KNIGHT: A Dark High School Bully Romance

by L. J. Woods

  “You blew your shot with Christian?” Bella asks, scooting into the space beside Nate. She’s near my head, dressed in an expensive-looking off-the-shoulder top, red leggings. Her head comes close to mine, spiral ponytail flopping beside her. “So he’s like, emotionally available?”

  “Ew,” Nate gives her a small shove.

  “Ditto,” Allie says.

  Willow moves next to me and I tilt my head to see her in two braids before she speaks up, “Here’s how I see it.” I arch an eyebrow but she smirks and I snort. “Wait, hear me out. If anyone knows my sister it’s me.” She takes the bottle from my hand, taking a sip and I let her before I grab it back, wondering where she’s going with this. “Christian?” She swallows, wincing. “See he’s a safe choice. A knight in shining … Armani. But Damien connects with you on that deep disturbed upbringing stuff. You’re a lot more alike than you think. For one, you both wear your heart on your sleeve.”

  “Watch it,” I warn, hating the fact that she compared me to him. I’m nothing like him. Am I?

  She continues, “You’re both stubborn. Both dominant and demanding. It’s like a constant power struggle between you two.”

  I toss a Pringle at her head, trying to ignore her words but it’s hard. Are Damien and I so fucked up that we mesh together? He makes me feel things. Bad and good. But that doesn’t mean I can trust him.

  “Speak of the devil,” Bella pipes. My body tenses and when I look, Bella’s on the bed on her knees, her phone in her hand. “King just walked into LOFT with Lea.”

  “Really?” Willow snatches the phone from Bella. “The club at The Palace?”

  Willow holds the phone out so I can get a better look but I regret it immediately. There’s a picture of Damien on his InstaShot that I didn’t even know he had. One with over fifteen thousand followers. I’m not one for social media but even I know that’s insane.

  Not wanting to show how curious I am, I squint at the photo so I can get a better look. Damien looks as good as always, if not better. He’s tightened up his attire for this appearance, a black blazer over a black shirt and slacks. He’s giving the camera those ‘fuck me’ eyes, all sultry and grey, while he whispers something in Lea’s ear. My jaw clenches considering if that look, usually reserved for me, is now aimed at Lea.

  Of course, Lea looks like the perfect doll beside him. She’s in a matching black dress that fits her small frame. Her hair is straightened and silky like a fucking Pantene commercial. She looks elegant, diamonds dripping from her ear and neck. She fits into this scene with Damien, his hand around her waist like the rich royals they are.

  Looking down at the toothpaste stain on my hoodie, touching the side shave in my hair, I know I’m not a fit like she is.

  “Should we go?” Nate asks.

  “Yes!” Willow and Bella yell. Without a confirmation, they’re already dashing across the bathroom to Willow’s room.

  “Wait!” I call but Nate’s on his feet too. Easing off the mattress, I look at him with wide eyes. “They’re not coming.” My little sister is not going to a nightclub. No way.

  “Still helping you find an outfit!” Willow calls back.

  Nate cocks his hip, hand on his side. “Do you have feelings for King?”

  I stall, the direct question throwing me off. So I put the straw back in my mouth and take a very long sip.

  “So, that’s a yes,” he says. “ And you’re not going to let that barbie bitch steal your thunder. Besides, we can do with letting off a bit of steam. I can feel the heat coming off you from here.”

  “I don’t know if dancing is Jo’s thing,” Allie says, glancing at me. Her hair comes in her face when she leans over to catch my gaze, glasses sliding down her nose. “Right?”

  “Well, I’m livening up this funeral and I’m paying for bottle service,” Nate announces. “Free cover and everything. I know the guy at the door, real well.”

  “Good thing Carlos has a family dinner tonight then,” Allie laughs.

  “He has nothing to worry about.” Nate gives Allie a cut of his eye while he heads to the bathroom. “I’m finding you something to wear, Jo!”

  Allie looks at me, her hand coming to my leg. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes! She does!” Nate calls from the bathroom. His muffled voice must mean he’s found the closet. In a few seconds, he steps out with a couple of hangers in his hand, dresses hanging from them, ones I don’t know I have. “King started this battle. If he wants to show up looking like a snack with another girl by his side, so can you. The best way to get under a King’s skin? Make them see something they can’t have. And tonight, that’s you.”

  Allie sighs, “You actually think making King jealous will help? This isn’t TV.”

  “But it is high school. I’ve been around these insecure neanderthals long enough to know what makes them tick.”

  While they go back and forth, I’m considering what they’re saying. It’s like having a devil and angel on my shoulder, but the devil seems to be making more sense. He always does. I’ve seen Damien’s jealous streak, felt it too. While it stirs my insides, thinking of the wrath he unleashed on me for being with Christian excites me. It makes me feel like I can pull this back in my court.

  “Jo?” Allie pulls me out of my thoughts and when I look up, they’re both staring at me like they’re waiting for an answer. “What’ll it be? Comfy movies in your hoodie?”

  “Or a delicious act of revenge in this sexy Balmain?” Nate holds out a short black and gold dress almost as strappy as the lingerie Damien likes.

  Then it hits me. Or the whiskey does. “Let’s do it!” I say, a wide smile growing on Nate’s face. “If he wants to ruin my life, I’m going to ruin his night.”

  Twenty-Two

  Bass thumps from beyond the dark hallway.

  My heart thuds along with it.

  The stairs leading up to the club from the hotel lobby light up with sparkling arrows, prompting me towards the decision I’ve made. There’s a pull in my chest that I’m ignoring, my feet already regretting being in these heels.

  I’m gonna fuck with Damien King. The same way he’s fucking with me. Let’s just hope I don’t fuck him this time.

  Pulling on my skirt, I take a look around us. The people heading inside look like they’re celebrities. Glamorous with bored looks on their faces as they head inside the party. With Nate and help from the girls, I look almost similar, if it wasn’t for the apprehension I know I’m wearing on my face.

  “I did not think this place would be this crazy on a Tuesday night,” Nate says, already dancing in his floral dress shirt, bright yellow slacks. The detour on the way here meant an extra thirty-minute delay while Nate got his outfit just right for this appearance.

  He fixes a bobby pin in my hair, his chest exposed, our coats already checked. Standing back, he takes one last look at my outfit. I can see it in the reflection beside me and I hope I don’t look as out of my element as I feel. The dress looked longer when Nate first put it against my frame, but with my lengthy legs, it hardly covers my ass. If I move the wrong way, cheeks are flying. So are my tits, held in place by another large strap.

  “Everyone’s back from the Christmas holiday and what better place to show off than at LOFT?” Allie explains. She’s the least dolled up of the three of us. While Nate went to town applying all sorts of gunk to my face, thick winged eyeliner, red lips and blush, Allie opted for something simple. A light dusting of eyeshadow and mascara. A tank top over her dark jeans.“It’s extra crowded because King’s here.”

  “What?” A chill brings my hands to my arms, rubbing them up and down for friction heat. “People care that much about a high schooler?”

  “When he’s in charge of half the shit in this town they do,” Allie nods and she’s not wrong. With Marion out of the picture, King Financial belongs to the only child of Sebastien King. Damien.

  “Ready?” Nate asks, nodding towards the tall, broad bouncer in front of the velvet ro
pe. This guy looks like he works for the fucking President, black shades and earpiece accompanying his suit. “Don’t worry, we’ll have a bottle with your name on it.” When we get to the bouncer, Nate whispers something in his ear before he unbuckles the red rope and ushers us along.

  I want to protest again but I’m too in awe at our surroundings. This place is nuts. It’s like what you see on MTV when they show parties in Vegas. Balloons hang off the ceiling, strobe lights making them all different colours. There’s even a fucking pool on the stage, the DJ bumping some heavy electro with a hypnotizing beat.

  It’s an all-out production. Go-go dancers in cages, on hoops and trapezes, dancefloor crammed below them. A lady in a purple dress greets us before she leads us to a booth up some steps situated at the side. When we get there, another girl places a tray of colourful drinks and bottles on a gold coffee table. Nate thanks them both, giving them his credit card before he pours me a drink and hands it to me. “May your night only go up from here,” he says.

  Cupping it in my hand like a baby’s bottle, I take a long gulp. I’m already a little tipsy but if I’m going to survive this, I need a little more liquid courage.

  “Why did I come here, again?” Allie mutters, pouring herself a glass of juice. She’s always been a responsible designated driver.

  Sitting on the black sofa, I’m happy to have the VIP treatment if only for a place to rest my feet. It’s beyond me how people wear heels all day.

  Nate settles in beside me, crossing his legs before he leans in. “So, see anything you like?”

  I’m scanning the room for Damien before I even realize, glass still stuck to my lips and I’m about to need another. Every guy in here looks the same. Collars popped, stuffy suits. Unlike Damien, they all look like they have something to prove.

  “Nevermind, your night is looking up already.” Nate points his chin at a booth towards the end of the VIP section. A guy with curly blonde hair, a broad chest, and golden eyes has his gaze our way. He’s confident. I can feel it in the way he doesn’t take his eyes off me when I glance back. Or the little smirk he gives when he realizes I’ve noticed. He’s wearing a denim dress shirt, beige slacks.

  My eyes narrow, the face becoming familiar the longer I stare. “Craig Carson?”

  “You know him?” Allie asks. “He’s Edwin Huang’s competition. His son, I mean.”

  “And that’ll do just fine,” Nate sings, pushing me up from where I’m sitting. “Time to get this night going.”

  “What? No—” I’m attempting to wobble on these six-inch spikes, not like I need the height. When I look back at Nate he gives me another bump and I almost topple over. When I look back at Craig, he’s coming this way, drink in hand, eyes on me. It’s either he doesn’t recognize me or he sees a challenge. After what happened at his mansion, I’m surprised to see his bold approach.

  “Jo,” he greets with a wide grin, his pupils as dilated as the last time I saw him. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Is it?” I arch an eyebrow, taking in his outfit. He looks a lot better now that he’s ditched the sweater combo, gleaming watch on his wrist. “Guess you can’t kick me out of the club like you did your house.”

  “You two know each other?” Nate asks, unable to resist the dirt getting dug up in front of him.

  Craig winks when he answers, “Something like that. I see you’re no longer with King.” He brings his glass to his lips, his eyes going up and down my outfit. “You look better without him.”

  The minute he mentions Damien, I can feel the eyes of the King boring into me. A heavy, dark presence. When I look to the side, I confirm it. Damien’s in the VIP section across from us, the dancefloor keeping us separated. He’s in his own both, Lea beside him, talking and laughing with a flute of champagne in her hand. Her hand falls on his lap and he leans back, throwing his arm around her and fuck, it makes me want to punch them both.

  Turning my attention back to Craig, I try to ignore the devilish distraction and my stomach knotting. “Are you rolling?” I ask. “Like, currently?”

  “Why? Do you want some?”

  I’m tempted, but the whiskey’s already working its magic when I say, “Let’s dance.”

  His smile grows before he takes my hand, leading me down the stairs onto the dance floor. With one last glance at Damien, I give him that look with a side of a smirk.

  Nate’s right. The best way to topple a King? Sweat him out.

  The minute we make some space on the floor, Craig’s hands come to my waist. I turn around, giving him my back and I hope Damien’s watching when I press my ass into him. He smells like a Hollister store and it makes me want to gag while I try to sway to the music, catching the rhythm. Pulling my hands through my hair like I’m in a music video, it’s easy to add a little sass to my movements. A little extra sultriness.

  Craig’s hold isn’t as tight as Damien’s. Isn’t as firm and dominant as the King’s. My mind drifts to him as the song blends into a slower one, Craig resting his chin on my shoulder. “You look incredible tonight, Jo,” he says. “Even better than that night.” I’m imagining Damien behind me, his body pressed against mine and I’m lost in the music, the memories still fresh enough to imagine.

  Closing my eyes, I let my body go to the whiskey and the music. Even on a dance floor filled with people all I can imagine is being alone with Damien King. It’s so bad that I can almost smell him and when Craig leans in closer, I swear I hear him too.

  “Are you trying to make me angry, Medusa?”

  My body stiffens when I realize this isn’t the same guy I started this dance with. Opening my eyes I look at his booth with one less occupant.

  “Get your hands off me, Damien,” I warn.

  “Your words don’t match your actions,” he says in that low, rolling voice I’ve grown way too accustomed to. “I didn’t feel you pull away.”

  And for some reason, I still can’t. My body seems to melt into his hold and before I know it, Damien and I are dancing together? Besides that kiss at the masquerade, we hardly hold hands with each other, but here we are. And I kinda like it.

  But I shouldn’t.

  We both sway to the music in silence, that firm hold feeling like home. It’s hard to deny that feeling yet again. Pulling away, a knot in my stomach threatens to make me puke. “Where’s Craig?” I ask.

  “Might’ve told him I have chlamydia and we fucked all night long. Bareback.”

  My nose twists at his fucked up remark. “You’re sick.”

  “And you want me,” he smirks. “Is that why you came out tonight with your rainbow crew?”

  “You’re so full of yourself you think I came here for you.”

  He pulls me back into his arms and I hate that it feels good. Hate that I like this tension between us and hate that when I feel his bulge against me, I know he does too.

  “Didn’t you?” he asks, his voice in my ear again. “Or did my plan not work? I knew Bella would have her phone and all it would take is a threat to your King to get you crawling back.”

  That makes me mad. So mad. He’s not through playing games and I don’t know if he ever will be. I turn to look in those kaleidoscope eyes and I wish I hadn’t. They make me melt from the stone queen this town loves to hate. They make me want to forget everything and go back to holding up in his empty mansion. Just the two of us.

  But I can’t fucking trust him. “Go away, Damien.”

  I pull away and when he pulls back, one last shove gets him to loosen his grip. He takes a step forward, blocking my path. “Really? You rather be with fucking Craig Carson?” When the purple light flashes on his face he looks more menacing than ever, his fists clenched, jaw tight.

  “It’s not about that!” I’m trying to yell over the music and whether he can hear me or not, it feels good to do it. “It’s about you and your twisted fucking world! You don’t pull the strings this time! I do!”

  He smirks that evil smirk and I hardly hear him when he says, “Goodbye, Jo.�
�� Turning to walk away, he leaves me standing alone on the dance floor, surrounded by strangers.

  Goodbye? Why did that sound so final? How did he get to walk away before me again? My world is spinning. So is my head. I’ve had enough to drink and enough of this night. This was a bad idea and now, I want to go home.

  Holding on to the rail as I climb the stairs, I’m relieved to get back to our booth. But it’s empty, both Nate and Allie gone. The only thing besides our bottle and juice is a note on a napkin sitting in the tray on the table.

  Carlos needs me.

  Have fun.

  Tea tomorrow.

  N.

  Great. With a look around the room, I still don’t see Allie and I’m hoping Nate didn’t take my ride. With a glance over at Damien’s booth, only Georgina and another girl stay behind with some guys from ERA.

  My brain pieces it together. If Allie’s not with Nate, she’s with … Looking over to the exit I see her headed towards the door.

  Lea.

  I’m out of my seat before I lose sight of them, watching as their heads lean into each other. What the fuck is going on with those two?

  Pushing through the crowd, I try my best to keep my eyes on them. It looks like they’re headed to the bathroom and I try to follow but a large bald man steps in my path. “Can I see some identification?” he asks.

  “What? I gotta go to the—”

  “Some ID miss, now,” he demands, putting his hand out.

  Fuck. My shoulders drop, and so does my head when I realize where this is heading. “I don’t have it on me?”

  “Alright, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Looking around, half the senior class of ERA is here, so why are they allowed to stay? My eyes land on Damien who’s taking a drink by one of the bars, leaning against it like he’s fucking James Bond.

  I try my best to be convincing. “I really have to pee.”

  “There’s a bathroom in the lobby. We can’t have underaged guests in this space.”

  “But everyone else here gets to stay?”

  “They all have an ID, so, unless you have some … ”