Her Spite: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (The Forgotten Elites Book 2)

by Eden Beck

  At this point, I’m barely even thinking about getting back at Warren anymore. I just want to know for my own curiosity.

  If I’m being honest with myself, not knowing is kind of starting to eat me alive.

  When I get to lunch today, I join Bridget and her friends at their ‘invite-only’ table. I expect to get a lot of condescending looks and eye rolling, with probably a few snide comments sprinkled around for extra effect, but instead they’re all surprisingly civil to me.

  This isn’t the first time I’ve joined them. It also isn’t the first time I’ve made awkward eye contact with Alaska from across the room and mouthed a hasty, “sorry,” before sliding into a seat beside an increasingly annoyed looking Bridget.

  Or maybe that’s just her face these days. Maybe I’m finally wearing her down.

  “So, we’ve noticed that you’ve been spending a lot of time with the boys,” one of the girls says.

  I can’t really remember her name; I think it might be Tammy or something. Honestly, a lot of these girls look the same to me. I wonder if that’s what they’re going for—all trying to look like slightly different versions of the same person. I don’t really see the point in being such a boring conformist.

  I much prefer my unbuttoned blouses. At least then, I know what to expect when they decide to spit insults in my face again.

  “What’s that all about?” she asks, prying further. I may be imagining it, but I swear she glances ever so briefly in Bridget’s direction, and then back to me.

  “What do you mean?” I say, pretending like it’s no big deal. “I have volunteering with Warren, cross paths with Chase on campus sometimes, and just recently started talking with Sterling after I helped Bridget entertain him once when he had to wait on her to go finish an errand out of town.”

  Beside me, Bridget stiffens like a board.

  Last term, hell, last month these girls would have immediately followed suit—pretending to find interest in something else. They would have at least changed the subject.

  But instead, today, I watch as the girl beside me subtly shifts her posture so that her elbow is on the table, ever so slightly boxing Bridget out of the conversation.

  Subtle, but not so subtle.

  I can see Bridget start to fume. It’s almost like one of those cartoons where the smoke starts to come out of someone’s ears and their breathing starts to sound like a locomotive.

  I, in turn, feel a slight thrill bubble up inside me.

  “Tell us all about it,” the girl presses on. “Like what is it that you and Warren do together when you are volunteering?”

  “Uh, we don’t really work together,” I say, purposefully coy. “I mean, we’re both there but we do our own things.”

  She seems underwhelmed by that answer, so tries again with one of the other boys.

  “Do you ever go jogging with Chase?”

  “No,” I say, tossing my hair over one shoulder, feigning disinterest. “I don’t jog.”

  This just makes her sit up a little more excitedly. “No? You naughty thing,” she says, her imagination making up far more than I could ever attempt to insinuate. “What do you talk about with Sterling? Or you know … do you do any talking at all?”

  This question rubs Bridget the wrong way.

  “God, could you be any nosier about the boys?” Bridget snaps. “Just because Aubrey is a slut doesn’t mean that you all have to be one, too.”

  I laugh when I see the looks on the other girls’ faces. Being called a slut no longer fazes me in the least, but it’s obviously a huge insult to the other girls.

  “And maybe you’re just jealous that Aubrey here seems to be getting more action than you do,” the other girl spits back, almost making me choke. “So much for what you said before. Sterling isn’t your boyfriend any more than Brad Pitt is mine.”

  She looks down at her food for a second and then lets out a spiteful laugh. “And here you were, telling me I’d be the only one of us without a date to the gala.”

  It takes every ounce of my self-control not to let my jaw drop open.

  Bridget slams her fork down so loudly that several other tables glance in our direction. Her face has gone nearly as red as her hair.

  “Say that again, Tammy,” she hisses. “I dare you.”

  No one does, but it doesn’t stop the rest of her friends from sharing a brief, telling glance.

  A strange silence falls over the table as eyes fall down to the food on the trays in front of us, but fortunately for me that means no one sees the small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

  I’m finally getting under Bridget’s skin. She feels threatened by the fact that I’m getting closer to the boys now, enough that they’re actually talking to me of their own volition. That means that it’s working—all of it.

  Chapter Eight

  And thank god, too.

  I was starting to wonder how much more of this I could handle before I start to go insane. But I’m finally getting what I was hoping for.

  More than I was hoping for.

  The next day, I go back to sit with my real friends. Alaska and Clark are happy to see me, but both of them seem a little worried.

  “What’s up?” I ask when I see the wrinkled brow on Alaska’s face. She isn’t a super smiley girl exactly—even on a good day—but she doesn’t usually have such a blatant frown on her face. Not when she’s talking to me, anyway.

  “We were just talking, and we’re concerned that maybe you might be taking things a little too far,” she says.

  “Like which things?” I ask. They don’t even know all of the things that I’ve been up to.

  “Like the whole thing about acting the part you’ve been given,” Clark interjects. “We both know that you never used to dress like this before, and I know you say that the snide comments from people here don’t bother you … but some of the stuff that was said about you is pretty harsh. Doesn’t that bother you at least a little bit?”

  “I think what Clark is trying to say,” Alaska interrupts, “is that you just don’t seem to be acting like yourself. You seem to be lashing out, and instead of trying to squelch the rumors, you’re like adding fuel to the fire.”

  And I thought Warren was blunt.

  I gawk at the two of them, my lips parting but no words coming out. I really don’t know what to say.

  “Yeah, and what is up with you trying to worm your way into the popular crowd?” Clark continues, filling the void that my spluttering couldn’t. “I mean, it doesn’t bother us who you’re friends with, but they were the same people that treated you like shit all this time. Why in the world would you want to be friends with them now?”

  “We’re just worried about you, Aubrey,” Alaska says. “We know you’ve been through a lot with all of this, and you just might be taking things a little bit too far now.”

  I can see that they’re genuinely just trying to help and be good friends, but when I pull an envelope out of my pocket and show it to them, I’m pretty sure they’re going to change their minds.

  “What’s this?” Clark asks as he takes the envelope from my hand and opens it. “Holy shit.”

  Alaska peeks over his hand to see what it is.

  “Oh my god, is that an invitation to the review board?” she asks with wide eyes.

  “Yep,” I say, feeling pleased with myself.

  “How did you get invited?” Clark asks.

  “One of Bridget’s friends gave me the invite. She was allowed to recommend one other person to invite and she chose me.”

  It’s my greatest achievement yet. I have Bridget’s little comment to thank for that, I’m sure. That’s the one advantage of getting close to such a petty group of friends.

  Once in a while, that pettiness works out in your favor.

  Alaska, however, just keeps shaking her head in disbelief.

  “No offense,” Alaska says. “But why would she choose you? You barely know those girls.”

  I shrug my shoulders
as I take the envelope back from Clark.

  “I don’t know, maybe I made a good first impression once they really started getting to know me. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I got in.”

  I stare down at the invitation and feel my heart skip the slightest beat. “I still can’t believe it.”

  Bridget was the first person to mention the possibility of getting out of here early. Back then, I thought she was just delusional.

  But now I’m not so sure. I know it’s still a long shot that anyone will even consider re-reviewing my case, but this … it’s a start.

  “That is actually really cool,” Clark says. “I’m happy for you.”

  I’ve been doing my homework on the event ever since the girls let it slip during that awful lingerie party.

  The review board gala happens at the end of the semester and is, without a doubt, the most important event of my entire time at this place. It’s an excellent opportunity for me to give a good, polished impression that says, “please let me back into that ivy league school that I tried so hard to get into the first time around.”

  It’s my chance to talk to the board members of Brown and to convince them that I’m ready to attend their elite school and that they would be stupid not to re-accept me early.

  Plus, it’s a gala. Enough said.

  It’ll be a welcome break from the monotony of this place.

  Of course, my main focus will be on talking to the Brown review board members, but I’m pretty sure that I’ll have time to squeeze in a bit of vengeful mischief on the sly too.

  My favorite pastime as of late.

  But the gala isn’t for a while still, and right now I need to get back to focusing for real on my volunteer work and my classes for a while. I still have to make sure that I’m performing well and meeting all of my requirements if I want to get out of this place and make it to Brown without having to finish up a third semester of penitence here.

  Over the next few days, everything seems to be going pretty normal. Warren is showing up to volunteer and for the most part we both just go about our tasks. Now that I’ve gotten my invitation, I see no point in forcing myself through the ordeal of sitting with Bridget and her friends. It’s a welcome relief to be myself—my true self—around Alaska and Clark for more than a few minutes at a time, and I soon find my grasp on Bridget slipping.

  But I don’t mind.

  Maybe it’ll be good for me. My friends might have been right, after all. Maybe I was getting just a little too intense. It could be good for me to take a breather and focus on something else for a change.

  Just for a while.

  The end of Ridgecrest is in sight, after all.

  Nothing too remarkable happens, until, of course, it does.

  “Um, why are they walking over here?” Alaska asks as she looks over my shoulder one afternoon at lunch.

  I turn around to see who she’s talking about, and my mouth hangs open so wide that a piece of my salad falls out. Two of Bridget’s friends are walking toward our table. I stare at them until they reach us, waiting to see what they could possibly want.

  Of course, my first thought goes right back to the invitation, and I swear my heart stops for a second.

  But there’s no malice on their faces as they approach—not even the kind usually concealed behind faked smiles.

  “Hey,” Tammy says simply as she pulls out a chair at the table and sits herself down in it without waiting to be asked if she’d like to join us—which, of course, no one would have asked her to do.

  The other girl surprises me even more.

  It’s Annabelle, the same one who made fun of me at the little “party” I had the misfortune of attending at the start of term. But there are no snide remarks from her either. She just sheepishly follows Tammy’s lead and sits down as well.

  I glance between Alaska and Clark and am relieved to see they both look equally as shocked. At least I know I didn’t somehow wake up in an alternate universe.

  The two girls start to pick at their neat, vegan, lunches and then randomly start talking about ideas for an upcoming Halloween party as if it’s completely normal that they have decided to come sit over here at our table for the first time like ever. I look back over to their table and can see that Bridget isn’t here today, at least not at lunch.

  The fact that I didn’t notice that before makes me wonder if maybe I’ve been a little too comfortable lately.

  Though that still doesn’t explain why Tammy and Annabelle are sitting across from me now, acting as if it’s perfectly normal for them to be here.

  Maybe they just decided that they didn’t want to sit alone and would prefer to have company … even if that company was us. As odd as it is, I decide not think too much of it, even when they come and do the same thing the next day. But on the third day, when Bridget is actually at lunch and sitting at her table, not only do the same two girls come to sit with us, but so do all of the other girls at the table with the exception of one who seems to have her nose in her burner phone and isn’t paying attention to anyone anyway.

  The table that used to just have me, Alaska, and Clark, now has an entire gaggle of girls—popular girls. Girls that left Bridget to sit almost entirely by herself.

  “Okay, what gives?” I finally ask them after just having looked over at Bridget who’s sitting and looking miserable at her table without her friends there to listen to her mean-girl exploits.

  “What do you mean?” Tammy asks, as if she’s oblivious to the fact that anything has changed.

  “You’re all sitting here,” I say, laying out the obvious. “At the table that the three of us sit at.”

  I motion to Alaska and Clark, who are both anxiously waiting to see how the situation is going to unfold.

  “We’ve been sitting her for days now,” the girl sitting next to Tammy says. “Haven’t you noticed?”

  God these girls are either really good at playing dumb, or they really are dumb.

  “Yes, of course I’ve noticed,” I say, trying my best to keep annoyance out of my voice. “But I just figured you were sitting with us because Bridget wasn’t at lunch. But now she’s here, so why are you still sitting with us instead of back at your normal table with her?”

  Tammy looks over at Bridget, who’s trying desperately to ignore all of us. It’s not really working for her though because I can see her glancing over this way. When Tammy looks back at me, she just shrugs.

  “We’d just rather sit here,” she says.

  Is it possible that I’ve stolen Bridget’s friends? I wanted to get ‘in’ with them, but could it be that I exceeded my goals and they actually now prefer me to Bridget?

  Even I didn’t think they could be this shallow.

  This is most definitely poetic justice if I ever saw it.

  The only downside is actually having to sit with Tammy and the others on a regular basis.

  I think Alaska must be thinking the same thing when she leans over to whisper in my ear.

  “Should we go ask her if she’d like to come sit with us too?”

  I’m taken aback.

  “Who … Bridget?” I say quietly back to her, raising an eyebrow. “Why in the world would we want Bridget to come and sit with us?”

  “It’s not really a matter of wanting her to sit with us,” she says. “It’s more a matter of what we talked about before, about not going too far with things.”

  I shake my head.

  “Nah, she’s fine where she is,” I say confidently.

  This is my moment to enjoy and I am going to enjoy every minute of it. Bridget had her turn in the spotlight, and she had her chance to make me feel alone and ostracized.

  It’s not my fault if her friends are not quite as devoted to her as she would like to think.

  And it’s certainly not my job to try to make her feel better about herself.

  As far as I’m concerned, Bridget brought all of this down on herself. And although I do appreciate Alaska’s kind natur
e; she wasn’t the one who faced the brunt of Bridget’s wrath last semester.

  I was. And I plan on taking this whole thing as far as I want to.

  Chapter Nine

  Now that I’m not in Sterling’s volunteer program anymore, there isn’t a whole lot of reason for me to see him. But just like Chase, Sterling seems to find a way to be around me before long.

  Not only do I have Bridget put in her place, but it sure seems like I have all the guys at my beck and call. So far, it’s been way easier than I thought it would be.

  Almost too easy. I’d be worried if I had anything left to lose.

  Sometimes I have to remind myself that I have no secrets left to expose.

  It seems like we might need to pull another table up next to ours in the lunchroom now, because not only are most of the girls sitting with us on a daily basis, but today, Sterling decides to join our table as well. Ever since all of her friends decided to relocate to our table, Bridget has started sitting with us too. I think she figured it would be less embarrassing for her if she just pretended like she automatically belonged instead of being put-off by the fact that her friends abandoned her.

  This is, so far, the only downside I’ve seen to my plan actually working.

  There’s no escape from Bridget.

  “Where are Chase and Warren?” I ask Sterling when he sits down next to me. I can see that the table where the guys usually sit is empty.

  “They’re off signing for their shared dorm for next year,” he says.

  “Why don’t they both just get their own rooms?”

  I don’t understand. Why would anyone, especially anyone with as much money as the two of them have coming in from their parents, want to share a room when they could very easily afford the biggest private dorms on campus?

  I didn’t even know they had those here until Bridget let it slip one night when I walked in on her in a full face of skincare products that made her look more like a monster than a human. If only I had a burner phone too, I’d have been able to snap a photo of her.