Blinded: A High School Bully Romance (Del Sol High Book 1)

by McKayla Box

  Brooke laughs and shakes her head. “You're so wrong.”

  Mercy links her arm through mine. “You okay? You look sort of confused.”

  I am confused. I don't know what Heath is saying about what happened in his car and I don't know why Archer feels like he has to fight him. I can't get my head around all of it.

  “I'm okay,” I say. “I just...I don't know. I don't get it.”

  “Boys are hard to get,” she says, squeezing my arm.

  “And then some.”

  We hover around the fire for a little bit longer. The ocean is roaring at the edge of the sand and I love the sound. It's hypnotizing. The few times I visited the beach in Florida, it was nothing like here. I haven't said it out loud, but it's my favorite thing about living in Del Sol.

  After awhile, there's some shouting at the far end of the beach and the crowd starts to move in that direction. We drift with them as the shouting and yelling gets louder. Mercy pulls me through the crowd until we're at the front of it and I can see what's happening.

  Archer is faced off with Heath. Nick and Aidan are standing behind him and there are several guys I don't know behind Heath.

  “Shit,” I whisper.

  “Oh, this is gonna be awesome,” Dylan says.

  I don't think that at all.

  “Fuck you, Archer,” Heath says, smirking at him. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

  “Oh, I don't?” Archer says, taking a drink from the beer in his hand.

  “No,” Heath answers. “Like usual, you don't have a fucking clue. Your head's so far up your ass, you think up is down.”

  The guys behind him snicker.

  He looks past Archer. “Not sure why you hang around with this asshole, Nick. Not sure why you sell out your boys on the team like this.”

  Nick shrugs. “I'm quirky.”

  People laugh.

  I look at Mercy.

  “Nick is in this weird place,” she explains. “He and Archer have been best friends since like second grade. But he plays football, too. He has a foot in both worlds.”

  I nod and watch.

  “That mean you’re gay?” Heath asks.

  More laughs from the guys behind him.

  “Maybe,” Nick says. “You interested?”

  The bulk of the crowd laughs, but Heath doesn't think it's funny at all. “Fuck you.”

  “So...you are interested,” Archer says.

  Now everyone laughs.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Heath growls.

  “You should take your own advice,” Archer says. He finishes what's left in the bottle and tosses it casually to the side. “Or I can help you with it.”

  “You aren't going to do shit,” Heath says.

  Archer laughs and takes a couple of slow steps toward him, closing the distance. “I'm not? You sure about that?”

  Heath now looks unsure of himself, glancing at the crowd, his eyes sweeping across it.

  Until they hit me.

  And then he smiles.

  “Hey, your new girlfriend is here now,” he says. “That why you're doing this? So you can put on a show for her?” He looks past him in my direction. “You like a show, honey?”

  Eyes shift in my direction and I wish I was standing on quicksand.

  “Leave her alone,” Archer says.

  Heath laughs. “So protective. Look, man, I get it. She's hot. But I can tell you one thing for sure. You aren't getting anything. Her legs are locked down tighter than a safe, my dude.”

  “Maybe she heard you have a toothpick for a dick, you cocksucker!” Dylan yells.

  That draws a few more laughs.

  I just want to run and hide.

  “She talking to you, Arch?” Heath asks, smiling. “Because I know she's not talking to me.” He looks past him in my direction. “And I can show you, sweetheart. It ain't a toothpick.”

  “I told you to leave her alone,” Archer says. “I'm not gonna say it again.”

  “Oh, you're not gonna say it again?” Heath says, taking a couple of steps toward him, feeling emboldened. “Thanks for the warning, asshole. How about this?” He looks past Archer at me again. “How about after I finish with your boy here I show you—”

  He doesn't get the rest of the words out of his mouth because Archer smashes into him and they crash to the sand.

  And it's chaos after that.

  Aidan and Nick both charge forward as Heath's friends all do the same. They slam into each other and fists are flying and bodies are falling to the sand. The crowd is cheering and screaming.

  And I am horrified.

  Because I feel like it's my fault that this is all happening.

  “Jesus christ,” Mercy says. “They are all gonna kill one another.”

  I pull free from her and run toward the mass of bodies. “Stop! Stop it!”

  They don't stop. Archer is on top of Heath, having pinned him to the sand. He punches him once, then a second time. There's blood above Heath's eye and he looks dazed. Archer pulls his fist back to him again and I rush forward, grabbing him by the arm. “Stop!”

  Archer looks up at me, surprised, like he's not expecting me.

  “Don't!” I yell. “You don't have to do this!”

  Before he can answer, Heath's fist crashes into Archer’s jaw and he tumbles over to the side. Heath kicks out at me and his foot catches me in the knee. Pain jolts through my leg and I fall to the sand.

  I hear more yelling and screaming as I grab at my knee and roll away from them. The girls are running at me and it's like everything is happening in slow motion.

  I roll over again and Archer is already back on his feet and he's taking Heath to the ground again. He is swinging wildly at Heath's head and Heath's arms fall away from his face, unable to defend himself.

  Mercy crashes to the sand next to me. “Jesus! Are you alright?”

  “Fine,” I say, trying to sit up.

  And I am. I think it scared me more than hurt me.

  I see Aidan and Nick standing over Heath's friends, wild-eyed and breathing hard. They are scattered across the sand. Nick jogs over and pulls Archer off of Heath, his face now cut and bleeding in multiple places.

  Archer stands and shrugs off Nick. “Get off. I'm fine!” His shirt is torn and there's blood at the corner of his mouth. He looks in our direction.

  “I'm fine,” I say, pushing off the sand. “I'm fine.”

  In the distance, sirens pierce the air. They are far away at first, but coming closer. The people surrounding us hear them, too, and start backing away, then running back up the beach toward the parking lot. There are random shouts of “cops!” as they run.

  “Come on!” Aidan says, grabbing Nick. “My dad will kill me if I get arrested again.”

  Nick nods, still breathing hard. He looks at Archer. “Coming?”

  “Shit!” Brooke says. “I can't drive. I'm too buzzed.”

  “Oh my god, we're fucked,” Dylan says.

  Nick shakes his head. “Come on. I can drive. Everybody. Let's go.”

  I go to stand up and my knee buckles and I'm kneeling on the sand again.

  “Go,” Archer says. “I'll stay here and we'll figure it out.”

  “Don't,” I say. “Just go. I'll be fine.”

  He looks at Nick. “Get out of here. I got it.”

  Aidan, Brooke, and Dylan take off up the sand.

  “You sure?” Nick says, looking at me, then him.

  “I'm sure,” he says. “Go now.”

  Nick nods. “Okay. Mercy, come on.”

  “I'm not leaving her,” she says, shaking her head.

  “Go,” I tell her. “You were drinking. Get out of here. I'll be fine.”

  “I have her,” Archer says. “Just go now.”

  She chews on her lip, undecided. Nick touches her elbow and starts jogging toward the parking lot.

  “You sure?” she says.

  “Positive,” I tell her. “Go right now. Please. Don't get caught!”


  The sirens are growing louder as she turns and runs to catch up with Nick.

  “Can you walk at all?” Archer asks.

  I push off the sand again and get myself upright. “I think so.”

  “Can you run?”

  I put weigh on it and it hurts, but it holds. “Maybe.”

  He points toward the cliffs. “Come on then.”

  I'm confused. “There? I thought you meant to the parking lot.”

  The sirens go louder and I can see faint red lights off in the distance.

  “Just come on,” he says and starts jogging.

  I follow, but I'm slower than he is and I can't cross the sand as fast. He turns around, sees me struggling, and circles back until he's in front of me.

  He turns around. “Get on my back.”

  “No, I'm fine.”

  “You aren't gonna be fine when the police get down here on the beach and start doing their thing,” he says. He squats down. “Get on my back. Now.”

  Chapter 35

  I grab onto his shoulders and latch myself onto his back. He gets his hands underneath my legs, stands, and then starts jogging toward the cliffs that raise up toward downtown. He runs easily, like I don't weigh anything. I feel like a baby animal strapped to its mama.

  As we get closer to the rocky wall, I see a narrow set of stairs that go up the side of the cliff. I couldn't see them from a distance. They are metal and just wide enough for one person to climb them at a time, going nearly straight up the side.

  Archer stops at the bottom of them, resets his hands under my thighs, takes a deep breath, and starts up them, two at a time. The higher we go, the more I tighten my grip on him, trying not to strangle him. I look off to the right and I can see the police car lights in the parking lot. I wonder if Mercy and the rest got out in time. Then I realize how high up we are and decide I shouldn't look anywhere but at the back of Archer's neck.

  He's breathing hard, but he's still taking the steps two at a time. We reach a narrow platform halfway up and then the stairs switch back in the other direction. I think he's going to stop and I can tell him to put me down, but he doesn't pause and keeps going. I can feel the sweat through his shirt, the beads of perspiration forming on his neck.

  Finally, he gets us up over the last two steps and we're on a sidewalk on top of the cliff. He puts me down and sets his hands on his knees, gasping for air.

  I step away from him. “Are you alright?”

  He manages a nod, but doesn't say anything.

  “Are you sure?”

  He holds up a finger, asking me to give him a second.

  I wait.

  The back of his shirt is darkened with sweat, visible even in the dark. He's taking deep breaths, trying to find air for his lungs. Finally, he stands up. His face is coated in sweat, just like his neck, and he clasps his hands behind his head. “I'm okay.”

  More sirens off in the distance catch our attention and we both look in the direction they're coming from.

  “Come on,” he says, still huffing and puffing. He grabs my hand. “This way.”

  We walk quickly and I keep looking behind us. “You know, maybe we shouldn't run. I wasn't drinking. I know you were in a fight, but it was self-defense.”

  “Was it?” he asks between breaths. “I hit him first.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Are they really coming this way?”

  He nods. “Yeah. They close the lot first, then come this way to the stairs. That's why I carried you. We wouldn't have made it otherwise. Just keep walking.”

  I do as he says, then turn around. I see a police car pulling up to the curb near the top of the stairs. I see an officer get out, walk to the stairs, then descend them.

  I turn around again. “You were right.”

  “No shit I was,” he says.

  “You don't have to be an asshole about it.”

  “I just carried your ass like five miles.”

  “Hardly. And you insisted.”

  “Because I knew the cops were coming,” he says. “You're welcome.”

  I try to pull my hand from his, but he has a good grip on it and won't let me go. I think I hear him laugh, but I can't tell for sure.

  We turn the corner and he pushes open a small gate that leads to a courtyard at the back of a massive pink hotel that serves as the biggest landmark in all of downtown Del Sol.

  “Are we at The Veranda?” I ask.

  “Uh huh.”

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Hiding,” he says.

  He leads me up a set of shallow stairs and through the massive courtyard. The hotel rises up around us. I've walked past it when I was out with my grandparents, but I've never been inside. It's gorgeous, like it belongs on the coast of Spain with all of the detailed architecture. My grandmother told me that rooms start at five hundred dollars a night, and go for twice that during the summer.

  “We're going to hide here?” I ask, lowering my voice. “They'll throw us out.”

  He turns around to say something, then stops himself. He stares at me for a moment, then turns back around. “We'll be fine.”

  We cross the courtyard, pass an outdoor bar, and then he opens a door that leads inside the hotel.

  I stop. “We can't go in here.”

  He stares at me. “I'm not getting arrested.”

  “Well, me either,” I tell him. “But I don't want them to call the cops on us in here.”

  He laughs. “You worry way too much, Orleans.” He grabs my hand again and pulls me inside.

  We're in a narrow hallway that runs outside of what looks like the ballrooms, with massive doors and thirty-foot-high ceilings. We walk quickly down the hallway until we come to an elevator that looks like it's for employees rather than guests. He sticks his finger on the up button.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss. “Are you crazy?”

  “I am one hundred percent not crazy,” he says.

  “Are you showing off? Like Heath said? If so, fine. I'm impressed. Can we get out of here now before we get thrown out?”

  The elevator dings and the doors open. He steps inside, but I wiggle free from his hand.

  “I'm not going,” I tell him.

  “So you're gonna stay down here then?” he asks. “And wait for hotel security to come? They have cameras on all the doors. They're probably already coming.”

  Panic seizes my stomach and I'm not sure what to do.

  He presses a button on the panel. “Suit yourself.”

  I jump in just before the doors close.

  He laughs. “Good choice.”

  I look at the panel and he's pushed the button for the tenth floor, the top floor. I look at him. “What the fuck are we doing?”

  He smiles at me, amused. He pushes the hair off his forehead. “Running from the police. It's like a bad movie, right?”

  “You know what I mean,” I say. “Stop fucking around. Why would we run off the beach and come here if we're gonna get in more trouble?”

  The elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open.

  “I'll keep you out of trouble,” he says.

  “How? By pushing me off the roof when security comes?”

  He laughs. “If I have to, sure.”

  I follow him out of the elevator into the hallway. There are plaques by each set of doors that we pass. Surfcomber Suite. Palisade Suite. Mediterranean Suite. I fully expect someone to walk out of one of the rooms at any moment and ask us what we're doing. We're both barefoot and covered in sweat and sand.

  He turns another corner and stops in front of a set of doors.

  Sunset Suite.

  He grabs the door handle and wiggles it. “Shit. Locked.”

  “The fuck are you doing, Archer?” I whisper. “This isn't funny.”

  “I know,” he says. “We need to get inside before security gets up here.”

  “Oh my god,” I say. “Stop. Can we please just leave?”

  He starts to say something, then stops. He looks past me. “
Did I hear the elevator?”

  I'm paralyzed.

  “Go check,” he says. “Just look around the corner. Hurry.”

  I want to punch him in the throat, but that won't do me any good. So I turn and tiptoe to the corner. I stick my head around the corner.

  I don't see anyone.

  Then I hear several beeps behind me, and then the sound of a door unlocking.

  I turn around, back toward Archer.

  The door to the suite is open.

  He looks at me. “I got it.”

  “Did you break it? What are you even doing?”

  Then I hear the elevator ding and panic hits me again.

  He waves me over. “Come on!”

  I hesitate than run to him and we disappear inside the Sunset Suite.

  Chapter 36

  It's the biggest hotel room I've ever set foot in.

  It doesn't even look like a hotel room. We step down from an entry area into a massive living room with two sofas and a big-screen television. There's a small dining area off to the right along with a marble-topped wet bar. The room itself is immaculate and everything looks expensive.

  But it's the view that really gets me.

  The entire far side of the room is a wall of uninterrupted glass, offering a perfect view of the Pacific. It feels like we're in a plane, hovering up above it.

  Archer plops down on one of the couches and takes a deep breath, then exhales. “We made it.”

  “You're fucking insane,” I tell him. “And this is going to be way worse than getting caught on the beach.”

  He laughs.

  My heart is still racing as I cross the living room. The thick carpeting feels good beneath my feet. There's a set of French doors that leads to a bedroom that's nearly as big as the living room. It has a massive window that looks out on the ocean, too.

  I walk back out into the living room. “What the fuck is this?”

  “The nicest suite at The Veranda,” he says. “Bar none.”

  “And we broke into it,” I say, sitting down next to him. I put my head in my hands. “I am going to be in so much trouble.”

  “Do me a favor,” he says.

  “Oh. Sure. Why the fuck not?”

  He laughs. “I saw a card over on the wet bar. Go grab it.”

  “Why?”