The Judgement: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Breakbattle Academy Book 4)

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The Judgement: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Breakbattle Academy Book 4) Page 14

by Ruby Vincent


  I was feeling good about life until I entered the cafeteria and saw the empty seat next to mine. An ever-constant reminder that Derek and I were on the outs.

  Maybe it’s time to do something about it. You’re overdue to have it out and settle this. Whatever he feels, nothing will happen between us and he’ll be forced to get over it. I don’t want things to be this way until that happens.

  I thought that, but I must have changed my mind a dozen times over dinner, and six more times as I climbed the stairs.

  What if he never lets this go? What if he’s still searching for the father you found years ago?

  I couldn’t go further than Derek’s door. I paced in front of it, mind whirling.

  How was I supposed to know what to do? There was no advice column for this, and no one I could talk to but Jordan—who kept telling me to forget about him and focus on Jonathan.

  I just want my brother back. Why is that so hard? If only we could—

  “Dude! Are you coming in or not?”

  I jumped.

  “I know you’re out there, Zee.”

  A flush crept up my neck, but I beat back my embarrassment and pushed open the door. Hunter waved at me from his spot at Derek’s desk.

  “Hey, Zee.”

  “Hi, Hunter.” I cut eyes to Derek. He was in his usual position—reclined on the bed with a book in his lap. “Are you having mentor time? I can go.”

  “It’s over,” Derek said. “See you tomorrow.”

  Hunter rose with his backpack.

  “Why don’t you stay?” I asked quickly. “We’re going to watch a movie. You should join us.”

  “Ooh. That would be—”

  “He can’t,” Derek said firmly. “He’s got a project to finish up.”

  Hunter’s shoulders slumped. “Derek’s right. I have to finish my section or my partner will kill me.” His cherub face suddenly lit up. “Can I watch a movie with you guys tomorrow night?”

  “Sure thing, man,” Derek said before I could open my mouth. “Zee will be back tomorrow night.”

  “Great.”

  Hunter let himself out, saying a goodbye that wasn’t returned. Derek and I were too busy locked in a staredown.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow, will I?”

  Derek dropped the book on the side table. He didn’t break eye contact as he drew one leg up and draped his arm over his knee. “You’re here, aren’t you? You missed me.” He gestured with his foot at the laptop on his bed. “You want us to go back to how we were. Let’s do that.”

  I moved around the bed, eyes on him like he would strike any minute. “Fine. Then get up and we’ll watch the movie on the couch.”

  He didn’t make a move. “The couch is harder than the bleachers.”

  “I’d feel more comfortable on the couch.”

  Derek raised a brow. “Why? You chilled in bed with me when you thought I was your brother.”

  “You are my brother.”

  “If you believe that, there’s no reason for you to be uncomfortable.” He grinned. “Your big bro wouldn’t pull anything.”

  Why did this feel like some kind of test? It seemed to him refusing to get in the bed was admitting I thought something could happen between us, instead of the actual gut-wrenching truth.

  “Let me make this clear,” I began, “you having romantic feelings for me is taboo in every country I’ve lived in, including this one. If you still have those feelings, you need to let them go. Now.”

  He put up his hands. “I got it. Say no more.”

  I inched toward the bed. “You have to accept Jonathan is my father,” I continued. “I know what that means for your family and it sucks. I don’t want to blow up anyone’s life which is why I never went shouting about it or tried to hop your fence.”

  I put one leg on the bed, and when Derek didn’t do anything, I drew up the other and crawled up to the pillows. I took a deep breath, holding his gaze steadily.

  “I just want to know him, Derek. That’s what I’ve always wanted. You more than anyone else know what I’ve gone through... trying to find my dad.”

  Derek curled his fingers over mine. “I know. I hate what you’ve gone through. It should never have happened.”

  My first thought was that I should pull away. I didn’t. It could have been wishful thinking, but right then Derek’s touch felt nothing more than comforting.

  “Can I ask you something?” he said after a pause.

  I nodded.

  “What’s the plan, Zee? My father isn’t an easy man to get to—not even for me. How do you plan on getting close to him and what will you do if you get the chance?”

  I blew out a breath as I leaned against the headboard. “You want the truth? I didn’t think that far ahead. I had my hands full getting through your porcupine shell to the gooey center.”

  “I don’t have a gooey center. Stop spreading that around or these people will start thinking they don’t have to be afraid of me.”

  I let out a giggle. “I’ll keep your secret.”

  Derek mimicked me, resting against the headboard. “So you just want to get to know my father?”

  “Our father,” I corrected. “He didn’t want me before. There’s no reason he’d want me now even if I showed up at his door with a birth certificate. But if he got to know me and saw that I don’t want money from him or—”

  Derek made a noise in his throat. “Pretty much the plan you had with me,” he finished. “And how did that go for you?”

  “We’re here, aren’t we?”

  He sighed. “Fair enough.” Derek was quiet for a moment. “Alright. I’ll help you. I’ll come up with ways that you can get close to Dad. Talk to him. Get to know him.”

  I shot up, eyes flaring. “You will? Derek, that would be great. Thank...”

  I trailed off as he raised a hand. He looked at me seriously. “Conditions,” he said. “You never ever say a word about this to my mom.”

  “Of course not,” I cried. “I don’t want to cause problems for anyone.”

  “And,” he continued, “if you get it in your head to tell my dad he’s your long-lost father, you warn me first.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to be there with you.”

  “To stop me,” I said, voice hard.

  “To support you when you get the news you don’t want to hear.”

  The silence spread between us. My expression couldn’t have been kind, but Derek didn’t flinch.

  “You still don’t believe me,” I croaked.

  He shook his head. “My dad wouldn’t do this, Zee. You want to get to know him, but I already do. He’s not that kind of guy.”

  “My mother wouldn’t have written down some random guy’s name,” I clipped.

  “Two words. Jeremy Holt.”

  Wincing, I snapped, “That’s different.”

  “How?”

  “She had to lie to me so I wouldn’t have been able to find him as easily as I did, but making up a name after what happened at the mall is very different than putting one down on a government document. He is my father.”

  Derek was unmoving. “You may think that, and your mom may even believe he is, but that doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  Heat surged to my face. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Derek was still holding my hand. He squeezed it as his face softened. “I’m not trying to say anything bad about your mom, but I’ve spent the last five weeks looking up her old classmates and professors. All of her professors except one were male. Also, a few local businessmen came in that semester and taught special lectures, not just my dad.”

  “Who told you that?”

  He jerked his head at the laptop. “I found an old friend of your mom’s on Facebook. She was very clear that your mom didn’t have a boyfriend around the time she got pregnant with you and didn’t want one. She was dating around.”

  I tugged my hand free. Anger licked at my self-control. “So my mother slept with so many guys
that she doesn’t know who knocked her up. She just put your dad’s name down because she saw him in the lecture hall once. Is that what you’re trying to say, Derek?”

  “No.”

  “Then what are you saying?!” I exploded. “You don’t know my mom! You don’t know anything!”

  “I know that I don’t have any more proof than you do,” he said calmly, “and I won’t believe you’re my sister until I do.”

  Derek picked up the laptop and turned it on. “I don’t want to fight anymore. Let’s watch the movie.”

  “Fuck the movie! You can’t just—”

  “Zela, please.” His voice was soft and weary. “I missed you too.”

  The rant lodged in my throat, stuck between my anger and my missing him. In the end, I yanked the blanket up to my chin and settled in with a huff.

  “Fine. But you promise me you’ll stop digging into my mother’s past.”

  “Zee—”

  “Promise me, Derek, or I’m leaving.”

  “Okay. I promise.” Derek shuffled down and laid himself on my pillow. “What do you want to watch?”

  “Something funny,” I replied after a beat.

  “Feeling old school?”

  I gently tapped his skull with my forehead. “You mean Ace Ventura? I’m not sitting through another Jim Carrey marathon.”

  “Those are the classics right there. They’ll be studying him in future film classes. Mark my words.”

  I chuckled and the tight knot I’d been holding on to inside began to loosen. “If you want old school, we can watch Clueless.”

  “Are you still pissed at me? Because you’re taking the revenge too far.”

  I couldn’t hold back my giggling now. “Let’s say I am and put it on.”

  He groaned like a dying animal. “Fine. I’ve got root beer in the fridge. Want some?”

  “Ooh. Yes, please.”

  Derek stood to get our drinks while I queued up the movie. I snuggled into the sheets, falling into an uneasy truce, but one I’d hold on to for as long as I could.

  “REMEMBER THE TOP OF your laces,” I shouted. “You’ve almost got it, Brandon.”

  My D charge waved as he hurried to the other side of the field. Brandon asked me to help with his game, but once we got out to the field the group of Cs that were playing dropped everything and asked if we’d hook up with them.

  My pen skittered across the page as I watched them from my place in front of the bleachers. It was difficult to watch, calculate, and giving tips at the same time. I loved it all the same. Sitting at a desk with a graphing calculator wasn’t nearly as thrilling as seeing math happen before my eyes.

  “Austin, don’t play scared,” I called. “Steal the ball!”

  “Exactly what I would’ve said.” Coach Fineman stepped to my side. “I heard about a student taking it upon himself to coach, but I didn’t believe it.”

  I froze. I wasn’t sure what to make of this and his blank expression didn’t give me a clue.

  “I’m not coaching, sir.”

  “No?” He gestured at my notebook. “Then what do you call this?”

  “It’s just that my friends helped me when I came here after being homeschooled and couldn’t kick my way out of a sack. I thought I’d use what I learned and help others.”

  He gazed out across the field. “This is quite different from sharing tips with your friends. You’re not in the same class as any of these boys.”

  “That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

  To my surprise, he inclined his head. “You’re correct, but listen, Zeke, I’m sure your intentions are good, but Breakbattle pays me more than the average high school coach’s salary to be out here shouting at the students. You’re making a habit of this, but it isn’t your job. Leave coaching soccer to me.”

  “It’s not just about helping,” I said, thinking quickly. “I’m also learning more about sports math and testing it out in action. We train and help each other all the time, sir. What’s the harm?”

  He lifted his chin, peering at me over his nose. “There is no harm that I’ve seen and it’s not technically against the rules, but it is unnecessary. As I said, I’m the coach. If students need help, I’m here.” Fineman jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Head out, Zeke. I’ll watch the rest of their game.”

  I wanted to argue but insisting would seem strange and most likely result in laps around the field. Reluctantly, I grabbed my backpack off the bleachers and walked off.

  “Too bad.”

  I jerked to a stop. My lips curled before I saw him—hearing his voice was enough. He and his friends stepped out from their hiding spot behind the bleachers. Zach smirked at me as Jose, Sully, Wyatt, and Lars fanned out behind him.

  “You ratted me out to Fineman,” I said. It wasn’t a question. Not when his snitching was written all over his self-satisfied face.

  “I’m not standing by while you help your buddies cheat. Not after you fucked me over.”

  “It’s not cheating. It’s called training and practicing.”

  Sully scoffed. “That’s like saying it’s not cheating for one team to be coached by a major leaguer and the other to get lessons from the guy who doesn’t know which end to hold the bat. You got Moon and the Elites to help you and it’s the only reason you won the tournament. Admit it.”

  I glared at him. “Their spirits didn’t inhabit my damn body. It was me out there running, throwing, swimming, and playing. And I did it while sick.”

  Zach’s smirk widened.

  “It was also me who kicked butt on the academic tests.”

  “They tutored you,” Lars put in. “They told you what would be on the test.”

  Folding my arms, I stared them down. “You know that isn’t how it works. You can’t be this stupid. You’re Elite.” I returned Zach’s smirk. “Or most of you are.”

  Zach launched at me and had to be restrained by his friends.

  “Cool it,” Wyatt snapped. “Fineman is right here.”

  He shoved out of their hold. “Here’s how it’s going to work,” he growled. “Everyone will stay in their lane, you’ll quit this Battle Doctor shit, and I won’t let the rest of the coaches as well as Whittaker know what you’re doing.”

  Shrugging, I replied, “You do what you have to do, Zach.”

  I strode off. None of them tried to stop me, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think it was over.

  An hour later, I was sitting in Derek’s room while he read and Hunter worked on his homework at the desk.

  I closed my history book and tossed it in my bag. My work was spread out on Derek’s comforter. It was crazy how quickly I made myself at home.

  “Hunter,” I spoke up. “What exactly do you get from this mentor/mentee relationship?”

  “Basking in my presence,” Derek replied without looking up.

  Hunter laughed. “Derek is a great mentor. He passes on his basketball skills and helped me plan how to ask out Sloane. Plus, his room always smells like vanilla.”

  “But you just sit here in silence.” I gave Derek a look. “You could at least help him with his homework.”

  “The kid didn’t become Elite by needing homework help.”

  Hunter nodded. “It’s true. I don’t need help. I actually finished my homework a while ago.” He reached behind him. “I’ve been working on this.”

  “Hunter, oh my goodness.”

  He placed the notebook in my hand. Looking back at me... was me.

  Hunter’s sketch was amazing. I sat hunched over my textbook, cross-legged and forehead scrunched as I read a passage. Next to me was Derek doing what he did best, reading. A few black lines and crafty shading and the two of us were made real on the page. Hunter even added in little details like the name of Derek’s book and the part in my bangs.

  “This is great,” I said. “Can I keep it?”

  “No way.” The notebook was out of my hand before I could blink. “It’s really rough. I haven’t had a chance to color it
and your nose is all wrong.”

  “Can I have it when you’re done?”

  “You really like it?”

  “I love it.”

  He smiled. “You two do look nice together.”

  “That’s what I keep saying,” Derek muttered.

  “Hush.”

  I threw a pillow at him. Derek tucked and rolled just in time.

  “Too slow, Zee.”

  Knock. Knock.

  Derek went to open it while I got back to my work.

  “What’s this?”

  Cameron’s honeyed voice slid inside the room before he did. I slowly raised my head, jaw clenching as he walked in.

  “A study date?” he remarked. “Good to see you, Hunter. And you, Zeeeee-ke,” he drew out. “That’s right. It’s Zeke. Almost called you something else.”

  “Why don’t you go practice saying it in your room? Get out.”

  He smiled. “I’m not here to see you.” Cameron made his point by giving me his back and facing Derek. “Let’s go.”

  Derek glanced at me over his shoulder. A quick one that I would have missed if I wasn’t watching them hard. “I told you I’m not going. I know you’ve got something to prove, but we’ve been over it fifty fucking times. Ease up.”

  “You have something to prove too,” Cameron shot back. His charming tone was fading fast. “Your dad told you the same thing mine did. We have to make this happen.”

  “We will,” Derek said through gritted teeth. “Go, Cameron. I’m not talking about this anymore. We both know what we have to do.”

  “We better”—Cameron turned his head a fraction, peering at me over his shoulder—“understand each other.”

  My pencil shook in my hands. Flashes of kneeling in the dirt with his camera in my face made my stomach twist. Hunter just watched the exchange in wide-eyed confusion.

  Cameron backed out of the room. He didn’t resist tossing me a wink in the second before Derek slammed the door in his face.

  “Hunter, pack it up and leave,” Derek announced. “We’ll meet for practice at six.”

  “Okay. Bye, Derek. Bye, Zeke,” he said brightly.

  Derek pushed aside my stuff and sat in front of me. “Is something up with you and Cameron?”

  “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

 

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