The Hunt: High School Bully Romance (Kennedy Academy Book 2)

by Mae Doyle

  The Hunt

  High School Bully Romance

  Kennedy Academy 2

  Mae Doyle

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  This is a work of art/fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events, or places is purely coincidental. Any persons appearing on the cover image for this book are models and do not have any connection to the contents of this story.

  All characters depicted in this work are unrelated consenting adults. This author assumes no responsibility for the use/misuse of this material.

  © 2020 Mae Doyle

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  Chapter 1

  Nora

  Blacksburg. I have one hand resting on the window as we drive, which lets me lean closer to the glass to look outside. The city itself is really big, but we wound our way through the main buildings and then out the other side, heading for the residential areas.

  I kept thinking that we’d pull into one of the main apartment complexes, but we just keep going. The buildings are getting farther and farther apart and there’s more and more trees along the road as we wind our way out of town. Before too long, we’ve left behind smaller single homes and entered an area that I had only dreamed of before.

  I swear, I’ve never seen houses this big before. They’re all over the top, looming monstrosities with perfectly manicured gardens and huge gates. If I didn’t feel like I belonged before, then it’s even worse now. There’s nothing here that makes me feel at home.

  Thinking about home sends a pang through my heart and I have to swallow hard so that I don’t start to cry. My mom had always told me that I needed to be strong in order to make it through this life, but I didn’t know that she meant that I’d have to be strong on my own.

  Now it’s just me, a backpack, and a suitcase that I hastily packed the night that my mom was committed to the hospital. I’m all alone and missing home more than ever, especially since nothing here looks familiar.

  Not my uber driver, not the weird local station he has playing, and certainly not these huge mansions...they’re all from someone else’s life where I don’t fit in. I swear, my house could fit into them five times over and still have room to spare for an extra parlor or something. I guarantee they all have parlors.

  My house growing up definitely didn’t have a parlor, although my mom did the best that she could to make it as homey and comfortable as possible. Nevermind that it was always just the two of us and I never had a dad around – she did the best that she could. Until she couldn’t.

  And that’s why I’m here.

  I’ve never been to Blacksburg, and I never wanted to come. When my mom told me that I’d be moving here for my senior year, I thought that she was joking. A messed-up joke, to be sure, but a joke nonetheless. But there wasn’t any way for her to take care of me any longer and she knew that I needed someone to look out for me.

  She raised me to be strong, but she forgot that she was still my backbone. Without her, I don’t know how I’m going to handle anything anymore. I just hope that I can make it through this, get my diploma, and then get her out of the hospital.

  Hopefully by then, everything will be stable and she can come home. That seems like a pipe dream right now, like something that I’m never going to be able to achieve, because right now my whole life feels like a joke and I’m the punchline.

  But now the uber is pulling up in front of her best friend’s house and it looks like what I thought was a joke was nothing to laugh about.

  Her best friend. The one I’ve never met. The best friend from college that somehow hasn’t ever had the time to come and meet me in the 18 years that I’ve been alive.

  Then again, it’s not like we ever made the effort to come up here, so I guess that fair is fair.

  “We’re here.” The uber drive lifts his eyebrows at me in the rearview window and gestures towards the house. Right. Like I didn’t know that we were here. I just don’t want to get out of the car. Even though we’ve been parked here for more than a minute, I don’t make any effort to move. All I can do is stare out the window up at the house and wish that I were anywhere else.

  Like at home. I consider slipping him some cash to try to pay him off so that he’ll take me away from here, but there’s nowhere for me to run. Not while my mom is in inpatient treatment. Not while her best friend is apparently waiting for me.

  “You know, a trip around the block sounds nice.” I lean forward, knowing full well that my shirt is going to drop down a little and give him a peek. I don’t care. He looks like he’s never seen a pair of tits before, and if this encourages him to drive me around a little longer then I’m fine with it.

  The tip of his tongue darks out and he licks his lower lips while he watches me in the mirror. “I would. Believe me, I’d like to, but…” He glances up at the house and then back at me. “I just don’t think that it’s a good idea. Teague wouldn’t like it.”

  “I don’t give a shit about Teague.” My mom told me that her friend had a son and that we’d have to try to get alone. Try, she’d emphasized, like there’s something wrong with me. Like I can’t make friends.

  “Suuuure,” he says, slowly, drawing out the word, “but I do. So.” He unlocks the doors and looks straight ahead, taking his eyes off of mine.

  Really? That’s it? My great escape foiled by some guy named Teague? “Fine. No tip.” I grab my backpack and suitcase and shimmy out across the backseat. “I’ll tell Teague that you said hello.”

  Even as I slam the door I hear him protest. Whatever. I don’t know who anyone here in town is, and I don’t have much of an interest in the people at Kennedy Academy. I mean, really? An Academy? My mom must really be off her rocker if she thinks that I’m going to fit in here. And when I asked her how in the hell she managed to get me in and pay for the tuition, she just avoided the question.

  Adjusting my backpack, I look back up at the house, tilting my head way back so that I can take it all in. It’s freaking huge and looks like something out of a magazine. I just know that I’m not going to fit in.

  Back home, a huge front porch like this would be covered with rocking chairs and would have hanging ferns dripping from the ceiling, but this porch looks cold. There’s metal chairs along the front with perfectly matching black and white pillows, but they don’t look like anyone’s ever sat in them.

  Slowly, I make my way up the front walk, enjoying all of the flowers that line it. They’re perfectly trimmed and the lawn has recently been cut. Unless my mom’s friend has a lot of spare time, I bet that they pay a yard guy a ton of money to keep this place looking nice. It looks like a nice southern plantation home, but colder and right smack dab in the middle of a cold northern state.

  The front door swings open right as I get to the top step of the porch, and Mrs. Ward is standing there. Immediately, I’m taken back. There’s no way that this is the woman that my mom spends an hour on the phone with multiple times a week.

  She has long dark h
air that’s pulled back in a severe ponytail and perfect makeup. Her tits are huge and her waist is tiny, which makes me think that she definitely had some work done. My suspicions are confirmed when she smiles at me and her face doesn’t wrinkle.

  “Nora! So glad that you made it here okay. I told your mom that putting you in an uber simply wasn’t a good idea and that Teague would be happy to pick you up at the airport, but she insisted that you would be fine.” She reaches out to pull me into a hug but then stops, her nose wrinkling. “Is that dry?”

  “Dry?” I glance down at my shirt before remembering what I put on this morning. “Oh, the paint? Yeah, it’s all dry, sorry. I think my mom told you that I love to paint?” The clothes that I have on are splattered with paint, but it’s all dry. The way that Mrs. Ward is looking at me, though, you’d think that it was blood. Or vomit. Or both.

  “She did. I just didn’t know that you used yourself as a canvas.” Instead of hugging me, she reaches out and awkwardly shakes one of my hands, her long nails pressed into my skin. “Where’s the rest of your luggage? Did that uber driver take it?”

  I’m amazed that each time she says the word uber, she makes it sound dirtier and dirtier. This woman has probably never step foot in public transportation before. It’s a joke to think that she and my mom are friends.

  My mom.

  Every time I think about her, I get a horrible squeezing in my chest that makes it hard for me to breathe. I don’t want to think about her living with people who are really crazy. I can’t imagine her dressed in scrubs, high on pills, shuffling her feet down one endless hallway after another.

  It’s not right. I wish she had let me stay with her. I should be taking care of her, not checking out the biggest house I’ve ever seen and being judged by someone who is possibly more plastic than human.

  Remembering where I am, I shake my head. “No, this is all I have. I think my mom told you that I was going to pack light.”

  “Sherry did say that, but I’m still a little surprised.” She gestures me into the house and shuts the door behind me. Immediately, I’m hit with a blast of cool air. It’s not that hot outside, but she must have the AC cranked up high. “I was hoping that Teague would be home now so that you could meet him right away, but he should be home for dinner.”

  She flaps her hand in the air for me to follow her, the diamond tennis bracelet she has on winking in the light from the room. “Why don’t you head on upstairs? Your room is the last one on the right and then when you’re all moved in, you can come down here and tell me all about yourself.”

  I hesitate, gripping my backpack and luggage. “I figured that my mom had told you all about me.” The thought of having to sit and talk to this woman makes my stomach flip. It’s not that I’m unfriendly, I just don’t like sharing personal information about myself with people I don’t know.

  And Mrs. Ward is definitely different than anyone that I’ve ever met before.

  She turns and stares at me. Even though she looks as skinny as a twig, she still has a commanding presence. I find myself shrinking back a little and comparing my worn sneakers to her heels. I don’t fit in here.

  “Sherry told me plenty about you. I just am still a little surprised to actually see you in the flesh. She didn’t tell me that you were going for the starving artist look, that’s all.” She reaches out like she’s going to touch me, but yanks her hand back instead. “Just go on upstairs and maybe splash a little water on your face, Nora. You’ll feel better.”

  She turns away and strolls through the room, leaving me standing alone in a cloud of her perfume. Staring after her, I can’t move.

  I feel rooted to the spot, despair rising up in me, threating to make me scream.

  I don’t belong here. I need to be back home, with my mom. Even if she’s not there, I shouldn’t be here in this…this…dollhouse. This joke. I’m surrounded by furniture and art that costs more than anything I’ve ever seen before and I’m supposed to just try to fit in.

  Without any of my friends. Without my mom.

  Tears burn at my eyes, but I don’t wipe them away. Instead I turn, grabbing my stuff and hauling it up the stairs with me. I’m halfway up to the second floor when I take a moment to look at the pictures that are hanging on the wall.

  The perfect family. Two great looking parents and Teague.

  Teague.

  Holy cow. I’ve heard my mom mention him before, but she’s never shown me a picture. I can’t help it – instead of continuing up the stairs, I stop and stare. Leaning forward, I squint, wanting to get a better look at the guy. My roommate.

  He’s stunning. His dark hair is swept back a bit from his forehead, showing off his incredible eyes. In every shot I can see how muscular the guy is. I know that he plays football, but that’s really all I know about him.

  I start walking up the steps again, slower this time. There are more and more shots of him as I go up the stairs. Pictures of him with his family, ones of him in the field, even candid shots of him outside, but I don’t see any with a girlfriend.

  A flush of hope rises in me, but I try to force it back down. I should not be thinking about whether or not this guy has a girlfriend. I’m here to try to make it through the year without my mom, not ogle some guy that I live with.

  Even though he’s easily the sexiest guy I’ve ever seen. My feet sink into the thick runner on the stairs and I pause to look around. From here I’m on eye level with a huge crystal chandelier that probably weighs more than I do.

  Sighing, I turn back to the pictures and slowly walk up the rest of the stairs. The staircase curves at the top, and I turn around, enjoying an incredible view out of the front windows of the house. If I weren’t here under the worst circumstances, I’d love spending time in this home.

  Finally, I turn and step onto the second floor and start down the long hall, slowing my steps to try to peep into the rooms as I past them. The master bedroom is first, followed by a huge bathroom and a giant closet down the hall. Although I’d love to see what makes Mrs. Ward tick, looking into her room when she’s just downstairs seems like a stupid idea, so I continue walking. Next is a guestroom, and I hesitate, but then remember that she said I would be on the very end.

  Swallowing hard, I push open the next door I see and am immediately hit with the smell of cologne. Teague’s room. Taking a deep breath, I stand in the door for a moment and close my eyes. I never had a boyfriend back home, but I’ve always loved the smell of a boy’s cologne. Now that I know what Teague looks like and what he smells like, I want to meet him. There’s a low pooling in my stomach that makes my heart race when I glance at his bed.

  Flushing, I glance again at his bed. It’s a huge four-poster bed that is pressed up against the wall with windows flanking it. I can only imagine what Teague looks like in the morning when he wakes up with the sun coming in his room. I hesitate in the door because I want to go in and snoop, but I’m afraid that Mrs. Ward is going to come looking for me at any moment, so I shut the door again.

  A few more closed doors and I finally get to my room. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open, not knowing what to expect. If it’s like the rest of the house, it’s going to be heavily decorated, with lots of art and sculptures.

  It’s not. I feel a flash of disappointment that I’m not going to be surrounded by luxury, but then I notice something else. I have the back corner room, and the light streaming through the window right now is perfect. Dropping my backpack and suitcase by the door, I walk in, twitching the curtains the rest of the way open.

  There’s a bed, dresser, and bedside table, but that’s it, which means that there’s still plenty of room left. Plenty of room for an easel. For the first time since my mom told me that I was coming to Blacksburg for a year, I feel myself getting excited.

  I can set this up to be my own private art studio. Not only will I have the perfect place to draw and paint, but I won’t have any distractions. It’s exactly what I need right now. Sighing, I sit down on
the bed, flopping back on my back. My heart thuds in my chest and I think about my mom.

  Maybe, for once in her life, she was right. Maybe my mom knew what she was doing when she sent me here. Not only will I be safe with her best friend, but it looks like the perfect place for me to really get into my art.

  I miss her. I wish that none of this had happened and I were home right now, with the rickety kitchen table and the front door that swells so much when it rains that it won’t close, but this may be okay.

  It may be the fresh start that we all need. And, after a year, when my mom is back and better than ever, we can move on from this.

  This is nothing, I decide. It’s a temporary setback in a strange town but I’m going to make the best of it.

  Teague

  “Do you miss him?” Robby takes a huge swig of his beer and leans over to grab a handful of chips from the bowl teetering on the sofa between us. He’s drunker than usual, probably because he misses his best friend. Now he wants me to commiserate with him over the fact that Clay is in college and I’m not.

  But I am a senior, and that feels good. After years of living in Clay’s shadow and helping him clean up after the accident that killed Tiffany, I’m finally getting my time to shine. I’ve been the prince’s best friend for years and now I just have to figure out who I am without him.

  Not the prince. He held that fucking title for years and I don’t any part of it. While Clay loved being worshipped, that’s not what I want. There’s been a thought at the back of my mind for a while, and I try to avoid thinking about it, but the more I ignore it, the more it bothers me.

  I want to be feared. Respected. Not loved.

  “Not really.” I crush my empty can and toss it onto the coffee table. It skitters across the surface, taking half a dozen other empties with it to the floor. Robby winces at the noise and glances towards the door, probably afraid that his mom is going to come in, but I don’t give a shit.