Cruel Boy

by Wild, Clarissa

  Suddenly, the door opens and in steps the principal. “Or you’ll what?”

  Sam lowers her hand and sits back down again. “Nothing.”

  “Exactly.” The principal holds the door open farther, and our school counselor steps in. “Mrs. Jones will have a talk with you now.”

  “Oh God,” Layla mumbles, sighing out loud.

  I just lay low in the hopes I won’t get too much punishment. I’ve already got enough on my plate as it is.

  The principal throws a wet towel onto my desk. “Clean yourself up, boy.” Then he looks over at Sam and Layla for a second before clearing his throat. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  He closes the door behind him. Too much of a pussy to deal with a girl fight. I don’t blame him, though, because no one would want to throw themselves between this. No one. But I don’t have a fucking choice in the matter; I’m the object of their affection and the reason behind their straight-out brawl.

  The counselor walks in front of the desk and leans back against it. “So … anything you three wanna tell me?”

  Everyone looks at each other, but no one opens their mouth. Good.

  “No? Because you don’t wanna know the amount of damage control I had to do to keep you all at this school.”

  “What?” Layla gasps.

  “Yes,” the counselor says. “That’s what you get for fighting in front of the entire school.”

  “The entire school?” Layla mutters. “We didn’t—”

  “Shhh!” The counselor places a finger against her lips. “I don’t wanna hear it. No excuses. Now, whatever it is you thought you had to punch each other for … it wasn’t worth it. And you of all people should know that, Miss Parker.”

  Layla folds her arms and leans back in her chair.

  “You two aren’t off the hook either,” the counselor says, crushing all my hopes. “Detention the rest of the week, every day after your classes.”

  “What?” we both say.

  “Zip it. I don’t wanna hear it unless it’s an explanation for why this took place.” She cocks her head, gazing at each one of us as though we might talk if she stares long enough.

  But I know these two better than anyone else. They’re not gonna spill. I know what pride feels like, and they’re not willing to give it up.

  “No one?” the counselor asks. “Because the principal is ready to make you do community service for the school too. Maybe cleaning up trash will put things into perspective for you.”

  “What?” Layla says again. “No way. No fucking way am I touching trash.”

  The counselor glares at her. “Maybe you should have thought of that before getting into a fight with another student.”

  “No, she started it,” Layla hisses.

  “Started what?” The counselor raises her brow.

  “Nothing,” Sam says. “Absolutely fucking nothing.”

  “Ah,” the counselor interrupts. “No swearing. Not in my class.”

  “Fine.” Sam rolls her eyes.

  I can tell Layla’s biting her tongue, but neither of them talks even though a much worse punishment hangs over their heads.

  “You’re not exempt from this, Mr. Wilson, so stop gloating.”

  “What?” I plant my hands on the table. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You stood by while they were fighting,” the counselor says. “Something tells me you’re involved.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I say, making a fist. “And you know it.”

  “Language, Nate,” the counselor says. “Anyway, we’ve got witnesses to your scuffle. Don’t think I don’t know what happened.”

  I gulp, and Sam sinks into her chair as though she’s been caught.

  “I don’t need you to talk to know exactly what transpired in that room.” The counselor clutches the table firmly. “I was hoping you would tell me personally, but I guess that’s too much to expect from you three.”

  Ouch …

  The counselor sighs. “If there’s anything you want to talk about, to me, personally, you can always, and I mean always, knock on my door.” The counselor walks up to Sam. “No matter what it is. You can tell me anything. No one will know.”

  I curl my fingers and entwine them, saying a silent prayer in the hopes that Sam’s endurance won’t falter now.

  Please don’t talk. Please don’t fucking tell a soul. No matter how cruel Layla is, don’t let her ruin us both. Don’t be persuaded to talk to him about what you saw …

  “I’m good, thanks,” Sam says, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  The counselor pauses for a moment, staring her down, but Sam won’t budge.

  “All right.” She walks off to the desk and fishes something from her bag. “Your detention starts now.” A stack of paper is thrown onto our desks. “Extra coursework for English, courtesy of Mr. Flanagan. Finish this and leave it on his desk for him to check. You can leave when you’re done and not a second sooner. Got it?”

  Layla grumbles and picks up her pen to start.

  “You’ll be here every day at the end of your scheduled classes for the entire week,” the counselor continues. “And report to Mr. Davids for cleaning duties this Wednesday. If you need to talk to me, you know where to find me.” Before she leaves, she pauses again, and says, “If we find out you’ve been fighting again, there will be no second chances.”

  Then she shuts the door and leaves us all alone in a cesspool of hatred.

  What a fucking day.

  * * *

  Sam

  “Where were you, man?” Robby yells at Nate when he walks up the field.

  “Detention. My bad. Should’ve texted,” he answers.

  “Because of those chicks?” Robby says. “I heard they were fighting over you.” He punches Nate’s shoulder and winks. “Chick magnet.”

  “Nah, they just have issues and involved me,” Nate replies. “But enough about that. Let’s smash some heads in.” He and Robby bump their helmets against each other and then put them on, running onto the field.

  From a distance, I watch Nate play. He’s still as devoted as ever even though I can tell from the look on his face that he’s not enjoying the game. He never did. Despite the sweat on his forehead and the bulging muscles rippling as he runs with the ball in his hands, his head isn’t in the game.

  Because every so often, when the ball hits the ground and he’s done celebrating this practice-victory with his friends, he glances my way and stops in his tracks. Our eyes connect and an untold story passes between us like the wind breezing across the field, letting the wisps float in the air, disappearing as quickly as it came. The wisps always fall to the floor, but their story never ends there. They bury underneath the ground and spread their seeds until something new grows. Something beautiful and perfect … and just as in danger from that passing wind.

  I take a deep breath and continue drawing him on my notepad. I’m lost in thought, lost in a daydream about that forbidden kiss we shared. My head is still spinning, my heart still pounding away as I remember the way he touched me … his lips claiming my soul.

  God, I wish I could feel them again.

  Is it that wrong to want something that’s bad for you?

  Maybe. But sinners deserve love too.

  And only I know what kind of man he really is.

  Nate Wilson is the devil, but at the same time, there’s something irresistible about him that I can’t wait to explore. A dangerous fling that could get me in trouble, but it would be so worth it.

  And maybe, if I get close enough, he’ll tell me the truth.

  The only worry I have is what that would mean for my time at this school. Would my reputation be tarnished? Would my grades suffer if I hang out with him? Would Mo hate me if I tried?

  God, it’s so silly to even think about this, but his lips … If that knife didn’t kill me, his lips sure as hell did.

  Maybe if I explained it right, Mo would be okay with it. I don’t need her permission, but I’d be happier if she
knew and wasn’t angry. Besides, it’s about time we made up from our last fight.

  I sigh to myself and reach into my bag to try to find my cell phone so I can text her and tell her what happened, but I can’t find it anywhere.

  “What the …?” I mumble, turning my bag over and dumping it in the grass.

  My cell phone is missing.

  Shit.

  I never noticed it went missing. Did I leave it in art class or at detention? I don’t remember when I last checked it. Fuck.

  I groan to myself. Guess I’ll have to go visit each of my classes from today.

  * * *

  I checked everywhere I’ve been today—all the classrooms, my locker, the benches outside, and even the toilets—and don’t find one sign of my phone. I’m sure I had it on me when I left home. There’s no way I’d leave it there with no way to check my schedule and text with my friends. But then where the hell did it go?

  It’s not even in art class. I checked everything, including the buckets of paint and the one I chucked at Nate. I checked everywhere except with him.

  What if he took it?

  Shit. Maybe he did.

  I shove my books into my locker and slam it shut. Almost all the students have gone home already, so I hope I’m not too late. I march through the empty hallways and head straight to the boys’ locker room. I know I’m not supposed to be in there, but hard times call for desperate measures. I need my goddamn phone back.

  The whole place is musty, the smell of cologne and aftershave lingering in the air. There’s only a tiny open window in the top left corner of the room; everything else is shut tight. It’s as if they don’t like oxygen in here. Or maybe they’re scared someone will hear them discuss field tactics.

  In any case, I have to hurry up. Just because most people have left doesn’t mean someone couldn’t come in here. This is the only place I haven’t checked yet where Nate regularly comes to do his thing. He wouldn’t be dumb enough to store my phone in his personal locker, but maybe he would hide it here. It’s worth checking out.

  I know by heart which one is Nate’s. The number on the locker is the same as the one on his shirt, and I find it within a few seconds. I pick at the lock, trying to open it to no avail. There’s a combination lock on it, so I guess I have to enter a number … but what? His birthday? A special date?

  “Looking for something?”

  I squeal and jump up in terror, immediately turning my head.

  It’s Nate, and he just shut the door behind him and locked it.

  Shit.

  Chapter 22

  Sam

  “Uh …” My whole face turns red.

  Especially when he starts pulling off that tight football outfit. He throws his shirt in the corner and walks up to me. I barely manage to step aside as he opens his locker and throws in his shoes. His shoulder pads and helmet were already in there.

  “What were you doing out there?” I mutter, flabbergasted that he’s still here.

  “Running some laps after practice. You?” He raises a brow.

  Well, shit. My lips part, but I don’t know what to say. Instead, I peek into his locker to see if I can find my phone without having to ask him. “Ah …” I don’t see anything, so I fold my arms and clear my throat. “Did you by any chance steal my phone?”

  He stares at me and then laughs a little. “What? You’re serious?”

  “Yes,” I say, trying to maintain my posture, but it’s ridiculously hard with this beast of a man standing in front of me half-naked. Every time I look at him, all I see is that guy who seduced me into kissing him.

  “No,” he replies.

  “You sure?” I raise a brow.

  “Yeah …” He nods jokingly. “Pretty sure.”

  I narrow my eyes at him as he turns around to face away from me.

  “I don’t believe you,” I say.

  Suddenly, he starts taking off his pants right in front of me. It’s hard, so damn hard to look away, but I do it anyway because I must. For the sake of my sanity … and to protect me from my own lusting body. Jesus Christ.

  “Your phone is missing, and you think I took it?” he says, chucking his pants into his locker too before closing it. “I guess I deserve you thinking that.”

  “I …” I don’t know what to say. I sound like a bumbling mess. I have a hard time not looking at his boxer shorts right now.

  “It’s okay, you’re right. I’m the biggest suspect. To everyone, it seems.” He licks his lips and nods a few more times, but all I can see is a whole mountain of unspoken thoughts running through his head. And it hurts to see that. It hurts because I know what he’s talking about. And no one but him knows the actual truth.

  “Your phone’s not here. I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he says, stepping closer. “Anything else I can help you with?”

  “I … uh …” God, why am I this way around him? It doesn’t make any sense. He’s a bully. I should hate him. But oh my God, I want to kiss him so badly too, and it shows.

  For every step he takes closer, I take one back even though my body hungers to get close. I shouldn’t give in; it’s not right. Everyone in this school thinks he’s guilty. Hell, maybe even I do. I don’t know yet.

  But what I do know is that he’s beyond bad, and I’m melting into a puddle just from that dirty look in his eyes as he traps me in a corner. No way out. This is it. We’re in the showers backed up against a wall. Hormones rage through my body as he places a hand on the wall beside me and cocks his head.

  “Are you still scared of me?” he asks.

  I rub my lips together. I can’t say because I don’t know the answer.

  “I don’t … know. I don’t know anything anymore,” I whisper.

  “You don’t know, or you don’t want to know?”

  I try to find the truth in his eyes, but all I find is hunger … a kind of hunger that you can feel in your bones and consumes your every waking thought.

  “You’re scared that you actually like me,” he murmurs. His forehead leans against mine. “You’re scared of what might happen if you let me kiss you,” he whispers, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from mine. “You’re scared of what might happen if you let me have you … If you become mine.”

  Suddenly, the showers turn on right above us. Fuck, I must’ve hit them with my back. We’re getting soaking wet, but he’s not moving … and neither am I.

  “You threw me in the pool. Hung my panties on my locker. Made fun of me in front of your friends,” I mutter, trying to create more distance, trying to push him away, trying to make up reasons this shouldn’t happen. “You heard Layla when she said—”

  He places a finger on my lips, droplets of water dripping down onto my skin. “I don’t give a fuck what Layla says or thinks. I only give a fuck about what you think of me.”

  His words strike me to my core.

  Never in a million years did I imagine this happening, that I’d be standing here getting soaking wet in the locker rooms with Falcon Elite Prep’s worst bad boy, the star athlete, and most popular guy at school … and that I’d want nothing more than to kiss him.

  “I did those things to get my way, to get you to fear me, to get you to submit …” he murmurs. “To get what I want.”

  “The photos,” I reply.

  “And you,” he whispers, gazing straight into my eyes, setting my heart on fire. “I want you, and I know you want me too.”

  Our lips touch, and sparks fly. The first touch is always the best, where our lips still linger on should-I-or-should-I-not. But we both know that phase has long since passed. I can’t say no to him anymore.

  And suddenly, his kisses aren’t so soft anymore. His mouth claims mine with a greed I’ve never felt before, and it excites me to my core. His hand is on my waist, his body against mine, and I can feel every ridge of his muscles, every inch of skin against my own … and the bulge poking against my belly.

  It turns me on like nothing else ever has.

  The hand
that was on the wall entwines with mine as our tongues lock and engage in a battle of lust. Suddenly, he grabs my wrists and pins them up against the wall, and I can’t. Fucking. Breathe.

  He showers me with kisses all over; my neck, my chin, my collarbones, and even the top of my breasts. I know they’re visible through the fabric of my top, and the moment his eyes settle on my nipples, I’m acutely aware of myself. I’ve never had anyone get this close to my naked body.

  His hands slide down my arms, and I completely forget all the worries and hesitation. His kisses numb my thoughts, and his touch evaporates any doubts I have. He rips open the buttons on my top, destroying it in the process and exposing my bare skin.

  The groan that emanates from his mouth makes me all hot and bothered. I didn’t know I could have such a reaction to a boy, let alone someone like him.

  “Hmm … So beautiful,” he murmurs, and he grabs a handful and sucks hard.

  My eyes almost roll into the back of my head.

  “So sensitive too,” he muses.

  I grin as he does the same to the other breast too, toying with my nipples as though he’s done it before. He probably has, but I definitely don’t want to know.

  If I’m gonna do this, I have to keep my mind on zero and my heart locked down.

  While he kisses me, wetness pools between my legs, and I don’t know whether it’s from the shower or because of him. He’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts, and it’s hard not to peek down every once in a while and gulp at the size of him.

  I’ve only ever seen them in dirty pornos I watched online… but none of that prepared me for the real deal. And if this is the real deal, then holy shit, I’m in for something big.

  As his hand travels down my body, he grabs my chin and smashes his lips on mine. Suddenly, his fingers are right there, between my thighs, and I fight hard to keep the moan from spilling out.

  “Hmm … Now what are we going to do about this?” he murmurs, his finger curling around my panties. Within a second, he’s ripped them off my body and chucked them into the corner. “I’ll tell you a secret … Last time I did that, I wanted to do this as well.”