“We’d rather chill with you.”
Fuck this. I’m only a couple of meters away from the student parking lot. I just have to get to Colton’s car, find the douchebag in question and hide out in his Veneno then it’ll all be over. They’re insane if they think I’m about to entertain their bullshit. “You know, I just checked my schedule and unfortunately, you’re shit out of luck. I’m actually super busy right now. We’ll have to do it another time.”
“Come on, babydoll. Don’t be like that,” one of the guys to my right says with a sick tone to his dark voice as I start weaving through cars. “We just want to play.”
I stop by Charlie’s cherry red Ferrari and turn on them, only they keep coming and my back is pushed up against the passenger's side door. “What the fuck is your problem?” I ask, scanning over all of them. “How specific do I need to be? But don't worry, I’ll use small syllables because clearly, your understanding is lacking. Here goes. Are you ready?” I glance around, laying the sarcasm on thick. “You. All. Need. To. Fuck. Off.”
I find Colton making his way down here and surprise, surprise, his eyes are already locked on my situation but with the lazy way he strides toward the parking lot, he’s not going to be much help. I wouldn’t be surprised if the fucker pulled out a box of popcorn and got comfortable for the show. Charlie is there though and at least he shows a little concern, but it’s not like he’s making a move to help me out.
I don’t need them anyway. As Colton said, I always play the victim, and as far as I’m concerned, that bullshit is a thing of the past.
“Now, now, Jade,” the guy says, forcing my attention back to him and making a scowl appear on Colton’s face as he hears his nickname for me being used. “There’s no need to be like that. I see how this looks and I swear, our intentions are good.”
It’s the oldest fucking trick in the book. Declaring your good intentions is about the same as saying ‘Hey, I’m here to fuck things up.’
I push up off the edge of the Ferrari and take the Colton wannabe by the shoulders before slamming my knee up into his junk. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough for you,” I yell as he buckles over and howls in pain. “I asked you kindly to fuck off. You don’t want to see how I demand shit.”
The guy’s head is down by my crotch and despite having spent a good portion of my day watching Spencer and Colton have it out, this takes the prize of being my favorite moment of the day. “Fucking bitch,” he growls low before turning to his friends. “Fucking do it.”
Do it? Do what?
My head whips to them to find them all moving in closer and crowding me against the Ferrari. “Get off me,” I scream, having absolutely no idea what they plan on doing.
“HEY,” I hear Charlie’s voice booming, still too far away.
“Not so fucking tough now, are you, princess?” One of the guys murmur right against my face as I feel one of them scrambling around. A sick laughter comes from one of them and I hastily look around for some way out but they have me trapped.
I find Charlie jogging down toward us and Colton still lazily heading for his car in the distance. Stupid fucker. “What the fuck are you doing?” Charlie hounds only a few meters away now. “Get the fuck off my Ferrari.”
There’s movement to my side and I flick my gaze across to watch as one of them pulls out some kind of bottle. It’s dirty and the smell coming off it is enough to make me want to hurl. The guys all press into me, keeping me pinned.
I start flailing around as their plan becomes clear. The guy with the bottle uncaps it and meets my eye with a sick grin. He reaches up and in one quick pour thick, black grease drops down over my head, tangling into my thick hair.
I squeal as Charlie’s booming anger tears through the parking lot. The grease drips down onto my skin and it instantly starts to burn.
This isn’t just regular grease. They’ve put something in it.
I curl into a ball as the last of the bottle is tipped over my head. Their laughs and snickers are so fucking loud but I barely hear them over the sound of my fucking heart racing.
It hurts. It fucking hurts so bad.
Charlie starts hauling guys off me and as they're pulled off and my body is freed, I fall to the ground in a heap of mess. I expect Charlie to come after me but when he starts looking after his cherry red Ferreri, it becomes clear what his desperation was about.
Seeing the anger on his face, the five guys start running but it’s the last of my problems. There's some kind of acid in this grease and if I don’t move fast, I’ll end up with burns covering my skin.
Shakily, I get to my feet, leaving my bag laying on the dirty ground in a heap of grease. I start rushing toward the staff bathroom, pulling at my clothes and not even giving a shit that I don't have something to change into. I have to get in a shower and I don't fucking care if it means walking home in nothing but a towel. I’ll be okay as long as I can get this acidic grease off my skin.
The acid starts to really burn and I find myself glancing back for those fucking guys as I run. They’re all out of sight but I do find one set of eyes burning into me. Colton stands by his Veneno with the scissor door open wide and seeing that he’s caught my attention, he gently shakes his head and drops down into his car, dismissing me.
I don’t know what it is about Colton or why it bothers me so much. Maybe it’s because of the bullshit I just suffered through with those guys in the hopes they could get Colton’s attention for even a second or maybe it’s all the shit I’ve had to deal with since moving to Bellevue Springs. Whatever it is, it has tears springing to my eyes and violently falling in waves.
I crash through the door of the bathroom as a sobbing mess and race through to the showers. I throw myself in, clothes and all, turning the taps on as hard as they can go, desperate to get this shit off me.
The water comes down hard and it stings against my already raw skin, but I suffer through it knowing how badly I need this. Without it … fuck. I can’t even imagine.
I start tearing off my ruined clothes, leaving me in my underwear that mostly seems to be okay. Thick chunks of grease start rolling off me, but a lot of it sticks to my body like a second skin and I’m forced to scrub against my tender skin.
The tears continue rolling down my face and I find it hard to breathe through my thick sobs. I’m a fucking mess.
Once my skin is free of acidic grease, I start on my hair and find myself broken as chunks of my long luscious hair break off and pool at the bottom of the shower. I scrub furiously, desperately needing it gone. The longer it’s in there, the worse it’s going to get.
It takes half an hour of washing my hair and scrubbing my body and by the time I finally get out, I’m a fucking disaster. It was impossible to get all the grease from my scalp and as I wrap a white towel around my body and it moves around, I find grease hiding in places that I didn’t even know I had.
My hair is destroyed and my skin is patchy and red but as long as the burn is gone, I’m going to be alright.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror of the staff bathroom.
How did it come to this?
I thought things were just starting to ease. Colton had declared early on that he was the only one allowed to fuck with me. When the hell did that shit change? Had it changed? If anything, I thought that the fucking with me thing was over, especially after yesterday.
I scan over my red, splotchy face. My eyes stand out just like they do every time I’ve been crying. They’re the brightest blue, but when I’ve been crying, it’s like they glisten and shimmer, or maybe it’s just the red puffiness surrounding them that makes them look this way.
My hair hangs by my side and it looks like a mess. It’s in knots and every time I touch it my hand comes out slimy with the remaining grease and filled with strands of hair. There is no saving it from what I can see, pulling a Britney and shaving it off might be my only option.
There has to be a better way.
I search through the cupboards and f
ind a plastic bag to shove my destroyed uniform in before finding a bathrobe and pulling it around my pained body.
I walk out into the school, pleased that it’s the end of the day so I can avoid repeat performances. Apparently, walking around an all-boys school practically naked is frowned upon by the staff.
I walk down to the parking lot to find it mostly empty but more importantly, my bag sits in a dirty pile, completely destroyed. I rifle through it for my purse, phone, and keys, and decide the rest of it can go and fuck itself. Screw my homework and screw the textbooks. They can all suffer like I have.
With Colton and the boys long gone, I start the agonizing walk home and keep my gaze glued to the sidewalk. Cars fly past me, beeping in outrage at my lack of clothing and all I can do is cry.
From the very first step until I’m pushing through the massive door of the Carrington mansion, tears stream down my face. I’ve never felt anything like it. I’ve been attacked by guys before but never like that. Usually, they stick with taunts and call me a whore for preferring to hang out with my crew rather than bitchy girls. My boys would deal with it straight away and then I'd be free to continue as I was.
There was that bullshit with Jude and of course Colton, but it was nothing like this.
I’ve always valued my hair. I’m not one of those girls who is obsessive over makeup. I don’t need to look perfect every second of the day, but I’ve always loved my hair. It was long and beautiful. It fell in thick waves and tickled the top of my ass. It was my signature thing. When people mentioned my name, the first thing they thought of was my long, dark hair.
Now it’s a rats nest and falling out in chunks.
I get into the mansion and I listen out. The first thing I hear is the sound of the vacuum and I follow it, knowing it's bound to be my mom. The closer I get, the faster I walk as the devastation seems to harden against my soul.
I break through to the massive kitchen and find mom in the media room, vacuuming her life away as though she doesn’t have a care in the world.
I run to her.
I throw open the door of the room and seeing me in her peripheral vision, her head whips around. She takes me in and as she does, her eyes widen in shock but she doesn’t have even a slight moment to ask me what happened before I crash into her and she curls me into her arms.
I cry into her shoulder as she holds me tight. “Oh, honey,” she says, heartbroken. “What happened to you?”
“They … they …” I struggle to get the words past the rapid sobs and I give up. I’ll try again once the pain has begun to ease.
“Shh,” mom soothes, running her hand up and down my back, no doubt able to smell the grease wafting from my hair despite the bucketloads of shampoo I’ve already scrubbed through it. “It’s going to be okay. Calm down, sweet girl.”
I rub my already sore eyes against her shoulder and despite the pristine way she’s expected to keep her uniform, she doesn’t pull away.
“I thought this week was going to be better,” I cry.
“I know, I thought so too,” she says, moving her hand to the back of my head and then pulling back with furrowed brows. “What is this in your hair?” she questions, horrified by the slimy feel coming off on her hand then gasping when she sees the missing chunks. “Who did this?”
I shake my head as she draws back to see me better. “A group of guys,” I say, dropping the bag with my destroyed uniform to the floor. “They cornered me in the student parking lot and tipped grease over my head. They’d put acid in it and all my hair started snapping off and my skin …” I take a sniffly breath. “It burned, mom. My skin is all red and sore and my hair … it keeps snapping off.”
Fury fires from her eyes. “This school has been nothing but trouble since you first started,” she says, beginning to pace the room, her arms flailing around. “I’m going to have a meeting with that … that … dean first thing in the morning. Those boys are going to see justice. They will not get away with this. Acid? ACID! Who does that to a young woman?” Her head starts shaking as the outrage builds within her. “I should call the police. Their whole futures will be taken away from them in seconds. That’ll teach those privileged little bastards.”
I drop down onto the wide couch and watch as mom continues to pace. ‘“What am I going to do? I’ve already washed my hair a million times and every time I touch it, more hair snaps off. It’s not coming out.”
Mom stops pacing and looks back at me, looking just as lost as I feel. She lets out a heavy, broken sigh. “I don’t know, honey. I wish I had the money to send you to a salon. Maybe after my shift, I could have a look and see what can be salvaged.”
I drop my face into my hands knowing that’s our only option.
My phone burns a hole in my robe pocket. I’d do anything to call Nic and have him come and handle this. He'd drop everything and be here in no time, but his version of helping will result in bloodshed and I’ll still be left looking like this. While it’ll help me feel a little better, it’ll do nothing to fix the devastation left behind.
Mom steps into me and I feel her hands in my hair. “I wish I could do more for you, sweetheart.”
“I know,” I murmur, knowing this is killing her just as much as it is for me. After all, a direct attack on her daughter is a direct attack on her. I stand up and she instantly pulls me back into her arms. “I think I’m just going to go get dressed and then I might just chill out with you while you work. Is that okay or do you think that might cause shit with Harrison?”
“Harrison can go and play with the shark for all I care. If my baby has had a bad day and wants to hang out with her momma, then that’s exactly what my baby is going to get.”
I give mom a tight smile before slipping out of her arms and rushing off to the pool house. I quickly get dressed while avoiding every mirror in this place and before I know it, I'm snuggled up on the couch with a blanket while mom does her thing around me.
She’s just about finished when I see Colton out in the kitchen. He drops his keys on the kitchen counter and starts rifling through the cupboards for something to eat then walks down to the living space that overlooks the ridiculously insane pool.
As I watch him, I can’t help but feel that this is all on him. He could have stopped it. He could have had control over his little followers, and he sure as hell could have at least asked if I was alright.
The more I think about it, the angrier I get and before I even know what I’m doing, I’m out in the living room, storming toward the cocky fuck. His head snaps around, hearing me coming and I watch as his brow raises. I know he sees how fucked up my hair is and I don't doubt he can see the redness around my eyes and covering my skin. I look like a fucking mess.
I walk right up to him and hold my hand out, not breaking my stare for even a second. “Wallet,” I demand, taking note of all the cuts and bruises left behind from his brawl with Spencer.
He grins at me in amusement before relaxing back against the couch, spreading his arms out along the top. “You’re fucking insane if you think you’re about to get your grubby hands on my wallet.”
“So help me God, Carrington. Give me your goddamn wallet right fucking now before I tell this whole damn town that you’ve been fucking around with the help.”
His eyes narrow just a fraction as he watches me and I feel myself beginning to break. My eyes start watering and I silently scold myself and hope to God that I can hold it together long enough to get what I need. After that, I'm free to break but I refuse to let it happen in front of him.
“Why?” he questions, studying me, and drawing it out, realizing that I’m on the edge and all it would take is a slight push to break me.
“Because I need to fix what you broke.”
“Me? I didn't do shit.”
I scoff and resist pulling out my claws. “You could have stopped it, and to me that makes you just as guilty.”
The hard edge in his eyes begins to fade and as if finally realizing the broken despera
tion filling every inch of me, he takes pity and slips his hand into his pocket. He pulls out a brown leather wallet and reluctantly hands it over.
I take it from him, feeling my fingers brush over his warm skin. With his eyes focusing heavily on every little movement, I flip it open and quickly scan through everything in it before finding what I need.
I slip the platinum credit card out of its spot and hand Colton his wallet. “Thank you,” I murmur so low that I don’t even know if he hears it.
Something passes between us but I don’t wait around to figure it out. I turn and walk back out through the kitchen and hear as he gets up behind me. He heads in the opposite direction and I let out a breath. Why does dealing with him always leave me a mess?
I find myself stopping by the counter and I can’t help but notice the keys he’d left here earlier.
He’s going to kill me.
I can’t … but ...
Fuck it. After the day I’ve had, I deserve it. Screw him. It’s not like I’m going to hurt it.
I slip the keys off the counter and rush out into the garage feeling the adrenaline beginning to pulse through my veins and somehow managing to heal something within me. I unlock the car and slip in while trying my best not to make a sound but the second I turn on the engine, he’s going to know.
I have to make this fast.
I hit the button for the garage door and check the gate is open then knowing I have an unobstructed ride through the property. I kick over the engine and high tail it out of there.
The Veneno purrs beneath me and I all but come in the seat. The smooth finishes and flawless drive make me want to squeal with delight. I can’t believe I'm driving this.
I do my best to keep my head off the chair while my phone blows up in my pocket, though I’m more interested in the shiny little credit card that’s buried in there with it.
All too soon I pull up at the salon and I reluctantly get out of the car. Maybe on the way back, I’ll take it for a little joy ride, but first, I need to deal with me.
Tough Sh*t: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Rejects Paradise Book 1) Page 19