The Way You Love Me: A High School Bully Romance

by Lannah Smith

  "I'm not done showing her my appreciation!"

  Skull laughed. "Leon's here and he's already started so you better get your ass here right now."

  "That fast?"

  "Yeah. We even have a lead already. Rohan and I are going out in a few to check if he's telling the truth. Are you coming or not?"

  John pulled in breath. Then he answered, "I am but I might take a while. My stupid truck broke down again. Luckily, Stella and I made it here before it did."

  "Take a taxi."

  "Fine, you ass," he muttered then disconnected the call.

  "I should have told you about him after we fucked," Stella grumbled when he started to pick his clothes up.

  "I'll come back," he promised.

  "You better."

  He smirked and finished pulling his shirt and jacket on. When he was done, he gave her a hard kiss and went to the door. The whiskey they shared after they talked about the supplier and before they started making out on her bed had spilled on the floor. He leaned over, picked up the bottle and put it on the nightstand.

  For some reason, he had the urge to look back. Stella had rolled to her side, her back towards him, her hair flowing behind her on the white sheets.

  But for some reason, it wasn't her brown hair he was seeing but Terry's long black hair.

  And for some reason, he could see her turn her head around, a small smile on her lips, inviting him to come back to bed.

  He blinked and it was Stella's back and Stella's hair he saw again.

  Fuck.

  He opened the door and closed it behind him. Leaning heavily against it, he put his hands to his face, swiping them hard against his skin.

  Fuck.

  He felt it, carving through his gut, the pain acute.

  "Fuck," he breathed.

  He was feeling guilt.

  It was midnight when the covers slid down my body.

  It was midnight when the weight of his body hit the bed.

  It was midnight when the warmth of his body beside mine woke me up.

  "It's me," he whispered when I tried to jump out of bed, alarmed. His arms wrapping around my shoulders, he pulled me close and snuggled to my back. "Don't be frightened."

  "What are you doing here, John?" I asked, blinking in groggy confusion. "How did you get inside?"

  I could tell he was smirking even though I had my back to him. He breathed in the scent of my hair and held my hand against my chest.

  "Did you forget how I used to sneak into your room when we were little?" he asked.

  My sleepy mind whirled and I realized I knew what had happened.

  He had climbed up the giant tree outside and climbed in through the window.

  "Are you drunk?" I asked, sniffing the air and immediately smelling the alcohol off him. "Did you drive here drunk? Did you climb the tree drunk?"

  "Ah, but you do care," he slurred, tightening his arms around me. "I like this. You're Yukiko tonight."

  "You're not making any sense." I struggled to get his arms off me. But I was too groggy to use my full strength. "Let go. And go home."

  "You're Yukiko when you're soft and not being a hardass," he explained, drunken amusement in his tone.

  I let out a sigh and gave up. "I knew I'd regret the day I gave you my middle name."

  "You like it when I call you Yukiko. And I like it that only I get to call you that."

  "Here in the US, yes. At Japan, no, you're not the only one."

  "Must you really rain on my parade?"

  I buried my face into my pillow and smothered my laugh. I didn't know he was funny when he was drunk.

  "Why did you drink?" I asked curiously.

  "We found him."

  "Who?"

  "The guy who's after Sophia."

  The information surprised me into full wakefulness. I turned into him. The moon gave me sufficient light to see his face and I saw that he was smiling warmly at me, his green eyes wrinkling at the corners.

  "Who is it?" I asked.

  "Pete Ward."

  I inhaled sharply. "Him?"

  He lost his smile and his hand, which had moved down to my waist, stilled. "Do you know him?"

  Shaking my head once, I answered, "I only know of him. He's a nice guy from what I've heard."

  "A nice guy who sells narcotics and drugs girls to get laid."

  My head jerked. "Oh, my God," I whispered. "Seriously?"

  He stared at me for a moment, his eyes roaming all over my face.

  Then he quietly said, "I don't want to talk about that bastard anymore. I've had enough talking about him with the guys."

  His hand on my waist started to roam again, sliding down to my hip, and his gaze dropped to my mouth. He rolled over until he was on top of me, until I was pinned against the bed by his hard, warm body. His eyes were intense, heated and my mouth went dry. I felt a weird sensation of fear mingled bizarrely with the barest hint of anticipation. My whole body did a shiver and I knew he felt it when his fingers curled deeper into my flesh.

  In panic, I put my hands on his chest and shoved. "You should go home, John."

  "Yukiko..." he whispered, laying his forehead against mine.

  The fear fled and the anticipation took hold.

  "I said don't call me that," I muttered without heat.

  My pulse raced as he stared directly at me. His hand gently tipped my chin up and his head started to move closer. The memories of the night I seduced him flashed into my mind and I fought back another shiver.

  "Do you know how hard it is to be away from you?"

  At his words, the anticipation disappeared and hatred filled me.

  Because I suddenly remembered.

  I remembered his truck.

  The girl in the passenger's seat.

  Their closeness and her smile.

  The reason I slept so late, tossing and turning, plagued by thoughts of what they could be doing after that ride.

  The anger and resentment boiled over as I felt my chest compress like a hundred pound weight had settled on it. After what I'd seen earlier that night, how could he do this to me?

  With a disdainful gaze toward him, I muttered, "Did you kiss that girl in your truck with those lips?"

  It gave him pause.

  It actually gave him pause.

  And the guilt in his face, oh God, it hurt.

  It hurt so much.

  "Get out of my bed, Steele."

  He stared at me, his expression solemn but it was there, right in his eyes. Pain and regret.

  Pain and fucking regret.

  The asshole.

  He looked like he wanted to say something but decided against it. He closed his eyes and slipped his arms away from my body. As he did, I turned my back to him. I didn't want to see him leave.

  "I didn't fuck her," I heard him say and I closed my eyes tight.

  "And I don't care."

  "Maybe I'll go back to her."

  A wave of pain rolled through me and I swallowed the painful knot in my throat.

  "Send her my regards," I mumbled.

  "Is that what you really want?"

  His voice was gentle but I wasn't going to be sucked in.

  Liar, liar, liar.

  "You don't really care what I want," I whispered. "You never did."

  He didn't speak anymore.

  When I looked at the window, he was gone.

  The curtains billowed from the breeze of the open window and I stared at it for a while. Recalling the sensation of being held by him, I felt the tears sting my eyes.

  Then I finally let them out as I burned the memory in my heart in a way I knew the scar of that burn would live there forever with the rest of them.

  Chapter 13

  Eight years ago, John and Terry at age eight

  A year had passed since Terry and John became friends and it seemed that every day their friendship only grew stronger. It didn't matter that the two seldom meet since they lived in different cities. What mattered was whenever th
ey did meet, it was like they've never left each other's side.

  John surprised Terry one morning when he visited her home. It had always been Terry who visited so it was to her great surprise and pleasure when she saw him walk inside the foyer with his butler and maid in tow.

  "Your house is so quaint," John commented as Terry showed him around.

  She looked at him and frowned. "Is that a bad thing?"

  "No," he answered, shaking his head. "It's amazing, really. It's a perfect blend of both cultures and I've never seen anything like it. The entire house is magnificent."

  With a smile, she beckoned him to her rooms. "Both my parents had a hand on the design and architecture of the house. And the interior and landscape designer they hired were quite good too."

  He made a mental note to talk to his father about these designers. Then he walked inside her rooms. He stopped and let his gaze wander around. His first thought was her rooms seem too mature for someone who was only 8 years old. He took a peek inside her bedroom and surveyed the relentless orderliness. There wasn't even a doll or toy in display, only shelves of books. No hint of playfulness, no hint of fun. It wasn't decorated to Terry's taste, obviously. Somehow, he knew her mother was the person behind all of this.

  When he went back to the sitting room, his eyes landed on her and he saw she was wringing her hands together, looking a little shy. He smirked.

  "You aren't going to kick me in here, are you?" he asked.

  He loved reminding her of that fact. She stared at him in annoyance.

  "I could if you want to," she returned coolly.

  He chuckled and took a seat on the sofa. Then he said, "Your name."

  "What about it?" she asked as she sat beside him.

  John was frowning at her intently. "Your name isn't Japanese like your brother."

  "I do have a Japanese name," she said. "Just like my brother has an American name."

  His brows rose. "Interesting. What is it?"

  "Why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why do you want to know?" she asked with a suspicious look at him.

  John lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "So I could use it against you."

  She hit him lightly on the arm for that gibe.

  "I was joking," he said with a laugh. "I just want to know you better."

  Terry found that she couldn't give a snappy rejoinder because her cheeks had started to burn. John was looking at her with such a gentle expression she had to look away to collect herself.

  "It's Yukiko," she said softly.

  "Yuwiko?"

  She sighed and looked at him again. He was now wearing an expression of hilarity and she knew he purposely mispronounced her name. He was such a child.

  "It's Yukiko, John," she said dryly. "My full name is Terry Yukiko Evans. My brother's name is Haru Terrence Evans."

  "Both named after your father, I suppose?"

  She nodded. "Yes. My grandfather wants us to have names to support our Japanese identities. Dad simply agreed to his wishes."

  "Does no one call you Yukiko?"

  "My grandparents do."

  He stared at her for a while. Then he said, "I'll call you Yukiko from now on, then,"

  She gave him a quelling look. "Please, don't."

  "Why not?" he said, affronted. "It's a beautiful name. And besides, it makes me feel special, knowing only I get to call you with that name."

  She glared at him, though she could feel her cheeks heat up again, and he returned the gesture. He was such a spoiled brat, she thought. He always liked getting his way. Still, she found that she didn't actually mind letting him have his way this time.

  Because he was special.

  John didn't go back to Stella.

  Instead, he sent Ed to give her the money that was more than they had agreed upon.

  Stella was pissed but he didn't care. He had too many problems to take care of first. He didn't have time to deal with her tantrums.

  First was Terry.

  She was the reason he couldn't go back, could never go back to Stella. And even after she pushed him away, he still didn't.

  Admittedly, he didn't deal well with her rejection last Saturday night. Drunk and angry, he told her he'd go back to Stella when he knew he wouldn't. She had ruined him from all other girls. Being with her again, seeing her again, it had opened up a lot of memories he had closeted and the emotions that always came along with it. And he wasn't sure how exactly he'd deal with all of it.

  His second problem was the supplier.

  They finally found him.

  Pete Ward.

  After interrogating Jonas Philips, the guy Stella told him was connected to Ward in the warehouse, it didn't take long for Skull and Rohan to find the dipshit who'd been targeting Sophia.

  They also found out why he was so hard to track down.

  The bastard was smart, cunning and manipulative. He knew how to deal with people, how to use them. He knew how not to leave traces behind. He also knew how to use technology to his benefit. He was one of the nerds in East Private who was well-liked because he was friendly and had charisma.

  Why he was in the narcotics business they've yet to find out. And why he liked Sophia so much as to lure her through Dwayne and not approach her himself they've yet to learn.

  Leon had almost killed Philips, he was strangling him, if it weren't for John who intervened. But surprisingly, Leon kept his cool and he found out why.

  Leon had kissed Sophia.

  He'd kissed her.

  And John almost whooped with fucking joy because this must mean that things were progressing smoothly for the both of them.

  But then, Leon had to ruin it when he said he was going to be done with Sophia when they get the supplier.

  What a fucking liar.

  While Leon was busy protecting Sophia in school, the guys formed rotating schedules to protect her at her house. She was currently living by herself because her parents were away for business. It didn't fucking help that Ward seemed to have an inkling that they were on his tail. He was always watching his back, making sure he wasn't alone so they couldn't get him without a witness. Leon was becoming pissed and impatient. And John knew exactly why.

  His best friend was developing feelings for Sophia.

  And he didn't like that he was developing feelings for her, which was fucking stupid.

  It had been a stressful week to say the least.

  With a sigh, John leaned back on the couch and looked at Skull, who was frowning at the pictures on the coffee table and at the same time, talking to Rohan. They were all in Leon's house, discussing the message Rohan had sent to Ward to draw him out. John glanced at his best friend. Leon was staring at the water bottle in his hands and didn't seem to be listening.

  And was that a grin on his face?

  His eyes narrowing, he asked him, "What's funny?"

  Leon's gaze shot up and his eyes focused on John.

  "What?" he asked.

  John pointed to his face. "You were grinning. What's so funny?"

  Skull stopped making suggestions on how to get Ward, suggestions that were so asinine John didn't even bother to listen, and looked at Leon. Rohan did the same thing, his brow raised. Leon's gaze moved around, looking uncomfortable from the attention he was getting.

  "Nothing," he muttered.

  John's eyes narrowed even further.

  See? Fucking stupid.

  He was obviously thinking about her.

  "Are you sure?" John asked. "Did you even hear a word Skull just said?"

  Leon scowled. "Yeah, I did. So, all we have to do is wait again?"

  Skull grunted, "Yeah."

  John frowned at Leon, then said, "I hate waiting." Turning to the dark blond beside him who was silently watching their exchange, he asked, "Do you think he's going to respond to the message, Rohan?"

  Rohan leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees as he studied the pictures of Ward on the coffee table. "My guess? No."