Savage Rose: A High School Bully Romance (Rosehaven Academy Book 1)

by Leila James

  Max wiggles his brows at us. “Maybe he likes redheads and this is his awkward-as-hell way of getting to know you.”

  “Eh.” Daphne pulls a face. “Xander is anything but awkward. He’s smooth as hell. And he could literally have any girl he wants, so I don’t know if I buy that.”

  “True. I’m pretty sure at least half of the student population would drop panties for him.” He laughs. “Myself included.”

  I cover my mouth as a laugh bubbles out of me. “Maybe you should let him know. Divert attention from me or something.”

  “Ah, but you assume he’s not aware of my desires.” He gives me a sly wink and laughs.

  “Listen up, ladies and gentlemen,” Coach Lance barks. “We’re going to ease you into longer distances, but I truly hope you’ve been running over the summer to prepare yourselves for the season.”

  Murmurs of affirmation sound all around me. I look back at the coach and nod. I’ve been running, but I have no idea if what I’ve been doing is up to his standards. I’m a little nervous, to be honest—especially since I was handpicked for this team.

  “Your team captain, Kari, will lead you through stretches, and then I want all of you out on the trails for at least forty-five minutes. Run solo, in pairs, or in groups—whatever revs your engine, so long as you’re running at a good pace.”

  After we get warmed up, people break away, some together, others alone. I don’t know anyone on the team and no one says a word to me as we leave. So much for being nice to the new girl. Whatever. I’ll just go it alone today. I’m used to it. I tuck my earbuds into my ears and head out at a slow pace, following the trail before it splits and I have to choose which way to go. I head to the right, and it doesn’t take me long to discern that everyone else must have gone in the other direction. I’m sure it’s no big deal, so I push on, getting lost in the lush green scenery, my music, and my own thoughts.

  After a while, I realize I haven’t seen anyone in at least thirty minutes. Not that I really care, but I hope I don’t get freaking lost back here. I come to another V in the path and go left this time, lengthening my strides and pushing myself harder.

  A crack sounds behind me, loud enough to hear over the pounding beat of a new song by All Time Low. I yank one earbud out, wondering if there are animals out here that I should be wary of running into. I continue on, and it’s only a few minutes later that I get the unnerving feeling like someone is behind me, somewhere, following me.

  Maybe I’m wrong. It must be my imagination working overtime. I’ve had my earbuds in until now. There’s no one in front of me, but maybe someone came out behind me on this path.

  Trying to maintain my speed, I jerk my head around, glancing over my shoulder. Definite movement behind me. I face forward again and keep going. When the footsteps sound louder behind me, my heart thuds hard in my chest. I turn again and see … nothing.

  This is ridiculous. Maybe it was a squirrel or something. Right. Whatever I saw was too big to be a squirrel. I run hard, trying to ignore the sick feeling creeping over me that someone is playing with me. I hear the steps behind me again and whirl around, panting. I come to a full stop and wait right in the middle of the path with my hands resting on my hips and my eyes darting into the woods around me. Bring it, fucker.

  But there’s no one. The surrounding woods are quiet.

  I close my eyes and blow out a quick breath, then open them again and look around, straining to listen, but all I hear is the rustling of leaves moving in the breeze. Leaves and the chirping of birds and the bubbling of a stream in the distance—all the sounds of nature that one would normally find in the middle of the woods. You are freaking yourself out for nothing.

  Slowly, I turn and begin to run again. As the academy comes into sight, I push myself to run faster. Footfalls pound behind me again. Or is that my heart? Blood pumping hard? I’m afraid to find out I’m wrong and start to worry my mind is playing tricks on me. Frantically, I look over my shoulder again and see a flash of movement behind me.

  Fuck this. I open up into an all-out sprint, as if I were in a meet and trying to chase down the runner in first place. I pass the football field and track, the soccer field, and dorm in a blur. I race all the way inside the gym to the door that leads directly into the girls’ locker room, shove it open, and dart inside.

  My chest heaves as it closes behind me, and lean my butt against the door, my body bent in half as I try to calm the flood of adrenaline flowing through my system.

  Thump. The door behind me shudders as if someone slammed into it. I jump away, swallowing as I turn around to see whoever is about to follow me inside.

  I wait a good thirty seconds, but the door remains shut. I sigh with relief and am just turning to go get my things and shower when the door bursts open.

  Heart in my throat, I spin around. Aria and Alora. They are in the middle of conversation when they see me and stop in their tracks. “What’s wrong with you?” Aria wrinkles her nose in disgust.

  I shake myself. “What?”

  Alora frowns. “Your eyes look kind of … wild.”

  “Did you expect someone else?” Aria’s brow goes up. She rolls her eyes when I’m too flustered to respond immediately.

  “Sorry, I thought someone was behind me.”

  “Well, we were. We’re right here.” She gives me an obnoxious face that can only be read as Duh.

  I don’t bother to point out that there’s no way they were the ones chasing me through the woods.

  The last thing I need is for everyone to think I’m crazy.

  Chapter 12

  There is no repeat of yesterday’s race through the forest of fear at today’s practice. Not one to push my luck, I’d followed a whole group of runners out and stuck with them, even though they were moving at a slower pace than I usually go.

  Better safe than sorry. Better slow with a pack of runners than hunted on my own. Because that’s what it’d felt like yesterday—like someone was hunting me down, playing with me before they swoop in and attack.

  I don’t want to be a snitch, but … ugh. I stride up to Coach Lance once I get back from my run, not sure if I’ll say something to him about my experience yesterday.

  “Hey, Coach?”

  He looks up from a clipboard where he’d been making notes. “Good run today, Scarlett?”

  “Um, yeah. It was fine. I wanted to ask you—” My eyes flick up, catching motion in my peripheral vision.

  Off in the distance, the whole football team leisurely jogs in this direction, their practice over. Great.

  Coach Lance frowns and follows my gaze. “Don’t let them bother you. Just a bunch of little boys hiding inside big muscle suits and padding.”

  I clear my throat as they jog past. “No, of course not. They’re cool. I was just wondering if anyone else besides the cross-country team uses the trails for running—like during our practice times.”

  The burly players run past, coated in sweat, grimy dirt, and grass stains. They push and shove at each other as they go—typical all-American football-player behavior. As Xander approaches, flanked by his buddies, the sweat coating my skin from my run feels cold, and I shiver involuntarily. He catches my eye and lifts a brow toward Coach as he passes by as if to say, You sure you want to do that? At least, that’s how I read it—though, it could just be because I’m having second thoughts about saying anything. What good will it do me?

  “Certainly. Anyone could be out there from any team. They’re not exclusively ours, though we are the ones who are primarily out there. Is everything okay?”

  Awesome. Yeah, I can’t say anything else. I’m ninety-nine percent sure it was just someone being stupid, pulling a prank. Most likely Xander, but who the hell knows. He could probably command any number of his minions to run after me and they would. And based on how he was so easily able to convince Ms. Murphy that he was “helping” with my Precalculus work, I’m sure no one thinks he can do any wrong. What good would it do me to call attention to a
ny of this? It would cost me everything. Coach would contact the headmaster, who would contact Aunt Liz, and my ass will be yanked out of here so fast it’s not funny.

  This is Xander’s world. We’re all just living here with him.

  Fucking King of the Roses.

  Slowly, I nod. “Yeah, totally. I just wondered.”

  And the thing is, Xander’s probably got me all figured out. He’s not stupid. So here I am, an easy target for him—but why he’s bothering, I still have no idea.

  Inside the locker room, I dodge a few girls dressing at their lockers, and grab my toiletries. With a quick look at my phone, I see I’m already running a bit later than I’d intended, but I can’t go to work without a quick shower first.

  “Have a good run today, Scarlett?”

  I turn to find Aria standing behind me in her bra and panties, combing through her wet hair, her shrewd eyes narrowed on me. She’d be prettier if she’d quit scowling.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Your run.” She looks at me like I’m stupid and uses her fingers to mimic someone running. “That’s what you do, right? The whole reason why you’re at this school …”

  “Yeah, sorry. I’m a little distracted. I’m late for work.” I give her a tight smile. “I’ve got to—” I point back to the showers before I hurry away, leaving her to watch me go.

  I have no idea what that was all about. Imagine that, Queen Aria, deigning to speak to me? It actually gives me chills to wonder about her motivation.

  Most of the showers are already in use, but I manage to find an open stall at the very end of the hall. I set my shampoo, conditioner, and soap inside, and leave the towel on the hook right outside my stall. Across from the showers is a row of mirrors, though what good they do, I have no idea, as they are perpetually fogged from the nonstop steam. I quickly strip and leave my sweaty shorts, T-shirt, and undergarments in a neat pile on the counter. Reaching inside the stall, I turn on the water, and finding it already warm, I step inside.

  I’m in the middle of rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when the locker room becomes eerily silent. I guess I’m the last one in here. Damn my long hair. It’s such a pain to shampoo and condition, but there’s no chance I can get away without washing it after a long run.

  I close my eyes and let the hot water stream over my hair and down my body. There’s something mentally cleansing about water. I know that sounds weird, but I try to keep my thoughts about my current circumstances in check as I go about my day. For the most part, I shove all thoughts down deep—being parentless, being a burden to my aunt, being in a new school—that is, until the water hits my face, and then all bets are off. Hot, fat tears roll down my cheeks, and I angrily swipe them away. I don’t like to show signs of weakness; I’ve always been this way, though I wish it could be different. My heart may be in tatters thinking about moving on without my mother, but I’m strong and have to remain so if I’m going to get through this year. Especially now.

  A shuffling noise and then a weird, slow squeal has my eyes flying open, yanking me from my ruminations.

  I thought I’d been alone. My heart rate shoots through the roof as I realize someone is standing very still on the other side of my shower stall.

  “Wh—Who’s out there?” I hate that my voice sounds tremulous. My eyes widen. Someone is definitely right there. The glass is the pebbled kind that you can’t see through, but you can always tell when the shower is occupied. Damn this fancy school. Can’t they just have curtains on showers stalls like all the other schools?

  I can only make out a blur in human form and it’s scaring the bejesus out of me because whoever is out there seems like they are waiting for me like some creeper, trying their best to see into my shower. I glance down to make sure the stall is locked. I blow out a relieved breath when I notice that whoever it is can’t possibly get in here. “Hello? Who’s there?” The problem becoming increasingly clear is that if they can’t get in … I can’t get out. I have nowhere to go. I’m trapped.

  Another couple of strange squeals. My brow furrows in concentration as I try to figure out what the noise is. I reach forward and turn off the water to hear better. On one hand, if I open this door right now, I will come face-to-face with whoever my tormentor is. But on the other hand, I’m naked in here. Jesus. And almost completely defenseless.

  I raise my voice. “I can see you out there, you perv. Leave me the hell alone.”

  I hate to say it, but while my voice sounds fractionally steadier, the rest of my body starts to shake. After another couple of squeals, I have to remind myself to breathe, and when I finally do, my lungs go into overdrive. Am I about to have a panic attack? I cover my ears and sink down to a squatting position on the floor, my lower back pressed against the cold tiles of the shower wall.

  Please go away. Please. Just. Go. Away.

  Whoever is out there moves away from my shower, out of my field of vision, and I swear to God that’s almost scarier. What if they are just a few steps away when I open the shower door?

  It feels like an eternity passes while I strain to listen for any movement. I wipe my hand across the glass and peer out, but everything is distorted because of the pattern. Still, I don’t see even the hint of anyone and haven’t heard a single sound in several minutes, so I flip the lock and poke my head out of the stall.

  No one is here. I stand and turn to get my towel off the hook.

  No one is here. And neither is my towel.

  My eyes dart to the counter. Someone took my sweaty clothes.

  Then I see it, the source of the squealing noises. Holy. Shit. Whoever was out here had dragged their finger through the condensation on the mirror to leave me a note—or more like a warning.

  You don’t belong here.

  I freeze in place for a second, goose bumps rising on my bare flesh. The noise of laughter and talking from the main gym pushes me into action. I swipe my hand over the writing, too embarrassed to allow anyone else to see it.

  I don’t see any way around this. I’m going to have to go fetch myself another towel from the shelf in the main locker room. I ease my naked form down the hall of shower stalls and tiptoe through the locker room to retrieve another towel, wet hair streaming water down over me. I leave puddles everywhere I step. When I get to the shelves where clean towels are stored, I do a double take. Completely empty. How is that even possible?

  I’d left my bag on the bench in front of my locker, so I scramble over there, hoping to just toss my clothes on even though I’m wet. I’m so going to be late for work.

  A strangled noise startles me. I blink hard when I realize it’d come from me. My gym bag is empty with the exception of my running shoes and a T-shirt that is not even mine. I put an unsteady hand to my head. Poking around in my gym bag, then glancing into my locker, I quickly come to the conclusion that my backpack is mostly untouched, but in addition to my clothes, my fucking phone is missing. I blow out a breath and pull the T-shirt out, holding it up in front of me.

  There’s an image of a runner with Rosehaven Academy Cross-Country written underneath the logo—a team T-shirt. All of my other shit is gone, but at least I have something. I turn it around and flip it bottom up so I can pull it on while I figure out what to do about my missing work clothes. I put my arms in and am about to lift it over my head when it registers that there is also a slogan on the back. What. The. Hell? I start to shake. It reads, Run like your worst nightmare is chasing you.

  I swallow hard. I guess someone is working overtime to send me a message. Is this a special shirt just for me, or is this a clever team shirt? How much of a coincidence could this possibly be that I was chased through the woods yesterday and then this stupid T-shirt shows up today …?

  I can’t think about it right now, though, because I need to be at the ice cream shop in ten minutes and have no phone to call ahead and let Terry know I’m running late. Hastily, I put the offending shirt on, grateful that it at least covers my ass. I check down the hallway whe
re the female PE teachers keep their offices, but no one is there. My only choice is to peek out into the main gym area to see if anyone is still in the building. I push open the locker room door that leads out to the main gym, my body trembling as I look around.

  “Whoa, Red. Nice dress.”

  Pressing a hand over my heart, which has accelerated like I’m running even though I’m at a shocked standstill, I turn toward the deep voice.

  Xander, Beau, and Micah sit on the bleachers. All three of them stare, lips parted, eyes drifting over me, taking in the sight of my naked legs. I can only hope that all other parts of me are sufficiently covered. Don’t think about the fact that you are completely bare under this T-shirt. Don’t think about it. It feels like my goodies are on full display.

  I swallow past the knot in my throat. If these are the only people around who can help me, so be it. “Did you happen to see anyone come out of the locker room a few minutes ago?”

  Micah points at me, stating the obvious. “Um, did you forget to put on pants?”

  I snap. “I didn’t forget anything. Someone stole my towel, my clothes, and my phone.” My chest rises and falls dramatically. “Now, did you see anyone or didn’t you? Because the only item of clothing in my bag was this damn team T-shirt, and I’m late for work.” Tears prick the back of my eyes, and as much as I don’t want to show them that I’m upset, my lip wobbles.

  Beau’s hands go up and he shakes his head. “I just got done jerking it in the shower.” His lips tip into a sheepish smile. “Wasn’t me.”

  “Nasty, man. You know we all use those showers.” Micah does his best to feign disgust, but his shoulders shake with laughter.

  Xander’s been strangely quiet through their antics, but he hasn’t looked away from me once since I stepped foot out of the locker room. Silently, he reaches forward into his bag and pulls out a pair of athletic pants. He walks over to me, extending them in front of him. “Here. Put these on.”