The Way You Love Me: A High School Bully Romance

by Lannah Smith

  He didn't need this shit.

  He didn't need her shit.

  ◆◆◆

  "Hurry," Iris whispered, helping me climb through the window. "Your mother just woke up."

  I tumbled into my room. Iris pulled me into the direction of the bathroom, her words tripping all over themselves as she talked.

  "Your bath is ready, young miss. In fact, it's been ready for two hours. I was all set to go to the Steele Mansion to ask the young master where you were. I've never been this worried in my entire life when I saw you weren't here. You didn't bring your phone, you didn't bring any money!"

  I stared at her with bleary eyes as she helped me remove my clothes. I had never seen her in such a tizzy before. Iris was usually cool and collected.

  "I almost panicked when your brother's bodyguard came walking down the hall because I thought he was sent to look into you. Your door was locked so I told him to get the key and when he came back I had to tell him no men aside from your brother and father could enter your room so he wouldn't get inside. Then your father came calling and I had to tell him you were still fast asleep."

  She pushed me down into the steaming water and collapsed to her knees beside the tub, her maid's skirts a dark pond around her. She massaged the side of her temple with one hand, sighing wearily.

  "I thought he was going to send you home immediately last night," she said after a while. "Where were you?"

  In his arms, I thought miserably.

  Shaking my head, I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs.

  "Did he... did he do something to you?" Iris touched my arm and I made myself look at her. "Miss, why weren't you able to come home until now?"

  "I..." I swallowed the lump forming in the throat. "I messed up."

  Her brows shot up. "What?"

  "Iris, why did you let me go to him?" I covered my face with my palms. "Why didn't you stop me?"

  "I tried, miss," she spoke softly. "But when I got there, you were already kissing him."

  "Why didn't you stop me from leaving with him, then?"

  She chuckled and I glanced at her. "You almost karate-chopped my face when I tried to get you off him. It was kind of funny. You looked like you wanted to beat me up."

  I groaned. "Where were those moves I taught you, Iris? You could have overpowered me if you tried."

  "But..." she hesitated for a moment. "But it was John."

  I pursed my lips.

  "Your John."

  "He's not my John," I said firmly. "Not anymore."

  "He promised me he'd take care of you last night when you wouldn't let go. That he'd take you home himself. I thought you'd be completely safe with the young master."

  "Yeah, but he wasn't safe with me," I mumbled.

  Iris stared at me. "I don't understand," she admitted. "What did you do?"

  "I seduced him," I blurted out.

  The comical expression on her face almost made me smile if not for the weight of my sin.

  Horribly embarrassed, I covered my face once more.

  "I did," I whispered, distraught. "I was such a whore. I puked last night on the way home and he told me he couldn't send me home looking like the living dead. I couldn't stop puking my guts out and I was making such huge racket. So he took me to his home to clean me up, instead."

  Bewildered, I moved my gaze to Iris, who stared back at me with a solemn expression.

  "I don't remember how I managed it. I must have been so disgusting."

  "This is all my fault," Iris muttered. "I shouldn't have brought you there. I should have stopped you from drinking too much."

  I shook my head. "No. It wasn't your fault. It was mine."

  "But miss—"

  "I made the decision myself, Iris. You merely suggested. You know I could have just rejected your idea but I didn't. It's my fault. I..." I took a deep breath before I spoke again. "I wanted to know what it was like to be ordinary that I forgot myself. I forgot who I was. I forgot where I came from, forgot I could never be just a regular teenage girl. I lost control and along the way, my dignity as well."

  I paused, letting the words sink, trying to let the hot flash of pain in my chest ease. But it continued to burn. My hands curled into fists on my knees so tight, my nails dug into my palms painfully.

  "She was right," I murmured. "I am wanton."

  Iris had no more words for me.

  As the tears rained down my face, she wrapped her arms around my wet body.

  And for the last time, I let her comfort me.

  John stared at the door.

  His gut tightened when he remembered what happened that morning but he forced himself not to think about it.

  He took a deep breath.

  As he let it out, he pushed the door open, plastered a grin on his face and said in a loud, jovial voice, "Rise and shine, Le—."

  A knife flew his way and he managed to dodge it in a nick of time. The knife impaled the wall behind him, embedding itself deeply into the wood.

  "What the hell, Leon?" John bellowed as he turned on the lights.

  Leon was sitting on his bed, an arm outstretched in front of him. He was half-naked, exposing the intricate design of black roses inked on his chest and shoulder, the white sheets pooling around his waist. His messy, black hair was even messier than usual and his eyes were closed. Then they opened, revealing silvery-gray eyes. Seeing John, he slowly withdrew his arm and lay back on his bed, drawing the covers over his head.

  Pissed, John walked across the room and pulled the covers off his best friend.

  And instantly wished he hadn't.

  Not because Leon hurled another knife at him, which he managed to dodge again, but because he was not half-naked like he thought he was. No.

  He was fully naked.

  "Get out of my room, John," Leon said, his voice groggy and irritated.

  John rolled his eyes to the ceiling and turned around. "Why do you always sleep naked?" he asked.

  "So you'd think twice about barging into my room?"

  "That's a lousy reason."

  "Fuck off."

  John twisted his neck to glance behind him. Leon had resumed his position in bed, his back towards him, his hair peeking from under the covers. John exhaled low. Ever since the death of his mother, Leon had been like this. Lifeless and broken.

  Either that or he was angry.

  John didn't like it when he was angry. He was unpredictable.

  Violent.

  But he didn't like it more when he was lifeless.

  Leon wouldn't eat, wouldn't go out of his room. He couldn't even sleep because his nightmares wouldn't let him. And no matter what John did, no matter how hard he tried to make everything alright for his best friend, Leon would only push him away.

  But, unfortunately for Leon, he would never budge.

  John took a deep breath and steeled himself against his best friend's temper.

  Then he jumped into the bed.

  Startled, Leon jumped into a sitting position and muttered a curse. John lay on his side, resting his head in the palm of his hand, elbow to the bed, and watched his best friend turn angry eyes to him.

  "I thought we could hang out today," John told him.

  "You thought wrong," Leon replied in a hard voice.

  "We can watch movies."

  "No."

  "Play video games."

  "No."

  "Have a party?"

  "I said no," Leon growled.

  John chuckled. "Come on, man. It's not healthy to stay cooped in your room all day."

  "I don't care," Leon answered, shrugging indifference.

  "You already look like a ghost. Why don't we go to the beach instead?"

  "Go by yourself."

  "You probably didn't even leave your room last night," John mused. "So let's go out and—"

  He trailed off when he noticed Leon's whole body tense.

  His grin vanished.

  Something was off.

  J
ohn glanced down to see Leon clenching the sheets tight and trying to put his left hand discreetly under them. He slowly sat up and took a closer look of his face. A sense of foreboding came into him as soon as he saw Leon's expression, shuttered and cold.

  "You didn't leave your room last night, right?" John asked quietly. "You said you were at home."

  "Get out," Leon mumbled, looking anywhere but him.

  A mixture of dread and anger sliced into him.

  No.

  John reached down and grabbed Leon's wrists.

  No fucking way.

  His blood ran cold when he saw the bruises on Leon's left knuckles, the split skin. His right hand, on a closer inspection, was sore and red too but not as bad as the other one. John felt his heart stop.

  Not again.

  "You moron," he whispered. "You fucking moron."

  Leon yanked his hands back. "Get out," he repeated.

  "You went to the Den again?" John put a hand on Leon's shoulder to make him look at him but Leon shrugged it off. "Are you... are you really out of your goddamn mind?" he shouted angrily.

  Leon continued not to say anything.

  "Where else are you hurt?" John asked, trying to turn him around. He didn't notice any bruises on his body when he took the sheets off him but it didn't stop John from worrying. "Where else, Leon?"

  A flash of anger appeared in Leon's expression. "I said get out!" he yelled.

  "Where else are you fucking hurt!"

  The sharpness in John's tone must have jarred something in Leon because he was able to shake himself out of his anger. Leon's brows snapped together and he stared at John for a full minute.

  "Nowhere." Leon's lips slowly tipped up into a smug smile and a shiver ran down John's spine. "Nowhere but my hands. I guess I'm getting good, huh?"

  Stunned, John could only stare at his best friend, who had lain down on his bed again.

  "Just get out, John."

  John kept on staring at him.

  When he could finally say a word, he whispered brokenly, "Don't do this, Leon. Please let me help you. Please."

  Leon acted as though he hadn't spoken.

  And, like always, his pleas reached deaf ears.

  Chapter 4

  She was talking to her again.

  I laid down my pen and stared at Hannah.

  She was sitting on the desk of the new transfer student, engaging her in a conversation. But from the mild irritation on the new girl's face, I could easily guess it wasn't a conversation she wanted to be part of.

  Her name was Sophia. Sophia Gideon. She was a small girl with long, wavy blonde hair and the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. I thought she was timid by the way she introduced herself in front of the class but seeing the glare she aimed at Hannah at that moment made me rethink my initial opinion of her.

  She didn't seem to care much for friends and mostly kept to herself. Most of our classmates thought that she was stuck up but I knew she wasn't. She was just shy. Everytime I glanced over at her, she was reading a book, the kind of book I had been forbidden to read. When she wasn't reading, she was staring off into space or out the window, daydreaming.

  Hannah returned to her seat beside me after she gave Sophia her book back. Sophia was glaring at her and I almost smiled because I knew the feeling. Hannah tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled brightly at me.

  "Hello, Terry bear."

  I exhaled and sat back on my seat. "Call me Terry bear one more time and I'll stab your eye with my pen."

  She winced. "Someone's in a rotten mood."

  "Because someone did not make her homework last night and yet had the time to chat casually around instead of doing it," I replied with a glare.

  "You said you'd let me copy yours!" she exclaimed.

  "I did not."

  "I'll give you money."

  "I have loads of money."

  "Yeah, but do you have gold bars?"

  I rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of this conversation.

  Hannah was my best friend since middle school. With red hair and green eyes that matched her fiery and bubbly personality, she was usually chatty and energetic. Unbelievably chatty and energetic. It was difficult to keep her focused and in one place. Even when class was going on, she'd fidget on her chair and try to engage me or the people around her in conversation.

  She was easy to like, easy to befriend. Unlike me who had walls built so thick and so high around me, she was an open, friendly person and lived her life to the fullest. Unlike me, she was free to do whatever she wanted.

  "Please?" Hannah clapped both of her hands together and adopted a puppy-dog expression. "Please, Terry?"

  "No." I scowled. "Not going to happen. It's your fault for being so lazy."

  "Come on. The teacher is going to have my head. This will be the last time. I swear!"

  Yeah, right.

  She always forgets to do her homework. Always. There were times when I thought she was doing it on purpose just so she'd have the opportunity to copy off mine and get better grades. Or because she really didn't care much for homework and used the time for things she thought were worthwhile, like painting her nails.

  I briefly considered letting the teacher scold her for once so she'd do her own homework. That'll teach her a lesson. But I didn't want her to get into trouble. With a sigh, I handed her my notebook which she quickly grabbed, afraid I'd change my mind.

  "This is the last time I'll let you copy off me so hurry up."

  "I have nothing but love for you, you know," she mumbled as she opened her own and started to scribble down the answers.

  "I mean it this time, Hannah."

  She snorted at that threat as she continued to write. Frowning, I pushed an elbow onto the table and cupped my chin with my hand. I turned slightly, checking the classroom and everyone in it. I knew the names of all my classmates. In fact, I knew almost everyone in my year and most of the high school. Since East Private School was a combined primary and secondary school, I grew up with most of the kids that studied here.

  East Private School was an elite school, just like Iris had described at the party. It was a school of remarkable fame that offered an integrated program of enrolment from its affiliated kindergarten to high school. It was also one of the most prestigious schools in the country, along with North High Academy which was situated in the same city. But unlike North High, East Private had a more relaxing atmosphere and was more pleasant and comfortable. Students also didn't have to wear uniforms and weren't obligated to perform well in both academics and sports, which the academy prided itself for.

  Almost half of the students who studied here since kindergarten were all from rich families. But since enrollment was inexpensive and the admission standards relaxed, there were also students who came from middle to lower class households.

  My eyes landed on Sophia again and for a moment, wondered what class her family belonged in. She was still reading her book, a small smile playing on her lips.

  "And stop bullying the poor girl," I murmured, reminded of Hannah's earlier antics.

  Hannah's head jerked up. "The poor girl?" she asked, confused. "You mean, Sophia?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm not bullying her," she denied vehemently. "I'm trying to befriend her."

  "By pissing her off?"

  She laughed and continued to copy my homework.

  After a while, she said, "Don't you want to be friends with her?"

  Friends?

  I stared at Sophia for a long while.

  Then I said, "Hurry up and finish copying, Hannah. The teacher will be arriving soon."

  Hannah clicked her tongue. "She seems nice, you know," she muttered.

  Yeah, but was she filthy rich? I thought glumly. Will my family allow me to befriend her?

  I kept my mouth shut instead.

  "Is he still sleeping?" Skull asked in his ear.

  John glanced at Leon, who was lying on the couch, watching a movie.

  "No,
he's awake," he answered.