Who Breaks First: A New Adult Bully Romance (Clearwater University Book 1)

by Eva Ashwood

  Who Breaks First

  Clearwater University #1

  Eva Ashwood

  Copyright © 2019 by Eva Ashwood

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  1. Emma

  2. Trent

  3. Emma

  4. Reese

  5. Emma

  6. West

  7. Emma

  8. Reese

  9. Emma

  10. Trent

  11. Emma

  12. Trent

  13. Emma

  14. Trent

  15. Emma

  16. Emma

  17. West

  18. Reese

  19. Emma

  20. Emma

  21. Trent

  22. Emma

  23. Reese

  24. Emma

  25. West

  26. Emma

  Thank you for reading!

  Other books by Eva Ashwood

  1

  Emma

  It’s been almost two years, and the air smells exactly the damn same.

  I tilt my head and let my eyes close for a second as I breathe in deeply, absorbing the essence of a place I never thought I’d return to.

  It smells like salt and sunshine. Like heartbreak and… home.

  Shaking off the sudden rush of emotions that choke my chest, I open my eyes and crouch down to chain my bike to a stand in the parking lot. The sun is warm and bright, glinting off the polished chrome and perfect paint jobs of the cars around me, and making my pale arms look even paler. I was never California tan, and my time away has only made my ivory skin stand out more.

  God, I think I missed this place. Is that even possible?

  I missed the sunshine anyway, after Dad and I moved to Seattle toward the end of my junior year of high school. As relieved as I was to get away, to escape the constant torture and daily heartbreak, I missed the sun that shone in Clearwater.

  Dad is always chasing the next best job, which means we never stayed anywhere for more than a couple years throughout my formative years. I think it’s just his way of dealing with losing the love of his life when I was twelve years old. A car accident took Mom away from us, and we left the town I grew up in two months later, as if he just couldn’t stand to live around so many memories of her.

  Dad’s work is what brought us to Clearwater in the first place. It’s what took us away.

  And it’s the reason I’m back now.

  Walking across the lawn toward the prestigious Clearwater University, I can’t help feeling a tinge of pride. I may have arrived on a bike instead of in a Bentley, but I earned a place here just as much as anybody else.

  Well, maybe that’s not entirely true.

  The small, elite school is just outside of San Diego, and tuition comes with San Diego prices—under ordinary circumstances, there’s no way I’d be able to afford it. Honestly, I’m not even sure I would’ve gotten an offer based on my high school transcripts and application. I took a year off after high school, working odd jobs and trying to piece myself back together, but none of that looks great on a college application either.

  My grades tanked in my junior year and never really recovered, so when the Wex-Tech Corporation was trying their damndest to get Dad back on their team, they made it impossible for him to refuse by offering me a massive scholarship at Clearwater U. They also arranged provisional admissions, pulling strings at the university to secure me a spot here. Now I just have to make sure I get the grades to keep that spot.

  Dad bought a house that’s much fancier than the simple two-bedroom we lived in before, and even though the new house is nearby, I decided to live on campus. After missing so much of high school—well, avoiding it, I guess—I want to have the full college experience. Dad helped me move in yesterday, taking me to Ikea to shop for everything I needed, the whole shebang. But I didn’t sleep in the dorms last night. I wanted one last night with him before classes start. We’ve always been close, and as much as he tries to hide it, I know seeing his little girl start college is breaking his heart a little.

  A beep from my phone makes me jump, and I glance down at the screen.

  Shit. I’ve been meandering across campus, enjoying the view, and now I only have fifteen minutes to find my first class.

  And I have no idea where it is.

  Heading up a small set of stairs in the pathway, I spot a guy standing a few yards ahead of me, head bent as he looks at his phone. He has dark brown hair, cut shorter on the sides than the top, and when he glances up as I approach him, I almost miss a step. His eyes are such a striking emerald green that they make me think of shamrocks.

  “Excuse me.” I force myself to continue toward him despite the sudden nerves that flare in my stomach, pulling out a piece of paper from my backpack to read the name of my first class. “Do you know where Applied Psychology is? Room, um…” I look down at the paper again. “110. In Davis Hall.”

  The guy is tall enough that as I step closer to him, I have to look up to meet his gaze, and his smile is so friendly that I can’t help but return it.

  “It’s that building over there. It’ll be on the first floor.” He points west, toward a building about a hundred paces away.

  Oh, perfect. I can make it there with time to spare.

  “Thanks.” I shoot him another smile as I tug my backpack around to slip the paper back inside.

  “I’m Peter.”

  “I’m Emma. Emma Holloway.”

  “Pleasure to meet you Emma, Emma Holloway.”

  One side of his mouth quirks up, and I chuckle at his joke even though it wasn’t all that funny. He made it sound funny, and his easy-going laugh makes me want to laugh too. I think he’s flirting with me, but hell, I’m so rusty when it comes to that kind of stuff that I could totally be wrong.

  “See you around sometime.” I push my blonde hair behind my ears and dip my head in a little nod before heading toward the building he pointed out.

  “For sure,” he calls after me, a grin in his voice.

  Picking up my pace as I walk toward the large stone building, I notice an extra spring in my step and try not to think too hard about what put it there. He might’ve just been being nice, helping a stranger with directions, but it felt good to have a hot guy flirt with me—even in my imagination. Since leaving Clearwater, I’ve been pretty much living like a nun. Three boys broke my trust so badly that I sort of lost faith in the male species in general. But it’s reassuring to know that men still find me attractive.

  At least, Peter does.

  Or, well, I think he does.

  My giddy conversation with myself is interrupted as I near Davis Hall. It’s on the far side of the quad, and as I gaze around the expanse of manicured lawn, a wave of recognition hits me so hard I almost fall over.

  Three tall, gorgeous men are striding across the quad with confidence, their long legs eating up the ground as if they’re animals on the prowl.

  Fuck. No.

  Those are the only two words that have time to register in my mind before my body moves instinctually, skipping bac
k in time two years and going into self-preservation mode. I drop to the ground as if I’m under fire, ducking behind a hedge and trying to hide.

  No! I can’t believe it’s them. What the hell are they doing here?

  The Icons.

  Reese, Trent, and West.

  They were the most popular boys in school, and my best friends during my first year at Amundsen High after I transferred in as a sophomore. And then suddenly they… weren’t.

  I’ve spent countless hours trying to figure out what the hell made the switch flip inside them, but I finally decided it doesn’t matter. Whatever it was that made them turn on me, the honest truth is that they were never really my friends.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I knew there was a possibility I’d run into them in town sometime when I agreed to come back to Clearwater with Dad, but I didn’t think it would be today. My first day. And I never expected to see them here.

  Peering around the hedge, I can see that the three of them are headed toward a building opposite Davis Hall, striding across the quad as if they own the place. They’ve always been cocky like that, and although I found it funny when we were friends, now I just find it off-putting and infuriating.

  As if drawn by the heat of my gaze, Trent’s focus shifts toward me a little, his head slightly cocked. I duck back behind the hedge as my heart slams in my chest like it’s trying to escape my body.

  I’ve been trying to hold it off, but hatred washes over me in a wave. The time when those men and I were close, truly inseparable, seems like ages ago. Like a dream that never truly happened. It was back during sophomore year of high school, after all, when I was so much more innocent and trusting than I am now.

  Jesus, I’ve changed so much. They changed me so much.

  What went down between us was something out of a reality TV show, and I never told anyone about it because it was seriously over the top.

  After I’d known the Icons for almost a year, all three of them asked me out on separate occasions, wanting to take our friendship to a whole other level. Even though I hate to admit it now, I did have a crush on each of them for different reasons, but I didn’t know how to handle interest from all three of them. To say “yes” to one would ruin my relationship with the others, and maybe even wreck their friendship in the process.

  So I turned them all down.

  That’s when the bullying started. And things went too far after that. Way too far.

  I’m obscured behind the shrub, but I can just catch a glimpse of them through a hole in the branches. All three of them look just like I remember them, though a little taller and a little older.

  Trent still has that rough-around-the-edges exterior, with silky, dark brown hair and striking blue eyes. Everything about him is angular and kind of disheveled, but perfectly disheveled. And I’m sure he’s just as much of an overt asshole as he was back in high school.

  Reese was always the mischievous one, and I doubt that’s changed. His lopsided smile, light golden brown hair and green eyes got him out of trouble with female teachers more times than I can count.

  The goddamn dimples in his cheeks flash as he chuckles at something Trent says, and the sight of them makes my heart squeeze even as my stomach clenches so hard it feels like I ate ten pounds of cement. Reese was always the charmer, but he has a cruel streak under that sweet exterior. Of the three of them, this man is the one who looks the most benign, but looks can be deceiving.

  As I found out the extremely hard way.

  West, the fucking asshole, looks just as sullen as ever. His hair seems even more jet-black than it was before, as if it’s started to actually repel light, and a memory of his transfixing gray eyes gives me chills. I found that dark, brooding quality irresistible when I was a young girl with fanciful dreams of saving a tortured bad boy, but as it turned out, I never got a chance to save him.

  Instead, he tried to ruin me.

  I can’t keep all the memories from flooding back as I remain crouched behind the hedge, my body not allowing me to move.

  It still blows my fucking mind that one day we were best friends, and then the next, almost overnight, they came after me with no holds barred. I wasn’t exactly head of the cheer squad, but I’d never been bullied before, so when it started to happen, I didn’t even know what hit me.

  It went so far that all three of them labeled me as the “school whore” and spread it all over social media. No one would speak to me unless it was to mock me, and over the course of a year, I watched as my world literally fell apart. Reese, West, and Trent were popular enough at Amundsen High that they had the power to destroy me, and they nearly did.

  But I won’t let them do it again.

  My entire body is buzzing with energy, and my hands have clenched into such tight fists that my nails are digging into my palms. When I got the offer from Clearwater, I promised my dad I would make the most of it, that I would take this opportunity to turn my life around after the disaster of high school and set myself up for a good future.

  And nobody, not even the three gorgeous nightmares from my past, will stop me from doing that.

  I can’t see them through the hedges anymore, and part of me is almost sad about that. If they’ve gone inside the building, that means I lost my chance to march up to them and scream in their faces, maybe punch them as hard as I can or knee them in the balls.

  But maybe it’s just as well. I need to be smarter than that. I’m on a provisional admission at Clearwater, and I have a feeling getting into a fistfight on my first day wouldn’t do much for my standing at this school.

  No, what I need to do is just keep my head down, focus on passing my classes, and avoid those three men at all costs.

  Sucking in a deep breath through my nose, I release it in a slow exhale. Then I uncurl my fists, rubbing absently at the crescent-shaped divots in my palms as I stand up. Training my gaze on the door to Davis Hall, I march forward, placing one foot in front of the next like I’m summiting a mountain instead of walking across a manicured lawn.

  “Well, well, well. Emma Holloway.”

  I’m almost halfway across the quad when a deep, silken voice from behind me makes me jump.

  Motherfucker.

  2

  Trent

  Holy fuck.

  That’s Emma, alright. I could spot her from a mile away. It’s been years since I last saw her in high school, and from what I can tell, even from a distance, she looks more beautiful than ever. I feel a twinge in my chest—a warmth I can’t describe, and one I sure as hell don’t want to.

  Goddammit. My hand rubs absently at my left pec. I remember feeling this sensation when I looked at her years ago. That warm pain is a kind of longing and need, and it’s all wrapped up in a shit-ton of anger and confusion.

  What went down between us in high school is something I’ll never fucking forget. After falling in love with Emma, my life was never the same for about a dozen different reasons. For one thing, I told her in no uncertain terms that I wanted to be with her, and she turned me down.

  No other girl has ever turned me down.

  I’m hot, and I know it. And I’m not fucking ashamed of it either. I rock my badass persona, and chicks eat that shit up. But deep down, I could always sense that Emma is different. She can see past my surface; she’s not impressed by it or blinded by it, and that’s what drew me to her in a deep way.

  It’s also what makes me hate her.

  She’s seen me at my weakest, my most vulnerable. She held my heart in her fucking hands, and instead of protecting it, she put a knife through it.

  Since her dad got that job in Seattle, and he and Emma moved away, I’ve had a lot of time to think about her and everything that happened. I’m still attracted to her, still drawn to her like the moon to the tide, which infuriates me to no end. Why do I still crave a girl who crushed my fucking heart?

  Maybe she’s different now?

  We were just teenagers at the time. Now, I’m twenty years old and goin
g into my second year at Clearwater U. I have my boys with me, and the three of us together can take on the world. But with Emma showing up on campus out of nowhere, I’m pretty sure shit is about to blow up.

  Or maybe I’m the one who’s going to explode, from the heady mix of feelings and impulses that spring up just from seeing Emma Holloway again.

  “Dude? What’s up?” Reese asks, laughing as he takes in my expression.

  I can feel my jaw clenching, and my legs feel fucking numb. What the hell is wrong with me?

  And that’s when I notice Emma duck behind the bush.

  “Did you see that?” I ask.

  “See what?” West grunts.

  Instead of pointing, I just nod toward the bush Emma is crouched behind, her blonde head ducked low as if that’ll keep us from noticing her.

  Yeah. Right. She’s mostly obscured from view, but she still stands out like a damn beacon as far as I’m concerned.

  “Emma fucking Holloway,” I reply flatly.

  My boys turn toward the bush, and I wonder if she can feel all three of us looking her way like a pack of hungry wolves. I hear Reese laugh to himself, but West is silent as ever.

  “Isn’t that amusing,” Reese says darkly, focusing his attention forward again.

  I make a noise in my throat. “Yeah. It is.”

  Of course, it’s about the furthest thing from amusing I can imagine. It’s intoxicating and infuriating. Memories of the old feelings I was developing for her come back again in a rush, and I grit my teeth, reminding myself why it’s better to hate her.