King of Nothing: An Academy Bully Romance (Boys of Almadale Book 1)

by Jacie Lennon

  The rows of girls around me are murmuring, especially since we are split up. Girls on the left and boys on the right. The three guys stick out like sore thumbs amid our blue button-up blouses and pleated skirts. Their masculinity in tailored coats and pants don’t go unnoticed. Especially by me.

  Dammit.

  My nostrils flare as I breathe in Corbin’s scent, the smell that has haunted me since yesterday and, if I’m being honest, since the moment he sat beside me in the car that night.

  “What are you doing here?” I hiss under my breath.

  He doesn’t move or even indicate that he heard me speak for a full minute before he leans over, his breath hitting my shoulder as he turns his head toward me.

  “Sitting in chapel. What are you doing here?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant. Why are you sitting on the girls’ side?”

  “Maybe I wanted to be close to you,” he whispers.

  I snort, drawing some stares from around us. I focus my head forward again, telling myself to ignore them but they make it damn hard, sitting there casually.

  As soon as chapel ends, I bolt as fast as I can. I need to get away. I need to remind myself how much I hate Brock and Bodhi and how much I should hate Corbin for being their friend and going along with their damn stunts. Fucking dumb stunts. I don’t know how they got that video anyway.

  I step into my first class—History IV—and head to the back row. A leg juts into the aisle I’m walking in, effectively stopping me in my tracks, and I glance up. I meet dark brown eyes, wavy hair, and a smile that doesn’t bode well for me.

  “Landry, is it?” he says, not moving his leg, making me stand there.

  “That’s me. Will you move?” I give him my best intimidating stare—narrowed eyes and furrowed brow, lips pressed together—but he isn’t deterred. I don’t know why I thought he would be.

  “Damn hot video. Want to try making one with me?” His smile grows wider as a few of his asshole friends chuckle around him.

  I squint my eyes as I peer at him. I want nothing more than to reach down and twist his balls until he is purple in the face, but I know I’ll regret that. These kids here have money and asshole lawyers to back them up. I don’t want to be on the wrong side of that.

  Technically, I’m not poor, and I guess you could consider me wealthy with the marriage my mom has made. But that’s not my money. And I haven’t even met Chester.

  What if he hates me and that I came to live with them—well, mostly at Almadale?

  He probably wouldn’t want to use his money to back me up if it came to that. His sons hate me, and I truly feel on my own here—besides having Trixie.

  I lean over, making sure my breasts are on full display, and feel a small amount of glee when the dude’s eyes sink to my chest and stay there for a moment.

  “What’s your name?” I say in a sweet voice, smiling a little.

  I watch as he glances around, smirking at his dickhead friends.

  “Lawrence.” He gives me a cocky look, and I lean over on the top of his desk, ass up in the air.

  A silence settles over the room as everyone focuses on us, seeing what’s going to happen next.

  “Lawrence,” I say, rolling the name around in my mouth, making sure his eyes are focused on my lips. “What a strong name.” I flutter my eyelashes and prop my chin on my hand, licking my lips.

  He smirks and eyes me again, thinking he has this in the bag.

  “It’s a shame that it’s attached to such a weak, spineless dickhead of a guy.” I stand slowly, watching his smirk morph into a frown and then into anger as he registers what I said.

  “Fucking bitch,” he spits out, bracing on the desk as he leans forward, about to spew more venom.

  There is a chorus of, “Ooh,” around the room at our little exchange before a broad hand slaps down on the desk.

  A warm body hits my back, and a few gasps echo out after all the catcalls.

  “Now, now. No need to call anyone names,” Bodhi’s smooth voice sounds from behind me, and I stiffen.

  “What do you care?” Lawrence asks before thinking better of it. “You are the one who played the damn video.”

  “This is my lil sis,” Bodhi says, his voice calm and collected, no indication that he’s anything but poised and relaxed. “I’m the only one who gets to mess with her.”

  At that, he presses one hand into my lower back and propels me down the rest of the aisle and into a seat in the back.

  I can feel Lawrence and his friends glancing back at us, but one glare from Bodhi cuts that out.

  “What do you want, asshat?” I ask, eyes forward and not even looking at him.

  “Now, is that any way to speak to someone who helped you?”

  “You are the one who caused the problem in the first place.”

  “You don’t have any proof of that,” he says, leaning over the desk he slouched into next to me.

  “I know it was you. No one else would have gotten that video.”

  “Look around, Landry. Everyone here could have gotten that video. Don’t think these people are your friends; they aren’t. But in the interest of full disclosure, Brock got the video. It was a little gem to watch, wasn’t it? You should be glad we didn’t show the entire thing.” With that, he winks and sits back in his chair.

  “Will you leave? I don’t want to sit next to you,” I say.

  He shrugs. “Better get used to it, sis. I’m in this class too.”

  The rest of the day passes quickly. I have one of the guys in each of my classes, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence. They are keeping an eye on me, and I don’t like it. Brock didn’t even look my way last class, which was fine with me, but Corbin, I’ve felt his eyes on me the entire time we’ve been sitting here. Searching, knowing, and tickling my skin with goose bumps. I’m thankful he isn’t sitting close enough to see them coat my arms.

  I itch to look over my shoulder at him, but I know he will see me, and I don’t want to give him the impression that I care. But I can sense his gaze boring a hole in my back, and I don’t know what it means. He’s so hot and cold, acting aloof and angry that I’m here one moment and then coming to my room—the one place that’s mine—and filling it with memories I’m not sure I want.

  Fuck, I’m getting wet, just thinking about it. So far, I haven’t had any issues with any of the other kids—other than Lawrence. Maybe everyone got wind of my showdown with him and how Bodhi broke it up and decided they didn’t want to incur the kings’ wrath by fucking with me. Either way, I’m okay with flying under the radar. Better than having my lady bits put on display for everyone to see.

  Oh wait, that already happened to me.

  “Miss Paradise?”

  My name being called cuts into my cringe-worthy flashback to yesterday, and I jerk my head up from where I was doodling on my notebook. My teacher for American English, Mrs. Fisher, is standing at the front, stern face looking squarely at me as I realize that must not have been the first time she called my name.

  “Why don’t you tell the class what has you so intrigued on the pages of your notebook?”

  I glance down, eyes widening when I register what—or who—I was drawing.

  Keeping my face steady and hoping I don’t look the color of a fire hydrant, I open my mouth, cringing inside, and say, “I’d rather not.”

  “It wasn’t a question, Miss Paradise.”

  Damn, even the teachers are assholes here.

  “It’s just a drawing,” I say, shrugging and hoping she will drop it.

  Suddenly, an arm extends over my shoulder. Kelsey, the girl who sits behind me, rips the notebook from my grasp, and I sit there in shock.

  “It’s Corbin,” she says, holding the page up for everyone to see.

  I want to melt into the floor and die. I randomly started sketching, and that’s what my asshole brain decided to come up with. I turn to look at the girl, but I am snagged on those damn green eyes. I can’t get away from them.r />
  “Thank you, Miss Collins, but that was unnecessary. Do not take other students’ belongings. You can return her notebook. And, Miss Paradise, please see me after class.”

  The girl leans up, placing the notebook in my hand while smiling.

  “Did you ever find your uniforms?” she whispers, and my eyes widen.

  “You bitch,” I start to say.

  She smiles like she enjoys being called names, so I stop, and we stare at each other.

  “He’s a king, sweetie. As if he’d ever choose you.”

  I try not to let her words get under my skin, but they do.

  “What makes you so sure?” I ask, eyebrows raised, and the girl sits back, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Corbin might be a king here, but he’s already chosen me in some weird way. I don’t know; maybe it’s purely sexual. Our close proximity seems to be laced with tension that makes me ache inside and want to stick my hand in my pants—er, skirt.

  I slam my notebook shut and keep my eyes straight forward the rest of class, making sure to keep my mind on the lesson and not on the six-foot-something man of muscle with striking looks behind me, who surely thinks I am off my rocker now.

  As soon as the bell rings, all the other students rush out, and damn if I’m not able to pick out Corbin’s cologne as he passes by me. He doesn’t pay me any attention, and I breathe a sigh of relief once the door shuts behind him.

  “Miss Paradise.” My teacher’s voice cuts into my thoughts again, and I’m starting to get irritated at her for doing that.

  I slowly gather my stuff.

  “Yes?” I stand and walk to her desk, holding my notebook and textbook.

  “This is not Art class, Miss Paradise. Please refrain from doodling while I’m going over the lesson. This is a prestigious school, and we take our work here very seriously. Don’t you know how many students vie for a position in this school every year? We only take the best of the best.”

  Reading between the lines, I understand she means they take the ones who pay the most. I wonder how much Chester is paying for me to go here. My mind snaps to Corbin, how he’s a scholarship student. It must mean he’s freaking smart to be going here, tuition paid for and without a background swollen with rich ancestors.

  Fuck if that isn’t sexy—a smart man.

  “This is only a warning for now. I don’t want to have to tell you again. Learn, Miss Paradise. I want you to succeed and go far in this world.”

  Underneath her brusqueness, I feel like Mrs. Fisher does truly want what’s best for me. It must be this environment that hardens people, making them feel like they can’t drop their masks.

  I nod and turn, throwing open the door and relishing in the feeling of having the first day of classes over and done. They weren’t awful. I think I might even like American English with Mrs. Fisher.

  I stop right outside the door as I catch the gaze of Corbin. He’s leaning against the opposite wall, slouched down and one leg kicked up, bracing himself. I let my eyes drift over his form, how he exudes calm and relaxed. I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flame, like a deer to headlights, like … well, like any cliché where one is drawn to something pretty but ends up dying in the process. That’s what Corbin makes me feel like. Like he will be the death of me. This can’t end well. I feel like a toy in his clutches, one that he will eventually break and throw in the trash.

  He pushes off the wall and walks toward me as I stand in the doorway, frozen.

  “Wanna get out of here?” he asks, a small smile tilting the corner of his lips, and I can’t drag my eyes from it. He reaches out, wrapping one strong hand around my elbow, pulling me and letting the door click shut behind me.

  I lick my lips and glance around, waiting for Brock and Bodhi to jump out with a sign that says, Surprise, motherfucker. He’s kidding, or some shit. But nothing happens. Just Corbin waiting patiently for my reply.

  “Yeah,” I say, smiling up at him, and he turns, wrapping one hand around my waist, leading me down the hallway.

  12

  Landry

  My breath catches as we walk outside. A glossy black motorcycle sits right out in front of the doors, and I glance up at Corbin.

  “This yours?”

  “Yeah.” He nods, handing me a helmet to put on.

  I look back at the motorcycle, admiring the shine of the metal in the sunlight. I can tell he takes care of it, keeps it clean and spotless.

  I reach out, running one finger over the soft curves, almost like a woman. It has appeal, albeit a dangerous one.

  “It’s hot,” I say, biting my lip, strapping the helmet to my head, and looking up at Corbin.

  He’s been watching me, eyes tracking my movements, and with anyone else, it would be disconcerting, but I’m starting to feel like that’s just Corbin. I almost feel relaxed under his gaze now.

  “What are we doing?” I ask.

  He loops one leg over the seat, turning slightly to look at me. “Thought we could go for a drive.”

  “Why me?” I look him in the eyes, seeing them narrow as he sucks his bottom lip in, biting down for a moment.

  God, he’s so freaking hot.

  “Why not?” He shrugs and pats the seat behind him.

  I climb on, loving the feel of the piece of machinery between my legs. I can sense everything through my skirt and the thin panties I’m wearing, leaving nothing to my imagination. It’s almost a sexual experience, but it seems like all my experiences with Corbin are sexual in some way.

  The motorcycle roars to life beneath me, and I squeal, wrapping my arms around Corbin’s middle as the bike vibrates my body. He guns it, and we pull out, shooting down the front road leading out of the school grounds, past the trees lining the long driveway. The wind whips my hair around my neck, my skirt blowing up a little from my thighs, and the cool air rushes in, putting goose bumps along my body. Or maybe that’s the hard chest I’m holding on to.

  I discreetly run my fingers over his torso, feeling the ridges of his muscles, and my stomach flutters with excitement. I turn my head, watching everything rush by us, almost as if we were flying. I can see why he likes this motorcycle, the freedom you feel on top of it. His corded forearms ripple as his hands work the handles, and I watch his thigh shift, the motorcycle changing tune underneath us. It’s a dance almost, one he has down to a science, and I can tell he’s spent a lot of time on this beast.

  We finally pull off the highway, gravel shooting underneath us as he slows down in the parking lot of a dive bar. It’s off the beaten path, weathered and the kind you know will have the best food you’ve ever put in your mouth. Corbin pulls his helmet off before turning and offering his hand back to me to help me off first. His eyes dip down, staring at the large expanse of thigh exposed where my skirt has ridden up, but I don’t pull it down. I feel an odd thrill at his perusal, relishing in how he takes his time to look.

  I am dying for him to reach out, hook a finger underneath the hem of my skirt, and continue pushing it up. I want him to run the back of his knuckle along my seam, feeling my wetness, and push my panties to the side. And for me to lie back on the handlebars and prop my legs up on his shoulders, watching him eat me out from under my skirt.

  But none of that happens.

  He averts his eyes as I put my hand in his, climbing off the back of the motorcycle and taking my helmet off.

  The most important mission I have now is getting him to fuck me against this motorcycle. The scene won’t leave my mind, and I can feel my nipples harden behind the soft cotton bra I’m wearing.

  Corbin seems more subdued than usual. For someone who is pretty quiet on the norm, that’s saying something.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “I’m hungry,” he says with a shrug, dropping my hand and dismounting before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

  I’m seeing a different side to him. One that isn’t the cocky, asshole king, but a normal guy, albeit sexy as hell, who I wish would tear my shirt open
and roll my nipples under his large palms. I fight the urge to fan myself.

  When did I become such a horndog?

  “Is this, like, your secret spot or something?”

  “Or something.”

  He starts to walk up to the door, and I follow behind, tugging my skirt down and my shirt together. I need my new uniforms. This one is a little too small to be comfortable.

  We walk through the actual restaurant and out onto the back porch that overlooks the ocean. The calm waves leisurely lap at the shore, and I climb up onto a high-top chair, resting my head in my hands on the surrounding deck rail.

  “Corbin,” a woman says, walking out onto the deck. She’s got to be around fifty, wearing the apron of a waitress, and she has a large smile on her face.

  “Hey, Marni,” he says, wrapping one arm around her in a side hug. The way his face lights up is mesmerizing, almost as if the shadows were being chased from his eyes.

  “Who’s this?” She turns friendly eyes on me, still wrapped under his arm.

  “Landry. I’m showing her around,” he says, gaze on my face, worrying his bottom lip again.

  “Must be special. Never seen you with a girl before. You’re going to make me jealous,” Marni says, laughing as she steps out from under his hug.

  “You know you’ll always be my girl,” Corbin says with a smile, taking the seat opposite me.

  “He’s a charmer, this one.” She hooks a thumb toward him as she stands by me. “It’s nice to meet you, Landry. What can I get you kids?”

  “My usual,” Corbin says before glancing at me.

  I take the menu in my hand for a second, glancing over it before I order a water, grilled cheese, and a side of house-made chips.