Spite: A Bully Reverse Harem

by Candace Wondrak

  Shrugging, I said, “I just figured since, you know, you’re like the teacher’s pet, I could get some pointers off you. Clearly, I’m not as good at all of this as you are.” I had the basketball game later tonight, but I did have a few free hours right after school let out. “I’m free after school. I could come over, take a quick peek, and then get out of your hair.” I was well aware I was asking to see something that was probably super personal to him, but I didn’t care. A part of me just wanted to spend more time with him.

  It was the whole making it up to me part that did him in, I think. Xander wasn’t a fan of my presence, so I knew there was no way he’d want to spend more time with me than he had to. It was our tumultuous past that led him to nod.

  “Okay,” Xander slowly said. “Meet me at spot thirty-two after the bell.”

  It was official. I was going over Xander’s house, getting to see where he lived. With any luck, I’d get to see the workings of his inner mind, find out why he was so different from the Xander I’d known before.

  The Xander who’d laugh at everything Christian said. The Xander who chuckled and told me to kill myself. The Xander who scrunched up his nose and acted like I smelled awful every time I walked by him. He was a little demon, a little shit before, and every word he’d ever said to me had hurt me, cut me like knives. Yes, I might sort of like this new Xander, but the things he did to me could never be erased.

  No, some wounds never healed, even with time. Time was the great equalizer. Time was the one constant thing in everyone’s life. Time could make kings out of peasants and poor men out of the rich. I wasn’t sure what time had made of Xander yet, but it didn’t matter. My wounds might’ve been old, but they were still fresh. Certain scars never faded.

  I hated Wednesdays. Mostly because after school, Mom took me straight to a therapist’s office, where I was hounded with questions and begged for answers. Where an older, foreign woman wanted to talk about all of my problems and my issues. Even after meeting with her for the last few weeks, I still hated talking about myself. I’d much rather talk about other people.

  Mom was working two jobs to afford this and our new house. I was going to a new public school a state away, and I hadn’t seen my dad and Diane since the day Mom grabbed my suitcases from his house and took me. Mom had custody of me, and Dad just let her take me, almost like I was worthless.

  Wait. No. I wasn’t supposed to think that. I was supposed to have happy thoughts, give my parents the benefit of the doubt. In my therapist’s eyes, my dad didn’t cheat because he hated me and my mom. He’d done it for his own happiness. It was all about framing things, looking at situations a different way.

  It was hard.

  “How’ve you been, Elle?” the therapist spoke. She was a woman older than my mom, with greying hair and washed-out blue eyes behind rimmed glasses. She always looked too put together, too perfect. I felt like a mess sitting across from her.

  “Okay,” I muttered.

  “How is your new school going?”

  “Fine,” I said, shrugging.

  “Make any new friends?” As if friends came to me easily, as if everyone flocked around me and wanted to spend time with me. She waited for my answer, ever patient, ever calm. Her ankles were crossed, and a leather-bound notebook sat on her lap. Every so often she would jot down some notes, make me feel generally self-conscious, even though she’d told me time and time again that just because she was writing something down didn’t mean I’d said something wrong.

  I shrugged. “There’s a girl who keeps trying to talk to me, but I don’t know.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Leah.”

  “Maybe Leah wants to be your friend. Would that be so bad?”

  I hated when she kept questioning me. Would it be bad for me to have a friend? No, but would anyone want to be friends with me after seeing my wrists? I wore long sleeves to school, but if Leah ever found out what happened, I was certain she’d have no interest in sticking around. Who wanted to be friends with a broken girl?

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never had a friend before.”

  “It’s never too late to make friends,” she told me. “I think you should give Leah a chance. I know your mom wants you to make friends, too. She is worried about you, you know.” The way she so casually brought my mom into these conversations…I hated that, too.

  I resisted the urge I had to scratch at my wrists. The wounds were healed, but it was like they were still scabbing. Itching like crazy. Or maybe it was all in my head. Maybe I really was insane, and this was all some joke. “I know,” I whispered.

  She let silence grow between us for only a moment before she asked, “Have you thought about what I mentioned at the end of our last meeting?”

  My mind flashed back, and I fought to keep myself from frowning. Yes, I knew exactly what she’d said, and I grew angry when I thought about it. My clenched hands were enough of an answer for her.

  “Elle, I know you blame them,” she said, speaking carefully, “but ultimately, each and every decision we make is our own. No one forced your hand. They may have paved the road that you took, but you didn’t need to take it.”

  This stupid therapist wanted me to do the one thing I could never do. The one thing I would rather die than do—she wanted me to forgive them. To forgive my old classmates, to forget the blame and the anger I felt toward Christian, Xander, and Alec. Some people might be fans of forgiveness, but I was not one of them, and I never would be.

  “Even adults struggle with forgiveness,” she went on, “but forgiveness is a part of life. To truly move on from this, you’ll have to do the one thing you don’t want to, and that’s forgiving them.” Behind her glasses, her stare held me hostage, an intensity I felt uncomfortable beneath. “And forgiving yourself.”

  Forgiving myself? I was not the one who’d tormented another kid until they attempted to commit suicide. I didn’t merit my own forgiveness, mostly because I didn’t need it. And them? Christian and the others? I’d rather die than give them any hint of forgiveness. Even if I never saw any of them again, I wanted them all to be miserable. Karma, right?

  No, I didn’t need my own forgiveness for what I did. I knew it was stupid; I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t change the past. Those three boys? That class who’d done nothing but laugh and egg those three on? My mom would kill me if she knew I was thinking this, but screw them. They would never get my forgiveness.

  Christian, Xander, and Alec? I would hate them until the day I died—for real, this time.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Xander’s house was small, its outside needing a new coat of paint. Its inside needed some updating, too, but it was quaint. I liked it. Felt homier than my actual home. Xander’s parents weren’t home, and for a stupid second, as I stood there, just past the front door, I wondered if I should even be here.

  Too late for that, now.

  With my backpack over my shoulders, I followed Xander to his room. He’d been oddly silent during the ride here; he was probably wondering why the hell he’d agreed to have me over. I set my backpack on the edge of his bed, reaching for my phone, texting Diane that I’d be late. She didn’t need to know why—and, honestly, if I hadn’t come here, I would’ve found something else to do, because she was on another kick to spend time with me. Trying to be my mother or something. It was disgusting, and it would never happen. I would never get along with that woman.

  And, because I was a sneaky bitch—and you never know when you might stumble across any useful information—I slid my phone into my bag’s side pocket, but I didn’t turn it off. I had no idea how long it could possibly record, but I did buy the biggest micro-SD card I could find for this reason specifically.

  Xander was at his desk, opening the top drawer on the side, slowly pulling out a black folder. He handed it to me, and before I had the chance to start flipping through it, he rubbed the side of his face, biting his lower lip. “Do you want something to
drink?” He practically stumbled over his words, and I did my best not to smile at him.

  Didn’t want to make him any more self-conscious than he already was.

  “Some water would be nice,” I said, and he merely nodded, walking out. I meandered to his bed, sitting on it as I started flipping through it. Once the first page was open, I ran my hand along the thick paper, lightly touching the black and white photograph I saw. Cheerleaders, caught in mid-cheer. Looked like it was taken at a football game, due to the grass around their feet. They seemed genuinely happy about what they were cheering about; none of them were looking at the camera.

  On the next page, I saw a picture of a kid I knew was in my speech class, only this picture, also black and white, was taken during lunch. His eyes were squinted shut, a giant smile on his face. And just like the cheerleaders, he wasn’t facing the camera.

  As I went through the pictures, I found they were all black and white, which lent to an olden feeling. Each and every picture was someone new, whether it was a group of people or a single person. Everyone was laughing, smiling, happy. I turned to the last page, nearly falling backwards laughing when I saw that it was a dog rolled on its back, one of those bulldogs with the wrinkled faces.

  Even the dog was grinning.

  When Xander returned, carrying a glass of water for me, I met his eyes. How could he take such amazing pictures? How could he capture everyone’s happiness so easily? This truly wasn’t the Xander I knew; the boy I used to know never would’ve been able to do anything like this.

  Since I made no moves to grab the glass from him, he set it on top of his desk. “What do you think?” he asked, tentative, even though he most definitely shouldn’t be. These pictures—I was no expert—but they were the best photographs I’d ever seen.

  “Xander,” I spoke, meeting his eyes. I had to angle my head up, since he stood before me and I sat on his bed. “I don’t…these are…” Gosh, I was having difficulties speaking, wasn’t I? Kind of sounded like an idiot.

  He took the portfolio from my hands, abruptly closing it and returning it to his desk drawer. “They’re terrible, aren’t they?”

  I got to my feet, shaking my head. “No. No, they’re amazing. They’re some of the best pictures I’ve ever seen.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  I took a step towards him. “No, I’m not. I mean it. Those were…how did you come up with that?”

  “When everyone poses for pictures, they know someone’s watching. They put up whatever front they want you to see. When people aren’t looking, when they have no idea their picture is being taken,” Xander paused, his dark eyes lingering on his desk for a few seconds before meeting my stare, “then you can capture something real.”

  I reached out. “That’s beautiful…” Wait. I shouldn’t be touching him. I should take my hand off his arm and step away. But I didn’t, mainly because I was caught in his dark gaze. Almost like a smolder.

  “It’s not…” He quieted, closing his eyes. He didn’t move away from me, but I could feel his mind putting up a fence between us—something I couldn’t allow.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I leaned into him, pressing my mouth on his, running my tongue against his lower lip, feeling the cool metal of his lip ring. It brought a shiver to my spine and a heat to my stomach.

  But he didn’t kiss me back.

  Xander pulled away sharply, stepping out of my reach. “What are you…why would you want to do that when I…” He shook his head, his black hair flying every which way. “The things I did to you, Elle, are unforgivable.”

  I met his dark stare, saying, “I never said I forgave you.”

  “Then why—”

  “You’re not what I expected. You’re as broken as I am,” I said. The truth. This Xander wasn’t the same Xander. This Xander was so much more like me than I could’ve possibly known.

  He let out a sad chuckle, moving to his bed. “You have no idea,” Xander started. He sighed. “Do you want to know why I’m not friends with Christian anymore?”

  I nodded, moving to sit beside him, still tasting the aftereffects of the kiss on my tongue. I wanted to kiss him again—and this time, I didn’t want him to pull back. As he talked, I tried my best to listen to him and not ogle his mouth. That lip ring…

  “After I heard what happened to you, I kind of spiraled. I didn’t think that…” Xander let out something between a sigh and a groan. “I was just a stupid kid. I didn’t think that anything I said would actually hurt you enough to make you want to…” He couldn’t say it, and I couldn’t blame him. “While Alec stalked your house and Christian was busy being in denial, I handled it my own way.”

  My eyes fell to his hands, which had suddenly made their way above my lap. He pulled up his sleeves, and it was then I realized I had never seen his bare arms at school. Just like me, he’d always worn long sleeves, never rolled up. But surely he couldn’t mean…

  His wrists were like macabre paintings full of thin, white lines. They were thinner and smaller than mine, but much more numerous. If I had to guess, I’d say they were done with a thin blade, like the blade to a box cutter. Not from a kitchen knife, like mine were. I was so shocked, so stunned that I could say nothing.

  “When my parents found out, they freaked. They homeschooled me for a year and made me go to therapy. When I went back to River High in ninth grade, Christian wouldn’t talk to me. It was like I had ceased to exist. Maybe I reminded him of you, and he couldn’t handle it. I don’t know.”

  “You haven’t…” God, how could I ask if he’d done it lately without sounding far too inquisitive? He shouldn’t be sharing this with me anyway. This was deeply personal shit, shit I was not well-equipped to handle. I had my own problems.

  “No, I haven’t cut myself recently,” Xander muttered, pulling his arms back and tugging down the sleeves. “I thought it would be hard being around you. I thought Christian had the right idea, trying to ignore you, but I can’t do it. I can’t pretend you don’t exist.”

  Christian glaring at me and threatening me was pretending I don’t exist? Huh. Good to know. “I wouldn’t want you to,” I spoke softly. Honestly, one Christian around here was bad enough.

  “I’m not like Christian. Not anymore. I can’t be an asshole anymore. He might be able to treat others like shit and get away with it, but I can’t do it. I couldn’t…” Xander turned toward me, his expression heavy. “I couldn’t hurt you again, Elle.”

  “Then don’t,” I said simply, as if it was all so simple. God, everything was so messed up, wasn’t it? This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Xander, Alec—they weren’t supposed to be real people. I wasn’t supposed to see them like this.

  I found myself leaning toward him, lifting a hand and running it down the side of his face. This time, Xander didn’t pull away. This time, he was the one who leaned his head closer to mine, pressed his lips against mine softly, hesitantly, as if he was afraid.

  He was right to be, of course. He should be afraid. I wasn’t here to date him. To love him. I was here to dig up dirt and use it to break him—but what if he decided to cut himself again? It would be my fault, one hundred percent. Could I live with that? I wasn’t sure. It seemed quite a heavy load, considering all the other shit I had to carry already.

  His lip ring brushed against my mouth, and I shivered, pushing on him, laying him down on the bed beneath me. I moved on top of him, keeping my mouth fastened to his. I paid no attention to the world around us, completely forgetting the phone in my backpack, totally forgetting the reason I was here. All I could think about was Xander and his lips, the way his brown eyes sparkled in the sun, how melodic his laugh sounded.

  Xander’s hands roamed across my back, settling on my ass. His grip was not hard, nor was it confident. Had he ever let someone in? Had he ever dated anyone? Was this his first kiss? Or, technically, the kiss before would’ve been his first, not this one. It would make sense, given how much better this one was. The boy was ac
tually kissing me back.

  A fire ignited in my lower gut, and I resisted my urge to do more than kiss him. His lips parted somewhat, and I ran my tongue over his lower lip before exploring his mouth. Xander moaned into the kiss, and since I was on top of him, I felt something hard stirring beneath me.

  Oh, fuck it.

  I broke our lip lock, pulling away, watching as he stared at me running my hands down his chest over his shirt. Beneath my touch, I could feel his skin trembling. He was nervous. I don’t know why the notion made me smile, but it did. I smiled at him as my hands made their way to the buttons on his jeans.

  “Elle,” Xander whispered my name, his voice lower than it had ever been before. “You don’t—”

  “Don’t have to?” Of course I knew that. “But if I want to?”

  He leaned his head back on his pillow, resigned. I was certain he’d be happy enough in a few minutes. My fingers expertly undid the button on his pants, and I tugged them down just enough to get to his boxers. They were black too, go figure. Within a moment, I had his erection freed, standing tall and ready.

  I brought my mouth to the tip, locking eyes with him as I swirled my tongue around it. The instant my warm tongue met with the tender, sensitive skin, Xander let out the most sensual moan I think I’d ever heard. I rather enjoyed the sound. Maybe I could get him to make more noises like that.

  Not waiting a second longer, I took him in. Slow, at first. I had to get used to the feeling of his dick in my mouth. It didn’t take long, and soon enough I was bobbing along his length, sucking him off like I was his girlfriend or something. I wasn’t—and I never would be—but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to do this.

  Xander let out a flurry of moans, his eyes snapping shut as he relished in the sensation. I kept at it, and in a minute, his hips began to gyrate below me, like he was fucking my mouth. I knew it wouldn’t be long now.

  “I’m about to…” Xander couldn’t even get the words out, but he did let out an earth-shattering moan as his dick throbbed in my mouth, shooting his load right down my throat. Not the best thing I’d ever tasted, but not exactly the worst, either. I think I took it like a champ.