Hopeless: A High School Bully Romance (Playa Del Mar Book 1)

by McKayla Box

  Willow sighs and nibbles on a carrot. “I guess,” she mumbles. She looks hopefully at me. “Unless you want to drive…?”

  “I don’t have my license,” I say quickly.

  She wrinkles her nose. “Why not?”

  I don’t want to go into the details so I just shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “She lived in New Zealand, bitch,” Emily tells her. “What would she need a license for there?”

  It seems pointless to point out that people in New Zealand have cars and drive. So I just let them fake fight with each other.

  I don’t know if I want to go to the party. Part of me feels like that’s what I need—to get out and maybe get a little drunk and have some fun. But another part of me worries who I’ll see there.

  Charity and her stupid friends, most likely.

  But probably Hayden, too.

  I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

  I’m also worried about Ben. Visions of him passed out in his house, sick with fever, with no one there to even know or take care of him, flit through my mind. His mom works the night shift so would she even know if he was still home and not at school? And his dad is gone on some long haul, to Washington, I think.

  I pull out my phone and text him again.

  I’m worried about you. :(

  Three little dots appear and relief washes over me.

  Don’t. I’m fine.

  Then why aren’t you here?

  Something came up.

  I frown.

  What? How many days of school can you freaking miss?

  Just something. I’ll tell you later.

  I stare at the screen for a minute and then shove my phone back in my pocket. I’m irritated.

  Not because Ben isn’t at school—okay, well maybe a little—but because he isn’t telling me what’s going on.

  I bared my soul to him the day before and all he’ll tell me is something came up?

  Something isn’t adding up.

  The worry disappears and so does the irritation.

  Now I’m just flat-out pissed.

  Chapter 18

  “Tell me again where you’re going.”

  My mom is sitting on the couch, a glass of wine in one hand, a book in the other. The TV, the smallest flat-screen I’ve ever seen, is tuned to some show I don’t know, and the volume is muted. It’s like she just has it on out of habit.

  I give my mom a quick once over. She’s wearing yoga pants and a gray t-shirt, and her hair is looped into a loose top bun. Her face is scrubbed free of makeup and she looks more like my older sister than my mom. The product of good genes, I guess, and the fact that she uses sunscreen religiously.

  But I notice something else about her appearance, something that makes my gut tighten.

  She looks exhausted.

  “Just out with some friends,” I tell her.

  “Not a date?” She is eyeing the short skirt I am wearing and the strappy heels I’m holding in my hands.

  I tug on my black shirt, making sure it lays right. It’s a blousy t-shirt, with a scoop neckline and sleeves that are just off the shoulder. “Not unless you call Emily and Willow and Belle my dates.”

  She arches an eyebrow. “Emily? Is that the girl from Donatelli’s?”

  I nod.

  She smiles and takes a sip of her wine. “I’m so glad you’re making friends, hon. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.” She sighs. “I need every bit of good news there is.”

  “How’s the job search going?” I ask, even though I don’t really want to know. It will probably just stress me out, especially when I already know the answer.

  “Well, I’m basically qualified to work retail or clean rooms at a hotel.” She laughs. “So, at least there are jobs, I guess. They just don’t pay very well.”

  “So what are we going to do?”

  “We aren’t going to do anything,” she says, emphasizing the ‘we.’ “You are going to go out with your friends and have a good time and let me figure out the adult stuff. You have enough to worry about.”

  “I know. But I worry about you.”

  “You need to be focused on getting good grades and looking at colleges and making friends. That’s it. Let me figure out the rest.”

  She talks a tough talk but I know better.

  She’s worried. I can see it in her eyes.

  And I can see the sadness still lurking, too. Over the divorce, maybe, but definitely over the loss of her dad.

  Guilt eats at me. If I were a better daughter, I’d stay home with her tonight. Bring up Grandpa and let her talk about him and share memories, and maybe get some of the tears out that I know she’s holding in. She hasn’t cried once since we got to the house. At least not in front of me.

  A horn honks outside and I glance at the clock display on the microwave in the kitchen. It’s almost seven o’clock.

  “Go,” my mom says. “Don’t keep your friends waiting.”

  Still, I hesitate. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” She holds out her wine glass. “I’m going to drink this glass of wine and lose myself in a book and start fresh tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” I say, but I still don’t move toward the door.

  “Go,” she says again, more firmly this time. “Have fun. But not too much fun. Be responsible. And be home by midnight.”

  I stuff my phone, my house key and a twenty-dollar bill in my pocket. I don’t want to bring a purse.

  I walk to the couch and give my mom a hug. She smells like wine and perfume, and I contemplate just chucking my plans and curling up beside her. I could use some TLC from her.

  But she releases me after a few seconds, giving me a gentle nudge. “Go. I’m fine. Really.”

  I don’t know if I believe her.

  Especially because I know just how easy it is to pretend to be fine.

  Chapter 19

  “Isn’t this house amazing?” Belle says to me.

  We’re walking into Liam Murphy’s house. Mansion, more like.

  Music is thumping and kids spill out onto the front lawn and back, where a lit pool sits on a cliff overlooking the Pacific. Everyone has a drink, and inside there is a makeshift bar set up in the kitchen with bottles of every liquor imaginable opened and flowing.

  “Yeah,” I murmur. But I’m not paying much attention to the expensive furniture or the paintings on the walls. I’m scanning the crowds, hoping I don’t see Hayden.

  “Speaking of awesome,” Emily says, nudging me with her elbow. “You look amazing.” She lets out a soft whistle as she eyes me up and down. “Girl, you are smokin’.”

  Willow nods. She’s wearing a black tank top dress that hugs her lithe frame. “You are seriously on fire, Syd.”

  I freeze at the term, and remember when Hayden whispered those words to me.

  Fuego.

  I shake my head, trying to remove the memory.

  I’m done with him.

  I’m at this party and I’m going to have some drinks and hang with my new friends and try to forget that my mom is worried about money and my dad doesn’t care, and Ben is hiding something, and the guy I thought I liked is a first-rate asshole.

  I hope there’s enough alcohol here to help me do it.

  Belle hands me a red cup.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “No idea. Connor was pouring and I was grabbing.”

  I take a tentative sip. All I taste is orange juice and fire.

  Works for me.

  The four of us stay together, working our way from the house out to the back deck. The sky is clear, and the wedge moon casts a faint glow on the whitecaps below.

  “Come on.” Emily grabs my hand, and we weave our way through the throngs of people until we’re past the pool and looking out at the water.

  “How awesome would it be to have a house like this?” Emily says. She sighs. “This view. That pool. That money.”

  Belle smirks. “Fuck Liam. Pretty sure if you deflower him,
he’ll be so grateful, he might even marry you. And then all this could be yours.”

  Emily makes a face. “Ew. No. Besides, you don’t even know he’s a virgin.”

  “Oh, come on,” Belle says. “There is no way that dude has been laid. None.”

  I try to remember who Liam is. I don’t know what he looks like now, or if he’s in any of my classes, but a vague memory of a short, round kid with glasses pops up in my memory.

  Willow shakes her head. “He wouldn’t be interested, anyway.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Emily practically growls. She thrusts her chest out and rubs a hand over his hips. “I’m like feminine perfection.” With the moon shining on her dark hair and dark eyes, she looks like some gothic princess come to life.

  Willow chuckles. “I know. And that’s the problem. I’m pretty sure he’s gay.”

  “Liam Murphy is gay?” Emily squeals.

  Willow covers Emily’s hand with her mouth. “Shut up,” she says. She casts a quick glance around but no one seems to have noticed. “I said I think he’s gay.”

  “No way,” Belle says, shaking her head. “The dude is a Republican. They can’t be gay. I think it’s in their bylaws or something.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure he is.” Willow reaches for my cup. “Just a teeny sip?”

  I don’t stop her as she sucks down a mouthful.

  “That’s all I’m having.” She hands it back to me. “Promise.”

  Emily and Belle are still shaking their heads in disbelief.

  I say nothing, because I have no real idea who Liam is, much less whether he’s gay or not.

  Not like it matters to me.

  “I know how we can find out,” Emily announced. She drains the rest of her drink and tosses the cup on the ground. “Let’s go check out his room. Look for clues.”

  Belle claps her hands. Her cup is empty, too, and her eyes are bright. “Great idea!”

  I’m pretty sure the two of them are already buzzed.

  “You guys are idiots,” Willow says. But she doesn’t try to stop them.

  “Come on.” Emily links her arm through mine. “Let’s go on an adventure. We’ll look for proof of gayness.”

  “And if we don’t find any, you totally have to get it on with Liam,” Belle tells her. “We’re talking tongue and hand actions. And a full report after.”

  I extract myself from Emily’s grip. “I’m going to stay out here.”

  “What?” Her brow wrinkles. “Why?”

  I struggle to find an answer but luckily Willow speaks up. “Because she doesn’t want to make an ass of herself.”

  Emily swats Willow’s arm. “Bitch. So you’re staying out here, too?”

  Willow smiles. “Oh, I’m coming. I wouldn’t miss you making an ass of yourself for the world.”

  Belle looks at me. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

  I shake my head.

  She shrugs. “Suit yourself. We’ll find you for the action later. Find a spot for our own free porn show.”

  “Oh my god,” Emily says, rolling her eyes. But she’s smirking. “There won’t be a fucking show. You’ll see.”

  I watch as they make their way back to the house, arguing and laughing. The crowd of people swallows them up and I’m left alone.

  And that’s when I see him.

  Hayden.

  He’s standing by the pool with his friends, his profile to me. His hair is swept back, and the t-shirt he’s wearing accentuates his broad back and muscled arms. He’s smiling; I can see his dimples from where I’m standing.

  A girl approaches, a tall blonde whose hair is so long, it almost reaches her waist. She loops her arm through his and he pulls her close, his smile deepening as he leans down and whispers something in her ear. She laughs, and then he does, and it’s all too much.

  I swallow against the lump in my throat and turn back toward the water. I sip my drink and try to unsee Hayden and the beautiful blonde hanging on his arm. Instead, I focus on the waves crashing to shore, the smell of salt in the air, the feel of the breeze against my skin. The orange juice tastes good and my throat gets used to the fire and pretty soon I have a good buzz going. The image of Hayden fades and I finally feel almost okay. Almost.

  It doesn’t last long.

  “Well, well, well.” Charity’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard. “What do we have here?”

  I don’t bother turning around.

  “Look, you guys,” she says. “She’s such a fucking loser that she came to a party all by herself.”

  I hear her friends laugh.

  “And she got all dressed up, too.” Charity sniffs. “Or at least tried to. My god, where is that shirt even from? Wal-Mart?”

  My fingers flex around the cup I’m holding but I don’t turn around.

  A finger jabs my shoulder. “Turn around, bitch. Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to ignore someone who’s talking to you?”

  Slowly, I spin around.

  Charity is standing there, wearing a pink crop top and jean shorts that look like they were painted on.

  Her smile is like ice. “Actually, the other view was better. I didn’t have to look at your horrid face.”

  Ainsley and Nina both smirk and laugh.

  “Don’t you have anything better to do?” I ask her.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Is this how you spend your Friday nights? Just harassing people and being the most horrible person on the planet?”

  She flips a lock of blond hair off her shoulder. “You think this is harassment? Oh, honey, I haven’t even gotten started.”

  “Really?” I lift my cup and she actually takes a step back. I chuckle and knock back the rest of my drink, then set the cup on the deck railing. “Because I’m saying you’re done.”

  I push off from the railing, intending to walk away, but she plants herself in front of me. “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done talking to you.”

  “Well, I’m done talking to you.” I shove her. Hard. She teeters on her heels, then falls into Ainsley.

  She gasps but I don’t care. I brush past her and find the steps that lead down to the beach.

  Because I don’t want to be at the party and I don’t want to see my friends and I don’t want to see Hayden with that girl, and I definitely don’t want to spend a single second more with Charity and her nest of vipers.

  I just want to be alone.

  Chapter 20

  The sand feels cool on my toes.

  I slipped off my shoes the minute I got to the bottom step.

  The noise of the party fades a little, the voices and the music, and the light is dimmer here, the deck lights casting a soft glow on the sand, providing just enough light for me to see where I’m going.

  If only I knew.

  I make my way across the beach, heading toward the water. The crashing waves soon drown out the sounds from the party. My feet hit packed sand and then the water, and I stand there, letting the remnants of the waves tease and tickle my toes. The water is surprisingly warm. Or maybe I’m just too buzzed to notice it’s cold.

  “Well, lookie here,” a voice says.

  I spin around.

  I know that voice.

  Unfortunately.

  Three guys are standing behind me. Lucas is one of them.

  I eye him warily.

  He grins, a wide, mouth-splitting grin. “Hey, babe. You looking for me?”

  His friends chuckle.

  “Nope.” I turn back to the water.

  He splashes through the waves so he’s standing in front of me. The hem of his shorts is wet. “Admit it. You came down here looking for me. You saw us come down and followed.”

  “You’re high.”

  He laughs. “Fuck yeah, I am.” His eyes rake over me. “And you’re still hot, sweetheart.”

  “Not interested.”

  “That’s what they all say.” He moves toward me. His steps are heavy and he spl
ashes water as he approaches.

  I back up.

  Right into the chest of one of his friends.

  Arms wrap around me from behind.

  “What the fuck?” I twist and turn, trying to get away.

  “Relax,” a voice in my ear breathes. It reeks of alcohol and pot. “We’re just gonna have a little fun.”

  Panic claws at my chest and crawls up my throat. “Let me go!”

  “Oh, we will,” Lucas says. He’s standing in front of me, a smile on his face as he watches me squirm. “Once I’m done with you.”

  The guy behind me releases his hold and shoves me forward, directly into Lucas. He grabs me and pulls me against him, rubbing his crotch against me. My stomach curls when I feel the bulge in his shorts press into me.

  To his friends, he says, “Get the fuck out of here, guys.”

  They laugh and catcall as they back up.

  “What if I want a turn?” one of them complains.

  “She’s mine,” Lucas tells them. He’s holding me so tight, crushing me, and I feel like I can barely breathe.

  “Come on,” he breathes. “Let’s have some fun.”

  His arms are like a vise. He is so much bigger, so much stronger than me, that I know I can’t get away.

  But I try.

  I bring my knee up, trying to smash his balls. But he anticipates it, because he blocks it and my knee crashes into his thigh instead. I grab at his hair, get a fistful, and pull hard. Pain flashes through his expression, but he shakes his head loose from my grasp.

  “Oooh, a feisty one,” he says, laughing. His arms tighten and his mouth latches on to my neck as he forces me to the ground. Sand scrapes against my skin just as his fingers dig into my flesh, pressing my stomach, inching up toward my bra. He has me pinned with the sheer weight of him and I twist back and forth, desperate to get away.

  Because I’m pretty sure this guy is going to rape me.

  My senses go numb. My vision blurs and the sounds around me become a dull roar. I feel my limbs relax, almost as if I’m giving up, and Lucas groans, as if he can sense it too.