Rebel: Enemies to Lovers Bully Romance

by Savannah Rose

  “The you who just defended me? That you? That’s the you I shouldn’t help?” she asks.

  “What do I have to do to get rid of you?”

  Before she can respond, I see a sudden movement coming towards us and I turn in time to stop Sam’s fist from hitting her face.

  I’m sure it was meant for me, but he’s probably seeing two of everything at this point. I twist his fist in mine and he yelps as he falls to his knees, trying to stop me from breaking his arm.

  “Are we done?” I growl down at him and he rolls his eyes, so I twist his arm even further. “I said… are… we… done?” He reluctantly nods and I twist his arm again, forcing him to be a little more enthusiastic with his agreement. “Good.”

  Janey steps over to me and pries my hand away from his. Oh, when the saint goes marching in. Really Janey, he could have broken your jaw.

  I roll my eyes at her, but she floors me by slapping Sam hard across the face. Everyone in the room is shocked. I chuckle at the look on Sam’s face as he registers what just happened.

  “Don’t you ever call me a slut again. Do you understand me?”

  I have never seen this much fire in her eyes. I can’t seem to stop laughing as Sam clutches his cheek.

  I seem to be the only one who finds this funny. Nobody seems impressed by this random outburst. Of everyone in the room, however, the least impressed person is standing at the door to the auditorium.

  “You three. My office. Now!”

  Samantha Jordan has got to have the worse timing in hell.

  19

  Kace

  There seems to be no air in her office as Mrs. Jordan paces the floor across from us.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” she says and I know that comment is more directed at Sam and Janey than it is at me.

  “How about you just don’t and send us on our way?” I mutter and Janey glares at me from her chair. I can tell she’s never been summoned to the principal’s office for anything like this before and she looks about as terrified as I would expect her to.

  “Shut up Kace,” she mouths, and I ignore her.

  “Miss Bradshaw, I don’t know where to begin. I am appalled to see you in here. I would never have expected you, of all people, to be involved in something like this.”

  Janey cringes and I wish she could bring back that fire I saw in her in the auditorium just moments ago.

  “Sam called this beat down on himself,” I sneer, slouching down in my chair.

  “I’m sure that you would think so,” Mrs. Jordan scoffs at me.

  “He called me a cheap slut,” Janey speaks up, “and he tried to hit me.”

  “Shut up, Janey. You know that’s not what happened,” Sam growls and Janey folds her arms over her chest.

  “You’re saying you didn’t call me a slut?” she growls.

  Sam doesn’t respond.

  “You’re saying Kace here didn’t stop your fist from connecting with my face?”

  “I wasn’t trying to hit you,” he retorts.

  “But you were trying to hit Kace?”

  “He hit me first.”

  “That’s not how I remember it.”

  “Okay, enough of this.” Mrs. Jordan sighs before taking a seat.

  “I’m going to need some time to decide what to do with you three. Honestly, I’m at my wits end with you, Kace, and I can only imagine that your out of character behavior, Miss Bradshaw, is as a result of you spending time with him.”

  “Excuse me?” Janey asks, genuinely surprised. “Did you hear what I said Sam called me? That has nothing to do with Kace.”

  “And all of this attitude, young lady, is very unbecoming of a student poised for valedictorian.”

  Janey looks like she’s swallowed a frog as her face puffs out and flames red. I can tell she is fighting to hold back her response. I lean forward and silently will her to take a page out of my book and say screw it. Tell Samantha how you really feel. Burn the walls down.

  “Do you know how this will affect your record?”

  Janey stands to her feet then sits down again.

  Go on Janey, say it. I cross my legs at my ankles and stare at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “Do you have something to say?” Mrs. Jordan asks, and Janey stands again, staring at me for a moment before turning to face Sam and then Mrs. Jordan.

  “What’s the difference between them?” she asks and I’m disappointed that the words “Fuck you” don’t seem to be in her vocabulary.

  “Excuse me?” Mrs. Jordan says.

  “Since we’ve been in here, you’ve lambasted me, you’ve criticized Kace, but somehow, even though we’ve both told you that Sam started this mess with his obscene and offensive language and his attempt to hit me-”

  “I wasn’t trying to-”

  “Shut up Sam,” Janey cuts him off in a huff and I’m leaning forward again. This may actually still get good. “Your fist was inches away from my face before Kace stopped you. I don’t care if you meant to hit me and with the greatest respect, Mrs. Jordan, neither should you. Sam is as bad, if not worse, than Kace in this situation, so why is it that your focus is on Kace and why are you somehow liking my natural urge to defend my own honor with his ‘undue influence’?” She makes air quotes- the most kickass air quotes I’ve ever seen, if I may say so myself. I’m almost proud of little miss Janey Bradshaw.

  Her language could be a bit more colorful, though. I mean seriously, who chews someone out using the word respect in the mix? But damn, Janey Bradshaw, way to stick it to the man and the madam!

  “Valedictorian candidate or not, Mrs. Jordan, nobody… and I mean nobody calls me a slut.”

  Yeah, it’s definitely the word.

  “I see,” Mrs. Jordan finally says after a brief pause and I turn my attention to her, curious to see how she’ll handle this. I know I’d already be marching out with detention slips up my ass and a possible suspension, but something tells me that’s not what’s about to happen here.

  “Mr. Williams, is there anything you’d like to add before I make my decision?”

  Sam shakes his head and I know he doesn’t care one way or the other what she has to say. His mother makes great contributions to the school annually, so his record is off-limits. Of course, Samantha here would never admit to that, but we all know how the wheel turns.

  Janey is still standing, and Mrs. Jordan’s eyes seem fixed on her.

  “How has the tutoring sessions been going?” she asks, and Janey shakes her head in response.

  “He hasn’t agreed.”

  Samantha nods and I hate that she seems to think I’m a foregone conclusion. After a few more moments of very awkward silence, she decides to let us go.

  “Because you two are first time offenders and because you say Kace was actually trying to help you, I will let you off with a warning.”

  A warning?!

  I almost broke this bitch’s arm and possibly fractured his nose and she’s letting me off with a bloody warning? I need to have Janey present at all my Samantha sessions.

  Janey nods and turns to leave and Sam exits right behind her.

  “Kace, just a moment.”

  Of course. Here it is.

  Mrs. Jackson watches the other two leave before she completely fixes her gaze on me.

  “I don’t know why, but Janey Bradshaw has decided to fight for you,” Mrs. Jackson starts. “It’s apparently become more literal than I could have ever imagined. Please don’t let it be in vain. She wants to help you and I honestly do believe that she can. At least to some degree. So let her.”

  “Is that all?” I ask, and she nods.

  I shouldn’t be surprised to see Janey lurking in the hallway when I exit the office. Nothing about her should surprise me anymore, but here she is, and I can’t seem to figure out why.

  “That was quite the performance.” I nod at her and she pouts.

  “Are you happy with yourself?” she asks in a tone that I can’t appreciate.

&n
bsp; “I didn’t ask for your help, Bradshaw.”

  “Oh. I know. You can be bad all by yourself, right?” She sounds exhausted, which makes me feel a little bad.

  “I tried to warn you. This is what happens when-”

  “Are you hurt?” she cuts me off and I’m again left free-falling.

  “What?”

  “Your knuckles look raw.”

  I glance down at my hands for the first time and flex my fingers. I try to hide the grimace on my face as I do so.

  Janey sighs. “Come. There’s a first aid kit in the bookroom.”

  “I don’t need you to patch me up, Janey.”

  “I know. You don’t need me. You don’t need anybody. I get it.”

  Hallelujah.

  “Consider it a thank you.”

  “For what?”

  She blushes and we’re back to bashful Janey. I don’t know which one is more irritating.

  “Defending me,” she finally says. “It was very nice of you.” I snort at her compliment and she points down the hall with a questioning look on her brow before turning to walk away with me behind her.

  20

  Kace

  I don’t think I’ve been to the bookroom all year. It looks the same as it always has. Tidy. Unused. Unnecessary.

  I watch as Janey retrieves the first aid kit from the cupboard and comes back with a dry-ice pack and hands it to me.

  “Why are you so selective with your shyness?” I ask, looking up at her as I take a seat and watch her arrange the items in the first aid kit.

  “What?” she asks, sounding a bit surprised by my observation as she starts unrolling a bandage.

  “You say I’m putting on a show and that I’m faking my hostility, right? Why are you faking your shyness? Why are you faking your whole life?”

  She gasps at me with a confused look on her face and I know that I’ve hit a pressure point. “What makes you think I’m faking anything?”

  “For one, we both know you can speak much louder than that.” I point out and she shrugs. “And the way you hit Sam tonight,” I chuckle at the memory. “I’m not complaining. It was hilarious to watch, but I want to wager that it’s not as out of character for you to get as pissed off as you were today.”

  She ignores me and picks up the ice pack off my hand before rubbing Neosporin on my knuckles. There’s a slight sting but I keep my eyes fixed on her and I can tell she’s going through the motions just by the various changes in her face.

  I easily capture her hand in mine and squeeze it. “Ouch,” she yelps, and I relieve the pressure without letting go.

  “What’s your deal, Janey Bradshaw?” I ask again and she sighs.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about Kace.”

  She’s such an open book. She must know that.

  “I call bullshit.”

  She sighs and fidgets, but I don’t let her go.

  “You choose to be loud and boisterous. I choose not to be.”

  “That’s not an answer. I know you choose to be that way. I’m asking you why.”

  She tries to free her hand, but my palm engulfs her slender fingers with ease. “You can’t help someone if you’re not willing to be honest with them,” I throw out and she looks up at me with hope in her eyes, but just as quickly as it flashes to the surface is as quickly as it fades away.

  “Except you’re not going to let me help you, are you?”

  “I might.”

  “I doubt it, and to be honest, it’s wearing on me every day to keep putting up with your insults.”

  I shrug. “And yet you’ve never hit me. You’ve never even tried to, and as you so bravely informed me earlier, you’re not afraid of me.”

  “You’ve never called me a slut.” There it is again. A darkness in her eyes that subtly radiates from her before she pulls the wool back over them and resumes being the muted version of herself.

  “No, I haven’t,” I nod, keeping my eyes trained on hers. “I’ve called you many other things, though. So what’s the big deal?”

  Her jaw flexes and she looks away from me, but I gently squeeze her hand again. I’m curious to know what kind of hidden monster she has that is triggered by just that one word. When she purses her lips and goes quiet, I release her hand and lean back in the chair, folding my arms across my chest.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” I offer, and she peeks up at me. “If you tell me, I’ll consider the sessions.”

  It’s a complete lie, but I’m hoping she’ll buy it.

  “I know you’re lying, Kace.” She rolls her eyes at me and I nod.

  “Fair enough.” Okay, so Janey Bradshaw isn’t an idiot. I mean, I already knew that much, but still.

  She extends her hand in a silent request for mine and I reluctantly reach out to her, allowing her to take it. Her ponytail falls around to the front and I find myself idly wondering things that I should never wonder about Janey Bradshaw. Before I know it, I’m reaching up to capture a handful of her hair between my fingers. She tenses for a moment, before sucking in the kind of deep breath that seems difficult to inhale.

  “Did you think I was going to hit you?” I ask and she doesn’t respond, but her eyes do.

  “You said you weren’t afraid of me, Janey girl.”

  “I’m not. Just a little startled from this whole ordeal with Sam.”

  “Good, because I don’t make a habit of hitting women,” I inform her, releasing her hair and sitting back into the chair.

  “Just guys then?” she asks, and I nod.

  “The ones who deserve it.”

  “I see,” she mumbles, wrapping the final bit of gauze around my hand securely before letting it go.

  “Hey,” I call out to her softly and she glances up at me with a sigh. “Tell me. I’m curious to know where you’ve been hiding the Janey I saw today. She seems like a total badass. Slightly less annoying.”

  She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she senses I mean no harm in this moment.

  “If I tell you, then we have to do one session. Deal?”

  “What?”

  Is she bargaining with me? How good could this story possibly be?

  How bad can one session really be?

  “I get to decide when,” I inform her, and she nods.“Fine. One session in exchange for what has to be a good story. If it’s lame then we have no deal.”

  I’ll call it lame either way, but I don’t have to tell her that.

  “No,” she says, “I tell you and you do the session. Period.”

  “I don’t appreciate being backed into a corner,” I inform her, fighting the smile that wants to stretch my lips thin.

  Janey crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her gaze at me. “I’m not backing you into a corner. I’m giving you a choice,” she says simply, neatly repacking the first-aid kit before crossing the room to stow it away.

  “Fine. A trade. One confession at the expense of a session.” I shrug and she tries and fails to hide the smile that slowly starts to light up her face.

  “Okay. But the session has to be this month. I don’t want you dragging this out beyond graduation.” She looks at me, suddenly very serious and I roll my eyes at her again. She’s smarter than she looks, this one.

  “I suppose I should be comforted to know I’ll be in such clever hands.”

  She extends a hand and I look down at it. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

  “Shake on it,” she insists. “I consider you a gentleman. So...shake.”

  I burst out laughing. She can’t actually be serious. “That’s probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

  She goes a little red, and starts to withdraw her hand, but I reach out and shake it before letting it fall. This had better be one heck of a story.

  “I’ve been bullied my whole life,” she starts, and I scoff.

  “Sure.”

  She shoots me an icy stare and I gesture for her to continue. There’s no questioning the fact that she’
s nervous. But what is worth questioning is how fucking attracted I am to this side of her. The tint on her cheeks, the way she nibbles at her lower lip, sinking her teeth in hard enough to draw blood. I should tell her to stop. I should walk away. But everything about her has my eyes glued to her every move she makes. She’s pacing the room now. Just for a moment. But then, she finally comes to a pause, fixing and re-fixing the pile of books on the table in front of her.

  “I’ve always had a hard time making friends,” she says and I’m about to roll my eyes at what clearly seems like a lie. The tone in her voice, however, carries so much hurt. So much pain. She shakes her head a little and forces a smile that falls before it’s even settled in place. “It wasn’t like…I dunno. I guess I was afraid to make friends, in a sense. You can’t lose something you’ve never had, can’t hurt someone who doesn’t exist to you…that kinda thing. It wasn’t until junior high that I finally decided it was okay to not be all by myself. My best, and pretty much only friend at the time…she was a year older than me and…she got pregnant.” Janey fidgets with the books again, keeping her gaze away from mine. Somehow, I already know where this story is going.

  “Her parents decided to pull her out of our school.” The table before her is the neatest I’ve ever seen but she goes to work destroying and reconstructing her piles again. “The things people said about her were horrible and when she left, for a while the things people said about me were worse.”

  “They slut-shamed her,” I chime in and she nods.

  “Somehow, my mother got word of it and being the warm and nurturing person that she is, she made my nightmare that much worse.”

  I look at the book in her hand and I think she’s going to rip the cover off with how tense she’s becoming.

  “I had only just discovered makeup and I started to play around with it, but somehow I became a Babylonian whore and the Rittenhouse slut destined to bring shame and disgrace on my family,” she says, the words struggling to get pass her gritted teeth.