Bryce (Scandalous Boys #1)

by Natalie Decker

  I blink. “R-really?”

  “Yes. I find your honesty refreshing. I actually admire that you didn’t try to impress me with your list of accomplishments. I love that you showed me humility and strength. I believe you’d be a great fit for our program.”

  Wait, what? She likes me? She doesn’t think my outburst was moronic? I want to pinch myself and faint all at the same time. It feels overwhelming and dreamlike. How is this even possible?

  I stand up and resist the urge to hug her. I do shake her hand, and she walks me to the door. “I’ll be sending some paperwork to your home address.”

  “Um … can you send it to Ms. Dyson? It’s just, my family is, um … really against this.”

  “Say no more. I can send it to Ms. Dyson. Have a safe drive. I look forward to seeing you in June.”

  “Same here. Thanks!”

  I run out of there so excited to tell Bryce the good news. Back in the hotel, I slide my key card into the slot and push open the door. He’s sitting on the bed, a pack of cigarettes next to him, an almost empty six-pack of beer on the table by the TV.

  “What the hell is this?” I ask, picking up the bottles.

  “Beer. That’s what the box says if you’d read it, smarty-pants,” he slurs.

  “Why are you doing this? Please tell me you didn’t smoke in here.”

  “I didn’t.” He glares at me. “You sound like my fucking mother.”

  I slam the six-pack down. “You know what? I was going to tell you about my amazing day and apologize to you, but forget it. Give me your keys.”

  He leans back and gives me a sly grin. “Come over here and get them, sweetheart.”

  If he thinks he can scare me, he’s got another think coming. I straddle his lap and push him back against the bed.

  “That’s it,” he purrs. “You want me, don’t you?”

  I do want him but not like this. Not when he’s trashed and acting like a total douche. He slides his hands up my thighs, and I smack them away. “Knock it off.” I shove my hands into his pockets, grazing his erection. Jesus, this boy is like a damn machine. I pull out the keys and a lighter.

  Bryce gives me a sly smile. “I wish you’d stop fucking with my head, Smalls. My life was awesome without all this shit.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll go back home, and you can hook up with some girl and forget all about me.” Even as I say the words, they leave the worst taste in my mouth, like dirt. Do I want him hooking up with other girls? No. But I also have to let him go. This … this has been toxic for both of us.

  “Damn straight!”

  My heart twinges. I move around the bed, grab all my things, and throw them into my bag. I don’t care about being neat; I just want to leave this place. Bryce is no help. He’s closing his eyes and muttering incoherent crap while I shove all this shit into his bag.

  I lug the bags out one at a time. I place one in the trunk, shut it, and go back to the room to grab another. And then the only thing left to put in the car is Stupid, who’s now passed out on the bed.

  Great! How am I going to carry him to the car? I glance around the room and spot the ice bucket. I pick it up, fill it with cold water from the sink, and then stand over Bryce. The bucket hovers over his head; all I need to do is tip it, and boom. I squeeze my eyes and turn my hands.

  The water splashes all over. Bryce sits up, sputtering and cursing, and he turns his rage to me. “What the fuck, Smalls!

  “We’re leaving.”

  “Then wake me up! Don’t fucking try to drown me! What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I place the bucket on the table and head for the door. Bryce is still fuming. Beads of water drip off the tips of his dark tendrils. He’s so unbelievably hot it’s disgusting. I stare at his mouth for a second as his lips part. “We need to leave.”

  He scrubs his hand down his face, snatches his coat, and moves for the door. We don’t talk. He starts to open the driver’s side door, and I snap, “No! I’m driving. Get your ass over there.” I point to the passenger side.

  “I don’t let chicks drive my car!”

  “Too freaking bad! You should have thought of that before you got all trashed.”

  He folds his arms and presses his lips into a firm line. “Fine,” he growls.

  He slams into the passenger seat. His eyes are watching my every move. How do I know this? I glance over at him once in a while. His attention is either on my hand, which is on the shifter, or the steering wheel. It’s uncomfortable. I feel like I’m in driver’s ed all over again or lessons with my dad and Kyle. Kyle would purposely sit in the middle seat in the back and gaze over my shoulder to tell Dad every time I went over the speed limit.

  “Could you put some music on?” I ask.

  “I could, but I don’t want to.”

  I glance over at him, and he snaps, “Watch the road, Madison!”

  “I know how to drive a car, Bryce. I do have one.”

  “I know you do. You’ve got everything. You’ve got your whole future mapped out. You’ve got a car. You’ve got what you wanted from me. Guess we’re officially even, huh?”

  I grit my teeth. He’s really ticking me off. “I guess we are.”

  “Great!” He flips on the radio. A loud booming and a person screaming pours from the speakers.

  I almost ask him to turn it down, or off, because it’s giving me a throbbing headache. But I decide to suffer through it. Eight hours and I’ll be home. Bryce can go screw himself, and I can focus on school.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Bryce

  It’s been a month since our trip to Pennsylvania. I’ve been spending my weekends at Greg’s, drinking, smoking, and chilling with whoever. One night, a little redhead named Kenya sits down on my lap. She leans in, smelling like roses or some flower scent, and shouts in my ear, “I really like you!”

  “Yeah?” I say. My gaze drops to her tits, and I say, “I really like you.” It’s bullshit. I don’t know her enough to like her, but I do enjoy her cleavage in my face.

  She giggles. It’s so typical and, well, predictable. Yawn fest. Whatever. I grind her against me, and she leans back. I’m about to place my mouth on her breasts when I see Madison stalk by. Emily is with her, and a couple of dudes trailing behind. I move Kenya from my lap. “I gotta get a drink.”

  “I want a rum and Coke.”

  I almost tell her I wasn’t offering; instead, I nod and head off toward the kitchen. Madison stands to the side while Emily makes a few drinks. The dudes keep elbowing each other and chuckling about who’s getting which girl tonight. The douche with the hipster shirt and skinny jeans says, “I’m down for the dark-haired girl. But she seems like the relationship type.”

  I clear my throat. “She is. Madison just got out of a five-year relationship. She’s looking for marriage, boys.”

  Hipster dude’s eyes widen. “Marriage? I’m not looking for that kind of shit.” He looks over at his friend. “Fuck that. Didn’t you get details on this girl?”

  “Man, Em never said anything about her friend having a boyfriend. Just try to play it cool.”

  “You guys don’t go to Portland, do you?”

  “Nah, man, we’re over at East Roberston.”

  I nod. “Well, Madison’s ex is a big-ass dude, and he plays on the lacrosse team. You don’t want to let him see you talking to her. He’ll just plow you right into a wall and beat you unconscious.”

  I shouldn’t have done it. Scaring the shit out of this little fuck is damn fun, though. He looks around the room and glares at his friend. “I’m not getting beat up over that. She’s barely a six.”

  Okay, this guy is clearly an asshole and needs glasses. Madison is a fucking twelve. Her gaze finds mine right as her date leaves the room. I try not to smirk, especially when she marches over to me. “What did you do? Where is Charlie going?”

  “Charlie Brown realized he forgot to feed Snoopy.”

  She gives me a puzzled look. “What?”

  “
That’s what you wanna date? A douche in skinny jeans who probably tells people he’s in a band and wears eyeliner?”

  She scowls. “It’s none of your business.”

  “It is my business. I need to let you know my tree house is off limits.”

  “I don’t want your stupid tree house.”

  I lean in and brush my lips on her earlobe. “I bet your panties say otherwise. I bet they’re aching to be on the floor of my tree house.”

  She gasps as I nip her ear. Something shoves me into the counter, and Madison backs up. I glance over at Emily, who takes Madison’s arm and tugs her away. “Leave her alone, asshole!”

  I return to the living room and notice Kenya is chatting up someone else. Fuck it. No love lost there. I run into Graham and say, “I’m out, man.”

  “What? You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah, man. Just not feeling it tonight.”

  He nods, and I head home.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Madison

  He’s a freaking jerk. I avoid him at all costs. It’s been months since the last time I spoke to him, which was at Greg’s party. Once school started back up, I deliberately changed groups. Mrs. Vixen found someone willing to switch. My heart and head couldn’t take being around him.

  At that party, I thought I’d explode. Literally. When his mouth was on my ear, I wanted to melt into him and beg him to come back to me. I was weak and stupid. Thank God Emily was there to keep me from doing something so foolish.

  Since then, I dove into schoolwork and have been running my routine every morning, and I’ve been good. A little better every day. Okay, yes, I spy on his room for a few minutes before I go to sleep every night. Is that wrong?

  Yes, it is.

  Do I think about climbing in his tree house just to see if he’d come join me? Yes, I do. Do I do it? No. He made it clear he doesn’t want me. In fact, at that stupid party, he had some girl sit in his lap and probably took her to bed, so there you have it. I was nothing to him.

  I’m trying to move on. I’m trying not to think about his smile, his lame jokes, or the way his hair felt running through my fingers. It’s hard, okay?

  I stop by the mailbox and grab the mail. I sort through it. A cringe-inducing squeal of metal makes me wince and glance over at the mailbox next to me. Bryce’s towering body is there, yanking out pieces of mail, and then he slams the rusted mailbox door.

  I watch him cross the street back to where our houses are and enter his house as if I weren’t even there. The tears pool around my lower lashes, and I march into the house before they can spill. I hate how much he affects me. I hate that he tortures me and then treats me as if I’m nothing but empty space.

  I set the mail down and grab the letters for me and Sarah from the pile. Entering my room, I barely notice the person on the floor, working through what looks like math problems.

  “Jesus, Sarah, you scared me. Why are you on the floor?” I hand her her mail.

  She takes it and drops it beside her. She flips her pencil over and starts rubbing the eraser against her notebook fast, as she swears under her breath.

  “You okay?”

  “No, nerdball! I couldn’t get this shit even if I tried. I mean, who gives a shit about fractions? When am I ever going to use them?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. I see the frustration on her face, and it sucks me in. Slumping down next to her, I say, “Probably never, but I can help if you want.”

  She snorts. “You help me? Please. If my own teacher can’t help me, how could you?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Tell me what you get and what’s confusing you. We’ll go from there.”

  “Fine.”

  I point at the problem. 5/8=A/24. What is A? “Okay, look. On these, it’s simple—if the bottom number is different, then we have to solve for this first. So, what we do downstairs, we must do upstairs. Eight times what gives us twenty-four?”

  “I don’t know, three?”

  I nod. “Yeah. So remember the rule ‘what we do downstairs, we must do upstairs.’ So if we multiply by three here”—I point to the eight—“then we have to do what up here?” I point to the five.

  “Multiply by three?”

  “Yes. See? You got it.”

  She writes down the answer, and we work through some more problems. When we finally finish, she smiles. “Aunt Heather was a good teacher, huh?”

  I make a stink face at her. “Mom is horrible at math. I had to learn tricks from Google.”

  “What? Seriously?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Dad’s not so bad, but he couldn’t help me after geometry.”

  She laughs. “Wow. So you really are just a little nerd like Kyle says.”

  I pull myself up from the floor. “I guess.”

  “Hey, Madison, I heard about you and Bryce. I know it’s probably a little late to say this, but I am sorry.”

  “I saw you kiss him,” I say bitterly.

  She bobs her blond head. “Yeah. But he pushed me away. He told me he was in love with you and that Graham was his best friend. He said a lot of other things after, but I mostly remember that he loved you. So what happened?”

  “I don’t know.” I plop down on my bed. “The future happened.”

  “Madison, you can’t be serious. You of all people should know how quickly life changes in the blink of an eye. You’re supposed to live in the now moments. Not worry about the stupid future, a thing that hasn’t even happened yet.”

  I laugh. “Well, okay, Miss Expert. Then why did you cheat on Graham?”

  “This isn’t about me.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “I know. But humor me. Why?”

  Her blue eyes find mine, and she shakes her head. “If things get close to me, they turn to shit. My parents are in jail. My life is a mess. I’m not going to college because I pissed my chances away. Who needed school when I had tons of cash put in my bank account weekly? That was my frame of thinking. That’s why I just didn’t care enough to try. Graham is smart. Like, really smart, and he’s going places. I can’t follow him. But I also didn’t want to dump him either. And when he said he loved me, I freaked. Like, really freaked out. So I decided to show him I’m not worth his love.”

  “That’s beyond stupid! Sarah, you know you can still go to community college if you get semi-decent grades. Sure, you might have to play catch-up for a while, but it’s better than some shitty job you’ll hate for life. As for Graham, you two could have made it work. He’s only going to be at the UT in the fall.”

  “Enough about me. What are you going to do about Bryce?”

  “Nothing. Have you seen him lately? I just went out to get the mail. He was getting his at the same time. He acted like I wasn’t even there. He does that all the time now. Can I blame him? No. I did request a group change in calculus 2. And I haven’t spoken to him since that party. We’re just … better this way.”

  She and I sigh at the same time. Sarah moves up to her bunk, and I shut off the lights. I tiptoe across the room and stare out the window. Bryce stalks past his window, and then he pauses and looks directly over at me. I hit the floor and crawl to my bed. Sarah grumbles. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing. It was nothing. Night.”

  “Night, weirdo.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Bryce

  The hardest thing in the world is to forget she’s there. I smell her sweet butterscotch scent, and my blood begins pumping. I want to hold her. Press her body to me. Kiss that spot on her neck that makes her arch into me and whimper.

  I want it so fucking much it hurts. I’ve tried moving on. But it’s impossible when every girl reminds me of Madison in some freaky way. None of them are her, though. I need her.

  I flip through my mail and open up the packets addressed to me. I read each letter. Congratulations … We are very pleased … We are excited to … From schools I’ve applied to. I pick up my phone and call Hailey.

  Graham throws an elbow in my side. “We�
�re graduating in two weeks.”

  “Yup. But we’ve gotta get through exams first.”

  He growls. “I know. You know who has amazing study guides for this shit?”

  I glare at him. Of course we both know who has amazing study guides. I glance out my window. “Try calling her. She probably doesn’t hate you so much.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll look like a fucking asshole if I ask her to help us study. Forget it.”

  I snatch my phone from my charger and call her.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey. Didn’t think you’d pick up.”

  “Kind of busy right now. What do you want?”

  I sigh. “Are you free to study this weekend?”

  “Nope. I’ve got, um … shit—sorry. I have something to do with my family. Sorry.”

  I pinch the brim of my nose. “Madison?”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She laughs. “Are you drunk?”

  “No.”

  “Took you long enough. And you could have said it to my face.” Then the line goes dead.

  “Mads?” I look up at Graham. “She hung up on me.”

  He smirks. “Yeah, that’s what girls do when they’re pissed off.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t have waited five months to apologize, huh?” The sad part of this is I’m not sure what I’m saying sorry for. She told me we were done. She looked at me like I was some dark, shameful thing to hide in a closet—her secret lover or whatever.

  “Bro, I don’t know, but don’t tell them that. They never let you live it down if you do. Remember Lisa from White House?”

  “Yeah.” Lisa was a hot-ass cheerleader with blond curls and a big ass.

  “I fucking used the line ‘I don’t remember why we’re fighting’ on her, and she went absolutely ape-shit crazy. She threw food at me in the food court at the ghetto mall.” He shakes his head. “I thought she’d get over it. But a few months later, I see her at McDonald’s. She’s working the drive-thru, and she leans out the window and tosses my large Coke in my lap. The she says, ‘Ooops, sorry. I can’t remember why I did that.’ Yeah, whatever you do, don’t ever use the words ‘don’t remember’ when apologizing.”