Devils' Day Party: A High School Bully Romance

by C. M. Stunich

  A scathing laugh escapes me, and Calix scowls.

  “Attention?” I ask, pushing purple hair back from my face. “I want you and your goons to leave me alone. I want to know why you hate me so much. I want to know why you told me you loved me and then broke my fucking heart. Grow some balls, Calix Knight, and step up.” He grits his teeth and something bold arcs through me, a devil summoned up on the darkest day of the year. Before I can stop myself, I step forward and throw my arms around his neck.

  You'd think I slapped him, the way he reacts.

  Calix jerks away from me, but I don't let him go. I force myself to my tiptoes and slam our mouths together in a rush of heat and hate and violence. There's so much pain in that kiss that I immediately draw back, my blood infected with the shadows of a dark faerie prince and his terrible tongue.

  But Calix doesn't let me go.

  He locks one hand on the back of my head, his fingers tight, digging into my scalp. His other arm encircles my waist, tugging our bodies together. He's hard beneath his academy slacks; I can feel the thick length of his shaft through his pants, straining for me, an undeniable piece of physical proof that he's attracted to me. His tongue slips between my lips as he slams my body back into the side of the train car, moving his hand from the back of my head to beneath my skirt.

  Those fingers of his, the ones I remember all too well, stroke across the wetness of my panties, teasing whimpers from me that are as undeniable as his erection. We want each other; we were good together. So why? He asked me that question, but he never bothered to answer mine.

  It doesn't matter.

  His fingers are playing my body like an instrument, and my life could use a little music. I let him do it, too, reaching a hand down to fumble with his slacks. Calix makes this dark, awful sound against my lips, trapped somewhere between loathing and lust as I free his cock and take the warm, velvety length of him into my palm.

  “You crashed into my car because you wanted this,” he growls as I tighten my fist around his shaft, squeezing him until he grits his teeth in pain. Calix pauses his stroking of my panties to snatch my wrist, forcing me to loosen my grip. “Say it.”

  His command is imperious, peccant in nature. It very nearly demands a laugh, but I can’t seem to get my lips to form anything but a moan as Calix returns his fingers to their sinful little dead, sweeping my panties aside to tease the slickness of my opening.

  Instead of responding to him, I lift my palm between us and spit into it, our eyes locked together in defiant sexual challenge. He’s demanding that I admit my need for him while adamantly denying that the same feeling dances behind his own shuttered gaze.

  Well, he can eat shit for all I care.

  I drop my hand back to the scalding heat of his shaft, pumping him with the slickness in my palm, using my thumb to trace around the head of his dick. Calix bites my lower lip, and he isn’t very nice about it, as wild and fae as any evil spirit that lives in this forest. I taste blood, but I don’t care, kissing him back with teeth and tongue, claiming him even as he tries to claim me.

  In these woods, on this day, we are both truly devils in our own right.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper, when I get a moment of breath. We're so close that his breath is my breath, like we exist only in relation to one another. The feeling I get when Calix draws back to look at me is exactly the same as the one I felt when I saw that car coming at me last night, headlights flashing around the curve of the road.

  Dangerous inevitability.

  There is no escaping this.

  There is no denying this.

  I hate Calix Knight more than I have ever loved anything else in my life.

  The intensity of our passion hits me as hard as that car, killing me in a completely different sort of way.

  “And don't use a condom,” I add, because as much as I wish I could wake up tomorrow and find a new day waiting for me, I know it won't be. Hopelessness floods me, but the hate I feel for Calix helps push it back, stirs up the empty void where my feelings should be, and lights me on fucking fire. If I’m going to live Devils’ Day on repeat, then I’m going to taste its debauch waters and revel in its sinful embrace.

  “Mm,” Calix murmurs, stroking his wet fingers down my cheek. I should stop him, but it’s so deliciously wrong, so ribald and feral and everything I ever wanted to be a part of, even when I knew I shouldn’t.

  He makes me want to be evil, even when I know I might regret it later.

  No, no, when I know I will.

  “Don’t ask me why,” I breathe, my body quivering with anticipation, my thumb teasing the bead of pre-cum on the head of his dick. “Just do it.”

  “Only if you admit that your reckless act this morning was for my benefit,” he purrs, snatching my wrists and slamming them against the train car above my head. His mouth is swollen from kissing, an aristocratic smirk resting on those delectably wicked lips. “Admit it, Karma,” Calix growls again, kissing down the side of my neck and infecting me with this savage, untamed energy.

  A pair of bats explodes into the darkening sky above the trees. We could be those bats, wild and free and careless. Hell, maybe they aren’t bats at all, just devils in disguise? I know Calix Knight is for sure.

  “I won’t admit to a damn thing,” I murmur back, my eyes closing in pleasure as he sucks on my neck like a vampire, biting my skin and leaving his mark. Claiming me. Possessing me. But even the most basic part of me can’t help but wonder why he wants me so badly in private, and yet rejects me so spectacularly in public.

  “Then you get nothing,” he snaps, his voice like the broken strands of a dew-covered spiderweb. Fragile for some, a deadly trap for others. I’ve just gotten caught in a loose thread, and my wings are bound. I couldn’t escape if I wanted to.

  “I did it because you’re an asshole,” I whisper back, closing my eyes for the briefest of moments. But there’s something in me, some dark, twisted part that feels the need to drink in his face, his cool expression that belies his true emotions, and the heat in his eyes that tells the real truth. I open my own eyes again and nearly gasp at the fire burning in Calix’s ebon gaze. “You have no right to do the things you do. No right.”

  “Yeah? What things, exactly, are you referring to?” Calix puts more pressure on my wrists, keeping me trapped as he drops his head, his breath warm against the shell of my ear. “How I fucked you? How I took your cunt, and your mouth, and your ass and made them mine for a night?”

  You could’ve made me yours a lot longer than that, I think, but I’d rather die than say those words aloud.

  “No.” Calix pulls back to look at me, drawn by the steel in my voice. “You had no right to lie to me, no right to lie to yourself and your friends. You have no right to treat me the way you do.”

  He grits his teeth, jaw clenching tight, and then he turns me around, pushing me up against the cold iron sides of the old train car, my palms pressed against the metal. My eyes close again as he grips my hip in one hand, using the other to shove my panties down to my thighs, trapping me in a lacy prison.

  “Interesting,” he says instead, projecting an outward sort of calm that doesn’t translate to his tight fingers or his quivering body. “And yet, you’re still here. You asked for my attention this morning with your little stunt. Well, your wish is my command.”

  Calix lines himself up with my opening and shoves himself in with one violent thrust.

  The first time we slept together—the only time—he was so careful with me. He was gentle, patient, observant. This is not the same, but I don't care. Not today. His cock fills me up completely, making me feel deliciously whole in a way I haven’t experienced for an entire year. One whole year apart, the sexual tension between us almost painful, both sweet and sour at the same time.

  I needed this.

  Even if he won’t remember it tomorrow.

  No, no, it’s probably better if he doesn’t.

  “Happy Devils' Day,” Calix whispers, fingers digging int
o my pelvis, my purple and white plaid Crescent Prep skirt bunched up around my hips. It’s a wanton scene, crude and filthy. Just fucking filthy. “It's obscene, really, the two of us fucking like this in our school uniforms, after we've barely said a handful of words to one another,” he continues, echoing my thoughts aloud, his voice strained with the tension of holding back.

  This is taboo for him, too, isn't it? If he's so damn scared about that sex tape being leaked, then why are we here together, doing this again? There must be something to it. There just has to be.

  Hate is an emotion that requires a lot of strength and energy to perpetuate, and Calix and I, we've been working at this for a long time. My eyes squeeze shut on fresh tears as I think about how much I fucking loathe him, how many times I've wished for him to break his leg, or fall on his face, or fail in some way, shape or form, just so he could understand a modicum of the suffering he's bestowed on me.

  And yet … the hot feel of his cock between my thighs makes my entire body tremble, arcs of pleasure clashing with my hatred, mixing into a storm. He makes lightning inside of me when he starts to move, slamming us together without preamble, just a tangling of two beasts, just simple biology.

  “You're the fucking worst,” I murmur on the end of a sob, my eyes still squeezed shut. Calix stops thrusting for the briefest of moments, his hands tightening on my hips. “You're so goddamn awful.”

  “Am I?” he echoes, starting to move again, pushing himself balls-deep into my heat as I struggle to hold back the sounds of my moaning. I can feel him everywhere, not just in my pussy. He’s taking over me, drowning out my logicality, playing my emotions like a trick. “Then why are you here? Why did you even come here?”

  I open my eyes, staring at the flat surface of the train car. When I try to turn around, Calix stops me with a hand on my shoulder, his own breathing labored, heavy, almost desperate.

  “I can't bear it if you look at me,” he says, his voice a harsh whisper. He starts to step back, like he's going to stop, like he's going to walk away and leave me here. My own hand comes down on top of one of his.

  “Don't stop.” The words are quiet but firm. “It doesn't matter if you're ashamed of me, or if you hate me, or if you're …” Or if you're lying. I wish you'd just tell me that you were. I wish we could drop all of this bullshit. “Keep going.”

  After a brief pause, the silence of the forest creeping in around us, Calix starts to move again. His cock slides deep into me, churning up that shame and that hate along with all that pleasure. It feels so good, and the fact that we shouldn't be doing it only makes it hotter, harder to stop. A guilty pleasure that won't matter come tomorrow.

  Surprisingly, he reaches around me to touch my clit, pressing his body along the back of mine, his breath stirring my hair against my neck. Calix's long, beautiful fingers find the swollen flesh with ease, using my own juices as lube for his games. Devil's fingers, that's what he has. They dance across my aching nub, making me gasp, my body tightening around his, holding him close. It's a greedy feeling, that pulsing tightness, keeping Calix locked in, attached to me.

  I shouldn't like that.

  But I do.

  My body rocks with the greedy motions of his, and my breasts ache, desperate for the touch of his awful hands. He’s not going to touch me there though. No, this is going to be short, dirty, and addictive. I’m going to come out of this wanting more, and he knows it, too.

  It's not until Calix kisses my neck that the climax unfurls inside of me, taking over every inch of my body, making my knees weak. He holds me up, thrusting in deep, finishing himself inside of me the way he did that very first night, spilling his seed with a long, low groan that makes my insides clench.

  Unlike that first night, there are no pretty lies tangling between us.

  We both know what this is, and why we're here.

  Calix and I stay where we are for several minutes, the forest whispering in snippets of bird song, running water, and rustling leaves. When he pulls out and I turn around, slumping back against the side of the train car, I see that he’s wearing his black leather devil mask. When he put it on, I have no idea, but there it is, hiding everything but those flint-like eyes of his.

  He's barely breathing, standing there like some sort of statue, a devil carved out of privilege and hate.

  “Wow. Just wow.” A familiar face comes from the shadows and a cold chill chases down my spine. My eyes flicker over to where Raz is standing, leaning his shoulder against a tree, his mouth twisted into an awful sneer. “I mean, I knew you were a Trailer Park slut, but I guess I underestimated you.”

  He pushes up off the tree, dirty blond hair ruffled and mussed, red eyes gleaming. He stalks toward me like he's angry about something. I've never understood how he could get so worked up over what I do with Calix. It's not any of his business if his friend and I want to use each other, now is it?

  “Screw you, Loveren,” I snap, and then just for good measure, I add it in French. “Va te faire foutre.” He storms toward me, teeth clenched, probably too stupid to even understand what I've just said. “Well, are you going to say something?” I ask Calix, but he just takes a step back and lets Raz grab me by the arm, jerking me around to face him.

  “Don't look at him like a savior. He fucking hates you. And yet you bent over for him like a good girl? I thought you couldn't get any lower and you managed to prove me wrong, Karma. I'm impressed.”

  “Get your goddamn hands off of me,” I snarl, jerking back from him. He doesn't let me go, fingers tightening on my upper arm, bruising me through the thin, muddied fabric of my shirt. Raz's eyes shimmer with malice, his tongue sliding across his lower lip as he summons beautiful venom to choke me with.

  “You came all the way out here to screw a guy who hates you. Who fucking played you. And now his hot cum is running down your thighs and you act like you've got a pedestal to stand on?”

  “What I don't understand is why you care!” I shout, wrenching back. He releases me and I end up stumbling, slipping in the mud and going down on my ass. In my already ruined uniform. With wet panties tangled around my legs. And yeah, with Calix's cum on my thighs.

  The prick in question just stands there in his black mask, his eyes unreadable, his posture rigid. He reaches up to adjust the crown on his head, lazily, lackadaisically, like he's bored out of his mind. It's all a goddamn act. And I hate him for it. I hate him. I fucking hate him.

  I hate Raz more.

  “Why do I care?” Raz asks, throwing his head back in a laugh. He takes a step forward and then leans down to look at me. “Why do I care? You're an infection at Crescent Prep. An anomaly. You walk around there with your weird friends and you flaunt everything about your life that's wrong, things that other people would hide. You pretend that you're strong, but in reality, you're nothing but a weak, pathetic whore.”

  My fist flies forward of its own accord and smashes Raz in the face, knocking his head back as I scramble to my feet, pull up my panties, and take off running. Blood smears my knuckles, but I don't pay it any attention, sprinting through the woods as if my life depends on it.

  Maybe it does?

  He's so angry. Why is he so fucking angry?

  I slip in the wet leaves, going down on my knees hard enough to bruise. Just like the first day. Unlike the first day, Raz doesn't follow me. Instead, when I turn around, all I see are the quiet faces of the trees, watching me silently, judging me. I push up to my feet, brush off my skirt and try to recollect my dignity.

  But I'm pretty sure I lost it somewhere near Calix's feet.

  Fool me once, shame on you.

  Fool me twice … shame on me.

  It takes me almost two hours to circumvent the party site and walk back to the road. Luke left to take April home, so they could get ready for the party. She left me her phone because she's a goddamn angel like that.

  “Fuck.” I sit down on the side of the road, putting my head in my hand and trying to decide if I should call April so the
two of them can come and pick me up. Instead, I dial Mama Cathy.

  “Luke, I was just planning on calling you,” she says, her voice weak and muddled with tears. She was crying over me? I think, imagining my parents watching the video of me and Calix. Hating him. Questioning me. Wondering if they'd royally fucked up somewhere, to have such a weak girl for a child instead of the strong woman they'd hoped for.

  “Actually, it's me,” I say, and Cathy pauses, her sharp inhale of breath making my chest hurt. “I know you've seen the video. I'll talk about it all you want, but … can you please pick me up?”

  I tell her where to find me and hang up before she can start asking questions I'm not ready to answer.

  When Cathy finally pulls up and sees my disheveled state, her eyes widen, and she starts to cry again. I climb into the shitty green Taurus, the one I rocketed off the edge of a cliff in, and lie down in the back seat.

  “Baby, are you okay?” she asks me, and my heart aches and throbs with the need to tell her the truth, to spill all my secrets and demand to know why boys are so mean. Why they pick and poke and needle away until there’s nothing left. “That video … did he hurt you?”

  “Only in my heart,” I whisper, because that’s the only truth I’m willing to admit to aloud right now. When I close my eyes, I can still feel Calix’s lips on my neck, his hands on my hips. Shifting, I feel the wetness between my thighs, undeniable proof that we were together. There’s only one way to wipe this slate clean.

  “I love you, Karma, you know that, right?” Cathy tells me, looking in the rearview mirror. But I’m just tired. So fucking tired.

  Raz. What the hell is wrong with Raz?

  “I love you, too,” I reply, closing my eyes against the pain I feel, painted across my heart like a mural I can never scrub clean.