I don’t dare get any closer.
She’s wounded, but not from the fight … it’s her mind.
This isn’t the Monica I recognize.
This is the Monica she’s been trying to hide.
And it finally dawns on me what it meant when Monica was so closed off, why she changed schools, and why Ariane pushed me to stay away from her, telling me that I would only damage her further.
She was already hurt … by someone else.
Just like before.
That’s what all of this was about.
The secret she’s been trying to keep buried all along.
The thing that kept me from getting close.
Someone completely and utterly destroyed her … And it wasn’t me.
But I made it worse.
Michael and his friends made it worse.
Fuck.
I grab her hand and squeeze. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She looks up at me, the pain in her eyes seeping into my soul, cutting me open like an old wound. And she leaps into my arms, wrapping her hands around my neck as if she’s never letting go. The guttural wails that emanate from deep down within her body wreck me, and I kneel onto the ground with her in my arms, just breathing in and out, hoping that I can provide a little bit of solace to the turmoil going on inside her head.
I wish I could take it all away from her.
That I could destroy that part of her and erase it from its very existence.
Because no amount of searching and digging was worth what I discovered.
This beautiful, funny girl was completely wrecked by someone who didn’t deserve her.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
It only makes her cry harder. I don’t know what to say or do to make things better, but I won’t give up. Not now. Not ever.
We sit here for minutes, maybe hours, I don’t even care. I will be right here by her side for as long as she needs me. Until the stars fade and the moon falls from the sky. I’ll suck up the pain and sorrow until the memories grow dim, and the gaps in my heart are filled with the shards she’s discarded from hers.
Chapter 28
Cole
When she’s stopped crying, I pick her up from the ground and cradle her in my arms. She’s exhausted from the struggle, and her eyes can barely stay open. If I hadn’t gotten up, she probably would’ve fallen asleep right there in the woods against my chest.
But after what she’s been through, I can’t let her give up. If she can’t walk, then I will do the walking for her.
I carry her all the way back through the woods toward my home and walk up the steps. All the guests outside are staring at me. Guests I didn’t fucking invite and didn’t want to be here. Somehow word got around … thanks to that fucknut Michael. I knew telling them I was home alone was a mistake. But that’s what you get for wanting a good time. Stares and whispers behind your back from people who thought this would be an amazing party.
Well, I have some bad news for them.
“Party’s over,” I growl right at them as I walk inside.
The music is still blaring from the speakers, so I march toward it and snarl at someone standing next to it. “Turn it off.”
He glares at me for a second as if to dare me to act, but he can see the bruises on my face. I don’t fucking mess around.
The music is turned off, and everyone turns to look.
Tristan comes toward me with a confused look on his face. “Cole? What the …?” he mutters when he sees Monica in my arms.
I clutch her closer, feeling fiercely protective over her. “The party is over. Done. Finished,” I say. “Go home.”
Benjamin joins in from behind Tristan. “Dude, you’re covered in bruises. What the fuck.”
Tristan frowns. “What happened?” He pulls out his phone. “Michael messaged me, told me you kicked him out of the band.”
“Not now,” I growl, and I look over at the people staring at us. “Did you hear me? The party is over.”
Everyone tapers off with disappointed looks on their faces, but I don’t give a fuck.
I never asked for this party to begin with, and somehow, it got started anyway. Once the people began to flood in, there was no stopping it. I went along with it for the sake of it even though there were too much booze and drugs, and some girls were all up in my face trying to get my attention despite me telling them I wasn’t interested.
And I let it happen because Tristan asked me to enjoy the evening.
No more.
“Dude, why?” Benjamin asks.
“This is why,” I growl, gazing down at Monica and the frightened look on her face.
Tristan tries to take a closer look, but I shield her from him. “It’s done. Go home,” I say. “I’ll clean up this fucking mess in the morning.”
Tristan swallows and steps back. “Sorry, dude. I didn’t know shit was gonna happen.”
I ignore him and pass by all the people leaving the house, so I can go up the stairs. Tristan’s and Benjamin’s stares penetrate my back like laser beams, but I pay no attention to them.
Right now, all I care about is keeping her safe.
Here, with me.
The noise downstairs is growing weaker and weaker, but I no longer care as I walk into my room and shut the door behind us with my foot. I place her down on my bed and sit down beside her, watching her breathe slowly through her nose. She sinks into my pillow, and within seconds, she’s out, exhausted as she was. She looks so calm while she’s sleeping. Such a stark contrast to how she looked when she was sobbing in my arms.
I lie down beside her and stare at her for a moment, just to center myself. A loose strand of hair has stuck to her face from all the crying, and I gently nudge it aside. The dark of night can’t hide the beauty of her face … nor the fragility hiding underneath.
I saw something today that wasn’t meant to happen, something that scarred her more than it scarred me, but it still left a mark on my soul. I can’t fathom the effects it had on her. She didn’t deserve any of that, yet it happened to her anyway.
And on my goddamn watch too.
My hand forms a fist as I grind my teeth, feeling guilty over what happened.
I should’ve been there sooner. Should’ve ignored Ariane, should’ve followed Monica out of the house when I had the chance.
I should’ve done so many things but didn’t … because I was scared of the consequences.
Scared of what it might mean when I let her get close.
Of what it would do to me when I opened my heart.
And she fought me so damn hard every step of the way.
My hand hovers over her cheek, but I don’t dare touch her.
It was easy to make her hate me. Easy to let it consume me whole.
And now we’re both paying the price.
Monica
A bright morning sun wakes me up from a deep and nightmare-fueled sleep. I only remember bits and pieces from the night before, but my brain is flooded with images and memories as though it snapped out of a trance.
Alcohol, music, dancing, fights … and three boys chasing me through the woods until they pinned me to the ground. Cole coming to my rescue, punching them so hard that blood was flying … His eyes burned brighter than the stars filling the night sky when he found me trembling underneath a tree.
My eyes burst open, and I sit up straight, breathing heavily. But my heart only beats faster and faster as I touch the fabric of the duvet that doesn’t belong to me.
I’m not in my own bed. Or my own room.
Right then, a dark figure stretches his thick muscles beside me.
My eyes are practically glued to his skin.
Cole.
My lip quivers as I clutch the bed, watching him sit there and stare at the window ahead.
It all comes flooding back now. Him, carrying me back through the woods, into his house … into his bed.
I fucking slept here all through the night.
; How? How was it so easy to fall asleep in someone else’s bed? And why did it feel like second nature to rest my head against his shoulders and drift off?
A familiar scent enters my nostrils as he gets up. His cologne. The sweet, intoxicating smell makes my heart flutter, and it puts my mind at ease.
Why? Why does it all suddenly feel so different? So … normal?
As though I was always meant to be here?
Suddenly, he turns his head and glances at me over his shoulder. “Morning.”
My lips slam together as though they got caught gaping.
He averts his eyes again with his head lowered between his shoulders. It’s only when I look at him in his sweatpants that I realize I’m still wearing that short, black dress that I wore to the party, and I feel so out of place.
“I …” I don’t even know what I want to say. If I should even say anything.
“Are you … okay?” he asks, without looking at me. But he doesn’t have to. I know exactly what he means when he asks.
The air is filled with unspoken words. My heart feels as though it got stabbed, and it’s still bleeding. And he was there to witness it all.
He watched me crumple. At my weakest, he didn’t come to beat me down and destroy what was left. He came to pick up the pieces and brought them back to life. With a simple gesture, a hug, he gave me back my dignity, my ability to let go.
And even though I cried there against his shoulders, he never wavered, never tried to push me back down or bully me into silence.
He was there for me when no one else was.
That means more than either he or I could ever put into words.
“I don’t know,” I reply.
He glances at me over his shoulder. “So you remember everything?”
I nod.
In a split second, the concern clearly shows on his face, but he quickly looks away. His fists ball, and his muscles tighten. “You said something about it happening before. Tell me.”
I suck in a breath.
I’ve never said the words out loud. Never told this story to anyone but my therapist, and even then, it was hard. But I should let it all out. It’s been bleeding like an open wound for far too long now.
“A boy drugged me at a party. Took me to his room. Used me,” I say, each word feeling like I’m swallowing knives. “And he videotaped everything and showed it to his friends.”
His body grows even more rigid. “Did he …?”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, but we both know what he means.
I nod.
He turns to look away but not before I spotted the look of disgust on his face. “No wonder …”
“What?”
“The cabin. When I took that picture of you … I saw the fear in your eyes.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry.” His voice is twisted, raw. Like he’s trying not to fall apart. And I know the feeling all too well. “And I’m sorry about what happened to you in the woods.”
I lean in and place a hand on his shoulder.
He immediately jolts up and spins on his heels to look at me, his bare, tattooed chest rising and falling with every heavy breath he takes. “Don’t.”
“But it’s not your fault,” I say, frowning.
His face contorts as though I said something heinous. “I could’ve stopped them. I could’ve gone after you, could’ve protected you.” He shoves his fingers in his hair and marches back and forth in an agitated manner. “I was too fucking late.”
I shake my head. “You were there. That’s all that matters.”
He makes a face. “No, it doesn’t. I chased you away. You ran into those woods because of me.” He points at the window, which looks out upon the forest. “You ran because of what I didn’t tell you.”
I know what he’s talking about. The sole reason for the fight at that party. “You and Ariane were a thing.”
He tilts his head, his nostrils flaring. “And now I realize she didn’t tell you for a reason.”
“She lied to me,” I say. “She didn’t even tell me this was your home.”
And boy … what a home.
There are a lot of things I didn’t know about Cole.
Like that he would be the one, out of all the people there, to come to my rescue, to protect me from three boys, one of which was his own damn band member.
And as we stare at each other for a second, I can’t help but say the words that have been floating in my head ever since he hugged me in the woods.
“Thank you.”
His face darkens and twists into shapes I’ve never seen before. “Look at me, Monica. Look at me!” he yells with pain in his eyes. I’ve never seen him that serious. “I’m a fucking monster. A player. An asshole. A bully. Don’t ever say fucking thank you.”
“You saved me,” I respond, clutching the blanket.
“Oh, and that’s enough?” he growls.
“No, but it’s a start,” I retort.
He snorts and shakes his head repeatedly before picking up a lamp and smashing it into the wall with a loud roar. I jolt up and down from the noise as the glass shatters into tiny pieces.
He stands there, watching his own destruction like a beast uncaged wanting to rip through everything he can find.
Including me.
But I won’t let him destroy the good inside his heart even though he so desperately wants to … just to prove to himself that it wasn’t all for nothing.
That he didn’t bully me for nothing.
That he didn’t make me hate him for nothing.
Because that’s what this has always been about.
Keeping me at bay.
But I’m not going to let him push me away anymore.
He knows my darkest secret now, the one thing I’ve tried to keep him from finding out.
Now it’s my turn to ask.
“Do you really want me to hate you?” I drop the blanket even though it was the only thing covering my barely dressed body.
He glances at me for a second, full of unbridled fury and untethered emotions before retreating into the bathroom. The shower is turned on. I get up from the bed and follow him inside. He’s already standing under the water, naked, the sweatpants casually discarded on the floor. For a few seconds, I watch the rivulets of water slide down his muscular back and along the crevice of his ample ass while he runs his fingers through his hair. He places one foot forward and one hand on the wall, his head lowered while he gazes at the water pooling beneath his feet. I wonder what he’s thinking about right now. If he’s still fighting the turmoil in his head.
If I can take away the pain for him like he did for me.
He couldn’t answer my question, but the truth is far closer to what I said than what he’d ever dare to admit.
Hating him is the easier option. But I don’t like easy. I never have.
So I pull off my dress and take off my panties, throwing them all into a corner before I step inside with him.
He glances at me over his shoulder, his eyes flickering with that same hunger every time he sees my body. I step closer and wrap my arms around him, my hands on the thick slabs of his chest, feeling every breath he takes.
They’re constricted and labored as though he’s struggling not to react. I push myself against him, my nipples hardening against his skin.
His body grows rigid as he fights the urge. “What are you doing?”
“What I want …” I mumble, letting the heat rush over me as I finally let myself acknowledge the truth.
I want him. I want him so fucking badly. And I always have.
Even when I said he was bad for me or that he was an asshole.
I hated him for making me lust over him.
No more.
If I don’t get to choose who I fall for, at least I can choose to give in and stop fighting it.
So I lay my head against his back and listen to the sound of his heartbeat, every one of them going faster than the one before. His muscles tighten as the water rushes down bot
h him and me.
He lets out a guttural groan, one filled with torment, as if he’s forcing himself to stay put.
“All this time, you fought yourself, didn’t you?” I mutter.
He doesn’t reply, but the sigh that follows my words is enough for me.
I know the truth.
Chapter 29
Cole
I expected a lot of things, like that this night would blow over quickly. Instead, I laid awake to stare at her all night long, hoping she was okay. I expected her to be mad at me. Instead, she was thankful. I expected her to leave after I went into the bathroom. Instead, she actually fucking stepped into the shower with me.
She continues to defy everything I thought I knew. Not just about her but about me too.
And it fucking ruins me.
But nothing ruins me as much as her hands on my chest, squeezing so gently it destroys the cage I’d built around my heart. Her body is pressed against my back as though she refuses to let go, despite the fact that I told her everything I was.
All the bad things she should stay away from … the asshole who bullied her and made her cry.
The asshole she should hate…
Instead, she stands here, hugging me.
Doing things to me that I never thought any girl could.
Because fuck me, when those tits pressed up against my back, I wanted to turn around, grab her, and fuck her into oblivion.
I shouldn’t think these things, but my mind can’t help but wander to that place. I’m addicted, addicted to the sex, addicted to … her.
I’ve tried to deny it for so long, but it’s impossible when she’s so close to me. I can’t fucking fight it anymore, can’t fucking fight the hunger that wants to consume her whole.
But she’s not ready. She’s wounded, fragile, hurt. From everything before me and after me. Whatever she had built up as a defense, I kept destroying until nothing was left to save her from the pain of her past.
And for what? All because I was too fucking curious about what she was hiding because I needed to know the truth.
The truth that now stops me from doing whatever the fuck I want to her.
Because the more I learn, the more I want to protect her from bad influence.
Rowdy Boy (A High School Bully Romance): Black Mountain Academy Page 21