it’s nearly all the way gone. Only then do I lower it and take a breather.
“Oh, I know she’s a bitch. Only a bitch would be able to put up with my sorry ass for this long.”
Easton groans while grabbing his own beer. He’s probably two-sheets from the wind right now, but you can’t tell it with him. He dabbles in a whole load of things he shouldn’t, so his tolerance for drinking and drugs is tremendously high.
“Dude, you’re not a bad person. I just had a shitty experience in high school.”
If only he knew the entire truth, he wouldn’t be saying that stuff. Instead, he’d probably be trying to find Harloe right this moment and torturing her just like I have been.
“So, the girls?” I ask, hoping the change the subject.
Leaning back against the table, I barely listen to him as he goes off on a tangent, telling me all about his lady friends. Silently, I allow my eyes to roam over the party, watching as everyone twists and turns to the beat—the girls sensually swaying their hips and tossing their hands into the air, and the guys grinding on them, nearly have sex while in the middle of the dance floor.
My eyes fall on Cass, and for the second time tonight, I can’t stop the question from burning through my mind.
Why?
Yes, she’s beautiful, sensual, and any man in their right mind would want her. She’s perky in all the right places and definitely satiates the wandering eyes. But she’s also manic, obsessive, and a major bitch when she doesn’t get what she wants.
Folding my arms over my chest, I halfway listen to Easton as I study Cass’s movements. She sways from side to side, her fingers woven deep within her long, wavy, chemically enhanced strands of hair. Her eyes are closed, and a look of euphoric glee is all over her face.
She looks free, but only I know that’s not the case. A person can appear free but still be weighed down by heavy chains.
“Are you listening?!”
“Wha—huh?” I stammer, ripping my gaze away from the sight before me to peer over at one of my best friends.
His eyes flit between mine. “I asked if you wanted to get some dick, and you were just nodding your head like a loon. What’s really going on? And don’t give me any of that bullshit you try to feed everyone else.”
“Sorry, man,” I reply with chagrin lingering in my tone. Sucks being called out by one of your brothers, even if they aren’t blood. “Just a lot on my mind right now.”
He licks his lips and then peers off into the crowd. “Is this about that marshmallow?”
“Stop calling her that,” I grit out, chugging the rest of my beer before quickly grabbing another. “There’s nothing soft or sweet about her. She’s a wench.”
Easton doesn’t look convinced by that statement. In fact, he looks like I put him out somehow. “Dude …” he pauses, thinking about his next words. “What if you have it wrong?”
My brows furrow. “You lost me.”
Easton scoots closer, but before he can say what’s on his mind, movement at the door catches all my attention. Turning my head, I watch, as if in slow motion, as the bane of my existence and Jenna walk through my front door.
And … fuck me. The devil must have picked Harloe’s outfit because it causes pure chaos in my pants. By the time my eyes do one sweep downward, over her curvaceous body, I’m already sporting a semi. On the way back up, by the time I get to her eyes, I’m as hard as a rock and throbbing for relief.
Easton must see what I’m seeing because his long, gravelly groan filters through the sweat coated air. “Damn, man. Who knew marshmallow was packing?”
Tight, low-rise short-shorts barely cover her ample backside—still conservative because nothing is showing, but all sorts of naughty because of their length on a body like Harloe’s. Her oversized chest is cover by a ripped-up crop top with the Lynyrd Skynyrd emblem as the main focal point between her cleavage.
Harloe may be my enemy, but right now, my cock doesn’t care. All he wants is her sweet center.
“Stop checking her out, E.” Honestly, I don’t know if my warning is more for him than me at this point.
“She’s fucking hot,” he breathes out in awe.
I punch him in the arm
to break Harloe’s freaky enthrall she has on him. I wish someone would do the same for me, because a bastard is caught in her villainous web, and I’m not quite sure if I want to get out.
Yes, you do. Remember what she did to you, asshole. I grit my teeth, battling against the memories trying to resurface. It will do me no good to look into the past and relive that shit. Making her life a living hell is already flirting with danger.
When her eyes connect with mine, my heart stutters, and the voice in my head gets pushed into the background. Everything around me blurs to the point where all I can focus on is Harloe. Watch the way her chest rises and falls beneath her minuscule shirt. See the way her long, toned legs end with heeled converse sneakers.
She looks gorgeous.
She looks like mine.
Goddammit.
I hate the emotions Harloe’s presence brings out in me, even after all this time. It doesn’t matter that she’s the person I loathe most in this world—well, second to most. My body still hasn’t received the memo yet because the mere sight of her sends it into fits.
And as horrendous as this is, Harloe—the girl who chewed me up and spat me out—still feels like home to me.
“Fuck. I need a drink.” I grab the nearest whiskey bottle and start chugging. This is definitely a terrible idea. But right now, I need something to help the pain go away.
CHAPTER 13
I hate the way butterflies’ flap around inside my stomach at the sight of Hunter in all his brooding glory. Their wings touch and caress my insides, causing all those turbulent emotions to wreak havoc on my sanity.
“Jenna, do you think this is a good idea?” I ask from the side of my mouth, unable to take my eyes off the one man who’s ever been able to steal my attention.
“Don’t worry so much, girl,” she says. “Get you a drink, and then go get those answers.”
Easier said than done, I’m afraid. Talking to Hunter is akin to talking to Maverick while he’s on a sugar high—it just isn’t done. He and I can’t stand to be in the same room for longer than a few minutes at a time, and there’s definitely no talking while it happens.
Our Secret: A College Bully Romance (Golden Crew Book 1) Page 12
