Brat: A High School Bully Romance (The King of Castleton High Book 2)

by Ellie Meadows

  Aiden’s mom was a talker. Thankfully, she didn’t come up for air very often, so I didn’t have to fill many gaps or answer many questions.

  Relief flooded me when I waved goodbye to her as she left my driveway.

  Dorothy was right. There really was no place like home.

  Though…

  Dorothy didn’t have two nosey parents still awake in the living room waiting to play twenty questions.

  Lord help me.

  5.

  T A R R Y N

  “It was great.”

  “The music was great too.”

  “Drake was a perfect gentleman. You met him. Did you expect less?”

  “The restaurant food was great. Very upscale.”

  “Yeah. I guess I do keep saying great. Ha. Well, the chef was amazing. You and Dad should go sometime. It’ll be great.” I winked at my mom after that, feeling sadness well inside my chest. I hated lying to my parents. Honestly, I didn’t know why I was keeping up the ruse. I could tell them the truth, right now. Drake stupid Castleton would never be welcome here again.

  But then there was their job. They worked for the Castleton family.

  If they hated Drake for my sake, how would that affect their work? Would we have to move again? Maybe we could go back home…

  No. They loved their new work. They were making more money than ever. I couldn’t do that to my parents. So I kept nodding and answering questions and acting as if the dance was the best thing ever. The greatest thing. It was great.

  “I’m so tired and my feet are killing me. I promise to tell you more in the morning.”

  “Over pancakes? I mean, of course. Do you really need to ask?”

  My cheek muscles were killing me by the time I escaped to my room. I’d kept the strained smile plastered on my face from the second Mom opened the front door. Dad tried to act like he wasn’t just as intensely-interested as Mom was in how the dance went, but he was a terrible actor and kept tossing eager glances my way as he listened to mom drill me like a seasoned gossip reporter. I doubted he’d even read a single word of his book during the exchange.

  Stripping off the dress, I let it cascade into a silver lake against the floor. Mom would tell me to hang it up so it wouldn’t wrinkle; it was too pretty a gown to leave crumpled like trash. That’s where I felt it belonged though, after the shit evening, and I could muster no energy to grab it and treat it otherwise. It wasn’t just the dress I wanted off my body. I felt like the events of the night were plastered like a second skin on me.

  I showered next, scrubbing the light makeup from my face and feeling more myself afterwards. Wrapped in a towel, hair still soaking wet and looking dark brown around my face rather than a light ash, I walked back into my room. The curtains of my room weren’t drawn, but I only had the desk lamp on and my window faced the neighbor house rather than the road. The windows next door were all dark, its inhabitants asleep. I was almost directly across from Meg’s room actually. She made a habit of sitting at her window and waving whenever she saw me. It was intrusive and I’d started closing my curtains more often.

  But it was nighttime. Dark out. Her light was off. And I didn’t care.

  I dug through my clothes and yanked out clean undergarments, comfy sweats, and a torn long sleeve shirt from my dad’s college days. Dropping the towel, I dressed slowly, my mind drifting. At first, I thought about Aiden. I liked his mom; she seemed really sweet. The sight of him holding his little brother was endearing. But…

  He was a good guy, who made a bad choice. To me, that meant he was capable of making more bad choices. And what he’d done hadn’t been some stupid ‘in the moment’ decision. He’d weighed the options and he’d accepted them—for money. I think that’s what I didn’t like the most. He’d helped deceive me for a payday.

  Imagining the cold hard cash that led Superman-type Aiden to the darkside, my brain inevitably carved a path to Drake.

  Forgive. Don’t forget.

  Could I forgive Drake like I was trying to forgive Aiden?

  I knew I couldn’t forget what he’d done.

  But forgiveness?

  By means of deception, he’d reached a part of me I hadn’t expected. I think I knew, down in my stomach where things digest, that it was never Aiden at the root of the conversations. It wasn’t Aiden that first day who quoted me lines from an obscure book. It wasn’t Aiden who housed knowledge of culture… wasn’t Aiden who held a strange melancholy pain that cropped up every now and then when the ruse wore too thin to hide behind.

  I couldn’t forget or forgive Drake, because I hated him. I hated him because a part of me liked him. Deeply liked him.

  He needed to know how it felt to be drawn into caring then have the rug yanked from beneath him. He needed to know what it was like to be so profoundly… so profoundly misused. If he knew what it was like to be the bullied rather than the bully, maybe then I could forgive him…

  My phone pinged as I crawled into bed. I was going to ignore it. I was so tired.

  But it pinged a second time.

  And a third.

  And, in that same place where I digest things, I knew who was messaging me.

  This time, he didn’t bother to use the fake Aiden handle.

  Drake: I’m sorry.

  Drake: For everything.

  Drake: Are you there?

  I stared at the messages, brow furrowed. He didn’t deserve a response, but the sadness in my stomach had melted away during the hot shower. All that was left was a cocktail of confusion and anger.

  I’m never going to forgive you. Erase. Erase. Do you really think ‘sorry’ is going to cut it? Erase. Erase.

  I wondered if the little dots appearing and disappearing on his side of the conversation was driving him nuts. It would me, so I hoped he was the same.

  Drake: Say something. Anything.

  Something. Anything. I typed and stared at the two words. It was childish to parrot back what he’d said, using semantics against him. But whatever. I hit send.

  Drake: Come on. You knew what I meant.

  Do I know what you mean? Is this even Drake Castleton? Maybe it’s someone else he’s paid to pretend to be him.

  Drake: It’s me, Square. I promise.

  Don’t call me that. It wasn’t cute before, it’s really not cute now.

  Drake: I didn’t mean to hurt Aiden. He started it, Tarryn.

  No, he didn’t. You started it all. The fight was just… I paused, not knowing what to type next. Though the thought was incomplete, I hit send.

  Drake: I understand.

  Do you? Because… God, even I don’t. I don’t get what kind of person you have to be to do what you did. Erase. Erase.

  Drake: I do. I’ll prove it to you.

  I’m tired. I’m going to bed.

  Feeling more lost than angry now, I closed the messenger app and dropped the phone onto the bed. When it pinged again, I shoved the phone away, flinching when it fell off the bed and clunked to the floor. I didn’t check to see if it broke. If it did, I’d deal with it tomorrow.

  Rolling over, I heard the phone. Ping. Yet. Again. Groaning, I yanked my pillow over my head and prayed for sleep.

  6.

  D R A K E

  She hadn’t answered my last two messages. She’d said she was going to bed. How could she sleep? I couldn’t.

  I wanted to leave the house. I needed to leave the house.

  Dad had taken my keys when we’d arrived home. Effectively ‘grounding’ me. Ineffectively grounding me, actually. I had the spare keys to the convertible in my damn sock drawer. Grandpa Castleton’s 1946 restored Indian Chief was in the detached storage garage. Dad didn’t know I took that out every chance I got. He couldn’t stop me if I wanted to leave.

  I hesitated for a long time before I called her.

  My brain kept telling me to leave it alone, let her get it through her damn head that we’d never be more than fuck buddies.

  But in the end, I dialed.

&nb
sp; I chose to string Tabs along, despite my words at the dance.

  She answered after four rings.

  Maybe she was trying to be strong.

  I was breaking her.

  What kind of person did that make me?

  “What do you want, Drake?” Tabitha’s voice was barely a whisper, soft words that were pitiful bandages over her brokenness.

  I swallowed. I should hang up. “Who did you go to the dance with?”

  “Why do you want to know?” She bit out, still whispering.

  “Curious. That’s all.”

  “I went with my girlfriends.”

  “No one asked you?”

  “Wow, way to be a dick in less than a minute.” Tab’s hissed the words. “I’m hanging up. Find someone else to jerk around.”

  “Wait, don’t hang up,” I hurried out the words. “Shit, Tabs. I’m sorry.” My voice broke a little on the ‘sorry’. My eyes widened at that and a pang shot through my chest. What the hell was happening to me?

  “You… almost sound like you mean that,” she spoke hesitantly.

  “I do mean it.” I spoke the words, but this time I swallowed down the feelings I didn’t want. I called Tabs for a purpose—not for some sort of emotional awakening, but to blow off steam.

  That’s why I called girls. That’s what they were good for.

  “You have to treat me better, Drake. Don’t just call me and say sorry when you need to fuck.” She went quiet after that, and I couldn’t say anything. I worried if I did, I’d betray myself.

  “I can do better.” I lied through my teeth. Hell, maybe it wasn’t a damn lie. I just knew, in my black fucking soul, that I wouldn’t do better for Tabitha. Not for her.

  “Well, do better.” Tabitha’s voice was louder now and I heard a light whistle on the other end.

  “Where are you?”

  “I walked outside. My family’s asleep.”

  “I hope you’re wearing more than that tiny gold dress.” I cocked a smile she couldn’t see.

  “Barely.”

  “Let me come get you.” My voice was almost a growl.

  “Last time you pulled a stunt like fighting at the dance, you were on lockdown for a week.” The breeze continued to whistle on her end, twirling around her words.

  “Yeah, I sort of am now,” I admitted.

  “Then,” she paused, “maybe it’s easier for me to come to you?”

  “My dad’s in town,” I said, checking the clock. “By this time he’s probably three bourbons in and asleep in the study though. You remember how to get here?”

  “Like I could forget the way to Drake Castleton’s mansion,” she scoffed. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

  “Park at the gates and walk up. He might hear the car.”

  “Okay, Drake.” Tab’s voice was pleased, hopeful.

  I’d reeled her in again. Just like so many times before. Because I was a user who needed a push.

  ###

  It was nearly one AM. I stood leaning against the side of the house, a spray of stars showing above me—peeking through a break in the now-cloudy sky. Even with the clouds, and the hour, it was brighter than it should be outside. Nearing a full moon.

  A full moon’s supposed to be transformational.

  Full circle, a new start. Fade away and grow again.

  But I wasn’t a fucking werewolf.

  In the near distance, I heard the low rumble of an engine. Tabs made good time. I’d showered, figured I’d owed her that much since I could feel the sweat of the fight clinging to my skin—a coating of salt and rage.

  A few minutes later, I saw her silhouette coming up the drive. I waited in the dark, watching her walk and tuck a strand of short hair behind her ear. As she moved closer, the floodlights kicked on. I hadn’t thought of those, so it was good Dad’s study was on the other side of the house.

  Bathed in bright paleness, I could see she’d showered too. Her hair was still damp and she was wearing a shorts pajama set. Pink cotton. Lace trimming. She must be freezing, despite the oversized jacket that was nearly falling off her shoulders.

  She paused halfway around the circular drive, staring up at the large house with its carved double front door. Her right foot lifted and hooked around her left ankle, rubbing up and down nervously. I let her stew there for a moment. I liked watching her look unsure, uncomfortable, like she was the wrong side of the track staring up at the right side of things. A station she couldn’t walk into, not without a ticket.

  “Tabs,” I called out quietly. She looked in the direction of my voice quickly. Being caught off guard did nothing to settle her feelings. I could tell by her expression, how she was slow to walk closer to me. The girl didn’t think she deserved to be here.

  What she didn’t know was that she probably deserved it more than any of the Castletons.

  “Drake?” She moved in my direction, her brow furrowed. “Why are you hiding in the damn shadows?”

  “I wasn’t hiding,” I said, standing upright.

  “Not hiding?” She laughed. “You’re literally standing in the shadows like a creeper.”

  She was only a foot away from me now. I closed that gap and pulled her to me quickly. “Do you normally show up at creepers’ houses wearing take me to church clothing, wet from the shower?”

  “Sometimes… when I’m bored,” she breathed out. “I’m really slumming it tonight though. Guy like you. Nothing to his name.”

  “Nothing to my name, huh?” I gripped her waist and lifted her up; she gasped, the sound sending tremors through me. The vibrations went up and down my body, my dick starting to go hard at the feel of her pressing against me.

  “Well, you do have this.” Tabs pushed her hand down between our bodies, her palm coming to rest over my cock now pressing expectantly against the black sweats.

  “Is that all I’m good for?” I smirked.

  “I don’t know, Drake,” Tabs paused, face oscillating between passion and pain, “Is that all I’m good for?”

  For a split second, I felt the desire fade. I should be honest with her. Brutally honest. I’d tried at the dance, but only half-heartedly. I hadn’t really tried to drive the truth home. Let her see the darkness in such a way that she’d forget there was any light in the goddamn world. Then she’d get it. Then she’d learn what was good for her.

  Maybe she saw the decision weighing in my eyes. And she wasn’t ready for the end. Not yet.

  Because she made the choice for me, taking her hand off my dick and wrapping both arms around my neck tightly.

  Her head tilted towards mine, her soft lips pressed against my mouth, and the millisecond of good intentions was gone. My head was too full of bad, and my body was hard and ready to fuck them away. There was no other damn choice to be made.

  She kept kissing me as I carried her towards the pool house. I’d already unlocked the door and left it ajar. I always forgot how small Tabs was. So lightweight. Delicate. Easy to break.

  I avoided the floodlights in back, making sure to stay on the other side of the bushes that lined the pool’s lounge area. Still holding Tabs against me, I stopped before the small house’s stoop and turned to glance at the large bay windows that looked into Dad’s study. The fire was burning, casting flame glow on a figure slumped against a high back chair. I couldn’t see clearly, but I knew he’d have a bottle of liquor half-empty next to him on the mahogany table. Drinking away the day, drinking away the disappointment of a son he had.

  “I haven’t got all night,” Tabs brought my attention to her, gently biting my neck.

  “And if I want all night?” I growled, moving up the single stair and pushing through the open door into the dark space. I debated the living room. The sofa was big enough. She’d told me to treat her better though… maybe she’d prefer a bed.

  Why the hell did I care what she might want?

  I forgot the bedroom. The sofa was fine. It was closer.

  A few steps later, I dropped Tabs on the sofa. She smiled up a
t me, a thoughtful look on her face. “I’m not feeling soft tonight,” I murmured, lowering to my knees in front of her and reaching behind me to push the coffee table away and make more room to move.

  “So what’s new? You don’t like soft, Drake. Maybe that’s why… Maybe that’s why you don’t like me. Not really.” She scooted to the edge of the cushion and ran her fingers through my hair. Then, unexpectedly, she gripped my hair firmly. “You know, I said it would be good for you—to have someone resist you, to have someone not fall for your stupid Drake charm. But maybe what you need is someone to… to fall completely instead.”

  “Maybe.” I pulled my head away. Tabs let me go, as I expected her too. She wasn’t strong enough. She was never going to be strong enough to hold onto me. Because she was right.

  I didn’t like soft.

  Reaching down, I slid my fingers into the waistline of her pajama shorts. She kicked off her shoes and pressed her bare feet against my thighs, lifting her ass so I could work the pink cotton away from her hips. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I threaded the shorts down her legs and off, tossing them to the side. I wanted to slam into her, get what I needed and be done.

  But instead, I lifted her legs to rest against my shoulders, making her fall backwards against the couch. I pushed my hands beneath her ass, fingernails digging into her skin and making her squeal. I lifted her up to my mouth, tongue darting out as my lips found hers. I licked, slowly, up and down the length of her, going deeper each time the tip of my tongue found her clit. She writhed and squirmed and I had to dig my fingers harder into her ass to keep her from wriggling away from me.

  “Faster, Drake. God,” she moaned.

  I went slower, taking my time, circling her clit with my tongue.

  “Drake!” Her legs pushed against me.

  “Beg,” I breathed the word against her, warm air touching too-sensitive parts.