“Jess.” Callum greets me, then does something completely unorthodox. He raises my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back. I gasp. I hate how my body warms at the sentiment. It should feel nothing. Get with the program, you little bitch, I chastise myself.
He gestures for me to take his spot on the lounger, and I have to say, I do a double take. Callum’s never been this … nice. Especially since he came back from Santa Barbara.
Ellis, Quinn, and Asher also look at me expectantly, but the only thing I do is stand there and stare back at all four of them. They don’t know it’s physically agonizing just from the thought of sitting down then getting right back up.
Waving him off, I say, “I’m good.”
“Those heels don’t look comfortable. Come on. Sit down,” Quinn says. Quit being nice, douchebag!
Fuck. I blink, then suck in a slow breath as I contemplate. My eyes meet Ellis’ and I see him peering down at me strangely, like he’s physically assessing me, and I don’t like it. There is no way he can know what happened here the other night. Also, what I’m going through right now. He’s not in tune with me. He doesn’t even know me.
“What?”
“Are you still hurt?” How could he possibly … Oh, he’s talking about the club. “Cal and Quinn told me you fell hard.”
“Yes,” I lie. “I’m still a little sore.” You have no idea, buddy. I’m practically a punching bag.
Without waiting for me to ask, he steps forward and helps me sit down. I can’t stop the half gasp-half sob from forcing itself through my lips as he grabs my arm and lowers me. He doesn’t step back for several seconds. Long enough that my eyes rise to meet his, seeing him gazing down at me in suspicion.
“What?!” I snap out, a little too loudly.
He shakes his head, then glances at the others before meeting my eyes once more. “You seem to be a lot worse than they thought, are you sure you’re okay?”
Inside, I’m a ball of anxiety. Yeah, he probably knows what happened when Callum and Quinn were at the club, but not after. The only two people that know about that are Debra and I, and she sure as fuck will not let it slip to anyone. It’d make her look bad.
“Yeah—” I start to say, but I’m cut off.
“Holy fuck!” Asher rages out, stepping toward me.
I jump, startled by his loud outburst. Then, fear leeches into every part of my being when he drops onto his knees in front of me. He takes my face between his large, rough hands. I’m about to ask him what the fuck is up when a dark coldness enters his eyes, effectively keeping my trap shut. His eyes stare at my face, searching for something, but then I remember. The cut on my forehead. Shit.
“What happened to you?” he growls, hard eyes piercing into mine.
I try to pull away from him, hoping to hide the cut with my hair, but he refuses to let go of my face. There’s so much fury in his gaze it makes me breathless. It could go so bad if they find out what really happened. Or would they even care? My money is on they would, but only because they didn’t get to make me hurt, it was someone else doing it for them.
What if his reaction is real, though? You can’t fake that shit, right? I can, but I’ve had years of practice. However, Asher, he looks pissed on my behalf. Like someone hurt his favorite toy, and he wants revenge. I shouldn’t find that hot, but I do. No one’s ever reacted that way before.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Jessalyn,” he whisper-yells. “That cut is deep. It needs stitches.”
He glances over his shoulder at Callum, fuming. “You didn’t tell me she was hurt this badly, dick!”
My eyes turn shimmery with tears as my gaze connects with Callum’s. He has a look of shock resting along his handsome face as he searches my gaze. “She wasn’t, Asher. She didn’t hit her forehead on anything.”
Why does it sound like the very idea of me hurting tears him up inside? He’s so confusing. They all are. How can they just flip a switch, after everything, and treat me like I’m important? Someone can’t just turn it off after so long of being treated unfairly. Two years they treated me like shit. There’s no way I can pretend like it didn’t happen.
So, diffusing the situation is what I need to do. It will help with these unwanted thoughts and their apparent rage. If not, then they’re all going to be asking questions they don’t have the right to know the answers to. I’m not their problem. They’re not mine. It’s best if we keep our distance.
“I, uh, hit my head on the, um, sink in the bathroom.” Good way to convince them! “I was trying to get my makeup, and I slipped on the rug. I fell forward and cracked my head on the side of it.”
All four of them look at me like they don’t believe me. They shouldn’t, but I will not tell them that. I’m preparing an argument, I shouldn’t even have to get ready for, when Asher does something that silences me and almost makes the tears fall.
Ever so slowly, he leans toward me and presses his lips against the cut, as if his kiss will make it all better. His pressure isn’t too hard or too soft—it’s just right. I’m too stunned to push him away; too speechless to do anything but allow his warmth to seep into me.
It feels … good. Almost too good. Fuck, I’m so screwed.
I fight to keep my resolve to ignore them and their alluring presence. But in moments like this, I’d need the strength of ten Gods not to succumb. His touch is the first in a long time that isn’t for harm or pleasure, just to make me feel better. It tugs on the heartstrings; I tell you. But I can’t let myself slip. If I do, I’ll lose myself completely.
CHAPTER 9
How did I know this would happen? This is just my luck. No matter what I want to happen, it always ends up happening in reverse. People always take it upon themselves to force me to do shit I don’t want to do.
“Are you going to fight me or come willingly?” Callum smiles. I loathe what that smile does to me. It makes me all tingly; needy.
Ugh. Why does this have to be so hard? Does he not get I want nothing to do with them? He just can’t keep forcing himself on me, expecting my decision to change. That’s not how it works. At least, not in the real world.
“Leave. Me. Alone.” I huff out.
Like he’s freaking deaf or something, Callum reaches over and grabs my sports bag from my shoulder, anyway. Or, tries to, I should say. My fingers wrap tightly around the strap, and I give a small jerk to loosen his hold. Only, it doesn’t. My ministrations only make him smile wider. He knows he’s getting to me, and he likes it—this push and pull we have between us.
You know what … Fuck; I like it, too. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to go through this every day. I don’t need him. I only need myself. Why is this so freaking hard?
“Just give in, little mouse. It’s inevitable.”
I can’t stop the laugh that barrels its way from my throat. “You think it’s that easy, huh? You say something, then expect me to go along with it? Dream on.”
“Jess,” he says in warning. Let me tell you—that warning goes straight to my neglected pussy. Just something about a man, even if you hate him, when he uses that dominating, grunting voice—it causes shivers.
It’s the first time he’s raised his voice to me—besides that yelling scene outside the club—since I told him about what happened two years ago. He’s been disgustingly sweet, as have the other boys. Well, except for that Monday when he beckoned Alessandra to sit in his lap. Other than that, I hate to say it, but he’s been the Callum I knew before he left the summer after our freshman year.
It sucks, man. Because now I have to force my anger out on this version of him. Don’t get me wrong, Callum the person deserves my wrath more than anyone else, but not this version if that makes sense. I hope it does, anyway.
“Cal,” I fume right back at him. “I don’t have time for your shit. The last bell rang a few minutes ago, and I need to get to the locker room to get ready for the first round of tryouts. Step. Aside.”
Inst
ead, he steps forward, his advance forcing me to take a step back to keep our bodies from touching. “Make me.”
Shit. There are those little tingles again.
Is he …? My eyes shoot upward, catching the devilish gleam shining in his gaze. This motherfucker is teasing me! There is no way to misconstrue his body language. Trust me, I have been reading men’s bodies since the beginning of tenth grade. I know them. How they move, react—what they desire.
“Teasing won’t get you anywhere with me, Cal,” I warn. At least, I hope it won’t. Dear Fucking-Fuck, why does he have to be so hot?
Taking his lip between his pearly whites, I fight the shudder begging to rip through me when my eyes drop to them. “Is that so? I think someone’s a liar.”
“I think someone’s a dick,” I counter, quirking a brow.
We both stand there in silence, his imposing figure to my petite, and in each second the air around us gets more stifling. There’s a sexual charge sifting through the air, and it almost feels too good to resist. Even though I know I should, because nothing good can come from falling into back into the “Callum and Jess” show. But man, it’s hard.
Only this time, wouldn’t it be the “Callum, Quinn, Asher, Ellis, and Jess” show? God, I don’t even know. It’s all so messed up. Especially the part where each boy, in their own right, causes a part of me to soften and turn weak.
Like the fact Ellis insists on carrying my books to and from class every freaking day. Even though I ignore him, he does it, not asking for anything in return.
Or that Quinn and Asher act like my personal bodyguards. Again, even though I ignore them.
No one told me that ignoring them would be harder than just talking to them.
Callum? He goes straight for my weakness. Sex. He uses his body against me every chance he gets. For the past week and a half, this is the only conversation I’ve held with any of them. Most usually, I snub them, obviously. But the amazing thing is, they don’t seem to worry. It’s like … just being in my presence is enough. Besides Callum, that is. He’s made himself very clear on what he wants.
I can tell my disregard for him is getting under his skin. Or else, he wouldn’t have pulled me to the side and started this version of foreplay. Callum is really transparent when he wants to be, and since the night at that club, I’ve been able to read him like a book. I’m sure there’s nothing I can’t ask that they wouldn’t tell me, but I can’t bring myself to go down that road.
Honestly, though, what did he expect? He lied about being done with that queen bee bitch. He willingly chose her over the truth. There has to be a point where you just say, “No, it’s not happening.”
“Savoy!” Both mine and Callum’s heads turn toward the sound of my coach’s voice. He’s standing there, beefy arms crossed across his chest, staring hard at Callum.
“Rice.” Callum says in greeting.
“Lockridge,” Coach Rice hisses indignantly.
I look between both of them, noticing their rigid stances and narrowed eyes. Something tells me they don’t like each other too much. But why? Coach Rice gets along with everyone, when he’s not his silently, brooding self, that is. He doesn’t smile like a regular person, but he’s not outwardly hostile, either. He’s only about ten years my senior, and if he weren’t wearing a scowl twenty-three hours a day, I’m sure he’d be handsome in his own right.
“Is there something I should know?” I ask.
“Just get changed and warm up, Savoy. Lockridge and I are going to have a talk.” My eyes round in their sockets, and what’s even more unbelieving is the fact Callum hands me my sports bag without so much as a word. Not even a peep.
Yeah, there’s definitely something going on.
Hesitantly taking my bag, Callum meets my eyes for a brief moment, face softening as he smiles. He dismisses me and glances back toward Coach Rice. With a brain full of questions, I take off down the steps and head toward our locker room.
Chancing a glance over my shoulder, I see Callum’s nostrils flare in outrage as Coach Rice’s hands wave frantically all around him. Callum’s hands clench and unclench at his sides, preparing for a fight. His chest puffs up, and I have a feeling if he and my coach were to go rounds, Callum would come out the victor.
That’s all I need. The guy that doesn’t leave me alone to get into a fistfight with the man that coaches the team. This can go really badly. So much so, that I don’t even make the team this year, no matter how good I am. If that happens, Callum will have a lot more to worry about than my silence. I swear, I’ll end him.
Fast-Pitch is the only hobby I have that takes my mind off everything. Yes, I have sex, but I do that strictly to make the memories quiet in my mind. During softball, there is nothing except me, the field, and the bat and ball in my hands. I don’t think, except for going through the plays. I don’t react if something goes bad. I just am.
With the smell of fresh-cut grass, grilled hotdogs, and the crack of a bat—I’m free. I’m no longer the girl that sleeps around. I’m not the girl that got raped at a party. I am Savoy—Varsity hind catcher for the Silver Creek High Wolverines.
I push open the door to the locker room and all talking ceases. I barely withhold rolling my eyes as I go to my cubicle, tossing down my things. Reaching over my head, I take my shirt off. My push-up bra goes right afterward. Quickly sifting through my bag for a sports bra and cut-off, I don them and finish getting ready.
“I hear the guys have a little hard on for you?” Alessandra spits from behind me.
This is the only thing I hate about being here. I have to put up with her ass. She’s not even that fucking good, either! I don’t know how she keeps getting on the team every year, because I can tell you now, she gets no playing time. Money shouldn’t buy her a position, because it doesn’t with the other girls. Coach Rice isn’t like that.
“They can do whatever they want to with their hard on’s,” I say, then turn toward her. “Maybe they just don’t like pathetic bitches throwing themselves at their feet.” I tap a finger against my chin. “Maybe they want a challenge.” I nearly squirm with the truth in my words.
She scoffs. “What challenge is that? Seeing how many dicks Savoy can take at the same time?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I give her a smile, then grab my glove and push past her.
“He will never choose you! We’re already back together and that is how it will stay!”
Turning around, I walk backwards toward the door, smirking. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep better at night. We all know you’re just a puppet on Lockridge’s strings.”
You are not hurting. You don’t care what Callum does. Remember, he can fuck, suck, kiss, and date who he wants, I remind myself.
“I’m his puppet?” She walks toward me, fury lining her every step. “I’ll fucking show you. Girls!”
Just as my back hits the door, a dozen arms shoot out and grab me. Without thinking, I growl and hit the first person I come across. I’ll be damned if I go down easy. No, it will have to take all of them, and even then, I’ll go down swinging.
My fist jabs right into Alessandra’s nose, a sickening crunch echoing through the locker room. Her eyes automatically tear up. But I have to give it to her, she doesn’t make a peep regarding pain. Instead, the moment blood rushes from her nose, she gives me a cruel smile and wipes it off with the back of her hand.
I’m twisting, turning, kicking, and fighting to get out of their hold. Nails dig into the skin of my arms and legs, making half crescent moon markings, and tiny drops of blood plump up on the wounds. More hands dart out, punching, slapping, scratching. Tennis shoes kick, stomp, and beat me into the ground until the girls holding me have to let go or go down with me.
During all this, I don’t make a sound. If that bitch didn’t when I obviously broke her nose, then I refuse to be weaker than her. A grunt catches in my throat as a particularly hard kick connects with my stomach. I twist on my side, gasping for air as fingers w
eave through my short locks. Jerking my face up to hers, Alessandra rears her arm back and slams it forward. Instant pain assaults my right eye, feeling like the eyeball burst in its socket.
“Next time you think of talking trash to me, think again, bitch.” She shoves me away, then straightens her appearance before stepping over my body and walking out the door.
After all the other girls filter out after her, many of them getting one last kick in, I simply lie there. My body aches from their beating, but it’s nothing compared to what Debra puts me through. I know if it was just me and Alessandra, I could wipe the floor with her ass. But when it’s a whole team of people against one? The odds aren’t in my favor.
“Stupid cunt,” I release, shifting until I’m sitting upright. My face stings from their beastly claws, and my stomach feels like a dumbbell has hit me repeatedly.
Slowly rising to my feet, I just straighten all the way when the door to the locker room opens, nearly pummeling my face. Jesus Christ, who’s trying to kill me now?
“What happened here?” Coach Darcy exclaims, then shock overrides her features as she gets a good look at me. “Are they really at this again? Who was it this time?”
Waving her off, my tongue darts out, and I gag at the taste of copper filling my mouth. I get a mouth full, then spit it on the ground by my feet. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Jess, you can’t keep going on like this.” She gives me a look of worry “They’re taking things too far. It wasn’t near as bad last year.”
Yeah, because they didn’t have the “elite’s” here to see what they’re doing. They think just because they’re here, the people in this school need to make their bullying physical, so they don’t appear weak. It doesn’t matter if Callum put out the word I’m no longer a target for their vicious games. Sometimes, beating something into someone so much can’t be reversed.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say again, more forcefully, as I shove past her and head up to the main area of the gym.
Tease Me, Baby: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Silver Creek High Book 2) Page 7