The Elites Of Weis-Jameson Prep Academy: The Complete Series (A High School Enemies To Lovers Bully Romance Box Set)

by Rebel Hart

  “I-I-I know,” she says. She looks at her loafers. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. And that I can’t imagine how rough it’s been. And that I’m glad you’re staying strong.”

  Her kind words touch me, and unshed tears burn my eyes. I want so desperately for things to stop, for everyone to just leave me alone. Lily doesn’t understand just how much her words mean to me.

  A tear spills over and slips down my cheek. I hastily wipe it away.

  “Thanks, Lily,” I say, struggling to keep my composure. For some reason, just knowing that Lily is rooting for me makes me inconsolable. “I just want to go home and nap. Besides, for whatever reason, you’re still talking to me and I don’t want you to get dragged into this again.”

  She nods, like that makes sense. “I was going to offer to let me cover that up for you. You know, since I’m sure your parents don’t know.”

  It’s a cruel sort of world when Lily looks at me like she knows. They’ve done this to her too, long ago. I nod feebly, and we clamber into my car. She pulls out some heavy concealer. The color is lighter than my skin tone, but it’ll have to do.

  I close my eyes as Lily gingerly covers up my mark. Her touch is kind and gentle, and again I feel the onslaught of emotion nearly overcome me. I’ve been nothing but trouble for her, but she’s still willing to help me when she can.

  “There,” she says after a couple minutes. “All done.”

  I flip down the mirror. It looks as good as it can get. “Great job, Lily.”

  “Thanks, I just figured you would need it.”

  Her small act of kindness means more to me than she’ll ever know. I swallow the lump in my throat and just nod wordlessly. We stare out the windshield silently for a couple seconds before Lily shifts uncomfortably.

  “What did Emmett tell you at lunch today?” she asks.

  I look at her sharply. “He’s just trying to bully me.”

  “Oh,” she says.

  I realize that I’m being unduly harsh, and I try to soften my words. It’s not her fault I’m hurt and angry and sad. “I’m just tired, Lily. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I should probably get going here pretty soon, but do you mind if I wait until we see The Elites leave?”

  I nod. “If you want, you can get into the back – it’ll be harder for them to see you there.”

  After a minute of shuffling and scooching around, Lily is settled into the back seat. I touch the freshly applied makeup with my fingers. “Thanks again, Lily.”

  She nods curtly. “No problem.”

  “Oh, there they are,” I say, twisting over the back of my seat to see out the back window. Lily and I watch the Elites mosey out of the school. Emmett’s arm is slung over Vivian’s shoulder, and Bernadette is nestled into...

  “Are Trey and Bernadette a thing?” I ask, watching him jostle her against his side as she laughs, tilting her head.

  Lily’s nose crinkles. “Sort of. They’ve had an on-and-off thing for a while.”

  It’s just one huge Elite Orgy. Maybe they’re all inbred. But they’re all ridiculously gorgeous, so probably not.

  We watch as Emmett’s black car and Bernadette’s red Lamborghini speed out into the main road. Vivian, it turns out, drives another one of those black cars with the Jameson logo on it. A flickering steam of jealousy heats my face. She probably got gifted one of those cars. Maybe for fucking Emmett. The Whitworth twins drive away in a sleek sports car – yellow and indistinguishable from this far away.

  “Okay,” Lily says, opening the car door. “Thanks for letting me hide out.”

  “It was the least I could do,” I say, and when I reflect on what those words mean, I wish that I wasn’t so sincere. What kind of world do we live in where she needs to thank me for hiding out in my car? “Honestly.”

  When I arrive home, it’s silent. Mom won’t be back until 8:30, and I take Brendan’s absence as a sign that he’s occupied with an interview. I hope he gets it.

  Exhausted, I slip into a pair of comfortable panties and an old track meet shirt. I turn off the lights and flip over onto my back. My room is still bare, and the only things out of their boxes are my clothes and sheets. The rest of my nicknacks – photos, memorabilia, posters and track medals – are still packed away. I know I should at least hang my golden and purple tapestry I found at the flea market back in one of the cities I had a meet in. But the effort seems trivial.

  What’s the point in trying to make my room feel homey when clearly nobody wants me in this town?

  For the first time, I take a look at my phone. It’s fully charged – they must’ve plugged it in for me. The thought of them going through the effort of keeping my phone charged strikes me as odd. Why would they care if it died?

  I put in my password and the home screen is just how I left it. I view my recent google history – nothing. But since my phone is linked to my computer, they clearly saw my efforts to research them last night. Of all things, the idea makes my cheeks heat with the barest hint of shame.

  Emmett Jameson had added himself as a contact. He even had the audacity to put a little heart at the end of his info.

  Suddenly, I receive a text from Emmett. My phone dings just a second too late, and my heart leaps. The good thing about this phone is that I can read the messages from the notification alert.

  Check your notes, pet ;)

  Like a zombie, I go to my note sections. There’s only one note there – I don’t make a habit of leaving notes in my phone. It was created yesterday at 1:12 am. The title is: To Ophelia, From Emmett.

  You’re going to give in, pet.

  You want me to fuck you. I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it in your body every time I touch you. You shiver when I come close, and you can’t stop staring at my lips.

  I’m going to bury my cock in your sweet pussy. I’m going to pound in you until you come, screaming my name. You’re going to want me to do it. You’re going to beg me. And I’m going to enjoy it so much. I’ll eat you out like you’ve never been eaten out before.

  Arcadia was just a taste. I want more of you. All of you. Writhing and screaming beneath me, milking my cock because I feel so good inside you.

  You want more of me. I know it. We both do.

  I’ll see you tomorrow, pet. ;)

  My breaths come in quick pants. There’s a liquid lava heating my core, and I feel like I can’t think straight. Emmett’s face flashes in my mind, and a strike of desire lights me on fire as I think of his tongue wetting his lip.

  No no no no no.

  This cannot be.

  I cannot let this happen.

  I quickly – even though I want to read it again, even though I want to memorize the words, even though I want to feel how hot and bothered they make me – delete his note. But the damage is done. Just thinking of us together is sending me off the rails. Just knowing that he also feels the same way makes me want to think that it’s okay.

  But it’s not okay.

  This is ridiculous. I cannot be having these thoughts and feelings about him. He’s perverted and disgusting and hurtful and cruel and everything I don’t want in a partner.

  He’ll do nothing but use me and abuse me.

  I need to seriously get Emmett Jameson out of my head.

  Chapter Six

  BOOK 1

  They’re planning something.

  I just don’t know what yet.

  The rest of the week passes by uneventfully. I eat my lunch in my car. Whenever I passed by one of The Elites, they didn’t look at me. Whispers followed wherever I went, but it seemed the horny fuckfaces had backed off on the propositions. I gave the sophmore the middle finger a couple times, but he didn’t react.

  My teachers, it seems, are oblivious. Either that or too scared to do anything. To them, the first two days of school were completely normal. Absolutely nothing happened.

  Coach Granger doesn’t say anything when he sees the faint marks around my neck. Instead, he runs me into the ground
every day. Or, the assistant does. But I know he watched me kick ass. When he left after the start of practice, I watched him go and sit in his car. It was strategically placed on the Visitor’s parking lot, an elevated lot right behind the main office. He stayed there for the entire practice, every practice, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  Sometimes, coaches are as obsessed with the sport as the athletes.

  Practice is going generally well. I’m performing at top-notch, and my body feels strong and capable. But school still nettles me.

  But what bothers me is the absolute absence of anything. No acknowledgement. No side glances. No pointed glares. No shoving. No sexual touching. No nothing.

  The Elites are ignoring me. Hard. And I can’t help but think this is part of their diabolical plan. Their “ruin Ophelia for life as no one clearly gives a fuck” plan.

  They don’t seem like the kind of people to just back off. No. There is a reason behind everything they do.

  The last bell on Friday rings. I’m free.

  “There’s a party at the Whitworth Mansion tomorrow night,” comes a small voice. “They’ll be distracted.”

  I know it’s Lily, but she’s trailing behind me. Her voice is lost amongst the hundreds of others excited about finishing the first week of school.

  “And?” I say, staring straight ahead.

  I feel like I’m in a movie. Lily shadows me close, but not close enough to be suspicious, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

  “They’ll be there. We should hang out somewhere else.”

  “Ah,” I say.

  I still don’t understand Lily. She’s taken a trash-can over the head for talking to me. Yet she still keeps coming back.

  My curiosity burns. I want to know more about her.

  “Come on,” I say, scanning the hall for The Elites. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”

  We slip into the nearest bathroom, and Lily takes off her hood. Her mousy brown hair goes to her mid-back, and as she shakes it out I laugh. She then goes to check under the stalls, then marches right back to the door and latches it.

  “You had your hood on?” I can’t help but chuckle.

  Her eyes narrow at me, daring me to deny the obvious. “Clearly – it’s just easier to keep under their radar.”

  I search her face. She’s dead serious. “You’re serious.”

  “More serious than a heart attack,” she says, watching the remnants of my smile fade. “You still think this is a joke.” Her voice turns dark, her eyes hard. “The Elites don’t fuck around. They are ruthless and they are cruel, and they will hurt me and you if they see us together again.”

  “So why are you still talking to me?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s what we should talk about,” Lily insists, extending her hand. “Give me your phone number and we’ll meet up this weekend, away from all of this.”

  She heads to my messages, then pauses. Her eyebrows shoot up. “He got your phone number?”

  Emmett had been the last one to text me, aside from Mom and Brendan. I run an anxious hand through my long dark hair, trying to push the note out of my mind. “Yeah.”

  Before I can say anything, she clicks on it. “Check your notes, pet,” she repeats, then looks at me, expecting an answer.

  “I deleted the note.” Is it warm in here? I feel hot.

  “But not his contact information or his text?”

  I rub a hand down my face. “What would be the point? I’m sure if I block him he’ll just find another way around it.”

  “True.” She nods. “True, yeah.”

  She quickly types out a message with her contact info, then sends it. A few moments later, her phone buzzes in her pocket. It’s one of those high-pitched dog sounding buzzes that teachers apparently can’t hear.

  “Why?” I ask, nodding pointedly.

  Lily’s eyes meet mine. “You’ll soon understand that if The Elites don’t like you, neither do the teachers. And I’ve had enough stupid fucking detentions for texting in class.”

  “Ah,” I say.

  “Anyway,” she says, adding my contact information. “Do you have a fake?”

  Her question throws me off. “A fake ID?”

  “Yeah,” she says, waving her hand in the air. “A fake ID. You know, a driver’s license that says you’re of age to drink.”

  “No need to sound patronizing, jeez,” I tease her, but then turn serious. “No, I don’t.”

  “Oh.” Her frown is momentary. I wonder what sort of activities Lily gets up to in her spare time. Something tells me she isn’t having tea parties to drown out the stress. “That’s fine. We’ll just go to a place I know.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  She looks at me, and her hazel-green eyes are insistent, almost like she wants me to understand. Her demeanor changes, and she’s stiff. Her hand comes up and rests on my shoulder, though it feels weird since I’m several inches taller.

  “There’s only a few places in town that you can still go to where The Elites don’t have eyes,” she says slowly. “And I can’t bring you to my place, and I’m sure you want to keep where you live quiet. At least until they figure it out. They probably have figured out where you live, now that I think about it.” She shakes her head, refocuses. “Never mind. My point is, you need to be careful of where you go. And we need to be careful of where we meet. The Elites like to keep tabs on the people they hate.”

  “You’re kidding,” I say, a bone-chilling coldness settling deep into my body. I thought I’d left them every day once I was off school grounds.

  Of course not.

  The Elites are everywhere. They are like fucking God, and they sure play the part.

  “Unfortunately, I’m not,” Lily says, watching the information take hold, her hand squeezing my shoulder sympathetically. “You’ll need to leave your phone at home. They’ve probably installed a tracking device on it.”

  The place Lily gives me directions to is a renovated warehouse. As the sun goes down, I drive through the shadily lit streets until I land on number 127.

  It looks decent enough. Light streams out of the bottom floor windows, and a couple people mill about the uncut grass and weeds out front. Cars are parked haphazardly on the gravel lot, so I pick one far away.

  The sign across the open double doors says: The Rooster Cafe. Below it is a sign: “Jameson’s Number One Growler Fill Station and Family Restaurant.”

  I step in to see the place is literally split in two, a low half-wall extending through the back, zigzagging here and there. From the ceiling, heavy curtains of beads fall, reflecting the disco lights and pulsing purple lasers. It stops halfway at a railed balcony with even more seating.

  It’s a weird concoction of family restaurant and club, but with the dim lights and low-playing EDM, it somehow works. It’s heavily packed when I go inside, but to my surprise, I find children lurking about the stools, cuddled up against their parents. Their parents are young – clearly this speaks to a certain crowd.

  I find Lily to the left, nestled into a deep booth, picking at a plate of fries. She’s dressed in a nice t-shirt but nothing fancy. I slide in across from her.

  “Hey,” I say, looking around. I spot the large neon blue sign that says The Rooster Cafe. “Weird place.”

  “It’s got a certain quirk,” Lily says, munching on a fry. “You know they don’t cut the grass deliberately?” She shoves the basket in front of me. “Want some?”

  I take a few and dip them in ketchup. I feel like a fish out of water, and when I strain my head up over the half-wall, I’m greeted with a group of twenty-somethings ordering craft beer.

  “So, how’s it going?” Lily asks.

  “Oh, fine,” I say. I’d spent the day lounging around in sweats and a dirty t-shirt, and I showered just before I came to meet her. “Literally did nothing.”

  “How are you holding up?”

  I blow out a long breath, grab more fries, and stuff them into my mout
h. When I swallow, I admit, “I’m okay. Not the best, but it’s whatever.”

  “Has he tried to text you?”

  “Nope,” I say. “Thank god for small miracles, huh.”

  Lily gives a sad smile, like she agrees but doesn’t want to. “Yeah. You want something to drink?”

  “Sure,” I say, and now that I think of it, my throat is a little parched.

  Lily stands up, and her eyes land on someone behind me. Her face breaks into a genuine smile, and she beckons whoever it is with a dainty hand.

  The waiter comes over, dressed in all black with a neon glow stick necklace around his neck. His face is sour, and he glares at Lily. “What can I get you?”

  “Hey, Luke,” Lily says, smiling up at him. “I’d like some more fries.” She then looks at me critically, a sneaky smile on her lips. “You want a beer?”

  “Uh, sure?” I say. I try to look at Lily. Surely they wouldn’t serve alcohol to minors? She doesn’t look at me, but her smile is still blindingly happy.

  “Two Pilsners and fries please,” Lily says to Luke, waving him off with a dismissive hand.

  Instead of answering, Luke huffs and stalks away. My eyes widen – what was up his butt? She clearly knows him. Lily sees my expression and gives a chuckle.

  “Luke’s my brother,” she explains. She gestures to the place around her. “And this is our weird restaurant.”

  “Oh shit,” I breathe out. I cover my face with my hands briefly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

  But Lily is grinning, more amused than offended. “I know, I didn’t design it. My mom did. Apparently this style is all the rage in New York.”

  “She’s an architect?” I ask.

  “Yeah, she designs buildings and stuff.”

  “What does your dad do?”

  “He’s a stock-broker.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Neither do I,” Lily admits, and we grin at each other. “What do your parents do?”

  “Mom’s a Registered Nurse, and my Dad is like a technical electrical guy.”