MALICE: A High School Bully Romance (The Heirs of Westhaven)

by Raina St. Clare

  "Ah."

  Silence filled the space between us, a little less comfortably than it had in the past, but I didn’t acknowledge it.

  The same as I never acknowledge how beautiful he was.

  Or how he partied with everyone in the community and never once invited me to any of them.

  As best friends, there were certain things that we just didn’t do, some boundaries we didn’t cross.

  First and foremost seemed to be each other. As in, we didn’t get physical with each other.

  I didn’t know which one of us actually insisted on that as a rule. Stupid as it was, I was probably the one to blame for that.

  I had too many rules. Too many hang ups and rituals.

  He just seemed to have one rule: Don’t talk to him about Cade.

  That was a hard rule for me to follow. Hypocritical of me, I know, since I had way more topics that were entirely off limits, like my parents and how they treated me.

  I’d back down if his beef was really about Cade.

  But most of the time, I felt like he’s using Cade as a smokescreen.

  Like Donovan was hiding a secret he didn’t want me to dig into.

  Donovan always had issues with his brother. Growing up, they just had each other. Cade was old enough that he was Donovan's legal guardian.

  They never knew their parents. At least he knew that Cade loved him.

  Sometimes being smothered was just as annoying as being neglected. Not that I knew, but the thought of someone caring enough to be that protective over me was nice.

  It was something that I had in common with Maeby. Neither of our parents cared where we were only that we weren't causing a scene.

  Donovan and Cade were orphans. Maeby and I were orphans in all the important ways.

  Thinking about our absent parents made me wonder about the Frosts and what they were thinking of now. Did they even admit to themselves that Maeby had the undignified dishonor of getting herself raped and killed?

  Found in a trash can no less.

  As much as I loved Maeby, I knew that her parents had to be thinking something along those lines. If not specifically those thoughts, close enough. They were like my parents in that respect: They only cared how Maeby’s actions reflected on them.

  I didn't realize I was crying until Donovan gathered me in his arms and held me inside the circle of his body. We fit well together, and I pressed more of myself against him, and he took it all, holding me tight.

  I didn't realize I dozed off until the buzz of a silenced phone woke me.

  Donovan picked up his phone. A text practically screamed at him: "Where are you? Get your ass here now."

  I started to pull away from him. "Sorry, Donovan." My words were slurred from sleep, but he tightened his hold around me.

  "Don't apologize. Cade is just being Cade."

  Maybe it was the sleep or the moment, but I was more unguarded than I normally would have been. Otherwise the words would never have fallen from my mouth.

  “Seems important." I laid my cheek against his chest again, unconcerned.

  Cade was always needlessly hotheaded. That was the type of person he was.

  He also would kill anyone that looked at me wrong.

  "If it was important he'd come find me. Right now, he's just checking in."

  I snorted. "Then let Cade know you're okay."

  Donovan didn't respond. He just lazily traced circles on my back.

  The tension between us grew thick. As that thought crossed my mind, I felt him grow hard against my leg. It reminded me of the unfinished moment we had at the beach that night.

  Had it only been a few weekends ago?

  It felt like ages have passed.

  I was aware of the fact that I was splayed over Donovan’s body, feeling the rise and fall of his steady breath. His heart thundered against my cheek.

  His large hand splayed on my back.

  I didn't know who made the first move. Maybe it was both of us together at the same time, so in tuned that we started our conversation from where we had left off that night.

  I straddled his hips, my hands raking through his hair, pulling him toward me. I devoured him with a hunger that I'd never felt before.

  I gyrated my hips so I could get closer, the hardness there made me gasp.

  The things he did with his tongue made me lightheaded. The last we spoke he promised that there were other uses for his tongue, and he couldn't wait to show me.

  His hand slid up my thigh, and teased along the edges of my lacy underwear.

  He waited for me to say something, anything, but I swallowed a growl and shifted my hips so he could touch where I throbbed.

  "You want this? Like this?" he murmured against my lips. His thumb caressed up and down my sex, gently circling over my clit as he nipped my lips right before he deepened our kiss, invading my mouth with his tongue.

  My muscles tightened at the onslaught, groaning deep in my throat.

  "Well, now I know why you didn't answer my texts, little bro," Cade said from my doorway. He was leaning against it, and I didn't know how long he had stood there.

  Donovan looked like he would murder his brother. "Dammit Cade."

  "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, little brother."

  His attention was back on Donovan. "When you're done here, we need to make a supply run." He winked at me. "Layla," he said tipping an imaginary hat at me.

  Heat rushed over my face. I couldn’t look at Cade.

  I was ready to stop, but Donovan shut the door. That was the first time my bedroom door was closed when he was present. "What are—?”

  Donovan pushed me back against the mattress. "Let me take care of you." His fingers returned to my body, more earnest this time, and a moan escaped my lips.

  I bit my lip, which he sucked into his own mouth and nibbled. "I'll make you feel good, I swear." As if to prove it to me, he pulled my underwear aside and ran his fingers between my legs.

  I gasped at the sensations as he stroked me so intimately, as if to prove to me that he would live up to his promise.

  "You're so wet," he crooned in my ear. His words made me shudder. He pressed the pad of his thumb against my clit and lazily stroked it as he pushed on finger inside of me.

  I tightened around the invasion, needing more.

  "I knew you'd like it." He put two fingers in, then a third one, pushing in and out as he flicked my clit in time to his slow pace. "You're so tight, hot, wet. I knew you'd be, I knew you'd feel good."

  His words and his touch were driving me wild. Donovan was older and I wasn't stupid, he'd been with other girls before. But this was different. This would be different.

  With me, he’d be different.

  He pulled my pants off and then my underwear so he could look at me, caressing me as he gazed at my nakedness. "You're so beautiful, everywhere." He spoke fiery words against my skin, lighting up my body with deftly placed kisses.

  My ribs.

  The rise of my hip bone.

  My soft inner thigh.

  He spoke his way between my legs, sealing his lips over my sex. I arched my back at his touch. His tongue flicked and teased my clit while his fingers plunged inside me.

  He tested me first, searching slowly and deliberately inside of me. Feeling me clenched tight and hot around him.

  An unfamiliar sound escaped my throat. It was like it came from the very depths of my soul.

  Donovan shifted his fingers inside of me, spearing me with determined strokes.

  Faster.

  Faster.

  Harder.

  He moved the flat of his tongue against me, and I bucked against him. His strong arms holding me down.

  He didn't stop. He had my legs over his shoulders, one hand clamped over one of my breasts, the other holding my hip as he licked me until I saw stars.

  I couldn’t breathe fast enough as I chased the pleasure that he ignited within me.

  As I came back down into my body, he continu
ed kissing and licking me, stoking the flames that were close to igniting again.

  His other hand was pumping between his legs, and the sight of it sent me close to the edge of another orgasm.

  "I can return the favor?" I offered him between pants. I was proud that my brain came up with words.

  He smiled, wickedly, pinching the nipple he tormented. "Soon, not yet." He licked me again, and I came even harder.

  I dug my nails into his arm, the only part of him I could reach. He growled a low tone that vibrated from his chest. He must have finished.

  I was wrung out, barely mobile, my legs still twitching.

  We both were breathing hard.

  Donovan recovered faster than I did. I didn't get to see him as naked as he had seen me, since he tucked himself in his jeans quickly.

  He kissed me, pulling a blanket over my body. “I can't hold him off much longer," Donovan said by way of explanation. "I should go. Don't stay up too late. Get some decent sleep."

  He paused at the door. "And you should probably wash that towel before using it again." He left with a wink.

  I didn't move until I heard him leave. Judging by the footsteps and various grunts I heard from the first floor, Cade hadn't been alone. Great. The bungalow wasn't exactly sound-proofed, so they probably heard every bit of our encounter.

  Double great.

  I could barely look at Cade on a normal day. Knowing he had likely heard us—heard me—would mean the tI would never look at him ever again.

  The sound of their motorcycles faded away into the night. The last bit of confirmation I needed to let me know that there had been at least a handful of Cade’s closest friends with him. I only hoped that most of them had stayed outside.

  My neighbor better not report me for noise complaint.

  I plucked a fresh outfit from my closet to wear, grabbing the towel and the clothes I’d worn and placing them into the wash immediately. I tried being detached about it, as if being casual about what had happened. A heated blush still crept on my cheeks, though, thinking about what had happened not so long ago.

  From one moment to another I went from ignoring there was anything between Donovan and me, and then letting him do anything he wanted.

  As if I was another one of his conquests.

  No. I refused to even think about it like that. Donovan would never hurt me. And, if he did…well, I didn’t know what I would do exactly, but just thinking about losing both Donovan and Maeby in the same time frame made my skin crawl.

  I kept myself busy by checking on all the doors and windows of my house. It was early in the evening still, and I thought I had heard the deadbolts turning when Donovan left, but checking the locks myself relaxed me.

  The back door and kitchens were locked, which were the main doors that I used going into and out of my house. But, when I went out to the enclosed sun room that acted as my front porch, I noticed something on my front stoop.

  A box.

  No one ever came to my house in this way. Even the mail guy knew to ring for packages at the kitchen entrance.

  I unlocked the front patio door and opened it, scooping up the box. It was addressed to me, but there was no postage on it. It was hand-delivered.

  My hand shook when I recognized that handwriting on the shipping label.

  Maeby.

  The Package

  Layla

  * * *

  A million irrational thoughts cluttered my mind as I looked at this label. Could Maeby have dropped this off? Was she still alive?

  After the initial downward spiral, real thoughts plagued me. Namely, how someone who I didn’t know but knew Maeby dropped this off at my house.

  Someone I didn’t know but knew me had left this package for me.

  Someone who Maeby trusted had left this for me.

  Who had known her this closely, yet didn’t know me enough to deliver this package where I could have seen it immediately.

  How long had this been out here, waiting for me?

  I tore open the package. Hope was stupid, but still I couldn't help but hope that there would be answers inside. As irrational as it seemed, I somehow hoped that Maeby had bits of herself in this small little place.

  Once I opened the box, I was even more confused.

  Inside was a brown envelope with my name written in bold black marker.

  I could feel something hard and bulky inside of it, along with something metallic. Kneeling down at my coffee table, I opened it and slid the contents onto the surface in front of me.

  A letter. A key. An old phone.

  I felt like I stumbled onto a Jason Bourne situation.

  What the hell?

  I scoured my memory to see if any of these looked familiar. The phone was one of those old style candy bar phones that could survive a world war. I pushed the power button, and nothing happened. That would have been too easy, of course.

  I’d need to charge it, somehow, or replace the batteries. Did my parents even have a charger for this?

  I put it aside as a puzzle to solve later. Picking up the note, I took a deep breath before unfolding it.

  Lay,

  I'm sorry.

  Mae.

  That was it.

  I searched the envelope again, and then the box. Did something fall out?

  I picked the key up. It was an older looking gold key, like something I’d seen for corporate or industrial use. Maybe a bank deposit box? A post office box? Hell, this key could be to anywhere.

  It had a serial number stamped into the handle. At least that was something.

  The phone was the only real clue. I must have a charger for it for Maeby to have given this to me. Scrambling to my feet, I went to my parents’ office.

  It was an oasis of soft leather and dark woods. The only evidence of wealth that my family tried to downplay.

  After looking into a few drawers, I stumbled on my mom’s junk drawer. My heart soared. She kept everything, and among the clutter in this drawer was a huge tangle of cables and cords. I draw out the bundle that was the size of a softball, and see a cable that could work for the phone.

  I plug it into the phone, and wait. After a few seconds, I pressed the power button again, and the screen came alive.

  “Damn! That worked!”

  After the intro graphics did its thing, a security lock appeared.

  Four blank squares blinked at me.

  What the hell was her passcode?

  I tried her usual standby, and thankfully, it let me into the phone.

  What the hell was so important?

  There was a voicemail message notification on and I swiped to listen to it for a moment. It started off as static, but then there was a weird cadence to it, like there were voices talking.

  I put that off for now, and clicked onto the video files.

  There were three videos on there all dated within this month.

  That was more like it.

  I played the first one.

  A blurry close up of Maeby's cheek fills the screen, and then she backed away from the camera, taking a seat. I recognized her outfit. This had been taken about a week before she died. She wore that outfit on the day that she picked me up to go clothes shopping for the beach party.

  The last night she'd been alive.

  "If you're watching this, I'm in trouble. And I'm sorry. There's been a lot going on. Hopefully one day I can tell you all about it. I want to be able to tell you about it. I just don't know how I can. Of course, if all goes well, you won't need to hear about it from me anyway. The news will likely blow it all up for me anyway." A wistful sigh. Somehow she knew that wouldn't be what happened.

  "I'm recording this though because I can't help shake the feeling that yeah, this will be big, but also risky. I hope I'll be able to watch these videos with you and explain.

  First things first. That key is to a safety deposit box. Everything in that box belongs to you."

  A Message in a Bottle

  I didn't like thinking
of this as a death note or as a "message in a bottle."

  I wanted to think of this as virtual notes to myself.

  Yeah, that was what this was. Virtual notes.

  So, with that said. I'll organize my notes from the beginning.

  It started out as a favor to look into more clients for a friend. And it ended up being something out of a movie. Sex scandals. Drugs. Cover ups. Money. Power.

  The same old.

  It's scary and surreal all at the same time, and now I don't know what to think.

  I hope you stay in school or let your parents homeschool you.

  Don't come out to the beach again. You have access to the best beaches in the world, you don't need to go to East, okay?

  Oh, cut Donovan some slack, okay? Don't punish him for being with other girls when you always push him away and make it clear that you all just want to be friends.

  Be his friend for real, and lay it out like that for him.

  Or let him fuck you until your brain spills out of your ears.

  Either way, it would be decent of you not to play around with his emotions. It's a bitch move, and one thing I know, you're not a bitch.

  Something caught her attention. A noise of some sort.

  "Gotta go." As she leaned into the camera, taking it from its stand, I saw a flicker of movement behind her in the doorway. A figure backlit.

  One wearing a blazer with a recognizable emblem on it.

  Westhaven Prep.

  A Favor

  Layla

  * * *

  “Hi Aunt Patrice?” I shouted into the phone.

  The bright voice of my aunt sounded in my ear, her practiced tones as smooth as polished marble. “Layla, darling! How are you!”

  The background was full of static and what sounded like whooping. It didn’t sound like the normally spa-like atmosphere that my aunt surrounded herself in.

  “Aunt Patrice—”

  “Oh, good Lord, Layla, I told you to call me Tricia! Aunt Patrice is so old!” Whatever else she said was muffled as she was clearly talking to someone near her.