The Princess and the Bully (Goldsworthy University Book 1)

by Tiffany Ransier

  I’ll never fucking forget that day. Drowning in the lake with Silverstone’s hands on my head. I know he remembers it too, the fucker. To this day, he’s never once apologized. And for that reason, I will always despise him.

  For years, I wondered why. Even up until now. What about me did he hate so much that day? What made him decide to try to kill me? We barely even talked to each other. Because if my brother hadn’t come, I would have died. My mom runs too slow in heels in the dirt. I know that now.

  After that day, I vowed to never step foot in that lake again. The thought was too frightening. The lake water was in my dreams every night for a long time. Every night I fucking drowned, over and over and over again.

  But I did. I ran for the water without looking back to save her. And I’d do it again. When I got into that water, I wasn’t thinking about myself. I was thinking about having to live with the fact that she died the same way I almost did. But I got to her in time.

  Someday, I’ll have to open up and tell her why I hate seeing Silverstone near her. Whenever she brushes me off saying he’s not so bad, I want to explain why he is. He’s better at hiding how fucked up he is. But I can’t yet. It’ll be giving her more insight into why I’m so fucked up. I never even told Noel and Vincent after it happened. I just tried to forget.

  Trusting hasn’t come easily since then. I need to work on trusting her so she’ll trust me. Once I’ve calmed down and thought over every fucking detail again, and talked to everyone in AAA, I’ll force her to talk to me. I refuse to let this be the end of us.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mera

  He froze me out like it was nothing. He’s been next to me for four classes of Political Science acting like I don’t exist. I wish it didn’t bother me every class, but each time I see him start to look my way, I hold myself back from turning and talking to him first.

  Scar thinks we were doomed from the start, reminding me all over again how she warned me about the Goldsworthys. Not what I wanted to hear.

  Brandie and Jamie both think he’ll come around.

  It doesn’t stop my heart from shattering into a million pieces.

  Does he tell every girl they’re his and act hot and cold?

  It doesn't matter anyway. I’m done trying and hoping for something different. He walks right over me and never apologizes. Only ever whispering hot things in my ear to melt my resolve away.

  That’s never happening again.

  I need to keep my head focused on my studies. Political Science with Professor Harper again today. If it’s even possible she’s stricter with this than she was with U.S. History. I think she has more of a love for politics than she originally let on.

  As I leave Sorority Row and head toward class, I spot a few pieces of paper on the ground. Ugh, litterers. But one piece rolls over as a breeze moves by.

  The shaking of the trees around me are nothing compared to the shaking my body does when I see the front of that paper.

  I bend down, picking it up to closely inspect the picture. It’s the same fucking one from under my pillow on Valentine’s Day. I pick up the other two and find the exact same thing.

  Whoever it is printed these.

  All of a sudden, I realize everyone around me has a similar white paper in their hands as they stare at me with looks of hatred and distrust.

  But this isn’t me. It can’t be me.

  How many people have seen this? Where did it come from?

  Oh my God, how am I going to go to class with everyone seeing this?

  Everyone. Oh fuck, Callan. I have to tell him before he sees it.

  He always gets to class after I do. I don’t know if he went to the dining hall or if he’s coming straight to class from AAA.

  Shit, what do I do?

  I turn around quickly and collide with a broad chest. Callan’s intimidating presence is like no other, so when I glance up, I know I’ll look into his eyes. Those cold eyes that will suck me in and freeze me solid. I slowly move my gaze up, locking eyes with him and becoming slack-jawed at the pure darkness in them.

  “Come with me, now,” he says quietly.

  “If we’re not going to class, I’m not going with you.”

  His jaw tics and he grabs my arm, pulling me toward the building. Everyone stares as we walk by at a furious pace.

  We pass Scar and Peyton who are arguing with Collette in front of the classroom, all of them holding the paper. When they see us pass, Collette shouts and tries to run after us, but Callan turns around and yells, “Do not follow us.”

  My heart pounds quickly as he pulls me up the stairs to the roof. The last time I was here flashes in my mind. Callan shedding me of my clothes, leaving me in nothing but my underwear and throwing them off the roof.

  I tried so hard to get away that day.

  And now, here we are again on the roof. He wrenches my bag off, tossing it to the side and I back up. He didn’t even bring one.

  His face is stony as he stares me down. “Wil. What is this?” He waves the paper around.

  “It’s not me!” I yell. “I promise it isn’t.”

  “It looks an awful lot like you. I looked at it carefully, hoping that somehow it’d been photoshopped. But there’s no hint of it being photoshopped. It’s real.”

  His eyes are so dark I can’t breathe. The rage coming off of him is dangerous. With every step toward me, I instinctively back away, moving closer and closer to the edge.

  I think quickly, trying to say something, anything that would stop his advance. “I-It might be real, but it isn’t me! I didn’t think it would–”

  His eyes widen and he turns his head slightly to the side. “You didn’t think? So you’ve seen this picture before?”

  Shit. I feel the roof’s edge hit my legs and I stop.

  Shutting my eyes quickly, I take a deep shuddering breath. I have to come clean about those notes and my hoodie.

  “What are you hiding, Wil?” he says in a low tone. “This is where you tell me everything.” I nod and he booms, “All of it!”

  “The person who destroyed all of my clothes, they’ve been tormenting me since Heath disappeared.”

  “Tormenting you how?” He crosses his arms.

  “They send me notes, leaving them under my pillow. It was slow at first, only once a week, sometimes twice a week, then before I knew it, it was a daily thing.”

  He steps closer, but I have nowhere to go. “And what did those notes say?”

  “That…that…” Fuck what’s he going to say.

  “Don’t get quiet now. What did they say, princess?”

  I close my eyes and blurt, “That it’s my fault Heath is dead.”

  He stays quiet for so long, I have to open my eyes. I expect to see the rage and hatred, the ice. None of it is there. The only thing there is hurt. “And is it?” He runs a hand over his face, stopping at his chin, eventually gesturing to me. “Is it your fault that my brother is dead?”

  “No. No, it isn’t.”

  In a flash, he grabs me by the neck, squeezing hard. I start to see stars and it’s painful. It takes me back to Halloween night. Tears form in my eyes as I gasp. “Please, Callan. Just listen to me.” There were more notes.

  “I’m done listening,” he says gruffly. For a few seconds, I wonder if he’s going to throw me off. Does he really care about me so little? Did these last few months mean nothing to him?

  But he pulls me away from the edge. He pushes me to the ground harshly, letting go of my neck.

  I gasp for air, but lose it again as he kneels on the ground and takes off my shirt. “Wait, Callan.”

  His hands move behind me to my bra, and I hear and feel the tug as he unclips it, throwing it off to the side. He meticulously moves down, peeling my jeans off, and leaving me only in my panties.

  And then, in broad fucking daylight, he rips my lace panties off ruthlessly leaving me naked to the world. But not for long as he puts his other knee on the ground, one on either side of me.


  “Callan, please. You got what you wanted. My clothes are off and I’ll have to parade around naked. But please, let’s talk.”

  His eyes are so cruel as he laughs. “Do you know what you did, Wil? How much this fucking picture hurts? The time for talking is over. I don’t want to hear another word out of that lying mouth of yours.”

  He picks the pieces of my shredded panties up and stuffs them into my mouth. I try to ignore the subtle taste to them after wearing them for ten hours.

  One hard hand goes to my side and he flips me on to my stomach and forces me on all fours. I hear the sound of a zipper going down and my heart sinks. I sputter, trying to eject the pieces of my panties from my mouth.

  His hands go to my hips, catching them in a bruising grip. I quake at the feeling and gasp when I feel the head of his cock against my pussy. I spit the last of my underwear out and cough.

  “You’re going to feel every bit as hurt as I do, right now,” he says calmly.

  But doesn’t he know how hurt I’ve felt over him never apologizing for making me afraid and fearful? Not one apology. I don’t want this.

  And then he thrusts inside, all the way to the hilt.

  I can’t help but cry out at the feeling of friction. It hurts. Tears well up in the corner of my eyes.

  Down below us, I hear a few people ask, “Did you hear something?”

  “Hear that, princess, you better keep quiet.” He pulls back and thrusts back in. I press my lips together as tears flow down my face.

  It hurts, but knowing that his cock is inside me starts to do something to me. My body starts to burn. Even on a cold day like this.

  He grunts. “You’re getting wet. I guess you don’t mind a little pain.” He reaches under me and grabs my breast, twisting my nipple and pulling it.

  I let out a low moan and clamp my hand over my mouth. Why does every touch, every thrust, feel so good yet so horrible at the same time?

  I move my hand off my mouth. “I-I did it for you. They killed Heath.”

  He slows his thrusts. I have his attention.

  “They said if I told you about the notes, th-they’d–,” he moves so deeply in me, I feel him push against my cervix and shiver.

  “They’d what, Wil? They’d what?” he mutters, pulling out and snapping his hips forward.

  “Kill you. They’d kill you. They already killed Heath, I didn’t want…” And abruptly, his pace quickens again, pounding into me relentlessly.

  “The minute you got the first one, you should’ve shown it to me!” he yells.

  “You hated me!” I scream back. “You thought I had something to do with his death. You didn’t believe my memory loss for a long time.” He pauses, balls deep inside me, finally giving me the chance to think more clearly.

  “You never fucking apologized, Callan. Not once. You threatened to fuck me here before, remember that? And even before that, in the third round of hazing? What about in the basement, both times? Or how about when you choked me until I almost passed the fuck out?”

  My arms shake as I pant, taking one shaky breath after another. “Why would I show you notes from someone threatening to kill me?”

  “The person from the lake dressed like me,” he murmurs.

  “You pushed me away like I was nothing when I just wanted to help. I was on your side. So now you know, I was already hurt before you did this.” A sob escapes my mouth as my eyes burn. “So go ahead, keep fucking me. You’ll never be inside me again. I fell in love with you, despite it all. But no more.”

  He pulses inside me and I bite my lip. There it is, out there in the open. What I’ve been thinking since he saved me from Josh in the bathroom. Somehow, I fell in love with Callan Goldsworthy. I thought maybe we were headed toward him feeling the same, but someone who loves me would never do this.

  He pulls me back off my hands until my back is flush against his chest. His lips go to my neck, sucking hard and biting down until I know I’ve bled. His hips move underneath me, moving back and forth as he fucks me hard.

  I’m lost in an endless cycle of pleasure as he makes me orgasm so many times I lose count. It feels like forever that our bodies are joined, but his release does eventually come, and I get that same rush I always feel when his hot cum releases inside me.

  Thank God I got on birth control the day after he kicked me out.

  His grip on me lessens enough that I shove his hands away and scramble on my legs toward my clothes.

  “Wil.”

  I ignore him, putting my shirt over my head. When I stand up, I immediately feel his cum leak out. As I pull my jeans up, I can feel it seep into the cloth.

  He grabs my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. They’re back to their default setting of coldness. “I need to see those notes if you still have them.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “Wil,” he says in a low threatening tone.

  “Fine.” I was half-expecting it already. “But once I give them to you, I don’t want to see you again.”

  I slap his hand off my chin with all the force I can manage. I’m so exhausted and sore. Even bending down to grab my bag is hard. Somehow, I’m able to and take the lead back to ZDB. By the look of the sun, it has to be closer to noon now.

  Everyone across campus stares and when I open the door to ZDB, the girls inside stop and stare.

  “Shouldn’t she be at the police station right now?” one of them asks.

  I roll my eyes and stomp up the stairs to my room. The door closes behind me and I feel Callan’s intense gaze as he watches me open the bottom drawer of the nightstand.

  And there they are. Every single note.

  He reaches around me and starts grabbing them randomly, reading them and throwing them on the floor. I settle on my bed, letting my body relax and recover.

  It takes a long time, reading over hundreds of notes and eventually seeing a smaller version of the photo that was printed everywhere. When he’s finished he slams the drawer shut. “You should’ve told me, Wil.”

  “Well, now you know. And now there’s nothing else to be said. You can grab them and take them with you if you want, either way, you’re leaving.”

  He glares. “You want me to leave knowing the amount of times they’ve threatened your life? And are they talking about that pink hoodie you wore your first week here?”

  I don’t feel the need to answer any more of his questions, so I ignore him completely. “Leave.”

  “Fine!” he yells, going back to the drawer. “Let me make sure I get all the notes.” He slides open my top drawer.

  “Wait there’s nothing–” I sit up in horror at the hint of what I see sitting in the drawer.

  That can’t be.

  In a strangled voice, Callan says, “Wil.”

  All of a sudden, there’s a banging on the door. “Police! Open up. We received an anonymous tip that there’s evidence in this room.”

  Fuck, my parents are going to kill me.

  Callan stares down at the notes and the hoodie. “Wil. If they see this hoodie, they’ll think you did it.”

  And at the same time, there could be DNA of the person who really did this on that hoodie. I still believe that wasn’t me in the picture.

  “Open the door,” I tell him.

  “If this door isn’t opened in the next five seconds, we’re breaking it down!” they yell out.

  What the fuck? They can’t do that!

  He closes the drawer and opens the door. “Officers, she didn’t do it,” he snaps.

  One officer goes for the closet first, the other one watches us. He starts rifling through my side and then Brandie’s. They’ll start to go through her stuff soon if I don’t point them in the right direction. Heath’s green eyes flash in my head. Heath with his smiling face and dimples showing. Always there to help me. His body is somewhere rotting.

  These notes won’t help identify the killer, but that hoodie will. Callan is standing right in front of my nightstand with an unreada
ble expression.

  “It’s in the nightstand.”

  The cop by the door goes into the nightstand and whistles. “That tip might’ve solved this case.”

  The officer by the closet laughs. “Well isn’t it our lucky day. You hear that, boy?” he asks, talking to Callan. “You’re finally getting the answers you hassled us for. Guess she really was guilty like you insisted that morning. Who would’ve thought, a princess being a killer?”

  “We’re going to need you to come in for questioning.”

  “You don’t have to, Wil.” Callan glares at the officers. “They legally can’t make you. You’re a foreign dignitary and you have diplomatic immunity that prevents them from forcing you to go with them.”

  “You’re right, but if I go I’ll be able to explain my side, and that picture. Heath deserves it.”

  Callan nods slowly. “Call me when they’re done and I’ll come get you.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief and don’t look back as they usher me down the hall. I ignore the stares, the loud whispers, the jeering, all of it. As they push me into the squad car, I finally feel relieved because I’m not holding anything back anymore. And maybe now that they have that hoodie, something will change and they’ll be able to find the sick person who did this.

  Everyone thinks I’m guilty. How could they not? But I know the truth. I didn’t do it.

  I’ve been here for almost twelve hours at the police station and I’ve officially reached my limit of explaining things. We went over everything again, starting from the beginning, the day I came to campus.

  First to the two officers that showed up at the sorority today, then the two I originally talked to, and then the captain.

  They took the notes at Callan’s urging and they all believe they were fabricated to make me look innocent. Unfuckingbelievable. Of course they asked me to write and see if my handwriting matched, which it doesn’t. But they said I could’ve easily hired someone to do it for me.

  What I keep coming back to is, why would I put that picture out there if I actually did do it? They don’t have an answer for that.