Cruel Boy

by Wild, Clarissa

  And after a dirty look, he turns around and walks off.

  “What?” I mutter, ignoring the throbbing sensation between my legs.

  He glances at me over his shoulder. “Consider it a down payment … I’ll give them back if you give me those pictures within a day. And if you don’t, I’ll find more creative ways to tempt you.”

  So that’s what this is all about. Extortion. I should’ve known, shouldn’t have been so gullible to assume he’d ever feel something for me. Playing with lust as though it’s a goddamn tool.

  I spit at him, but it lands on the floor. “You’re a disgusting piece of shit, Nate Wilson.”

  He doesn’t even look at me when he says, “Believe me, I know.”

  Then he closes the door on me.

  Great. Now I’m left without panties in a skirt that’s too short to sit in commando style.

  Guess I’m going to have to ask Mo to fake an “I’m sick” note for me.

  But the worst part of this all is that Nate fucking Wilson now has possession of a pair of my panties … and I can only imagine all the things he can and will do to them.

  Chapter 15

  Nate

  I stare at the panties hanging from a single index finger. I bet she’ll want these back soon … but not before I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself.

  I take another sniff and groan from the scent of her wetness. I wish I could take a lick.

  But that would be wrong.

  Very, very wrong.

  She’s the girl I shouldn’t want—the girl who holds the keys to my unraveling—yet I can’t stop craving the very thing I should fear. I can’t stop myself from wanting to get closer every single time I see her. Something about that girl makes me go wild.

  Maybe it’s because we aren’t supposed to be together … because my reputation and image are on the line. Or maybe it’s because she’s much more like me in ways Layla never was.

  Suddenly, the door to my room opens, and I shove the panties underneath my butt.

  “Nate, are you—? What was that?” My dad’s eyes narrow.

  “Nothing,” I muse, and I grab a magazine on the other side of my body. “Just a sports magazine.” Dad buys me these each week to promote my professionalism or something. He just wants to make sure I keep my scholarship and my entire future at the forefront of my mind. No pressure.

  “Okay.” He licks his lips and rubs his chin. “Well, dinner’s ready.”

  “Great. I’ll be there in a minute,” I answer.

  “Good.” He nods.

  “Oh, and Dad … you know you can always call from downstairs, right?” I add.

  “Yeah, but I figured I’d just come anyway. See what’s up,” he says.

  “You mean to check up on me,” I retort, annoyed.

  “We’re just not talking a lot these days,” he replies. “And I’d like to work on that.” He clears his throat. “So if there’s anything you want to tell me, now’s the time.”

  “Um, I’ve got nothing,” I reply, sweat already dripping down my back.

  “Right.” He frowns. “See you downstairs then.”

  Why is it that my dad can always see through my lies, but he never questions my answers?

  After he leaves, I pull the panties out from underneath my butt and sit up. If my dad finds out I’m keeping these, I’m dead, but it’s worth it. Now, all I need to do is figure out a way to use it to my advantage.

  * * *

  Sam

  The next day

  Getting home without panties was an adventure in and of itself and not in a good way. I can’t believe Nate ripped them off my body as if it meant nothing. I should’ve known he would do such a thing, but I let my lusty body do the thinking instead of my fucking brain.

  I can’t trust the feelings I have, nor can I trust him.

  I should just focus on my studies and forget about the bastard. If he comes to me about the pictures, I’ll keep on ignoring him. There’s no way I’ll let him extort me like that. Eventually, he has to get tired of trying, right?

  Right. That’s what I thought.

  But when I walk to my locker to pick up my books for the day, there’s something hanging from the combination lock … my bold, red panties.

  My eyes widen as everyone who walks past my locker giggles and snorts when they spot them. My body begins to heat and shake vigorously. I can’t go to my locker now because everyone would know it’s mine, and they’d all be laughing at me. But I only have a few more minutes until the bell rings, and then I’ll miss my goddamn class.

  Goddammit.

  Taking in a deep breath, I march toward my locker, swallowing my pride while ignoring the laughter. But I hold my head high with pride as I take the panties off the locker and tuck them into my pocket.

  That’s when I spot him.

  Nate fucking Wilson, smiling like the devil himself.

  And my resolve to ignore him crumbles.

  He did this on purpose to humiliate me.

  But I’m not going to go down easily.

  He may have played with his own reputation, but I won’t allow him to toy with mine.

  “Asshole,” I growl at him.

  But he only sticks out his tongue and winks at me before walking off.

  I want to scream, “Come back here, you fucker!” but that would only make me look even worse than this thing in my pocket already has. I have to pick my fights, and this one isn’t it. But I will get back at him for this. He can count on that.

  * * *

  After school, I don’t go home. It’s not a place I go to happily anymore, anyway. My mom shoved our recent fight with her boy toy under the rug and pretends it didn’t happen, just so she can keep the bullshit intact. She’s smitten … I recognize the look because I see it every day in school. I just never thought my own mom would feel something like that for someone other than my dad.

  And that it’d be for Layla’s father.

  I cringe at the thought of seeing them kiss.

  Luckily, I don’t have to endure that for now. I have other plans. There’s only one thing on my mind right now, and that’s getting my laptop back. Nate hasn’t shown any remorse or intent to hand it back to me, so I guess I’ll have to go get it myself.

  Besides, it’ll give me a great opportunity to get back at him.

  I park outside his house and stare at the front door. They’ll never let me in that way, especially not Nate, so I gotta figure out another way. I pull out my phone and take a few pictures, then park somewhere else so Nate doesn’t see my car. Then I sneak up to their gated property and grab the fence. It’s sturdy enough, so I take the risk and make the climb.

  It’s the stupidest thing I’ve done in a long time, and my mom would kill me if she found out, but at least it’s for a good reason. And my mom’s definitely not gonna find out because I won’t get caught.

  Someone looks through the windows, but I hide in the bushes like a real burglar. Or a bad one, I can’t tell, but at least they can’t see me. It’s Nate’s dad, and he briefly peeks at his garden through his living room window before closing the curtains in the middle of a bright day. Weird.

  I check the rooms out from a distance until I find one that looks like a boy might live there, as there are awards hanging from the wall.

  When the coast’s clear, I move on and sneak to the side where Nate’s room is just a few feet up above. There’s a window right above me and some vines I can climb up to reach a part of the roof. It should be enough to get there, so I rub my hands and then jump up into the vines.

  No one prepared me for the thorns sticking out, though, and it fucking hurts while I try to climb.

  What I do in the name of the truth, goddammit.

  I finally make it up to the roof part below his window and take a few seconds to breathe before I continue. I look around to see if anyone noticed me before I run and jump up against the window. I pull myself up with ease and tumble into his room.

  Lucky me, there’s no one there
, and lucky me, I also knew that before I attempted the climb. I didn’t just take a couple of pics; I made sure I had the entire room on my phone to see if Nate was there. I’m not interested in a showdown right now. I just need to grab my laptop and get the fuck out of here.

  But where is it?

  It’s not on his gigantic bed, nor is it on the hardwood floor. There’s a bunch of lights stuck to the ceiling and a lot of expensive-looking decals on the walls. I can’t help but look around at all the tiny trophies either. A lot of them are all stacked on a dusty shelf in the corner. In fact, all of them look as though they haven’t been touched in years.

  I peek under the pillows and under the bedding. There’s a distinct tropical smell coming off them that’s dizzying but in a good way. Not overpowering but strong nonetheless, and it reminds me of him … prowling toward me … shoving aside chairs to get to me … ripping off my panties.

  I gulp.

  Not now, Sam. Don’t you fucking dare.

  I check his desk and find a bunch of papers with scribbled text, and I can’t stop myself from picking one up and reading.

  Day to Day

  Tryna make Hay

  But slowly turning more Cray

  I did something Bad

  It’s turning me Mad

  Cuz no one knows it was Me

  Wait, wait, don’t tell my fucking Dad

  He’s not a fucking Referee

  In this game that I Play

  Boys know I Slay

  But don’t fucking get in my Way

  Cuz I’m not fucking Okay

  I’m a monster. A motherfucking Monster

  And monsters don’t play Nice

  I’ll do anything to get my Ice

  I’ll pay the fucking Price

  As long as I stay on Top

  And don’t become a Flop

  I’ll get what I Deserve

  Ahead of the fucking Curve

  I know you’re Unnerved

  But listen to me Now

  You don’t know the Truth

  You haven’t seen the sweat on my Brow

  What I went through to stay with these Youth

  Innocent?

  Not me

  Sinner?

  That’s a Guarantee

  Wow. I check the back, but there’s nothing else on there. Is this a … poem? No, it reads more like a rap.

  Did Nate write this?

  I frown and gaze at the words that definitely look like his handwriting. I’ve seen it in class a couple of times when I looked over his shoulder to see what he was writing. He was always scribbling on these tiny notebooks, hiding them from everyone else like they were his secret.

  Maybe this is what he was doing.

  Nate Wilson, Falcon Elite’s best quarterback, writing rap lyrics? Interesting.

  Maybe I should take this with me. It might come in handy.

  I neatly fold the paper and tuck it into my pants, then I continue my search. I start with the elaborate closet in the corner, but there’s no sign of my laptop. Not anywhere, in fact.

  He didn’t discard it, right? The longer I search, the more anxious I get. There’s not much time left. Nate could come back any minute now, so I have to be quick.

  I search through his nightstand and rip apart the drawers standing in the other corner of the big room. I pull open the last one on the bottom, the only one I haven’t checked, and I blink a couple of times when I discover a whole set of underwear just lying there. I can’t help but pick one up and check the size. Gulp.

  A glint of something at the bottom catches my eye, though, so I push past his undies … and find my goddamn laptop.

  Gotcha.

  Suddenly, a creak makes me lean up and listen. More creaks follow. Someone’s walking across the hallway.

  Shit!

  Chapter 16

  Sam

  I grab the laptop and race off toward the window, then jump out onto the roof part. The moment the door opens, I lower myself underneath the windowsill and pray no one saw me.

  My breathing is fast and ragged, adrenaline spiking hard.

  Did they see me?

  I could go to jail.

  Fuck, I hope not.

  I can’t help but look up and tuck loose strings of my hair behind my ear when they get in the way. But my eyes are already glued to one thing and one thing only. Nate just walked into the room wearing only a towel around his waist. All the ridges of his abs are visible to the naked eye, each moving with perfection as he walks around the room looking for clothes. The thick slabs of pure muscle on his back move with grace as he opens the closet, and my mouth waters at the sight of tiny droplets of water rolling down into the towel.

  That’s when he drops the towel, and my pupils dilate.

  The ass that appears behind is nothing short of perfection, like a homemade chocolate chip muffin you want to sink your teeth in. Delicious.

  I shouldn’t be thinking any of this, but I am. I can’t help myself. He’s that gorgeous.

  No wonder all the girls fawn over him. I can see what they’re after. They want to squeeze that butt as much as I do … and see what else he’s hiding.

  Suddenly, my eyes travel toward something lying on the floor near the cabinet he’s pulling out his underwear from. A scrunchie … that I recognize as mine.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  I gasp. The sound makes him turn, and I quickly hide back underneath the windowsill, closing my eyes.

  Fuck!

  I hold my hand in front of my mouth and stop breathing entirely for a few seconds.

  Someone walks up to the window. I can’t tell because I’m tucked underneath the windowsill, but I know it’s him. My heart almost bursts out of my chest.

  Can he see me? Fuck, I hope not. I’m not looking for a confrontation right now, especially not with him dressed in practically nothing.

  Sweat drops down my back as I close my eyes and wait for the slow time to pass as quickly as a snail makes a trail across the tree branch. When the footsteps dissipate and a door closes, I breathe out a sigh of relief.

  Why did I have to drop that goddamn scrunchie there?

  And why did I have to make that sound?

  I almost jump out to go grab it, but then stop myself just in time from doing the stupidest thing ever. Nate could come back any moment now, or maybe he’s still there … there’s no way I could ever snatch it without him noticing.

  God, I’m such an idiot.

  No wonder my hair was constantly annoying me. I should’ve known the scrunchie had fallen out, but I didn’t because I forgot I put it in there. That’s what you get for rarely putting your hair up.

  But what do I do now? I can’t fucking go back to get it. Should I just leave it and hope he won’t notice?

  There’s no other option. I don’t have a choice. I have to leave it there and go …

  I swallow away the lump in my throat while staring at the laptop in my hands.

  One object exchanged for another. I guess that’s the price to pay.

  But at least I can add a mental picture of that fine ass to my collection because I sure as hell won’t ever forget.

  * * *

  Nate

  I gaze out the window again, wondering if I just imagined that sound I heard a few minutes ago. I must’ve because I don’t see anything. Maybe it was a bird or a squirrel. They make their way across the garage roof all the time.

  Still, I can’t help but feel unnerved, so I close the window and the curtains. The papers on my desk move a little from the last bit of fresh air breezing through. My words scatter across the desk, and my eyes zoom in on them. One of them is missing. The ones I wrote yesterday.

  I march to my desk and sift through the papers, but it’s not here.

  Fuck, why is it not here?

  Did I leave it at school? My locker? In the car? No, my bag.

  I grab my bag and turn it upside down. Pens, paper, books, notebooks, phone. Nothing else. Where is it?

  “Goddam
mit!” I shout out loud.

  It has to be somewhere; it didn’t just vanish.

  I go to my knees and search my room, and I even peer under my bed. My eyes scan the surface until they stumble upon a strange object they don’t recognize lying on the other end of the room just behind my bed. I get up and walk to it to pick it up. A scrunchie? What the hell is a scrunchie doing here? And why does it look so familiar?

  “Nathan!” Dad’s voice pulls me away from my thoughts, and I open the door, still clutching the scrunchie.

  “Yeah?” I quickly snatch the papers on my desk and shove them into my drawer and lock it.

  “Can you come down, please?” His tone is very matter-of-factly … not at all like how he normally sounds.

  “In a sec,” I reply, hurrying to my closet to put on a shirt and a pair of pants and tuck the scrunchie in my pocket.

  I shut the door behind me before rushing down the stairs, but I stop halfway. My dad’s at the door, wearing a stern but concerned look on his face. He glances back and forth between me and the man standing on our porch.

  A police officer.

  “Nate, explain to me why this police officer is here to see you,” my dad says with a darkness in his voice that I’ve never heard before.

  Dread sinks into my soul, and I swallow hard.

  Time to face my sins.

  * * *

  Sam

  I stare at my phone and all the pictures I took of Nate’s room when I broke in there. It’s been a few days, and I’ve not heard a peep, so I guess he may not have noticed. Lucky me.

  My laptop seemed untouched, so I don’t think he actually managed to get past the log-in screen. Goes to show just how important it is to have a proper password. Still, it feels nice to have it back in my possession again. I don’t want the likes of him snooping around my stuff. Now I just have to keep my windows locked at all times to make sure he doesn’t steal it back once he finds out I have it. And I’m sure he will … someday.

  And when that time comes, I’ll be ready for the fight.

  I slam my locker shut and go to Monica, who’s still typing furiously on her cell phone.