Fueled Hate: A Dark College Bully Romance

by A. J. Logan

  Fueled Hate

  Fueled Book 1

  A.J. Logan

  Copyright © 2021 A.J. LOGAN

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

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

  Edited by KD Proofreading

  www.kdproofreading.com

  Contents

  1. Sadie

  2. Sadie

  3. Dylan

  4. Sadie

  5. Dylan

  6. Sadie

  7. Dylan

  8. Sadie

  9. Dylan

  10. Sadie

  11. Dylan

  12. Sadie

  13. Dylan

  14. Sadie

  15. Sadie

  16. Dylan

  17. Sadie

  18. Sadie

  19. Sadie

  20. Dylan

  21. Sadie

  22. Dylan

  23. Sadie

  24. Dylan

  25. Sadie

  26. Dylan

  27. Sadie

  28. Dylan

  29. Sadie

  30. Dylan

  31. Sadie

  32. Dylan

  33. Sadie

  34. Dylan

  35. Sadie

  36. Dylan

  37. Sadie

  38. Dylan

  39. Sadie

  40. Dylan

  41. Sadie

  42. Dylan

  43. Sadie

  44. Dylan

  45. Sadie

  46. Sadie

  47. Dylan

  48. Sadie

  49. Dylan

  50. Sadie

  51. Dylan

  52. Sadie

  53. Dylan

  54. Sadie

  55. Sadie

  56. Dylan

  57. Sadie

  58. Dylan

  Epilogue

  Also by A.J. Logan

  About the Author

  1

  Sadie

  Hate. Sometimes I really hate him, but right now, I hate myself more. Here I go again, calling his phone just to get a message that his voice mail is full. Ending the call, I drop my phone on the table, scanning the busy restaurant. It’s not the first time Kyle has stood me up but considering it’s our anniversary and he’d insisted on having a special meal, it pisses me off that much more.

  “Still no luck?” Jett’s voice pulls me out of my angry haze.

  “Nope,” I drink down what remains of the lemonade Jett has refilled continually for the last hour before sliding off the barstool. “I’m just going to head home, so if he decides to show, please tell Kyle to go fuck himself.”

  “Gladly.” Jett smirks as he leans forward, his hands gripping the edge of the wood surface as he eyes me. “But I think you should tell him and really dump his sorry ass this time.”

  “Yes, I should.” Though we both know I won’t. All three of us know, in fact, which is why Kyle does it—because he knows he can. Even throughout our relationship during high school, he was never a considerate, doting boyfriend. But things really went downhill after we started college. Here we are, going into our second year, and things have continued to get worse, not better.

  “Sadie,” Jett says, and I turn to see him holding up a to-go box, his smirk replaced by a sympathetic smile. “Loaded chicken-stuffed baked potato with the barbecue sauce on the side.”

  He’d known Kyle wouldn’t show. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath before stepping back to the bar and grabbing the to-go box containing my favorite meal from Big Tobe’s Diner. “Thanks,” I whisper, setting the box down to reach into my purse.

  “I got it covered,” Jett says, waving me off as he turns to help a girl at the end of the bar.

  The thoughtful gesture is overwhelming. It’s not out of character for Jett, I’ve worked with him at Big Tobe’s long enough to know he’s a kind and caring guy. But it’s another thing that highlights how much of a jerk Kyle is. And as if my night wasn’t bad enough already, I look out the door to see rain barreling down. Waiting it out would be the smart thing to do, but I’m too embarrassed to go sit back at the bar. Darting outside, I jog to my car, pull open the door, and drop into the driver’s seat. Getting all dressed up had been a waste and now the effort is certainly shot to shit as my hair is wet, my makeup is dripping, and my dress is clinging to my skin. At least my crappy outer appearance now matches the way I feel on the inside.

  Steering out of the parking lot, I’m barely two miles down the road when a telltale thwap, thwap, thwap sound and jerky movement of my car signals what I dread to be true. Yep, looking at the driver’s side rear tire, I’ve got myself another problem. A flat. Great. Thankfully, the rain has slowed to a steady drizzle instead of the deluge from moments ago.

  Reaching into the car, I hit the button to light up my hazards, pull the parking brake, and snatch a hair tie from the console. Twisting my hair up, I secure it out of my face before yanking the latch that pops the trunk. I just want to get home, shower, eat my lonely anniversary meal, and go to bed. That’s it.

  Opening the trunk, I move the stiff carpet, grip the spare tire, and clumsily lift it out. My wet fingers slip on the rubber, and it hits the ground with a bounce. I steady it, then roll it to lean against the rear quarter panel.

  “Need a hand?” a deep voice says as I’m turning back towards the trunk.

  Studying the guy standing near the hood of his car, I quickly shake my head. “No, I’m good.” How had I not realized he’d stopped behind me? I’m usually more aware of my surroundings, but I’m so caught up in sulking about my night that my vigilance has slipped, and I hadn’t noticed the vehicle pull up behind me.

  “You sure?” he asks casually, peeking around me.

  I quickly step to the trunk, grab the lug wrench, tighten my grip on the metal, and look back to him. “Yep.”

  “Okay.” He lets out a deep chuckle as I stand rigid but doesn’t make a move to leave.

  “Really. I’m good. You can leave now.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Like you’d tell me if you were.”

  A charming, playful smile crosses his face, and if I weren’t worried about him being a psychopathic murderer, it might have more of an effect on me. But right now, I want him gone.

  “True. But I could’ve easily done so when you were unaware I was behind you.” He folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the side of his Subaru.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn’t.”

  “So, what is it that I can do to make you feel good?” His smooth voice matches his relaxed demeanor.

  Me on the other hand, I’m just getting pissed off. Less concerned with him being a killer, I’m now thoroughly irritated that he’s hindering my progress. The entire reason I decided to change the damn tire myself was to get it done quickly and get home, not stand on the side of the road at night having a stare down with a complete stranger while getting completely soaked by the rain.

  “You leaving—that would make me feel fabulous,” I say sternly, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he keeps his humored expression on me. “Seriously, leave.”

  “What kind of gentleman would I be if I left you stranded?”

  “I’m perfectly capable of changing a fucking flat tire without the help from someone with a dick between their legs.”

  Taking a fe
w steps closer to me, his eyes drop to my hand that’s clutching the hard metal of the wrench. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

  “My dad’s a mechanic and owns an auto shop. I’ve done it a million times. Could do it with my eyes closed.” Not that I’d had a choice, but I’m more than grateful for every skill my dad has taught me.

  “Ah. I wouldn’t mind watching that.” He cocks his head to the side, his eyes trailing over my soaked cotton dress. I’m suddenly concerned it’s clinging to skin in all the wrong places, but he looks back up to my face. “I’ll just hang out in my car while you work your magic. You never know what lunatic is lurking in the shadows.”

  “Or in plain sight,” I retort, furthering his amusement, which was not my intention.

  “Touché.” Slowly walking backwards, he makes his way to his car. He opens the door, drops into the driver’s seat, and closes the door.

  After a few seconds, I realize he really is going to sit in his car and watch me change the stupid tire. Fantastic. Even though I can’t see him past the bright headlights, I feel his eyes on me.

  Fine. At least he’s in his car, and I want to ensure he stays there, so I watch from the corner of my eye, taking a few quick glances in that direction as I loosen the lug nuts on the tire before placing the jack under the frame and lifting it up until it’s a few inches off the ground. I’ve always made a point to wear shorts under my dresses, and I couldn’t be more thankful at the moment as I stoop down, undoing the lug nuts with my ass facing the road in the opposite direction of the nuisance watching me from his car.

  When all the lug nuts are removed, I pull the flat tire off, not spotting anything obviously wrong with it, but I don’t take more than a second to look at it as I lay it flat on the ground. Quickly rolling the spare in place, I lift it swiftly and slide it onto the wheel studs. Screwing the lug nuts loosely back on, I tighten them enough to hold them in place before releasing the jack, bringing the tire back to the pavement. I quickly secure the lug nuts, failing all the while at my useless attempt to refrain from glancing in the direction of the lurking idiot.

  Yes, he may’ve had good intentions when he stopped, but this would’ve sucked less without an audience. Hurriedly, I roll the flat tire behind the car, lift it (with my legs and not my back, like Dad taught me), and drop it into the trunk before throwing the metal lug wrench on top of it, metal clacking. Slamming the trunk, I hustle into the driver’s seat and lock the door as soon as I pull it closed. My fingers grip the steering wheel as I glance in the rearview mirror. His headlights still aren’t moving. If nothing else, he’s persistent.

  Cranking the ignition, I shut off the hazard lights, and steer back onto the road. I watch his headlights fade to dots as he stays parked on side of the road. It’s a relief watching his headlights disappear from view until I hear his voice in my head, talking about evil lurking in the shadows. A chill goes through my body, and I reach over to shut off the AC even though it has nothing to do with the sinister feeling floating through me. Turning on the radio, I do my best to drown out my thoughts as I drive the remaining distance to my apartment. I’ll worry about having the flat tire repaired or replaced later. There’s no rush since my dad made sure I knew to always have a full-size tire for backup. He worried the donut tire wouldn’t be enough if I was on the road, so this way, I can drive on it as long as I need to. Still … I’ll have the tire repaired or replaced tomorrow after class. Tonight, I’m done with all of it.

  Parking in my usual spot, I grab my purse and to-go carton and walk to the apartment, not worried about the rain since I’m already completely soaked. Unlocking the apartment door, I step inside, slamming it behind me before I turn to lock it.

  “Hey, you okay?” Willow asks as I turn to look at my roommate eyeing me from the kitchen.

  “Oh yeah.” I walk to the counter separating the kitchen and living room, placing my purse and food down.

  “Um. How was the anniversary date?” Willow asks cautiously.

  There’s no use hiding it, but I hope the lecture this go-round won’t last as long as usual. “Kyle didn’t show.”

  “Sadie.” Willow’s pity is even worse than a lecture because it means I’ve reached a really pathetic relationship status.

  “Yeah. I know. The highlight was a flat tire on the way home though.” I attempt to joke but it falls flat, no pun intended.

  She gives me a sympathetic look. “Are you really okay?”

  “Yep. Just gonna take a quick shower. Jett came through with supper if you want some.” I push the carton her way before walking towards my room.

  “Thanks, but I’m going to bed. Remind me why I signed up for a 7 a.m. class?”

  “Because we have good intentions until the first day of classes roll around. It’s not too late to switch out.”

  “I’ll let you know that decision at 7 a.m. tomorrow.”

  I laugh while walking into my room. For sure, Willow will decide way before 7 a.m. to switch out of the class. I have no doubt. One of the many reasons we’ve worked so well as roommates is because we’re both night owls. I’d been beyond nervous to move into the dorms last summer as a freshman. Not knowing who I’d be rooming with, I scored the jackpot when Willow walked in. This school year, Willow and I found an affordable apartment just off campus to share. Kyle had been less than thrilled with the decision, but tonight just reminds me why I didn’t want to move in with him.

  Once inside my bedroom, I close the door behind me, reach for the hem of my dress, and pull it over my head as I step into the bathroom. Another perk of the fabulous apartment—no sharing bathrooms since the two-bedroom floor plan included en suites in both rooms. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a bathroom to myself and haven’t had to share with my roommate or brother.

  Dropping the saturated dress into the sink, I avoid my reflection in the mirror. I already know I’m a disaster, I don’t need to see it firsthand. I strip off my bra and panties, cursing the matching set I’d purposely selected for a completely different anniversary ending. It hadn’t exactly thrilled me, the thought of another humdrum evening in bed with Kyle, but I figured I’d put some effort into it. Is it always going to be like this? Feel like this? Shouldn’t the thought of the date ending well and falling into bed together be sort of exciting? Kyle is the only guy I’ve ever slept with, and sometimes I think it’s the idea of him being my first love that I cling to more than anything. Especially the sweet, kind, caring kid who won over my mom’s heart. Happy memories of Kyle and my mom baking my eighteenth birthday cake immediately pop into my mind.

  Twisting the faucet, I adjust the temperature just in time to step under the water, the stream spraying against my face as tears fall. It’s been almost two years since the phone call that turned my world upside down, and the feelings are still as raw as they were that night. It’s supposed to get easier as time passes. When will it get easier?

  2

  Sadie

  Not much has changed since I’d walked across the courtyard last year on the first day of classes, but somehow, the start of this semester feels different. Last year, I was a ball of nerves. This year, I’m too exhausted to be nervous. After showering last night, I’d eaten and gone to bed, hoping to wake up refreshed for the first day of classes. That plan crashed and burned miserably as I laid in bed staring at my ceiling for the majority of the night. My phone conspicuously silent, being that I’d been stood up for our anniversary date. It should probably bother me more than it does, but I was glad to be left alone for the night and not fed whatever bullshit excuse Kyle has planned.

  “Sadie!” Willow calls as she jogs up beside me, looping her arm in mine. “Finally, a familiar face.”

  Willow had messaged me no less than five times asking me to let her know when I arrived for the government class we’d signed up for together. It does help having a familiar face and study partner, so we try to coordinate some classes.

  “Has it been that bad?”

  “Yes.
All the classes I need are full, so I’m stuck with my 7 a.m. class. The professor even seemed miserable to be there.”

  “It’s the first day. No one is thrilled to be here.”

  Willow continues recapping her uneventful early morning class on our way through the corridor, heading to the classroom. Walking about halfway down the lecture hall’s stairs, we take a seat as people continue to trickle in. Pulling my messenger bag onto my lap, I struggle to get the zipper open. Replacing the bag is long overdue. It’s the same one I’ve had since high school. The same one my mom said she loved because it reminded her of me. I agreed at the time, but now the only thing it reminds me of is her. I don’t want a new bag. I want the bag she helped me pick out. It feels silly, but there are so many small pieces I cling to that remind me of her.

  Pulling the zipper as hard as I can, I force it open, and the bag tilts forwards. Several pencils and a notebook slide out onto the floor before I can catch them. As I reach down, someone stoops in the aisle beside my chair and grabs the contents from my bag off the floor. When I look up, I’m met with the same set of eyes I’d stared down on the side of the road last night. There’s no way. Yeah, it had been dark, but there’s no mistaking him, and he looks even better in the light of day. A cohesive sentence is too much for me to muster at the shock of seeing him, so I sit there gaping as he drops my things in my lap, moves to the row across the walkway, and sits in a seat.