Balls: A Bully Romance (The King of Castleton High Book 4)

by Ellie Meadows

  I let him lead, the world a blur around us. I didn’t try to shift or change our direction. I gave in, completely, to being moved by him. Until it felt natural. Until I realized that he’d stopped touching me and the only thing keeping us together were my own hands curled around his shoulders.

  “See, you’re doing it,” he smiled, and I could almost pretend he was a different person. This wasn’t Drake. This was just some nice guy teaching me how to skate in the mountains. And it was romantic, because this wasn’t the asshole who’d hurt me.

  “Yes, I guess I am,” I said quietly, letting go of his shoulders, but continuing to move my feet in a gliding pattern so that I wouldn’t lose momentum and I could skate around Drake and towards the exit. My feet started slipping sideways halfway there, throwing my center of balance off. I lifted my arms, waving them like a turbulence-aggrieved airplane, hoping I could steady myself.

  “Tarryn, come on. Let me help you.” Drake swooped up, skating a little way ahead and then easily turning around to face me. “You’ll be an expert in no time.”

  “You’re not supposed to be here, Drake!” I yelled at him as I wobbled dangerously, my brain trying to figure out which way I should fall to reduce the damage.

  His arms found me again, tugging me upright and pulling me close. “If I wasn’t here, you’d absolutely eat it on the ice, Square. Can’t you be a little glad?”

  “No. No I can’t be glad. I needed this, Drake. I needed to get away from... everything.” But I didn’t push him away. I could deal with his touch a few more feet until I was back safe on solid ground. “What happened to Mexico?”

  I refused to look at him, focusing instead on the exit gate growing ever closer.

  “Mexico wasn’t actually ever a thing.” He admitted, and I glanced up at him quickly.

  “So, you and Steve were...”

  “Always planning on following you and Sasha to the mountains? Yes.”

  “Yet, you decided to piss her off so badly that I had to listen to her rant nearly the entire drive up?” I huffed angrily, lunging forward and away from him now that I was within touching distance of the gate. Where was Sasha anyways? She should be here running interference. That’s what friends did for each other.

  “Sasha’s too easy to tease. It’s hard to resist.” Drake casually moved towards me, the ease of his movements the opposite of my own stunted attempts.

  “She’s my friend and it sounded like you were a world class jerk.” I gripped either side of the exit, pushing through the swinging gate that wasn’t latched and hobbled across the frosted brown earth towards a bench. Dead grass crunched beneath me, the sound making me grind my teeth. I realized what I must look like—thick jeans that made me look fatter, ugliest winter sweater on the planet, hair a mess. My face was probably ruddy and gross from the cold and stress. And here was Drake fucking Castleton, showing up out of nowhere.

  And looking like a god. Like he always did.

  From that first moment I saw him in his stupid green car.

  To the heartbreaking moment when he’d begged me for another chance.

  The bench was metal, so it was ice cold even through my flannel jeans, and I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes as a breeze chapped my lips.

  I was sad. And mad.

  Drake sat down beside me and handed me my boots.

  “How did you get those?”

  “I just asked the attendant for your shoes.” He shrugged, unlacing his skates and trading them for his own sneakers. “He didn’t have a hard time remembering the chick in the horrendous reindeer sweater.”

  I blushed, now keenly aware that I had dressed warmly, and with the expectation that I wasn’t going to be impressing anyone.

  “They’re not reindeer,” I snapped stupidly. “No antlers. So, they’re obviously female deer.” I kept explaining, making things worse.

  “Square,” he quipped, standing up with his skates in hand and reaching for mine.

  I took them off as quickly as I could manage, revealing the hidden monstrosity of my ensemble—Christmas tree patterned socks. I hadn’t even thought about those.

  Drake smiled when he saw them.

  “You are a memorable one, Tarryn.” This time, he spoke gently, no hint of teasing. “Here, give me your skates. I’ll return them and maybe we can go for a walk?”

  “Drake...” I started but couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Because I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. The tenderness of him leading me across the ice battled in my brain against the less-than-great memories.

  Did I want him to leave me alone?

  Now that he was here, I wasn’t so sure.

  “It’s just a walk, Tarryn. And a conversation, if you’re up for that.” He pressed gently, gaze earnest, posture depressed, like he knew what my answer would be no matter how nicely he asked.

  “Okay.” The word was out of my mouth before I could seal my lips. My heart forcing its way past my more rational brain.

  But God, the smile he gave me.

  Like sun had finally shone through the clouds after a year of rain.

  Drake walked away to return the skates and I shoved my feet angrily into my boots. I was weak. Weak, and stupid. Just like Tabitha.

  “Hey, there you are!” Sasha’s voice was cheerful, and I found her face quickly, trying not to frown when I saw that Steve was walking beside her. They were holding hands, and she looked like his intrusion into our trip was a happy surprise. “Look how I found on the other side of the rink? There was no Mexico! He was trying to keep his trip a secret.” She beamed and seemed completely oblivious to my contrasting mood.

  “Hi, Steve.” I tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage one. “Did you tell Sasha who you brought along? I mean, obviously she must have figured it out since you guys had a big fight about it right before you left for Mexico with him.”

  “Oh,” Sasha’s eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open. “I didn’t even think about...” She whirled on Steve, accusations already flying from her mouth. “Did you really bring him here too?”

  “Well, I mean, he was sort of my ride,” Steve said sheepishly, running a hand through his hair, “and he’s paying for the cabin.”

  “Dammit, Steve!” Sasha hit him in the arm and Steve winced. “You know what an asshole he is. And you knew Tarryn would be here too!”

  “I know, I know. But I couldn’t let my main girl head off to a romantic vacation without me, could I?” Steve played the puppy eyes, leaning in and looking pitiable.

  I stood up, stretching my arm between them before Sasha could hit Steve again. No sense having them argue again just because my relationship had imploded. “Look, I’m a big girl. It’s fine. Steve’s his friend. I get it.”

  “Steve is an idiot and knew better.” Sasha crossed her arms, doubling down.

  “Come on, Sash.” Steve threaded his arms around his girlfriend, pulling her in tight for a side hug. “You know me and Drake have been tight since basically birth. And he’s a mess over—" he stopped talking abruptly, flicking a glance at me nervously. “He needed to get away, and he didn’t want to be alone. That's all this is.”

  “You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute, Steve,” Sasha sighed and curled her hands around his forearm.

  “You guys go have fun. I guess I can’t really put off talking to Drake any longer.”

  “Go easy on the guy,” Steve urged, and then promptly yelled ‘hey!’ when Sasha pinched his arm. “Look, I’m just saying that in all the years I’ve known Drake, he’s never wanted to make amends for something. He’s never wanted to be forgiven. That's got to mean something, doesn’t it?”

  “Maybe,” I admitted, and then looked at Sasha. “Meet back here? Or?”

  Steve jumped in, answering for her. “Drake’s got his car. And I saw Sash’s in the lot over there. She can drive me back to my cabin.”

  “Don’t make plans for me,” Sasha growled, trying to pull away from the hug, but Steve’s arms tightened to keep
her in place.

  “Nope, I have you now. My turn to be the warden.” He leaned down and quickly kissed her on the cheek.

  “Sure, that’s fine.” I agreed, shuffling my feet. “I’m sure this won’t take long, so I might beat you back to the cabin.”

  “You definitely will.” Steve winked and pressed lips to Sasha’s cheek, pulling away with a loud cartoon 'smack’.

  Sasha laughed; she couldn’t help herself. I smiled. Steve might be an idiot, but he was sort of an adorable one.

  Drake was heading back towards us now, to-go cups in his hand with curls of white steam puffing from the vented lids.

  Sasha cast him a dirty look before walking off with Steve. Maybe to give me privacy with Drake or maybe because she couldn’t stand to be next to him.

  It was just a walk in the woods.

  Just a conversation.

  He’d been begging to clear the air properly, and maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

  Get everything that needed saying, said. And then maybe we could be free of each other.

  It was just a walk.

  Just a conversation.

  It wouldn’t mean anything.

  11.

  D R A K E

  [first person, present tense]

  It was just a walk.

  Just a conversation.

  But it could mean everything.

  “Hot cocoa? It’s good here. They add cinnamon.”

  “Cinnamon?”

  “Brings out the chocolate.”

  “No mini marshmallows?” Tarryn pops the lid of her cup to peer inside.

  “Do you want those? They have a shaker of them near the snack stand.” I reach for her drink, fingers hanging in the air awkwardly for a moment when she yanks her cocoa away. She even takes a step back, like I scare her.

  Is this the guy I am? I broke her trust, crushed her heart, and now she has to protect herself?

  Keep the chat casual.

  Stick to food, the weather.

  Talk about anything except the ugly inevitable.

  “No,” Tarryn finally says. “This is fine.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have known you’d want marshmallows. You’re a marshmallow kind of girl.”

  “What does that mean, Drake? That I’m soft? I must be, to let you talk me into this after... after everything.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  She doesn’t say anything back.

  We’re at an intersection of the path now. Right leads to the parking lot, left leads into the woods. Christmas lights and cheery decorations line the forest trail, music is pumping out from speakers nestled in the trees.

  “Do you still feel like taking a walk?” I ask tentatively, not wanting to push her, but also wanting to. So badly. “It’s okay if you don’t. I can take you back to the cabin.”

  She looks at me, guileless face easy to read. She’s confused. Taken aback by my softness maybe. I want to be this guy all of the time. I don’t want to be the asshole.

  “I want to see the lights,” she says simply, walking past me. So close that our shoulders brush.

  I feel lucky that she’s not walking right. She’s chosen left.

  Maybe as we walk, the words will flow.

  “It’s pretty back here,” she comments after ten minutes of silence. I know how long it’s been, because I can’t stop checking my watch. “My parents and I always did this drive-through light show back home before we moved. It was my favorite part of the season, I think. Except for maybe decorating the tree.”

  I don’t say anything, simply grateful that she wants to talk to me.

  She sips at her cocoa, humming a little to herself as she moves. Her ponytail sways, long curling strands swishing against her sweater.

  Only she can make a sweater that ugly look good.

  “Do you and your parents have any traditions?” She’s being polite, asking about my family’s Christmases. She probably knows, though, that the Castletons are all for pomp and circumstance, but with little time for genuine closeness. Even during the holidays. I’ve told her enough about my family in the path to make the obvious assumptions.

  “No. Not really. Grandmother used to throw a company party. She’d decorate her estate from top to bottom. Castleton Industry employees would come, as well as business connections around the world. A few diplomats and what passes for good friends among the wealthy. She'd pull out her best jewels from Grandfather Hiram... she never wore them on other occasions. I think they make her miss him too much.”

  “That’s not really a family tradition. Not if it’s business.” She takes another sip, this time tilting her head back to work out the very last drops of chocolate. I reach for her to-go cup when she’s done; she hands it to me without comment. I make quick work of popping the top off and nesting the empty cup over my own. I like the look of it; the cup her lips have touched resting inside the cup I am still drinking from.

  I realize how sentimental she makes me.

  With her, I would want to have intimate holidays, full of carefully curated traditions. I would want the memories of songs by the fire and presents wrapped under the tree. And I’d buy her special things, little thoughtful artifacts that brought her face to my mind. Tiny treasures that made me think of her laugh. I’d give her memories, rather than buying whatever was the most expensive, which was the typical Castleton way of showing empty affection.

  “Did you expect me to say differently?” I ask after taking another sip of my own hot chocolate, now grown cold. My dad, mom, and me gathered around the fire like a happy family, singing carols, and stringing popcorn chains for the tree?”

  “You don’t sound bitter about it.” Tarryn stops walking, moving to the side of the trail to reach up and touch a blinking Santa Claus hanging from a tree limb.

  “I guess it’s my normal, so I’m not bitter. Maybe if I’d had typical American Christmases when I was little, those memories might haunt me and make my current reality feel like shit. But it’s always been money before happiness. Individual needs before family.”

  She turns towards me, the lights behind her creating a red and green halo behind her head. Fucking angelic. That’s what Tarryn is.

  “I’m sorry for you, you know. Sorry that you don’t have any idea what a real family should be like. My parents aren’t perfect, but they love me. I never doubt that.”

  “You’re lucky.”

  We’ve had a similar conversation before.

  But I don’t want her sympathy now. I don’t want her to give me a second chance solely because my history is a sad, lonely sack of crap.

  “Let’s not talk about family anymore. I don’t want to be how they are.”

  “Would you choose a simple life over being wealthy? If it meant you grew up with love?” Tarryn starts moving again, and I follow slowly.

  Would I give up money and power for love?

  Honestly, I can’t imagine thinking about money all the time—thinking about how I don’t have enough of it and bills are pouring in. Budgets are a foreign language. Saving for a vacation instead of just jetting off when I damn well pleased wasn’t imaginable.

  “I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “Sorry. I know that’s not what you want to hear.”

  “How do you know what I want to hear?” She shrugs. “I want the truth, and you’re giving it to me.”

  I sigh, passing a trash can and dropping the to-go cups inside. They plunk softly against other trash, the sound barely audible.

  “I think that if I could have been raised in an environment that showed me a healthy relationship, then maybe I’d not be such a fuck-up in that department.”

  “But eventually, you can’t blame your parents for the choices you make, Drake.”

  “I know that. I do. Fuck.” I stop walking, running my hands through my hair roughly and gathering the strands, yanking them until my scalp screams. I turn away from her, moving far enough away to become engulfed in the darkness of the trees’ shadows, far enough from t
he trail to escape the glory of lights that expose my face.

  I don’t want her to see the tears that are forming in my eyes.

  Girls don’t want guys that cry.

  “I screwed up, Tarryn.”

  “I know, you’ve said that before.” Her voice is closer now. She’s moved into the shadows with me.

  I drop my hands, soul shifting into my belly where it starts dissolving from the stomach acids. Serves it right—making me think I can pursue my heart and forget my head; making me think I can move towards a future and forget my past. I’m not a killer; I don’t have a ledger dripping red. But I’ve got a little black book filled with names crossed out. Conquests that I’ve slipped in and out of, taking my own pleasure at the expense of so many goddamn feelings.

  I close the space between us and pull her into my arms. She doesn't fight to pull away, but she also doesn’t hug me back.

  “Shit, Tarryn. I don’t know what to do other than say it over and over. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I screwed up. When Tabitha said she had those photos, all I could think about was protecting you from them. I had to do something to make sure they didn’t see the light of day. Didn’t I? What choice did I have?” I whisper the words frantically against her hair. She smells so good. Like snow and fire. Hints of cinnamon from the cocoa clinging to her mouth. God, I want to kiss her.

  People pass us, most of them too content and mesmerized by the lights to focus on the two teens standing to the side, nearly swallowed by darkness.

  The tears start falling now.

  Fuck. Fuck.

  I pull away from her, swiping at my eyes roughly.

  Tarryn stares at me, and I wonder if her eyes are adjusted to the darkness enough to see the narrow rivers running down my cheeks.

  “You’re crying.” It is a statement, not a question. And there’s bewilderment in her tone. “I don’t understand, Drake. If you care about me this much, how could you sleep with Tabitha? How could you do that?”

  “I was protecting you,” I insist, “In the wrong way. I get that now. But she said those were her conditions. Sex with me and that would be the end of the photos. She lied.”