Bully (Angel & Demons Trilogy Book 1)

by Ashley Love

  And as we look at each other, so close that our breaths are mingling in cloudy puffs in the air, I get that urge again. That magnetic pull that I constantly have to ignore at school, to just grab him and kiss him. I daydream about it constantly, and I'm actually not quite sure whether I'm dreaming right now, because Zane is so close, and this is so unreal.

  Only this time, the urge to kiss him is unbearably strong. We're out here alone, in the dark, faces inches away from each other, and I'm too emotionally drained to fight it. Especially when I sees his eye flicker to my lips.

  I don't think. For a moment, I let myself let go of all my doubts.

  I lean in. And just like that, I'm kissing Zane Peterson.

  His mouth is warm, and his lips are even softer than they were in my dream. For a couple seconds, I forget how to breathe, forget how to think, forget how to do anything, and I just feel. He goes rigid against me, and while the kiss feels like it lasts for hours, it probably only lasts for two or three seconds before my brain function snaps back into control.

  I jerk away from him as suddenly as I leaned in, gasping and blushing furiously red, staring wide-eyed at him as he stares awestruck back at me.

  Holy fuck, what did I just do?

  I just kissed Zane. I just kissed Zane.

  Oh God, this was a bad idea. How could I be so stupid?

  "Shit...Zane, I'm sorry! I'm so sor—" I stammer, beginning to apologize, but I don't get to finish.

  He cuts me off mid-apology by surging forward and crushing our lips together again. I make a muffled noise of surprise, and I would have fallen backwards, had his hands not come up and grabbed onto the lapels of the leather jacket still draped around my shoulders to keep me in place.

  This time, I freeze in place, my mind reeling, trying to catch up to the present. I watch his eyes fall closed, and I feel his soft lips kissing me hungrily, almost desperately.

  It takes one of his hands coming up and resting on the side of my neck, a thumb tracing my jaw, for me to just melt, and my eyes fall closed. And just like that, I'm kissing him back.

  He pulls in a sharp breath through his nose as I start kissing him, and he presses into the kiss more. It's all actually a bit sloppy, and it's a little awkward at this angle, but I don't care. My heart is actually hurting my ribs it's beating so fast, and I suddenly have the urge to know whether or not Zane's is doing the same thing.

  I snake one hand out, and presses it right over his heart. His chest is firm, and he's so unbelievably warm despite the fact that I'm wearing his jacket. And his heart is slamming in his chest, the rhythm of it almost identical to mine. Does that mean he's as nervous as I am? Does this mean he's just as shocked?

  I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself not to think, because if I start thinking, I'm going to freak out and remember all the reasons why I shouldn't be kissing Zane right now. So I let my mind go blank, and I just allow myself to feel it, to enjoy it while it lasts because this may be the only time this ever happens.

  I stiffen as his tongue traces along my bottom lip, and it's almost second-nature that I open my mouth, allowing his tongue to slide inside. It's weird at first, because I've never kissed someone with tongue before. It's a lot smoother than I imagined it would be, like licking a piece of fruit, and my mouth automatically makes space for it as he probes inside.

  I don't really know what to do, because I don't have any experience with this, so I just do what I think is right. As Zane is withdrawing his tongue, I follow the movement through and lick my way into his mouth. The way he groans a little is indication enough that I did something right, and this time I'm the one pressing into the kiss, my free hand coming up and threading into Zane's soft hair like I've wanted to do since I first saw him.

  The kiss is, for the most part, nothing like my wet dream. It's better. Not because the technique is necessarily perfect, nor is the rhythm right on point. It's a little fumbled and messy to be honest. But it's everything I could have hoped for. Everything, from the way Zane's hand slides to the back of my neck to hold my face to his, to the way our tongues curl around each other, to the way his stubble scrapes against my chin, to the way his lips feel like opening a window and squinting into the warm sun.

  He tastes like cigarettes, but that's not all, and I actually don't mind the musky flavor of menthol and tobacco. Because he also tastes spectacular underneath that, a flavor that belongs distinctly to him alone. It's earthy and ancient and masculine, like black coffee and rain storms. It's the most addicting thing I've ever tasted, and I chase that flavor with my tongue as we press closer together.

  I have no idea how long the kiss lasts. My mind is so lost in it, like I'm floating away, like I'm simultaneously dying and being reborn. I never knew a kiss could be like this, mostly because the only other kisses I've ever had were in kindergarten and middle school, hiding in the tunnel on the playground and sneaking a peck in really quickly before the teachers noticed.

  It's only when Zane's hand on the lapel of the leather jacket moves down and slides along my side to my lower back that I break off the kiss, as suddenly as it began. I'm breathing hard, and so is he, and we're only a half a centimeter apart, because both of us are still holding onto the back of the other's head. I don't want to destroy the moment—I really don't—but I force myself to. I open my eyes, and Zane is already there looking at me, his hand still lingering on my back.

  For several long seconds, we just stare at each other, our lips still so close that we're actually brushing together a little bit.

  And then the thing that I feared would happen, happens. My brain catches up to me, and it's like opening a floodgate. Suddenly, every single reason why I shouldn't be kissing Zane right now, why this should be wrong, consumes my head all at once. I remember the feeling of his hands on my chest as he shoved me into the mud my first week here. I remember the cocky, horrible smile he gave me that first day of school when the Cancers approached me in the hallway. I remember the forest, and how angry he looked, animalistic, in-human.

  And I'm suddenly pulling away. I remove my hands from Zane's chest and the back of his head, and when I slide away, he lets me, although his hands linger on me for as long as possible, which is weird. Does he like me too? Why would he kiss me back otherwise? Was it just a spur of the moment reaction? Is he just trying to get laid? Is he just using me?

  I shufle backwards and stand shakily, and just stare down at him for a second. Then I reach up and pulls Zane's warm, heavy leather jacket off my shoulders and hold it out to him.

  "I have to go," I say, and I'm proud that I keep my voice relatively even. Although I'm breathing hard and shaking a little, which probably gives away my nerves anyway.

  Zane stands as he takes his jacket back, and he just holds it in his hand. He looks like he wants to say something, but he's just frozen in place. I turn and start walking away quickly before I do something stupid like kiss him again.

  "Ariel, wait," Zane calls out, and I stop walking, hesitating before looking back.

  He actually kind of looks like a lost puppy right now, and it's the most vulnerable-looking I've ever seen him. He looks like he wants to say something else, but I'm afraid of what he might say. I'm afraid that he's going to ask why I did that, or what does it mean. I know why I did it—I have a massive crush on Zane Peterson and I had a moment of weakness. But I have no idea what it means. What's going to happen now?

  So I cut him off before he can say anything else. "I really...I should go," I say, hesitating before hugging myself and turning, walking away from Zane and away from Hartley's Bend as fast as I can. I can feel his eyes burning into my back all the way down the street until I turn the corner. I dare to glance once back at the park before turning to head down the next block, and he's still standing there, just a figure in the shadows.

  I walk a few more steps, and then I have to stop. I stand there for a moment in the cold, and then I reach up and actually slap myself. Hard. My cheek stings and the s
lap is overly loud in the silence of the Christmas night, but it was there, and it was real. I half-expected to slap myself, and wake up. But I'm already awake. This is really happening. I just kissed Zane Peterson. I didn't dream that.

  Oh my God.

  I swallow, and can't help but lick my lips. The flavor of Zane lingers there, and I'm already wet in my panties, and it's all equally as wonderful as it is horrible. How am I supposed to get over him now? How am I supposed to be expected to move on when I know what he tastes like now? When I know the noise he makes when someone kisses him back? How am I supposed to get over the feeling of his soft hair between my fingers?

  I groan in frustration, resolutely ignoring my suddenly-wetter panties, and I make my way home. It's just beginning to snow a little as I walk up to my front door, and I have to pause outside for a second. In the aftermath of Zane's kiss, I forgot about the whole divorce thing. But now, here I am at home, and I really don't want to go inside and face my angry parents.

  But Sophia is in there, and she probably needs me and I shouldn't have left her there alone with our parents in the first place. It was selfish.

  But I can't find it in myself to regret it, because I kissed Zane Peterson, and even if it was wrong and it's never going to happen again, it was totally worth it.

  I swallow hard and prepare myself before opening the door and walking inside out of the cold. The house is surprisingly quiet. I walk down the hall and check the kitchen. My parents aren't there, but the smashed plate is still on the floor and the apple cobbler is still in a sticky mess on the wall. I roll my eyes. I'll clean that up in the morning. Right now I don't have the mental capacity to think.

  I glance briefly down the downstairs hallway, and see that the guest bedroom/my parent's bedroom door is closed, but there's light coming from under the door. I wonder if maybe my parents worked it out, but I don't allow myself to hope that. One of them could have left to go to a hotel. I didn't pay attention to whether both their cars were outside.

  I sigh and wander up the stairs. I poke my head into Sophia's room, and she's asleep in her bed. I walk in there briefly to pull the blankets up over her shoulders and turn off her little radio that's playing soft pop music. Then I wander down the hall to the bathroom, closing the door and locking it.

  I'm hoping that a shower will snap me out of my daze, and I need it to warm myself up anyway since our house is cold and I just spent a long while outside without a jacket. I turn on the shower, but don't climb in just yet. I step up in front of the mirror and lock eyes with myself.

  I have a rosy blush to my cheeks from the cold, and my lips are swollen and slick from the kiss. I reach up and touch them with my fingertips. They're still tingling from the feeling of Zane's tongue. It's the most amazing, erotic, intoxicating thing that has ever happened to me.

  And all at once, I'm laughing. I stare at my lips in the mirror, laughing to myself so hard that I have to hold my stomach. I laugh and laugh and laugh, trying to keep it quiet so I don't wake up Sophia.

  And when I finally stop laughing, my smile disappears instantly, and I'm back to staring blankly at myself, feeling dizzy and weak, until the mirror fogs up from the steam of the shower too much for me to see myself anymore.

  45

  Zane tries to be quiet as he walks into his house, but he's so excited he can't really help but bang around a little.

  Did that just happen? Was that a dream? He's not sure if he's imagining all of this, but he can still feel Ariel's lips against his own, taste the flavor of cinnamon apples on his tongue, smell the lingering salt from her tears.

  Zane's heart is going to beat right up his throat and fall out of his mouth if he doesn't calm down, but he can't.

  He just kissed Ariel fucking Riley. And it was the most intoxicating sensation he's ever experienced.

  He tries not to think about the way she seemed to panic at the end there and had just run off without explanation. He just thinks about the kiss, and how perfect it was, and how soft Ariel's back felt under his hand.

  Fuck, it was perfect.

  He goes back to Liam's room, but Liam isn't in there. Zane checks his own room and finds it empty as well, so he wanders back out to the living room and finds Liam asleep on the couch under Diane's blanket in front of the fireplace. The fire has burned down to the point where it's just a pile of glowing red embers that look like the tip of a cigarette.

  Zane looks away and rounds the couch, crouching down in front of him and poking his nose. Liam snuffles, but doesn't wake up, so Zane does it again. Normally, he would feel bad about waking Liam up, but he's just too excited right now to care. He pokes his nose at least a dozen times before Liam snorts and blinks his eyes open sleepily, rubbing at his nose and giving Zane a glare when he realizes why he woke up.

  "What?" he grumbles sleepily.

  Zane grins. "Guess what?"

  Liam narrows his eyes and groans, rolling over so he's facing the back of the couch. "I don't care. Go away," he mutters groggily, pulling the blanket over his head.

  But Zane doesn't let that discourage him. He stands up and grabs the end of the blanket, yanking it off of him, and Liam immediately curls up in a ball as cold air washes over him. He makes a whiney noise of complaint and sits up quickly, glaring hard at Zane, his hair sticking up in tufts like a bale of hay.

  "What?" he snaps. Zane chuckles. Liam has never been a graceful person upon first waking up. It's when he's at his worst, and Zane finds it hilarious.

  He grins and plops down on the couch in front of Liam. "You have to guess," he says, reaching out and smoothing Liam's messy hair down a bit. One day, Zane swears he's going to cut Liam's hair in his sleep. The kid absolutely refuses to have his hair cut.

  Liam rolls his eyes. "Just tell me you jerk." He slaps Zane's hands away and smoothes down his own hair, rubbing at his crusty eyes.

  Zane sighs and relents. His body is tingling. "I kissed Ariel," he says, and Liam blinks his eyes open, looking up at him in disbelief.

  "No you didn't," he says skeptically.

  Zane holds up his hand. "Scout's honor," he swears. "I just kissed her at Hartley's Bend."

  Liam scoffs. "Zane, you were never a boy scout. You don't get to do the Scout's honor thing."

  Zane nudges his shoulder. "Whatever, I swear okay?" he says. "I just kissed her, Liam."

  Liam studies Zane's face, looking for any indication that he's making it up. But when he sees how Zane's eyes are twinkling, and how Zane can't stop smiling, Liam's eyes grow wide and his eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling. "Really?"

  Zane grins. "Really."

  And then a big smile spreads across Liam's face. That's what Zane was waiting for. He loves when Liam grins like that, all excited. He needed someone to be excited with.

  "Wow!" Liam exclaims. "I didn't realize you had the balls for it!"

  Zane scoffs. "Fuck you," he says, shoving Liam's head and climbing up off the couch, starting to walk towards the hallway.

  "Hey, wait!" Liam calls after him. "You can't just leave it at that. I need details!"

  Zane rolls his eyes. "Like I'd tell you anything else," he snorts. "I just wanted you to know."

  "Jerk!" Liam shouts after him as Zane disappears down the hallway, and Zane chuckles, walking into his room and closing the door. He peels off his clothes, leaving just his boxers on, and falls back into bed. He stares up at the origami Yoda mobile and smiles to himself.

  Deep down, he knows he shouldn't be smiling. He knows he doesn't deserve this, especially after what he did to Ariel in those woods.

  But it's Christmas, and Zane is going to allow himself this one little thing. He's just going to let himself be happy about that spectacular kiss for one night, and then in the morning, he can go back to being the broody self-loathing emo he always is. For now, he just tucks his arms behind his head, licks his tingling lips, and just smiles.

  46

  For the last two weeks of Christmas break, I do
nothing besides work, and hang out at Bonnie's. I try to distract myself as much as possible, even allowing myself to think about my parent's divorce. But apart from school, there really isn't that much to do in Windsor Falls if you're not a delinquent.

  And so, the tradeoff to my boredom is...I think about Zane Peterson every single moment of every single day for the next two weeks. I think about the way his lips felt, how his hands felt, about the small noises he made. I could write an entire epic poem the length of Homer's The Odyssey all about that kiss at Hartley's Bend.

  To be fair, it was my first real kiss, so it's obviously got to mean something. I'm fairly certain that Zane probably isn't laying in his room late at night just thinking about the way I pulled in breaths between each kiss. He probably isn't laying there thinking about my blown pupils like I'm thinking about his.

  It's a little pathetic really. Except...

  Zane was the one who kissed me.

  At first, I kissed him, and it was a mistake, and it lasted three seconds. But then he kissed me after I pulled away. He kissed me.

  I'm very good at putting myself down though—it's one of my few great talents—so I spin all these ideas in my head. Zane seems like a bit of a player, and on top of the bullying, he's got a womanizer reputation too.

  So that kiss doesn't mean that he likes me. Not like that. Maybe he was just kissing me back because he saw an opportunity to get laid and took his shot. I've met my fair share of players before, so I know the lengths at which dudes will go to get into someone's pants.

  And frankly, a guy who looks like Adonis and could have anyone he wanted, is not going to be interested in someone like me. So why would he ever be interested in me.

  I sit around for the last two weeks of winter break, and convince myself of these thoughts. I convince myself that the kiss was just another game. It doesn't mean that the kiss wasn't wonderful, because it was. It was fucking fantastic. But I need to belittle it as much as possible.