Her Shame: A Dark Bully Romance (The Forgotten Elites Book 1)

by Eden Beck

  Oh god, what does she want?

  After my encounter with her brother, the last person I want to be dealing with right now is Bridget herself. But I know things will only get worse for me if I ignore her, so I pull on a sweater and head downstairs to the common area before I can try to talk myself out of it.

  Bridget is sitting in a chair by the window, but otherwise the space is empty. Thankfully. At least there won’t be an audience for whatever game she’s about to try to play.

  As I walk in, she flashes a big, artificial smile that only serves to make me even more suspicious.

  “Hey Aubrey, good to see you, where have you been hiding yourself recently?”

  “Nowhere, you see me in class all the time, you just never say anything,” I say, my voice blunt.

  She doesn’t so much as bat an eyelash.

  “Okay, fair enough, but you do hang out with those weirdos all the time. What are their names?”

  I stare at her deadpan, saying nothing.

  She just makes a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Whatever … they’re just not my speed. Plus, after you pissed off Warren, I don’t really feel like being caught in the middle of all that drama you know?”

  “It’s not exactly drama,” I finally snap back. “Your brother acted like a jerk and all I did was stand up for Alaska. Ever since then he’s been going out of his way to make me miserable, and making sure Chase and Sterling do too.”

  “Well, Chase is as thick as a tree trunk so no surprise there, he’ll follow whatever Warren’s lead is. I’m kind of surprised about Sterling though,” she tosses me a sly smile, “I thought there might be a little something going on there.”

  That catches me by surprise.

  “With me and Sterling? What? No, we have volunteer duty together and he barely talks to me,” I say, cringing inwardly at how pathetic I sound.

  I sound like I’m denying something. Am I denying something?

  Bridget studies me a moment.

  “All I know is that every time you’re around he can’t seem to notice anything … or anyone else. Am I wrong?” she presses.

  I mean … she’s not.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m not why he’s acting that way.”

  “So, what is it then?” Bridget snaps back. “Because it’s becoming a borderline obsession.”

  Obsession?

  Now she’s really caught me off guard. I find myself stammering to find a reply.

  “It’s nothing, he’s just fascinated by the reason I came to Ridgecrest. Think’s I’m hiding something,” I finally say—and immediately regret it.

  “Are you?”

  I answer too quickly. Too adamantly.

  “No, of course not!”

  That may have been a bit over the top, did she notice?

  She raises an eyebrow and a small smile tugs at her lips. “Look Aubrey, I know you may think I’m not on your side, but I really am. If you need some help dealing with these guys, I can help with that. You just need to be honest with me.”

  “There’s nothing to tell, I’m serious,” I press.

  “Oh, well then I guess he was wrong … which would be really strange,” Bridget says coyly.

  “Who was wrong? What are you talking about?” I ask. “Who was talking about me?”

  “Mr. Peters. Mentioned something in passing about why you came to Ridgecrest. Didn’t sound anything like getting caught with a little weed,” she says.

  The mere mention of his name and suddenly, the entire room feels like it’s crashing down around me. I take a step back, glancing around the room once more to make sure it’s still empty. When my eyes come back to land on Bridget, everything starts to fall into place.

  This, this is what she really called me for.

  I think I’m about to find out what Bridget is really made of.

  “You probably misinterpreted him,” I say, my palms starting to sweat. “What’s this about, Bridget?”

  I try to fix her with a look that I hope is intimidating, but I know from the way I can’t keep my hands from shaking at my side that it’s not very convincing.

  Especially after what she does next.

  “Maybe I misinterpreted him, would be easy to do, I guess. But then of course … when I found this file on his desk …” she reaches into her bag next to her chair and pulls out a manilla file folder. “It told a very fascinating story about a girl that just couldn’t keep her hands to herself.”

  My heart hits my stomach. On the tab of the folder is my name. Inside, my records.

  My sealed records.

  “How the hell did you get a hold of that?” I ask.

  “Doesn’t matter, point is, I know your little secret Aubrey,” Bridget says with a grin.

  I know your secret. Those are the words I’ve been fearing all semester.

  I can’t decide whether I want to cry, vomit, or faint. Thankfully, I do nothing of the sort. Not yet, anyway. Not in front of Bridget.

  That’s when it all hits me at once.

  “So … so it was you who sent me that text. And the pillows—that stupid lipstick message.”

  I stop and shake my head. Of course it was her. Who else would it be?

  I knew all along. Deep down, I knew.

  So rather than wait for her to answer me, I just do my best to compose my face and ask the most important question. “How?”

  Bridget lets out a little tinkle of a laugh that makes me want to punch her. “Oh please, you can thank Ms. Hopkins for that,” she says. “Those doors at the admin office are as thin as paper. I’ve known everything from day one. Everything.”

  I stare at her for a moment as the reality of what’s happening right now begins to sink in.

  “And why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I want you to understand I truly am on your side. I like you Aubrey, and I’d hate to see your reputation tank if people found out that you’ve been lying to everyone. No one likes girls who lie.”

  And just like that, my greatest fear is realized. I don’t do any of the things I thought I would earlier. I don’t cry. I don’t vomit. I don’t faint.

  I laugh.

  I laugh, and laugh, and laugh until even Bridget can’t compose her features.

  “Stop it!” she snaps, stamping her foot down. “What are you doing?”

  At long last, I’m able to compose myself. I reach up and wipe the tears of laughter from the outer corner of my eye. I sober at the sight of the glittering liquid at the tip of my finger as I lift my gaze to meet hers again.

  “So, what do you want?” I ask her. “Because you want something, right?”

  It’s clear that this was not the reaction she expected, because it takes her another moment to compose herself again.

  “I don’t really know yet, but I’ll think of something I’m sure,” she says, finally forcing another smile. “A favor here and there no doubt, and in exchange, no one ever has to find out about this, especially not my brother or the other boys.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to get involved in all this …” I say.

  “I dunno, maybe I’m just bored, maybe I want to stick it to my annoying brother, I’m really not quite sure. But this unique opportunity has presented itself to me for us to have a mutually beneficial relationship here at Ridgecrest, and I think that’s just too good of an opportunity to pass up,” Bridget says.

  Mutually beneficial my ass.

  “Lucky us,” I say sarcastically.

  Bridget sticks out her bottom lip and takes a step toward me, planting one patronizing hand on my shoulder.

  “Oh, don’t look so upset Aubrey, I swear I’m not going to make your life nearly as miserable as the boys have been or will if they find out about this. I just need someone to occasionally help me out, that’s all. Plus, you can hang with us. I’ll keep the guys at bay and you can enjoy some of the perks that come with our little group, like the beach trip I have planned coming up, which you are absolutely coming to.”

&nbs
p; That has to be the most threatening invitation I’ve ever gotten.

  “So, are we good?” Bridget asks, after a moment. She bats her long, mascaraed lashes at me as aggressively as if she was waving a knife in my face instead.

  “Yeah, I guess we are,” I say numbly, the reality of what’s going on finally starting to settle in.

  “Good. Well then, until I need you …”

  Bridget turns on her heel and flounces out, leaving me standing—alone and in shock. In the moments that follow, I swear I can hear the sound of myself slowly dying.

  I head back up the stairs to my room, my stomach churning and my head racing. Everything has spiraled out of control so fast, and I have no idea what this new twist will bring.

  No, that’s a lie.

  I might not know exactly what it will bring, but I do know one thing.

  Whatever it is, it’s going to be trouble.

  Chapter Sixteen

  That trouble, it seems, is one that could not wait.

  Bridget’s promise of blackmail is not an empty one. She doesn’t let it simmer, doesn’t let me forget.

  Come Monday morning, Bridget arrives at my door—ready to cash in.

  “Come now,” she says, a slight smile creasing the corner of her mouth when I stare at her blankly for a moment, her arms outstretched with the books she’s expecting me to carry for her, “don’t tell me you thought I was joking.”

  She cocks her head at me, and as she does, that smile turns more menacing than ever. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, let me just be clear … I wasn’t.”

  Behind me, it’s Alaska’s turn to let out a groan as she pulls the blankets back up over her head. I didn’t tell her about the blackmail. After all, how could I without revealing my secret?

  And altogether too many people here already know.

  If I’m not careful, I know it won’t be long before I get another phone call—and this time, I’d be lucky if it came from my father and not one of the lawyers over at Sisters of Virtue. As they have been so kind to remind me, I’m not here out of the kindness of their hearts.

  I’m here to shut me up.

  And if they find out I’m talking, or think that I’m talking, there will be hell to pay.

  With one last lingering, longing look at my bed, I turn back to the cracked door.

  “Fine,” I hiss at Bridget. “Just … just give me a minute.”

  “Be quick about it. I don’t think either of us want to find out what it’s like when I lose my patience.”

  I have a feeling as I speed-strip out of my pajamas and straight into my school uniform, that this is going to be one of many early mornings.

  And I’m not wrong.

  Things with Bridget start out small as the week progresses—things like letting her copy off my homework, having me flesh out her essays, fetching her mail from the front office, running back to her room between classes to grab the snack she “forgot” on her desk.

  All minor inconveniences, but inconveniences that still begin to stack up until I find myself having to make excuses for what I’m doing. Especially when, just as the end of my second month here starts to draw to a hot, sticky close and I’ve thought I’ve started to get a handle on this new routine, she asks me to join her and her friends for lunch.

  It’s an invitation that leaves me frozen to the spot, my mind reeling as I try to work out what fresh hell she has envisioned for me.

  The part I’m dreading the most, however, is trying to find a way to explain this to Alaska. She’s already grown suspicious of the amount of time she’s seen me spending with Bridget.

  At this rate, Bridget is going to force my hand without so much as lifting an actual finger.

  Literally, what with all she’s having me do.

  I haven’t so much as complained about anything, so she looks a bit surprised when I let out a disgruntled sigh at this particular request.

  “Why?” I ask, shifting my weight where we stand at the bottom of the stairs in the Mason House common room. Just as she has every day this week, Bridget had me up before the sun just so she could take her time ambling over to the main building and get her things set up for her first class even before breakfast.

  A breakfast that, at the twisting of my stomach, I won’t be eating any of.

  She tilts her head, her eyes flickering down to the way my arms strain to hold both our sets of books.

  “Just because. That way I can take a look at your notes from class yesterday before this afternoon’s test, and you can answer any questions I might have,” Bridget replies. “Don’t worry, the boys will leave you be.”

  “Do I really have a choice?” I ask.

  She grins. “No, not really.”

  Of course not.

  I spend most of the morning steeling myself to tell Alaska and Clark I won’t be joining them for lunch and trying to think of a forgivable—and believable—excuse for spending it with Bridget and those boys instead. I’ve just about given up and decided to end my career here at Ridgecrest altogether by admitting the truth and being done with it when Alaska inadvertently saves me.

  I’m pacing and forth outside the dining hall, having somehow escaped my last class early enough to carry Bridget’s books inside before anyone else might notice, when Alaska suddenly appears at my side, looking just as frantic and frazzled as I feel.

  “Oh, thank god I found you,” she whispers at the sight of me. Her eyes are wide and nails dig into my forearm as she tugs me off the sidewalk a few steps with a nervous glance over her shoulder.

  My own problems immediately—if temporarily—forgotten, I find myself matching her ducked head and lowered voice.

  “What is it?” I shoot back, mimicking her glance over at the students now pouring in toward the dining hall just a few steps away.

  She stops all of a second, taking me in again as if only seeing me for the first time.

  “Oh my god, I’m so stupid.”

  She takes a step back, forces her shoulders back, and composes her worried face.

  “My parents are pulling me out early today in order to take me to lunch.”

  I just stare at her for a second before I let out a broken, half-laugh. “Wait, so that’s it?”

  I glance around me as if a veil has been suddenly pulled from my eyes. “That’s what you’re so worried about?”

  Alaska just blinks at me. “I—I … we were supposed to study together at lunch, remember?”

  Remember …

  I wrack my brain for a moment, trying to pick out the place and time we’d agreed on this. I thought I was handling Bridget’s new little curveball she’s thrown into my life, but I suppose not.

  She stops and bites her lip. “I thought you’d be mad at me for bailing on you just to go to some fancy lunch up in the city.”

  This time, I full on laugh. In fact, I have to stop myself from looking like a complete psychopath at the sudden wave of relief I feel. I guess I don’t have to go exposing myself today after all.

  “Really, Alaska,” I say, once I’ve finally regained my composure. “It’s totally fine. I’m sure I can find someone else to study with me.”

  “But Clark—” she starts, her lip tucking under for a second as another nervous look flashes across her face. “Remember, he has to—”

  Of course I do not remember what he has to do today, but that doesn’t stop another little flash of relief from threatening to overwhelm me.

  Finally, at least something is going my way. At least today I won’t have to go exposing myself even further, not to Alaska anyway.

  And telling her is as good as telling everybody, because I doubt she’d be able to keep from strangling Bridget over what she’s trying to do to me over it.

  “Stop it, Alaska,” I hiss, when I see her gearing up to try to make some other kind of apology. “I’m not such a loser that I can’t find someone else here to go over my notes with. It’s going to be fine.”

  She grips my hands for a moment with
a look of relief on her face that should be reserved for someone who’s just discovered they’re no longer getting blackmailed.

  A look I hope to one day find on my own face.

  But for now, at least, I have an alibi.

  And one that I can use for the foreseeable future, should Alaska notice Bridget lingering around much longer.

  Much longer.

  I have to stifle a defeated laugh at myself as I wave Alaska off, her backpack tugged up over her shoulder as she hurries off down the quad in the opposite direction of the dining hall. Toward a car that’s surely waiting for her by the entrance.

  Good thing I have an alibi, because I have a feeling I’m going to need it for a very long time.

  And so, just like that, I begrudgingly find myself at the lunch table after morning classes, Bridget pouring over my notes and the three boys shooting rapid-fire conversation back and forth between themselves.

  “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get to university?” Chase asks Warren.

  Warren cocks his eyebrow. “First, I’m going to admire the absolute miracle that is women who don’t wear plaid. The private school thing is totally dead to me. I’m ready for some tight jeans and tank tops.”

  “You’re disgusting Warren,” Bridget says with an eye roll. “Wouldn’t you agree Aubrey?”

  She tosses a look at me as Warren stares me down with a playful menace. I try to swallow the lump in my throat.

  “Just sounds like typical boy stuff,” I say, trying to be democratic. I shuffle the papers in front of me again, hoping—without really hoping—that it will somehow trigger Bridget to start focusing on the thing she asked me here for today.

  She makes no sign that she notices, even though I know she does.

  Which, of course, just confirms my growing suspicions that she asked me here to torture me further … knowing Warren’s hatred for me has to turn in my direction at some point.

  Bridget rolls her eyes. “Spoken like a practical virgin,” she says with a laugh.

  The boys laugh with her but after a moment she throws a dark glare at them all and they quiet down.

  “She’s right though, you’re all typical. Boring really,” she says.