Lost Boys: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Crazy Vicious Love Book 1)

by Eva Ashwood

  But maybe this was the moment when the other shoe was going to drop.

  After all, no one went to an abandoned warehouse to do good things, did they?

  Growing trepidation filled my gut as I made my way out to the convertible after school, bag slung over my shoulder. The boys were already by the car, chatting as I came up to them. Misael looked over as I approached, and he grinned.

  “Hey, there she is.”

  “Bishop said we were going to… a warehouse?”

  Misael nodded. “Old canning factory that we hit up on the weekends sometimes. Cops don’t roll around there, and they don’t bother us. Good place to start the weekend off right.”

  “Is anyone else going…?”

  Kace snorted. “Wouldn’t be fun if just anyone was there. Call it an exclusive perk of being close to us.”

  My brow rose, but I said nothing to that. Kace barely ever talked to me, and every time he did, I felt an insane urge to agree with whatever he’d said. As if his words had so much power and force behind them that he could literally bend reality to his will. The Lost Boys all frightened and attracted me in different ways—Bishop was secretive and unpredictable, Misael was dangerously charming, and Kace was quiet and closed-off, a puzzle I shouldn’t want to solve.

  His use of the word “close” felt like an overstatement, but I supposed when it came down to it, our arrangement did make me close to them. Closer than I’d ever meant to get, that was for sure.

  “Okay then.” I shrugged. “Let’s go.”

  I slid into the car, taking what was becoming my usual spot in the passenger seat beside Bishop, and we were off.

  If things were like they used to be, I would’ve texted Mom to let her know where I was going, that I wasn’t coming straight home after school. But these days, she spent so much time holed up in her bedroom, buried under layers of blankets, or curled up on the couch asleep that I doubted she’d see the text before I was home anyway.

  Honestly, I wasn’t sure she’d care even if she did see it.

  Figuring I should at least tell her something, I shot her a quick, vague text on the cheap little phone I’d gotten before we moved into the rental house, telling her I was going out with a few friends and would be back home later. It was as close to the truth as I felt like I could get.

  And as we passed residential roads and drove into the industrial part of the city, I couldn’t help but feel like I was getting myself into something… weird. Wrong side of the tracks was an understatement as the pavement became more and more potholed and the level of graffiti art on brick walled buildings elevated. I bit my lip as the wind blew in my hair and the music blared from the convertible’s speakers—loud, but not loud enough to drown out Misael singing to it.

  The warehouse Bishop brought us to was still standing despite the fact that it’d obviously been abandoned for years. Tall, dirty windows were broken, and portions of some of the walls were crumbling. Most of it was still intact though, and like the guys had said, there wasn’t anyone around. No cops patrolled the area, and no one cared that a band of underage kids were running around a place they probably shouldn’t be. On one hand, it meant that I could avoid the possibility of having to deal with police—something I’d been a little worried about, considering my dad was still in jail. Another family member in lockup would probably kill Mom, even if it was just for a day.

  But on the other, having no cops in the area meant that once again, the Lost Boys were the ultimate authority. They made their own laws, and around here, those laws would be unbreakable.

  Bishop pulled us close up to a broad steel door, and I peered out the window at it, surprised it was still in halfway decent condition. Rust gathered at the hinges, but otherwise, it looked sturdy.

  He killed the gas and looked at me. “Help us unload.”

  I blinked. It was the first time a request from Bishop had actually sounded like a request. But that didn’t make me any more anxious to comply.

  Unload? Unload what?

  I got out of the car nonetheless, walking around to the back with the others. Kace had the trunk popped, and my mouth dropped.

  There was a whole cooler in the trunk, a few bags of chips and snacks, and then a smaller cooler. Kace reached in, grabbing the bags and handing them over to me. He grabbed the larger cooler, and Misael grabbed the smaller, as well as a boombox that I realized was tucked deeper into the back of the trunk.

  Not knowing what all this was about, I just took what was given to me and headed over to meet Bishop near the front of the building. He was unlocking the deadbolt on the steel door, and when the lock clicked, he nudged the door open with his foot. He held it open for me, gesturing me through before him. When I stepped inside, my footsteps slowed, and he nudged my back to keep me moving.

  Inside the empty warehouse, there were a couple of old couches, worn down and used, but kept up in decent condition. A large table sat off to the side, with a smaller coffee table between the couches and a couple of bean bag chairs too. It was obvious this was a frequent haunt; while the place overall was run down, this was kept up too much to not be a place where the Lost Boys spent a lot of their time.

  This was… well, it was different.

  I was used to country clubs, golf courses, warmed pools and soft instrumental music. I was used to pool boys with toned bodies taking “summer jobs” to make it seem like they were learning how to work, and the girls that went to the clubs with their mothers flirting when their fathers weren’t looking.

  I wasn’t used to this, the concrete floor beneath my heels echoing with each of my steps, the raucous laughter that came from behind as Misael and Kace trailed in after us. I wasn’t used to walking over debris and leaves and smudges of dirt, and I certainly wasn’t used to the way Misael just flopped down on one of the couches as if it were perfectly natural to sit on furniture of such questionable origin. As I gaped around me, Bishop popped open one of the coolers, pulling out a beer and handing it over to Kace.

  Out of my element? You could say that.

  I didn’t even think my element was recognizable in this situation, and I had no idea why they’d brought me here, why they wanted me here, in what was obviously a sort of haven for them. I set the bags of snacks down on the table and stood there awkwardly as Bishop and Kace pulled things out and Misael put on music.

  They all moved with purpose, talking and joking as they settled in, as if this all made perfect sense to them. But I couldn’t figure out what the point of all this was.

  “Um… so… what are we doing here?” The words came out low, only gaining volume as I spoke. Misael looked over to me.

  “We come here to chill,” he said simply. “You never chill before?”

  “Not… like this,” I admitted. “Not exactly.”

  “Well, we ain’t got nothing to do tonight.” Misael shrugged. “Not till later at least. We come here and hang out. Nice setup, eh?”

  “Sure…”

  “You don’t have to lie if it’s not nice enough for you, Princess,” Kace grunted.

  I looked over at him, surprised that he’d spoken to me again. Twice in one day was a lot for him. It felt sometimes like he went out of his way not to speak to me at all. Out of the three of them, he always felt the most hostile—more so than Bishop even. He didn’t actually do or say anything threatening, but there was something about his heavy silence that made the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

  “It’s not a lie,” I said, straightening my spine. A thrill of nerves ran through me as I lifted my chin, standing up to Kace. It felt a little like passing my hand through fire and hoping I didn’t get burned. “It’s just… listen. You can’t just expect me to get it, and get this, to get you guys, just because you tell me what to do and bring me random places.” I folded my arms. “It’s a nice set up for what it is. I just don’t… get it. Why out here? Why not somewhere else? You know, one of your places or a park or something.”

  The three of them exchanged a l
ook, then burst out laughing.

  “Wow, Princess. A park or something? What are we? Five? You wanna ride the merry-go-round?”

  I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “You know what I mean. I just… don’t know what people here do for fun. That’s all.”

  “It’s alright. You can say you’re out of the loop because we don’t have fancy cocktail parties or whatever,” Misael laughed.

  “Maybe she thought we should hang out on a yacht,” Kace put in blandly, the intensity of his light moss-green eyes belying the casual tone of his words.

  I shook my head. No answer I gave would have been good enough for them—they all still thought I was nothing but a spoiled rich brat, and everything I said seemed to convince them they were right.

  But, whatever. I was here, as they’d requested. Now it was just a matter of figuring out what they’d brought me for, and why they thought it was necessary.

  “Fuck. You really do look like a little lost lamb.”

  Bishop came up and stood beside me, nudging me with his shoulder. He held out a bottle of opened beer to me, beads of sweat already gathering on the dark glass. I eyed it. Aside from a glass of champagne or wine at a gathering or event, I didn’t really drink. Even at my parents’ massive parties, the one thing that’d always kept things tame was the fact that personal image was everything—and ending up sloppily drunk did nothing for someone’s image.

  “Come on, Princess.” Kace spoke up again. “There’s no one here to go back and tell Daddy his little girl wasn’t behaving herself.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking so much because he was comfortable in this place, this little hideaway, or because he just really wanted me to loosen up. But whatever the reason, I found that I liked it. His gruff voice was equal parts scary and soothing, but something in me wanted to keep him talking, to hear more of what he had to say. To break open the facade and see what the boy beneath was really like.

  Bishop tilted his head toward his friend in silent agreement, keeping the bottle held out to me.

  I was apprehensive. But I was also curious. The two feelings clashed inside me just as strongly as I always seemed to with these boys. Right now, my carefully controlled upbringing was telling me that ladies shouldn’t drink beer out of bottles in warehouses with strange boys they hardly knew.

  But that wasn’t the world I was living in anymore. That life was no longer mine. This new version of Cora did go to warehouses with strange boys, and no one cared enough to stop her.

  So why shouldn’t she try a drink? Why shouldn’t she live while she still could?

  “Come on.” Bishop’s voice dropped, the low tone dripping down my spine like honey. “Loosen up. That’s why we’re here, anyway.”

  I eyed him curiously. “Excuse me?”

  “Uh uh.” He shook his head, lifting the bottle a little higher. “You drink, we answer. That’s the deal.”

  I gave a skeptical scoff; deals with the Lost Boys seemed to end with them coming out on top more often than not. Still, I took the beer from him, and after eyeing the bottle for another moment, I tipped it back.

  Bottoms up.

  Fourteen

  The taste was… different. Potent at the front end, sharp at the back. Swallowing burned, but I’d be damned if I was going to spit it out. I took the swallow and gasped a bit as I pulled the beer bottle away from my lips. My body felt warm. A weird tingle went down to the tips of my fingers.

  “Took that like a champ.” Misael whistled, lifting his own bottle in a sort of mock salute.

  I flushed. “Deal’s a deal,” I said, looking up to Bishop. “Why am I here?”

  “Because you agreed to it,” he answered with a shrug.

  That son of a…

  I huffed.

  “Okay. Better question. Why did you stop that guy the other day? Logan?” I asked, more boldly than I probably should have. “I’m still not really sure I get it, even if you guys say that I’m… yours. I know you hate me because of my dad, but then why wouldn’t you want to see the whole school go after me? Wouldn’t that be more satisfying?”

  It was a dangerous question to ask—if they realized I was right, they could go back on our deal and let everyone at Slateview have at me. I doubted I’d last a week. But the question had been poking at my brain ever since they’d made their offer, and I felt like I needed to know.

  I needed to know what they expected. What they wanted from me.

  What they had planned for me.

  The three boys exchanged a look, seeming to communicate without speaking.

  “No. It wouldn’t be,” Bishop answered after a moment. “No one else at that school gets to have you. Not Logan, not any other motherfucker. Like we keep telling you, Princess. You’re ours.”

  My thoughts instantly flashed to the other night. To how I was very much not theirs, and more like Bishop’s. Did the other boys know what he’d done? Did they know that he’d broken into my room at all, much less what had happened after he crawled through the window?

  Taking another swig from my bottle of beer, I crossed over and settled onto the couch. Then I looked him in the eye, my gaze almost challenging.

  “I can’t possibly ‘belong’ to all of you. There are three of you and one of me. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It only makes sense if you’re not creative.” There was something different in Kace’s voice when he spoke, and the sound of it made my heart beat a little faster. “Come on, Princess. Think about it. I know all that high-priced schooling wasn’t wasted on you.”

  I swallowed, glancing between the three of them as I processed his words. Before I could come up with a response, Bishop spoke again.

  “You think I’m the only one with a claim on you? You think what happened between us the other night made you mine?”

  My head whipped up to meet his gaze so fast I almost made myself dizzy. Furtively, I cast a glance out of the corner of my eye at the other two boys, trying to see if shock or surprise registered on their faces. But they were both watching me calmly, Misael with a wicked grin curving his lips and Kace with his usual inscrutable expression.

  They knew.

  They’d probably known since the day after it happened.

  And what Bishop had just said…

  When they’d told me that I was theirs, I’d never been entirely sure what that meant. To what extent they intended to claim me. That night with Bishop—no matter how short-lived it had been—had made me believe that, at least in the physical sense, he was the only one interested.

  But I’d been wrong.

  These boys were close like brothers. Closer than that even. And they didn’t just share beers, rides to school, and years of history with each other.

  They shared girls.

  Or at least, they were willing to share me.

  I caught Misael’s gaze again as the realization hit me fully. Heat flooded my body, pooling low in my stomach, even as nerves made my skin chill. I was in so far over my head it wasn’t even funny—I was miles below the surface, and with the way my lungs were suddenly burning, I wasn’t sure I’d ever make it up for air.

  The blush that crept up my face must’ve been bright red, because it felt like my cheeks were on fire. Misael smirked, catching my gaze and holding it. There was heat and something like possessiveness in his gaze, and I was torn between conflicting impulses to lean toward him on the couch and to run for my life.

  I had agreed to their bargain, but I didn’t—shouldn’t—want this.

  It shouldn’t make my nipples peak, and it shouldn’t make my breath stutter like this.

  Breathe, Cora. Just breathe. Nothing’s even happened yet. Maybe it won’t ever.

  The only one who had made any kind of move was Bishop, and even that had seemed to be almost against his will. The other two boys touched me like they owned me, but never in that way yet.

  Did I want them to?

  Could I handle it if they did? If all of them did?

  “That clea
r enough for you, Princess?” Bishop asked, tilting his head as he watched me carefully. His tone suggested he was actually asking for once, that the question wasn’t rhetorical.

  “Yeah.” I swallowed, ripping my gaze away from Misael’s dark, hypnotic eyes. “Yeah, I get it.”

  Eye contact broken, I left the conversation at that, my heart still thudding hard in my chest.

  I was a virgin, but I wasn’t entirely inexperienced. I’d heard plenty of stories from the girls at Highland Park Prep who’d done a lot more than me, so it wasn’t like I was some blushing wallflower. But I also wasn’t sure I was ready to prod at the details of what happened when a girl was shared between three boys—and I definitely wasn’t ready to examine why the thought of it made my clit throb, made my core clench with some nameless need.

  We didn’t speak any more about the idea of sharing.

  Instead, we shared more beers.

  Even though I was still freaking out on the inside, it felt like our little discussion had broken the ice between us in a way. Now that I knew exactly what our bargain entailed, it was actually easier to relax around them—possibly because I didn’t have to second-guess what might be coming anymore. I knew.

  But for the first time since losing the house, since coming to the “wrong side of the tracks”, since meeting the Lost Boys and getting pulled into their strange, dark, questionable arrangement, I allowed myself to have fun.

  Misael cranked up the music after deciding that we were all being too serious for his liking. I drank one beer, then another—that seemed to be the threshold of letting myself relax and let loose.

  Bishop and Kace were easily the more reserved of the three boys, although in different ways and for different reasons. So it was Misael that finally hopped up from the couch, pulling me up and tugging me into his arms, getting my body to move to the music that played.