Breaking Her Bully: The High School Bully Romance Box Set

by Bella King

The filing cabinet that my notes had been locked away in was little more than a twisted heap of metal when I was done bashing the lock to bits with a large hammer. It didn’t take much, but I took more frustration out than was necessary to get it open.

  I dropped the hammer back into my black and gray book bag and zipped it shut. Nobody needed to know what I had just done to retrieve my notes.

  I opened the thin, battered metal door to the cabinet and found my notes on top of a stack of other papers. I swung the door closed, and it slapped against the frame, only to fall open again without a lock. Whatever.

  “Lydia, what are you doing?” A female voice called down the hall to me.

  I stood up straight, my face contorted in a blatant admission of guilt. I darted in front of the cabinet to hide the damage I had inflicted on it.

  It was Professor Lyche, the bitch, as I liked to call her. I swear that no matter how well I did in her class, she refused to give me an A. I always got B’s. She was the only thing standing in the way of me making Dean's list every year. No lie.

  What did she want now?

  “What was that noise?” Professor Lyche asked, tilting her head to the side as she walked toward her office past me down the hall.

  “Just, uh, ran into something,” I muttered, attempting to cover up the damage to the cabinet by shifting my bag on the floor to cover the busted lock.

  She scowled but kept walking. “Don’t break anything,” she said as she passed me.

  “Of course not,” I assured her.

  Her heels clicked against the tiled floor almost as loud as my hammer against the filing cabinet. I let out a sigh as she disappeared into her office.

  I picked up my heavy book bag from the floor, unzipping it and stuffing my notes between two textbooks to keep them from getting crumpled. I turned to leave for my first class of the day when Oliver appeared around the corner.

  He walked with a swagger that screamed dominance. I would have dropped to my knees for him in an instant if he wasn’t just a prick. Honestly, why can’t the handsome men be nicer?

  Oliver brushed his sloppy bangs from his face, raising an eyebrow when he spotted me. “Trying to get your notes back?” He inquired as he approached me.

  I shifted my weight to my back foot nervously, clasping my hands together in front of me. “I already did,” I replied with a nervous grin.

  He frowned when he saw the state that I had left the filing cabinet in. “Jesus Lydia. You could have asked me for the key,” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “Wow, you really fucked that thing up.”

  I wasn’t sure how he would react to me bludgeoning the cabinet to death, but he didn’t seem terribly happy about it. His forehead was creased as he leaned down the study my hammer work.

  “Goddamn, you destroyed it. You know I need that to store other people’s papers and stuff, right? You can’t go around breaking shit that isn’t yours,” he scolded.

  I attempted to fight back against him. “If you hadn’t hidden my notes, I wouldn’t have had to break it,” I countered weakly.

  Oliver rolled his eyes. “You really think that what you did was okay? This is coming out of my paycheck, you know. The school will have to buy another one.”

  He was making a big deal about it on purpose to try to humiliate me and make me feel guilty about it. I wasn’t going to let him. It was his fault.

  I crossed my arms and shrugged. “I guess you shouldn’t steal my stuff next time.”

  Oliver straightened up, and I immediately regretted my words. He was over six feet tall and well built, towering over my small frame like a tank rolling toward a bicycle. His eyes were small slits as he sized me up.

  I shrunk down, trying to seem small and innocent. He had too many connections with the professors to piss him off. I should have thought about that before I got him angry.

  “Here’s the deal, Lydia,” he said, putting a strong emphasis on my name. “You’re buying a new cabinet, or I’m reporting you to the administration.”

  I nodded. “That’s not fair,” I argued, trying to save face. “You’re the one that locked my notes in there.”

  “It costs about $200. Your call,” he replied, refusing to acknowledge my argument.

  I groaned. “That’s too much,” I pleaded.

  The smug look on Oliver’s face told me all I needed to know. There would be no negotiating with him on this. Either I paid for it out of pocket, or he would report me. I glared at him for a moment before speaking.

  “Alright, but you need to give me a couple of days to get the money. I don’t get paid until Friday.”

  “Friday, no later,” Oliver said sharply. He walked past me toward our classroom.

  I had the same class at him ,but I waited until he was already in the classroom to follow suit.

  What a fucking jerk. This was a result of his actions, not mine, and yet I was the one paying for it. Maybe it had been a bit of an overreaction to destroy the filing cabinet, but I wouldn’t have been pushed to do it if Oliver hadn’t come between me and my grades.

  I hadn’t thought to explain my reaction to him, but now that I thought about it, maybe it would get me off the hook. I rushed into the classroom and sat at the desk beside him. The professor teaching this class wasn’t there yet, so I leaned over to Oliver.

  “Hey, you know when you hid my notes, I kind of freaked out,” I said quietly.

  Oliver nodded, tapping his pencil against the desk while staring straight ahead.

  “Well, it was only because if I do badly in a class, I might not be able to attend college. I’m only here because of my grants, and I can only get those because of my grades.”

  A smirk graced Oliver’s face for a moment. “That’s your problem.”

  Had he no empathy? I was giving a compelling reason behind my actions while he had none for his. I leaned back into my seat and huffed, waiting for the teacher to enter the room and start class. I shook my head slowly in disapproval, looking over to Oliver to see if he saw me. He didn’t look.

  I sighed and pulled out my books, pulling out the hammer as well and placing it on my desk with a thick clunk.

  That got his attention. Oliver glanced over at it, his smirk transforming into a scowl. “What’s that?”

  “It’s for your skull,” I replied as the professor walked in.

  Oliver reached out to grab it, but I was anticipating that. I whipped it off my desk and flung it back into my bookbag. He never could keep his hands to himself. I had learned that when he snatched my notes yesterday.

  “You can’t threaten me over something you did wrong,” Oliver warned.

  “That wasn’t a threat,” I replied, knowing damn well that it had been. I didn’t want to give him the idea that I was some helpless nerd that he could bully into submission. My momma had taught me better than that.

  Oliver turned back to the front of the class when the professor began his lecture on material science. Dull subject, but necessary for graduating with a degree in Engineering.

  Chapter 3

  I took a bite of my dry bread and made a face. “It never gets easier to eat this stuff,” I said, tossing the hard roll back onto my plate.

  My friend, Mia, was sitting across from me in the dining hall, munching happily on her roll like it was the best thing ever. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just picky,” she said, snatching my roll from my plate and putting it on hers.

  “Maybe you’re addicted to carbs,” I replied with a laugh.

  Mia chuckled. “Yeah, and they’re not treating me well. It’s an abusive relationship for sure. I keep crawling back, and the carbs keep punishing me for it.”

  Mia had never been very politically correct. That was one of the reasons why she was such a good friend. She loosened me up more than she probably realized. If it wasn’t for her, I probably would never leave the library after school.

  “Ah shit, there he is,” I said, spotting Oliver walking into the dining hall with his friends like they owned the place. />
  He was the leader of his pack. The alpha frontman that called all the shots. Nobody like him should have so much power, but I suspected he was addicted to it the same way Mia was addicted to carbohydrates. He couldn’t get enough.

  “Who?” Mia asked, whipping her tight black curls around as she followed my stare.

  “Oliver,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “You like him or something?” Mia asked. “He is pretty cute.”

  “No, Mia, I don’t. He’s an ass,” I replied, grabbing my roll back from her plate and tearing into it with my teeth.

  “How so?” Mia asked, following him with her eyes as he sat down with his posse.

  “He stole my class notes, so I fucked up his stupid teacher’s assistant cabinet. Now I owe him like 200 bucks,” I replied as though this were a perfectly normal run of events.

  Mia laughed. “Jesus Lydia. That sounds kind of like it was your fault.”

  I groaned. “No, it definitely wasn’t my fault.” I took another chunk out of my roll as I watched Oliver laugh with his friends. How come he got to enjoy himself, and I was the one that had to pay for his foolishness?

  Mia looked at me. “Why are you so angry? He probably likes you. Maybe try being nicer to him next time.”

  “What? No,” I said. “He doesn’t.”

  Mia gave me a look. “You have some pretty whack social skills, girl. I know you well enough by now. You’re like a social retard.”

  “Okay, maybe so, but I know he doesn’t like me. He didn’t even care when I told him that grants were the only thing keeping me in school.”

  Mia flashed a sympathetic look as she lifted a fork full of noodles to her lips. “Everyone here has their struggles.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m not special. I’ve heard that before,” I said with a sigh. I took a hasty bite of my food and ripped my eyes away from Oliver.

  “It’s not other people’s job to pity you, Lydia. I’m the only one that does that for you, and I shouldn’t either.”

  “He could have been nicer about it. That’s all,” I said. It was totally possible that I had overreacted.

  Mia shrugged. “Pay him and move on with your life.” She twirled more noodles around her fork. “By the way, are we still on for Saturday?”

  “Remind me again,” I said, squinting my eyes in concentration. I couldn’t remember shit all except for school. It was burned into my head by my parents that a healthy social life wasn’t important. Good grades make money. Good friends make distractions.

  Mia rolled her eyes. “The booze, girl. The booze!”

  “Oh, right. I don’t know because I have to pay Oliver now.”

  “Vodka costs like 20 bucks,” Mia replied.

  “Tell me why you don’t have a job again?” I asked.

  “Not everyone can keep up with their schoolwork and work at the same time. You’re a special kind of busy, Lydia.”

  “I think you just prioritize the wrong stuff,” I replied, but I was secretly jealous that she didn’t work. It must be nice to mooch off people who did.

  “Tell me why we’re getting trashed again?” I asked, glancing at Oliver again. He was talking loudly with his friends, looking like a total douche. What were they talking about? Probably sports.

  “Hello, earth to Lydia,” Mia said, waving her hand in front of me. “You really like this guy, don’t you?”

  “Ugh, no,” I said, looking down at my plate.

  Mia crossed her arms. “Sure seems like it,” she muttered. “We’re getting drunk to celebrate finishing our first exams. It’s a tradition.”

  “For you, it is.”

  “For us. You really need to learn how to let loose a bit,” Mia said, grabbing the hard roll back off my plate and biting into it.

  “I do know how,” I said, but I knew that wasn’t true. I was about as uptight as they got when it came to socializing. Social retard was aptly put.

  “A couple of shots of whipped cream flavored vodka and that busy brain of yours is going to think about anything but getting into Oliver’s tight jeans,” Mia teased.

  “Gross,” I said, jerking my head back.

  “The flavor or Oliver?” Mia asked, holding up a finger.

  “Oliver,” I said too loud.

  Oliver looked back at Mia and me.

  I buried my face in my plate. “Fuck, shit, fuck!” I panted.

  Mia laughed. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

  “Fuck you,” I hissed.

  “He’s getting up,” Mia said excitedly, poking my arm.

  I saw Oliver in my peripheral, slowly getting up from the table and excusing himself. He was coming straight for us.

  “Is it too late to run?” I asked.

  “So dramatic,” Mia replied, shaking her head and twirling more noodles around her fork.

  I felt the presence of Oliver beside me before I even saw him walk up. I didn’t look at him, shoveling greasy noodles into my mouth sloppily in hopes that he would leave me alone. He didn’t.

  “You called?” Oliver said in a deep grumbly voice that made all the little hairs on my arms stand at attention.

  “I didn’t say anything,” I said quietly.

  Mia rolled her eyes. She turned her head up to Oliver. “You want to have a drink with us on Saturday?”

  My pupils got about five times bigger at her words. I took a slow breath in, trying to mask my annoyance. “I think maybe we’re not drinking Saturday,” I said slowly.

  Oliver shrugged. “I was thinking about slamming a few back with the boys. You know, game night.”

  “Yes, game night, Mia,” I said through gritted teeth. “Which means you can’t drink with us, right?” I asked, finally looking up at Oliver.

  He looked good from this angle, the shadows formed from his dramatic features even darker under the ceiling lights of the dining hall. Hell, he looked good from every angle, but I wasn’t about to give him a pass just because of that. No, men in my life had to earn their acceptance, and Oliver was heading in the opposite direction.

  He rubbed his stubbled chin. “I didn’t say I couldn’t join. Perhaps after the game.”

  Mia’s eyes lit up. “Oh great, what’s your number. I’ll text you.”

  I ignored the two as they exchanged numbers, chewing my food with needless ferocity. I could think of a thousand things better than drinking with Mr. Douchebag, including scooping both my eyes out with the cheap lunch utensils, blending them up, and drinking them in a smoothie.

  Oliver left after obtaining Mia’s number. She looked up at me with a grin, but that faded fast when she saw my face.

  “Hey, cool it, girl. I’m not trying to steal your man or anything.”

  I pushed the rest of my food away from me. “He’s not my man. Take him. I don’t want a thing to do with him.”

  “I thought you’d want to have a drink with him. Are you shy?”

  “I hate him,” I whispered loudly, peeking over to make sure Oliver hadn’t heard me.

  Mia shook her head. “You’re going to learn how to express your feelings a little better, and then we’ll see how you really feel about him. I think a drink would do you good.”

  “I’ll need the whole damn bottle to deal with him,” I replied, getting out of my seat to leave.

  “Well,” Mia said, joining me in my rise, “We can certainly arrange that.”

  Chapter 4

  I passed my exam with flying colors. I shouldn’t have doubted myself, but Oliver made me panic about my notes. Everything was fine now, except for I still owed him money, and Mia had invited him to drink with us. No fucking thank you.

  I had little time to celebrate my exam because I had work on Friday immediately after class. I would be picking up my paycheck and bringing nearly half of it to Oliver after work. He had given me his address, and that was the only way to get it to him.

  I would have to drag my feet nearly half a mile away from my own apartment to give him money. I wanted him to come to me, but at the same ti
me, I didn’t want him to know where I lived. I agreed to meet at his place as a result.

  Work consisted of little more than stocking shelves and directing clueless customers to clearly labeled isles so that they could find bread or almonds. I honestly think that people just asked me questions there because I was an attractive woman. My male counterparts didn’t get nearly as much attention as I did.

  This would have been fine, but nobody was putting extra money in my pocket for helping more people, so I didn’t exactly like it. Plus, I couldn’t just tell people to fuck off. That was against the rules. Bummer.

  I threw on my work uniform, a black polo shirt with an obnoxiously large logo over my right breast, paired with whatever jeans I decided to wear with it. As long as they had no holes and didn’t squeeze the life out of my ass, they were alright.

  I strongly considered purchasing two bottles of vodka after work just to wash the taste of Oliver out of my mouth harder. The nauseating alcohol smell would be enough to wipe him from my senses, or so I hoped.

  I began to unload baking ingredients off of my pallet, placing them neatly on the shelves where they were needed. Everything had to look perfect because customers these days wouldn’t buy a product unless it was arranged in the way they liked.

  Flour had to be piled in neat stacks, but not like bricks. Customers didn’t like to pry away brick of flour from a wall on the shelf. I had learned that during my first week at work. They liked vertical stacks that would fall over if you piled them higher then two or three levels.

  I seriously questioned myself for how well I knew how to stock shelves. This wouldn’t translate well to the corporate world when I finally graduated, but it was my bread and butter while I was still in college.

  Four hours was long enough to fill my shelf and clock out. I typically had more time for a break somewhere in there, but with my mind rolling over everything that had happened in the past two days, I wasn’t working as fast as I usually did.

  I would have a full day of work tomorrow since it was Saturday, and I had no classes. After that would be a cheap liquor fest to stave off exam stress and reset my brain for the next sprint of lessons and homework. While alcohol was a great reset button, I didn’t use it often. It was Mia that encouraged me to get wasted more often.