Devious Little Liars: A High School Bully Romance (Saint View High Book 1)

by Elle Thorpe

  Except me.

  Not that that would ever happen, especially not after the stunt he’d pulled with my locker during the week.

  “Why is he staring at me?” I whispered to Owen. At least I thought I’d whispered. It sounded kind of loud. “He’s such a creep.”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to tell him to back off. I don’t like that he’s making you uncomfortable.”

  Owen went to stand, but I grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

  “No. Don’t. I’m a big girl. I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles. And Colt and I are overdue to have a conversation about this.” A sudden surge of determination had me pushing to my feet, wobbling slightly. How had two beers gone to my head so quickly? Even still, if I was going to have it out with Colt, I’d need Dutch courage. I plucked Owen’s drink from his hands. “I need to borrow this. You don’t mind, right? Go find Meredith. Or hey! You could find a nice Saint View girl to chat up! I’ll find you when I’m done, okay?”

  Owen shook his head. “Lacey, no, I—”

  “Didn’t you hear what she said?” Colt’s voice was dangerously low.

  It sent goosebumps rippling across my skin. When had he moved in so close?

  “She said she wants to talk to me. So unless you want me to lay you out flat on the sand, I suggest you sit your scrawny ass down and shut the fuck up.”

  I bit my lip, gaze darting between Owen and Colt.

  A giggle escaped me. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

  Colt sighed and wrapped his hand around my arm, tugging me away from the fire. His grip didn’t exactly hurt, but it was no nonsense.

  It didn’t feel like when Owen had gripped my wrist.

  Unlike with Owen, I didn’t try to back away from Colt.

  I wanted to go with him. I liked the way his hold spoke of dominance and possession. With my inhibitions lowered by the alcohol, jealousy flashed through me, hot and searing. He was unfairly beautiful. And something deep within me yearned to unravel him. Get beneath his skin and find out what made him tick. He’d erected walls around himself, but what was on the inside intrigued me.

  We reached the water’s edge, and I squealed as it lapped at my feet. The light from the fires barely made a dent in the darkness, but when Colt rounded on me, I felt more than saw the anger in his expression.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Public beach. And you aren’t my father. So back off.” I was all talk. I still made no move to pull my hand from his grip. Pathetic. Why didn’t I just swoon at his feet already? I tried to stand a little straighter and looked him in the eye. I took another sip of my stolen beer.

  The cup flew from my hand, splashing all over me.

  “What the fuck, Colt!” I yelled.

  He let go of me, and I lifted my top to wipe sticky beer from my face.

  “Why did you do that?”

  He moved in, until he completely invaded my space. “Because, princess, you’re drunk off your ass.”

  I shook my head, but that only made it spin more. “I’ve had two beers. I’m not drunk.”

  Colt’s expression darkened. “You sure about that? Two beers shouldn’t have you wobbling all over this beach and practically falling in that bonfire.”

  “I didn’t fall in the bonfire. And what do you care anyway? Why are we even down here? Where’s your girlfriend?”

  He let out a short, mocking laugh.

  Anger rolled through me. “You know what, Colt? I’m the one who doesn’t care. About any of it. I thought I wanted to talk to you, and hash out whatever your problem is, but now I realize the problem isn’t something I might have done. It’s just you.”

  “You really don’t remember, do you?” He cocked his head to one side.

  I threw my hands up in frustration. “Remember what? The way you painted murderer across my locker? The way you wrote cheat, liar, and…” I couldn’t say the other thing he’d written on my uncle’s photos. “I remember all those things.” My throat grew tight. “Why? Did you and Gillian sit around one night, thinking up the cruelest possible way to hurt me? Because if so, you win. You fucking win, Colt. Happy?”

  Colt’s black gaze pinned me to the spot. Ever so slowly, he raised one hand, running it down the side of my face. “No, princess. I’m not happy. Not happy at all.”

  My breath hitched. He was so close. Close enough for his breath to mist over my lips. The stillness between us became an agony I couldn’t bear. I didn’t dare move. My head screamed to shove him back. To get away from him. And yet, my body wouldn’t obey. He was just like the fire. I couldn’t look away, even though he had the ability to burn me alive. His lips ghosted over mine, the touch so light I thought I’d imagined it before his lips moved to my ear.

  “Every word on those photos is true, princess. Every. Single. One.”

  My eyes flew open, and my palm connected with his cheek in a stinging slap. “You’re a liar.” I seethed.

  “You’re naïve,” he threw back, voice laced with venom. “Wake up, princess. The man you thought your uncle was doesn’t fucking exist. He never did. You put him on a pedestal. He was never a hero. He’s the bad guy in this fucked-up fairytale.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “You are. And I’m done with your shit. I’m leaving.” I stumbled away, pulling my keys from the bag slung across my shoulder.

  Colt plucked them from my hand with deft fingers. “You’re not driving anywhere. Not like that.”

  My gaze narrowed on him. “Give me my keys.”

  “No.”

  I lunged for them. He sidestepped, and when his body wasn’t there to take the impact, I stumbled. Unable to catch my balance, my knees hit the sand in the shallows, saltwater spraying all over me. Cold water seeped through my jeans, soaking me up to my thighs.

  Colt just stared at me, lip curled in disgust.

  I pushed to my feet, ignoring the freezing chill, the wind whipping around my now soaked clothes. “Give them to me.”

  Colt shook his head, like I was the most pathetic person he’d ever laid eyes on. He drew his arm back, and then with one last look in my direction, threw my keys into the ocean.

  “No!” I waded in, knowing it was pointless. I spun around to glare at him. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  He shrugged like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like this entire drama had nothing to do with him. “Not my problem.”

  I stared out at the ocean. The water was freezing. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. I splashed from the water and stopped in front of him. “I hate you,” I yelled, storming past him. I didn’t go back in the direction of the fires. I didn’t want to see anyone. I just wanted to get away. Far away, from Colt. From Saint View. From the lies and the confusion. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, thinking I could come here and find my uncle’s murderer. I’d found nothing. Done nothing but fall into Colt’s web of lies. I ran up the beach, taking another path back to the road, and began the long walk home.

  Colt’s dark gaze followed me, until the darkness swallowed me whole.

  31

  Lacey

  I stumbled down the beach road, barely feeling the uneven ground beneath my feet. It was nothing compared to the hurt Colt’s lies and accusations had caused.

  The wind whipped, chilling me to the bone. Wet denim chaffed my thighs, and my head spun miserably until I had to double over, retching into the gutter. Exhaustion weakened my legs. And finally, I let the tears roll down my face. They weren’t just for what had happened with Colt. But for my uncle, and the fact he was gone too soon. For the fact people were trying to smear his name through the mud. For me. And for Selina who had to live without him.

  “Lacey!”

  I looked up wearily.

  Owen’s worried face poked out the driver’s side window of his Aston Martin. “Jesus, fuck,” he swore.

  I hadn’t even heard his engine. He got out, slamming the car door behind him.

  He crouched in the g
utter beside me, his expression morphing into anger. “I’ll kill that guy. Did he hurt you?”

  I shook my head. Not physically anyway. “I just want to go home,” I whispered.

  Owen nodded and helped me into the passenger side. I curled up in a ball, my wet clothes soaking his seats, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  Without me asking, he cranked up the heat. “I’m going to take you home. It’s all going to be okay.”

  It wouldn’t, but what was the point in telling him? There was no need to drag him down to my level of misery. We wound through the outer streets of Saint View, and I clutched at my rolling stomach.

  “Oh God, Owen. Pull over, I’m going to be—” I slammed my finger on the window button and just barely got my head out of the car before I was sick again.

  Owen cringed as I sat back against the seat.

  “Sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll pay for your car to be washed tomorrow.”

  Owen handed me a little packet of Kleenex from the glovebox. “I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you. How much did you have to drink tonight?”

  I racked my brain trying to remember. “Two? Three? I think?” But that couldn’t be right. I’d never gotten sick off three watered-down beers.

  Owen’s molars ground so hard I could hear it over the white noise of the heater. “He’s a dead man,” he muttered. Then he looked over at me. “I think he drugged you, Lace.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “That guy. He must have put something in your drink.”

  Anger and confusion swirled within my cloudy head. When had Colt even been near my drink, apart from when he was knocking it out of my hand? But all that came out of my mouth was a pathetic, “I hate him.”

  Owen’s fingers gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles went white. I concentrated on that. Owen was here, looking after me. I was warm again. Safe, and on my way home, where I could collapse into my bed and sleep for the rest of the weekend. I wouldn’t think about Colt for another second.

  Not until I’d had some sleep.

  Then, when I was fully rested, and whatever drug he’d given me had left my system, I’d plan my revenge. I didn’t care how petty this thing between us had been. He’d crossed the line. He’d crossed it when he and Gillian defaced my locker and defamed my uncle. And he’d left the line for dead when he’d drugged me tonight. What the hell had he been planning? A shiver rolled down my spine. If he was capable of drugging me, then I doubted there weren’t other lines he’d be willing to walk over.

  Owen pulled into my driveway and cut the engine. He got out quickly, running around to my side to help me out.

  “Where’s your keys?” he whispered.

  “Bottom of the ocean.”

  “Spare?”

  “Oh! Yes! There is one. In a fake rock somewhere…”

  Owen searched around in the darkness of the garden while I slumped against the doorframe.

  “My aunt is going to kill me,” I said quietly.

  “Not if she doesn’t find out.” Owen came back, triumphant with a key in his hand. He shoved it in the lock, and it turned easily. Beeping on the other side greeted us, and I fumbled with the code.

  We both breathed a sigh of relief when the warning beeps stopped without setting off the alarm. Owen got beneath my arm again, supporting me. My legs barely worked.

  “Where’s your bedroom?”

  I pointed to the stairs, and he half-dragged me up them.

  “That’s my room,” I said, words coming out a little slurred.

  Owen tucked us away inside, locking the door behind him.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found me tonight. I probably would have had to sleep in that gutter. Or worse, call my aunt.”

  Owen’s squeezed my arm. “Anytime.”

  I pressed up onto my toes and kissed his cheek. “You’re blushing.” I laughed when I pulled away. “That’s cute.”

  I wandered over to my dresser and opened it, but Owen nudged me out of the way.

  “I’ll get it.” He tugged open the drawer, lifting out a nightshirt as I wandered to the big bay windows and looked out into the dark night.

  I fumbled with the button on my soaking jeans, dragged them down my legs, then stepped out of them. Owen brought over the shirt he’d found for me, putting it down on the window seat. Then his fingers gripped the bottom of my T-shirt and hauled it over my head.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. My arms felt like lead. My mouth thick as cotton. I reached for the nightshirt, but Owen stepped in close behind me. Before I realized what was happening, he undid my bra.

  I clutched the bra to my breasts. “Owen!” I snapped.

  “I’ve got my eyes closed. But you can’t sleep in this underwear. It’s drenched. Take it off.”

  He was right. I needed to get completely changed. I glanced over my shoulder and saw he had his gaze diverted toward the wall. I dropped the bra and picked up the nightshirt, pulling it on over my head. I waited until it was draped over my thighs before changing my panties. When I was done, I glanced back at Owen who was still facing the wall. I instantly felt bad.

  “Sorry for snapping at you,” I murmured.

  “It’s not a problem. That’s what friends do, right? You snap, I let it roll off me.” He pushed the blankets back and patted the bed with a smile. “Get in. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  I slid between the sheets and I swear nothing had ever felt as good. He covered me up and smoothed back my hair, the rhythmic movement so amazing that I instantly closed my eyes. Sleep tried to take me hard. It was as if every muscle in my body just gave up the fight. I sank into the mattress like a complete dead weight, drowning in the blackness.

  Through dreamlike fog, hands skated over my chilled thighs, lifting my nightshirt to run over my belly and trying to dip beneath the elastic of my panties. I groaned, shifting away from the unwanted, crawling touch, confused as to whether it was real or in my head. I lashed out, but nothing connected with my flailing limbs. Nausea rose in my belly with the movement, but I was too groggy to do anything but whimper into the pillow. The hands wouldn’t leave me alone. They followed me through the blackness, marring my body. It was a relief when sound cut through my sleep and drug-riddled brain, and the hands disappeared. I blinked in the low light of my bedroom, barely able to make out a shape at the window.

  “Owen?” Why was he still here? Taking phone calls in my bedroom? A heavy uncomfortableness settled over me. I wanted to tell him to leave. That I appreciated his help, but I didn’t want him here anymore. I tried to keep my eyes open, fearing the hands that moved in the darkness.

  But sleep caught me once more, and this time, I didn’t dream. I fell into the black abyss, which looked startlingly like Colt’s eyes.

  32

  Lacey

  I slept for most of Sunday. Selina eventually let herself into my room, with a tray of dry toast and flat ginger ale, and sat on the end of the bed. To her credit, she hadn’t given me a hard time for being hungover. She’d just kissed my forehead, and I’d gone back to sleep. The toast and soda were still on my bedside table when I’d woken up at dawn this morning. My stomach had still been queasy, but I’d choked down the cold, stale toast. I felt marginally better after getting up for a shower. I’d had hangovers before, but never one like that. Owen’s comments about being drugged drifted through my mind, and the more I thought about it, the more I thought maybe he was right. There were black spots in my memory, and I’d never felt so out of sorts with my own body.

  School didn’t help my mood any. And the black cloud that had rolled in on Saturday night with Colt, hung around all week. I was frustrated with myself, and with the lack of progress I’d made since coming here. I was no closer to finding the man who’d rescued me from the fire. All I’d managed to do, with Banjo’s and Rafe’s help, was provide alibis for the entire football team. Banjo still swore that only team members had those shirts, but with no
leads to follow, I was at a dead end and wondering what I was still doing here.

  Banjo, Rafe, and Jagger. That was it. I was staying for my friend and the two boys I didn’t want to lose.

  And for Colt.

  Because, damn him, he was never far from my mind. Only now, when I thought of him, anger surged through my blood. What he’d done couldn’t go unchecked. And if I tucked tail and ran back to Providence, he would have won. That was the single thought that kept me turning up at school each day. I’d been approaching this entire thing wrong. I knew nothing about him, and yet he seemed to know so much about me. I needed to know more so I could use his weaknesses against him.

  Rafe caught me in the quad one morning. He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek that likely didn’t look at all platonic. Or maybe it was just me who noticed the way his lips lingered, his nose brushing my neck as he inhaled, while goosebumps exploded over my skin.

  “Eighteen this weekend, princess. How are the party plans coming along?” He leaned back against the brick wall beside me, close enough our pinkies could touch.

  I shrugged. “Truthfully? I’ve let Selina, Jagger, and Meredith take over. All I had to do was organize myself a costume.”

  “Did you pick one?”

  I nodded, a small smile pulling at my lips. From the minute Selina had mentioned costumes, I’d known exactly what I wanted to go as. “I’m not telling you, though. It’ll be a surprise.”

  Rafe folded his arms across his broad chest. “Come on, tell me. I can’t wait until Saturday to know.”

  The bell rang, and I winked at him. “Gotta go to class. See you later.”

  I had music class next, which I was both looking forward to, and dreading at the same time. When I got there, Miss Halten was nowhere to be seen, her desk empty. The rest of the class stood around talking in small groups, except for Gillian, who was on Colt’s lap while they played tonsil hockey. Gross, but it allowed me to slip into the seat beside Banjo without them noticing me.