"You can't do that, Crispin," I told him coldly. "That's your fucking problem! You try to manipulate people into feeling something for you!"
"Don't say that," he snapped. "You know it's not true."
"It is true!" I crossed my arms when a couple of students came walking down the hallway, throwing curious gazes in our direction. Oh, great, now we were attracting a goddamn crowd. Because that's exactly what we needed right now. "Don't lie to me, Crispin."
"You loved me before all that," he ground out. "I know you did because I felt the same way."
"Oh yeah?" I let out a bitter laugh. "Is that why you tortured me for weeks? Is that why you fucking dated my best friend before me, Crispin?"
By then, the hallway had filled with people, and their cruel whispers echoed from the walls as they watched our fight unfold, in front of a live audience.
"You wouldn't even look at me before," he muttered, never taking his eyes off mine. "You weren't fucking interested if I wasn't being mean to you."
"Don't blame me for this. It's your fault."
"Well, well, well," a booming voice interrupted. "Trouble in paradise?" The crowd that had gathered parted for their queen, and Estella stood before us, with Inca and Harlem on either side of her.
That boy, Natan, strolled up next to her, and grabbed her ass in front of everybody, pulling her in for a deep kiss. I blushed to the roots of my hair just watching them. God, talk about PDA.
"Did you have something to say?" I snapped in the middle of their movie-scene kiss. "Or are you just going to make us watch you drool over one another?"
She held up her hand, taking her sweet time with Natan before pulling back and grinning.
"Sorry, hermanita," she purred. "Boys before bitches."
"Don't you call her that," Crispin snapped, taking a step toward her but being blocked by the Earnshaw boy.
"Hey, Dalton, cool it," Natan growled. "Don't make me slap that grin off your face. And control your goddamn woman." He motioned toward me, and I glared in response. "She's acting like a damn wild animal, for fuck's sake."
"What did you just call me?" I hissed, getting closer until I was between him and Crispin. "I dare you to call me that again, you steroid-filled piece of—"
"Children!" Our stand-off was interrupted by Professor Mulroney, appearing from around the corner and glaring at us as he came closer. "What is going on here?"
"We're not children," I spat out. "Maybe you should mind your own business."
"Yeah, Prof," Estella purred, winking at him. "Unless you've finally decided to play with someone a little younger."
"Jesus Christ," Mulroney muttered. "Detention. All of you—Estella, Crispin, Tinsley and Natan. And everyone who doesn't disappear from the hallway to your next classroom in the next thirty seconds."
"That's so fucking unfair!" Estella cried. "How dare you do that to me—"
"Thirty," Mulroney said, giving a meaningful look to the rest of the students, who finally started scattering in different directions. "Twenty-nine, twenty-eight..." He got down to fifteen and everybody was gone, leaving just him and the four of us in the hallway. "Headmaster’s office," Mulroney hissed at us. "All of you, follow me."
We fell into step behind him, glaring at one another as Mulroney led us up the stairs into the head master’s office. Head Master Weston was a woman of about fifty, but she looked—thanks to the help of her trusty plastic surgeon—about twenty years younger. Mulroney knocked on the door and ushered us in.
We filled the room, Estella flopping down on a cognac-colored leather armchair, and Natan taking the seat next to her. I sat on a jade velvet lounge by the door, and Crispin lingered awkwardly in front of the bookcase.
"This is a mistake, by the way," Estella rolled her eyes. "I really don't deserve—"
Head Master Weston raised her hand to shut her up, then finished her cheap burger before tossing the wrapper to the side and grinning at Mulroney. "Old habits die hard, I still love McDonalds."
"Gross," Estella muttered, and the woman's face hardened.
"What happened here, Professor Mulroney?" the head master asked, and the teacher launched into an explanation of what he’d seen during lunchtime.
Weston furrowed her brows and finally sent him out before leaning back in her office chair, staring at us through her fashionably oversized black glasses.
"You know," she said thoughtfully. "I'd love nothing more but to punish every single one of you."
"Well, my dad—" Natan started, but she groaned and rolled her eyes
"Yeah, yeah, no need to tell me," she said. "I heard about your dad." She pointed at him, then Crispin. "And yours." And Estella. "And yours." Now me. "And your mom, too. Now, I would love nothing more than to give you a punishment you'd remember forever, but I'm certain your parents have a trick up their sleeves. And by trick, I mean a million or two the west swimming pool could really, really use. Catch my drift?"
"Of course, Head Master Weston," Estella purred. "We'll get that taken care of."
"Not that I care," the woman shrugged. "I took a new job. One month and I'm out of here."
"So?" Natan grinned. "We're getting away scot-free? Nothing even happened, you know. No fight, no brawl. Just a misunderstanding."
"I'm sure," the head master rolled her eyes. "Well, I can't make an example out of you, but I sure can make you regret what happened. Mr. Earnshaw, you know this is your last warning?"
"Yeah," Natan muttered, looking guilty.
"I mean it this time," Weston wagged her finger at him. "The new head master will have access to all your files, so trust me, you don't want to disappoint him, given that he'll know as much as I do."
"Yes, ma’am." Natan twisted uncomfortably in his chair, visibly relieved when Weston turned to Estella.
"Now you," she went on. "Your dad wouldn't like it much if I tell him about this, would he?"
Estella paled, shaking her head. "Please don't, Head Master Weston."
"I won't," the woman said, a shred of pity in her voice. Why would she pity Estella? She's living her dream life. "But I want a guarantee from you that you will make sure Inca Manning fits in."
"Inca?" Estella repeated; eyes wide. "But she's my friend."
"So was I," I whispered.
"Exactly," Principal Weston nodded. "I don't want any drama with Miss Manning, Estella. You better take care of her. I want you to make it a priority."
"Fine," Estella muttered.
"She's a star student," Weston went on. "We want to make sure her experience here is enjoyable, and you're a big part of that, Estella. Now, for you, Mr. Dalton." She sighed as she turned to Crispin. "You just couldn't stay out of trouble, could you? Well, I haven't handed you any warnings yet, but this is your first. No more problems, and you'll graduate just fine."
"Fine," Crispin got out. "Are we done?" He gave me a hopeful look. "I need to talk to—"
"You're all free to go," Weston said, eliciting sighs of relief from Estella and Natan. But when I tried to get up, she motioned for me to stay where I was. "Not you, Tinsley. Please stay a couple more minutes."
"Me?" I asked. "Why?"
She quietened me with a long look and ushered the other three out of her office. I could feel Crispin staring at me, but I didn't return his look. I just waited, uncomfortably twisting my hands in my lap until Mrs. Weston closed the door behind them.
"Now, we still have something to discuss," she said, her voice gentler this time around. "Tinsley, are you currently in contact with your father?"
"W-What?" I tripped over my own words, feeling myself flush. "No, we aren't in touch."
"Not at all?" Weston asked softly. "Not ever? Even without your mom knowing?"
"No," I shook my head. "No, we never talk. Why?"
"Your father has been calling the school," Weston admitted. "Trying to find your number, your address. We ran a background check, and it is indeed your father. Does your mother not let you interact?"
"She would, if he'd
made an attempt at it," I muttered, giving Weston a long look. "He left us when I was eight. I haven't spoken to him since."
"I see," Weston muttered. "Do you have any plans on speaking to him, perhaps clearing the air? I think he really wants to talk to you."
"I- I don't know," I confessed. "I haven't spoken to him in ten years."
"Tinsley..." she hesitated before continuing. "The reason I'm asking is that your father is here."
"W-What?" I stuttered, looking around her spacious, luxurious office. "Where?"
"In one of the staff meeting rooms," she admitted, squeezing my hand. "You are free to walk away, Tinsley. One word from you and he'll be a persona non grata on this campus. But I wanted to check to see what you wanted first, before I kick him out—since you’re eighteen."
"He's re-really here?" I managed, and Weston nodded, motioning to the hallway.
"Third door on the right. We were going to call you in here during the next class. Would you like to see him?"
"I- I don't know," I whispered, staring at my trembling hands on my lap. "I'm not sure."
"Would you like someone to come with you?" Weston offered. "I can come, or the school's therapy worker."
"Crispin," I slipped. "Crispin Dalton. I want him to come with me."
"Of course," Weston nodded. "I think he's still waiting for you outside. Take your time. And if you need anything, I'll have security outside the door."
"Thank you," I managed weakly, my body trembling as I picked myself up.
Weston led me out of her office into the waiting area.
In a second, Crispin jumped up from his seat there, and came toward me. "I'm so sorry, Tins," he said, just then noticing my flushed cheeks. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"Miss Sullivan's father is here," Weston told him. "He's waiting for her. Miss Sullivan would like you to come with her. I'll give you some privacy."
She left, leaving us alone in the hallway. I felt numb, scared.
Crispin seemed to sense my mood and leaned down to tip my chin back, making me look at him. "Are you okay, crybaby?" he asked gently, and I let out a half-sob, half-giggle. "I know how hard this must be for you."
"I just didn't expect it," I managed. "I don't know what the hell he's doing here. Mom would kill me if she knew I was meeting him."
"I don't think she would," Crispin tried to reassure me. "I think she would tell you to do what you need to do. Want to go see him now?"
"Yeah," I nodded, heaving a deep sigh. "Come with me, please?"
"Of course."
Our argument was momentarily forgotten as we made our way to the door behind which my father would be waiting.
"Ready?" Crispin asked, and I nodded, giving him a weak smile.
"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."
He opened the door and led me inside.I barely recognized the man sitting on the couch in there, but seeing him twisted my stomach into a thousand knots. We walked inside, with Crispin closing the door behind us and letting me take the lead. The man stood up, a nervous smile on his face as he turned to face me. My stomach lurched when I recognized my own features in his, and I struggled to catch my breath. But a moment later, Crispin was next to me, his arm gently wrapping around my waist, letting me know I could count on him.
“Hello,” the man said. “God, Tinsley, you’ve grown up so much.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, taking a seat at the conference table in the room. “What are you doing here?”
He laughed uneasily, scratching behind his ears before giving me a sheepish look. “Well, I’ve been trying to get in touch for a long time now. Has your mom not told you?”
I shook my head. So Mom knew he’s been trying to reach me. Why did she never tell me?
“I’m Crispin, by the way,” Crispin interrupted the awkward silence, reaching over to shake my father’s hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
My father shook his hand, giving him a once over before asking, “Are you a classmate of Tinsley’s?”
“Yes, and her boyfriend,” Crispin replied calmly, making me glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s never said that before. “How long has it been since you’ve seen your daughter, Mr. Sullivan?”
“Oh, well, it’s gotta be, what, five years now?” Dad said, whistling.
“Ten,” I whispered. “It’s been ten years.”
“Really?” He laughed, shrugging. “I guess time really got away from me there.”
“What do you want?” My voice was tired, not wanting to hear his excuses. “Why did you come here?”
“Well, to catch up of course,” Dad said with a big grin.
“You could have done that in the ten years you’ve been gone,” I reminded him. “Why haven’t I seen you in so long?”
“Well, your mother-”
“No,” I interrupted, holding a shaky hand up. “Don’t blame this on her. Are you here to finally start paying child support?”
“I…” He laughed again, shaking his head. “It’s not like you need it, right? You’ve made it. You have all the money you could possibly wish for, Tins.”
“Don’t call me that,” I said icily. “Why are you here? Just tell me honestly why you showed up.”
“I just wanted to reconnect,” he said. “Actually, I’m thinking about moving back to town.”
“With your new family?” I hated how bitter my voice was, hated myself for being so weak around him.
“No.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I, er, split up with Elle.”
“Okay,” I nodded. “What about your kids?”
“They’re not moving with me,” he muttered. “They’re staying with their mother in the OC.”
“So what then?” I asked, tensions in the room rising just as my voice was. “You thought you could just shack up with us now that you’ve broken up with the woman you left Mom for?”
“I wanted to bury the hatchet,” he went on. “I think it’s high time.”
“Actually, I think it’s a little late for that,” Crispin spoke up. “Maybe you should have thought about that years ago.”
“You don’t get to lecture me, kid,” Dad said, furrowing his brows at him. “You don’t get to decide what I should and should not do. And I’m not here looking for approval from some child star.”
“Don’t talk to him like that,” I whispered.
“He’s the one who should watch his tongue,” Dad glared between the both of us. “He’s the one making problems here. I’m just here to make amends.”
“How are you going to do that?” I asked, my voice soft, barely above a whisper. “How are you ever going to make things right? You left us, Dad. You replaced us. You made us feel worthless. Do you have any idea how often I had to listen to Mom crying over you? Worrying over bills we couldn’t pay because you didn’t pay a cent of child support?”
“That was before you made it,” he muttered. “And before I got a new job.”
“And what about after that?” I argued. “You’re well-off yourself. You never offered to send any money. You’re lucky Mom hasn’t sued you for it!”
“Now calm down,” he said defensively. “Besides, I have just as much of a right to your trust fund as your mother does.”
“And there it is,” I laughed bitterly. “The reason you’re here is the money, isn’t it?”
He shifted in his seat, muttering, “I’m your parent, too.”
“No, you aren’t.” I stood up from my seat, glaring at him. “And you haven’t been for a decade, so don’t try to convince me I owe you, because you haven’t even been in my life for the past ten years. I owe you fuck-all.”
“Now wait just a minute here,” he argued, getting up as well. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, young lady.”
“Actually, you don’t get to talk to her like that,” Crispin interrupted, coming to stand between the two of us. “Because you’ve given up your right to do that a long time ago.”
Dad glared at him, having to look up to
make eye contact since Crispin towered over him. Crispin’s stance was intimidating, and he wasn’t backing down, shielding me with his body.
“I think it’s time you leave,” Crispin told him, protectively reaching for me behind his back. “I don’t think Tinsley wants to waste another minute in your company.”
“I don’t,” I spoke up. “And please, never try to contact me again.”
“But Tinsley-”
“I believe we’ve been clear.” Crispin’s voice was cold, and he looked outside through the window on the door, motioning for someone to step in. “You’re not wanted or welcome here, so just leave now before you get hurt.”
“You don’t tell me what to do,” my father hissed, reaching for Crispin’s shirt and wrapping his fingers in it just as the door flew open. “Who do you think you are, kid?”
“The man your daughter loves,” Crispin spat out. “The guy she will one day marry. And most importantly, the one who will stand in your way if you so much as try and get close to her ever again.”
My father slammed his fist into Crispin’s face, but Crispin barely moved an inch when Dad’s knuckles connected with his cheek. Instead, he grabbed him by the shirt, walking him up against the wall and slamming him into it.
“If I ever hear you tried to make contact with Tinsley again,” Crispin said in a low, threatening whisper. “I’m going to make minced meat out of you. Do you understand, you pathetic little man?”
“Fuck off,” Dad hissed, and Crispin slammed his body against the wall, making him groan. “Fine, fine, I understand.”
Crispin let go of him, and my dad fell to the ground, groaning as two of the school’s security guards jumped in, grabbing him by the arms and hauling him to his feet. I couldn’t even look at him. I just wanted him fucking gone.
“Tinsley, I’m sorry,” Dad spoke up in a broken voice, obviously a last attempt to reach me. “I just need a little bit. Only ten, twenty thousand, to pay off some… some debt.”
“Fuck you,” I spat out. “I never want to see you again.”
“Please,” he begged. “I have people after me. People who will be very angry if I don’t pay them that money.”
Boys That Tease: A Bully Romance (Lords Of Wildwood Book 1) Page 23