by Mae Doyle
ruin me
A High School Bully Romance
Mae Doyle
Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
This is a work of art/fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events, or places is purely coincidental. Any persons appearing on the cover image for this book are models and do not have any connection to the contents of this story.
All characters depicted in this work are unrelated consenting adults. This author assumes no responsibility for the use/misuse of this material.
© 2020 Mae Doyle
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Chapter One
You want to know what makes you feel like an imposter?
Walking into a new school for your first day when everyone else has already been there for three years. Nobody, and I mean nobody, wants to switch schools halfway through their senior year, but that’s exactly what I’m doing.
It’s not that I don’t want to be here, and I know that my parents probably think that I’m ungrateful, and that everyone in the school will be wondering why I’m here now, instead of three years ago, but some of us just take longer to find our skills than others.
Who knew that I was interested in art before high school? It’s not like my parents had the money needed to give me private art lessons, so it wasn’t until my sweet art teacher my freshman year spent some time on me that I realized that 1 – I like art and 2 – I’m actually pretty good at it.
Well, maybe saying that I’m pretty good is an understatement. Mrs. Polly, my art teacher, kept telling me that I wasn’t taking my seriously enough or giving myself enough credit. I mean, my paintings were good enough for me to get accept into Trinity Prep my senior year, which is saying something.
Even though knowing that I’m good enough to get in when everyone else had been busting their asses for three years should make me feel good, I’m struggling to find any comfort in that fact just right now. As much as I loved being admired for my art, I’m not a huge fan of sticking out in social situations. Like this one.
“Abigail Williams?” The secretary is taking her sweet time clicking through folders on the computer. “You know, we don’t get a lot of transfers, especially in the middle of the year, so it’s just a little weird for me to have to do this today. Sorry for the delay.”
“Yeah, it’s Abby. But…no problem.” Sighing, I turn around and lean against her desk, watching students walk by in the halls. Trinity Prep doesn’t look anything like my old high school. For one, it’s decorated with art from current and past students. Some of the kids who studied here went on to the best art schools in the world, while others simply bypassed those and went straight into internships.
I’m gunning for an internship, no doubt about it. School is great and all, but just…not for me.
Another thing that sets Trinity Prep apart from any other school I’d ever seen is the fact that the students all looked like they walked straight out of fashion or art magazines. The kids studying fashion were dressed to kill, even when they were headed to 8 am classes after going out partying the night before. Art students, on the other hand, were obvious thanks to the paint on their clothes and the clay in their hair.
Those are my people. I can’t count how many times I had to carefully wash paint out of my hair so that it didn’t dry and ruin my long blonde locks.
“Oh, here you are!” Finally, the secretary figured out how to work her computer. I turned around to the sound of a printer and she handed me my schedule, her eyes bright. “Please tell me that the porters already took your things.”
“Yeah, they did, thanks.” I skimmed my schedule, vaguely interested in the academic classes I had to take to keep my grades up. What I needed social studies and accounting for, I had no idea, but I had to suffer through them if I was going to keep painting.
“Oh, I’m not interested in accounting. Is there any way that I could substitute it with another math class?” I grin at her, trying to win her over, but she just shakes her head.
“No, no, all of the other classes are full. You have to have a morning class, and this is the last one available. For some reason, it’s just not as popular as some of the other classes, so it often ends up as a last choice for students.” Leaning forward like she was telling me a juicy secret, she whispers, “but I think that you’ll find that the teacher is eye candy, so maybe your 8 am class won’t be so bad.”
Ugh. That’s the last thing that I wanted to think about at 8 am. I didn’t come here for eye candy, I came here to paint.
Before I can turn away, she reaches out and slaps a key into my hand. “That’s for your room. Don’t lose it, because we don’t keep a copy down here, so we’d have to call a locksmith out to open your door for you, and nobody wants that hassle, okay?” Grabbing my schedule from my hand, she flips it over. “Back here is your room information. I’ll call ahead to your first class and let them know that you’ll be a bit late, okay?”
Shaking my head, I smile at her. “Oh, I’m not going to be late, don’t worry.” But as I speak, a bright tone chimes through the building. Turning back around, I see that all of the students who had been walking by were gone, presumably to their classes.
Yep, I’m late.
The secretary chuckles behind me and I turn around to look at her. “Like I said, dear. Late. Now, get, before I have to call your second period, as well.”
Great. This is a great way to start the day. I shoulder my backpack and started down the hall, hoping I’m going in the right direction. I had kinda thought that there would be a guide who could help me find my classes, but it looks like things are done a little differently at Trinity Prep.
Even though I walk quickly, it still takes almost ten minutes to find my classroom. Leaning against the door, I hear the teacher inside droning on. Nobody wants to start out Monday morning with accounting, but I take a deep breath and push open the door.
Immediately, everyone in the class turns to look at me, but my eyes fall on a guy in the back row and my stomach immediately flips over. Holy shit.
“You must be Abigail. We were told that you would be a few minutes late to class, but I had no idea that you would take your sweet time in getting here. I’m Professor Thiel.” I have to rip my eyes away from the guy in the back of the room to look at the teacher talking to me.
He’s tall and thin, just like you’d expect from an accounting teacher. His tie is a little crooked, but other than that, he looks li
ke he fits right in with the rest of the preppy people that Trinity Prep attracts.
Also, he sounds a little like a dick. Good to know.
“Hi, I’m Abby. And I’m sorry about getting delayed, it’s just that I got a little turned around.” Putting on my brightest smile, I grin at him, trying to soften the tension in the room.
The guy in the back seat lets out a laugh, and I whip around, pinning him in place with my eyes.
“Mr. Quinn, do you have something you want to share with the class?” The teacher’s voice is incredibly dry, and I already know that I’m going to struggle to stay away every morning.
“No, I’m good. Just wondering how someone can be so stupid as to get turned around here. It’s not like it’s hard to find your way around.” The guy – Quinn – leans back in his chair and stretches his arms above his head. Immediately, all of the girls in the room let out a collective sigh.
Except me. What a jerk. I have no idea what I did to piss him off, but I’m not interested in playing games. I’m here to learn from the best so that I can get an internship and get the hell out of my hometown.
“Well, we always forgive people the first time they make a mistake, right? So now that Abigail has made a mistake, we can all assume that she’ll be able to find us more easily tomorrow morning.” Professor Thiel turns from Quinn to face me. “Why don’t you sit right up front here by Madeline? That way I can make sure that you’re paying attention and that you won’t be a distraction.”
My face burning, I throw a tight smile at Madeline and then slide into the seat next to her. She gives me a small smile back but then quickly turns to face the front of the classroom again. Okay. That’s how this is going to go, huh?
This is supposed to be a beginning accounting class, but just fifteen minutes into the class and I realize that it’s way over my head.
“Abigail, do you have any idea how to use a double-entry accounting method in order to facilitate the recording of these transactions?”
I’m barely paying attention, but my head snaps up from my paper when he calls on me. Glancing down, I realize that he’d gone completely off-book and that I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“I’m…sorry. I don’t. This is actually my first accounting class, so I’m just doing my best to keep up.” My mom had always told me to smile and be as friendly as possible, even if I didn’t know what was going on, so I flash him a huge smile, hoping to make the grumpy look on his face disappear.
It doesn’t work.
“This is not for beginners, Abigail.”
“It’s Abby.”
He ignores me. “This class is for students who see themselves moving on with accounting and know that a fundamental understanding of it will help them improve their lives. If you don’t feel the same way, then I suggest that you try to find another morning class to transfer into.”
I pause, unsure of how to continue this conversation without really upsetting him, but there’s no good way to tell him what I have to. “I already tried, sir, but this is the last 8 am class available.”
This time, when someone laughs, I don’t have to turn around to see who it is. Quinn’s laugh is easily recognizable, and if I weren’t in such an uncomfortable position, I would feel it thrum through my body. He’s hot, sure, but being hot isn’t an excuse for being a jerk.
Professor Thiel pauses, his eyes locked on mine. I can tell that he’s thinking about what he’s going to do with me. “Okay then, Abigail. It looks like the two of us are stuck together. I’m sure that someone here will be willing to tutor you, but that’s all that I can do to help you. Do you understand?”
Oh, I understand.
I understand that Trinity Prep is nothing like the high school I left behind. I nod, digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands. It would be too easy to break down and cry, and I don’t want to do that in front of all of these new students.
I can only imagine how hard Quinn would laugh at that.
Nodding my head, I suck in a breath. “I understand, professor. Thank you.”
He gives me a curt nod and then turns back to the board to continue his lecture. My face is burning, but I refuse to give anyone in class the satisfaction of me getting up to go to the bathroom or dipping my head to my desk. I hold my head high, my eyes locked on the board and on the teacher.
Even so, I hear the whispers behind me. There’s more than one person talking, but I’m already sure that I know one of them. I have no idea what I did to piss Quinn off this quickly, but something about me just rubs him wrong.
All I can hope is that he and I don’t have any other classes together, or else this year is really going to suck.
Chapter Two
“Madeline, wait!” Madeline is the only person in accounting who showed me even a smidge of friendliness, which is why I chase her down the hall. Most of the other students are moving in groups from class to class, but she’s walking by herself, her head down, cutting through the groups as quickly and smoothly as possible.
She doesn’t pause when I call out, so I do it again. “Madeline! Hey!” This time, she gets caught up in a group of students and I manage to catch up with her. She has on a short skirt and a tight t-shirt that I thought would be against school rules. I feel downright dowdy next to her in an oversized sweater and pair of jeans.
“Hey.” Taking a moment to catch my breath, I flash her a grin. “I almost lost you back there in the crowd! What class are you going to next?”
“Um, science.” She shifts her backpack and looks past me down the hall. “What do you have next?”
Okay, so she’s not the chattiest person I’ve ever met. I can’t help but miss my best friends from my old school, but thinking about them isn’t going to help me survive my time at Trinity Prep. I smile at her. “Same. Care to show me the way? I don’t think that I can handle another public reaming if I’m late to class again.”
This time, she smiles. Good. A little self-deprecating humor is often what it takes to make people warm up to you. I’ve learned that the hard way, but at least it seems like it’s going to work.
“Sure, if you thought that Professor Thiel was bad, then you definitely don’t want to piss off Mrs. Scarlet. She thinks that she’s God’s gift to science, but let me tell you, she’s just kinda crazy.”
“Aren’t most science teachers?” I fall into step beside her and listen to her talk. She keeps up a steady stream all the way to class, filling me on how the students think that she had an affair with the director of the school but nobody can prove it, and how the teachers have a mini-bar in the teacher’s lounge.
I gasp at that. There was no way that that would have been allowed at my old high school. “Are you sure that that’s legal? It doesn’t sound like teachers drinking on the job is the best idea, right?”
She laughs and tosses her hair. “Yeah, it’s definitely not, but nobody really cares. As long as Trinity is able to turn out artists and professionals then parents just kinda…look the other way. Anyway, this is it.”
The science lab isn’t like anything that I’d ever seen before at my old school. Where we had had old tables and half-rusted equipment that we had to use for experiments, the equipment at Trinity Prep is all top of the line. There was no doubt that they value providing a great education, even though the main focus was the arts.
“I had no idea that science classes were such a big deal here.” Following Madeline into the room, I drop my backpack on the floor next to hers. “I mean, this is insane.”
Madeline sighs and leans close to me. From here, I can smell her sweet bubblegum perfume. It is light and airy. When she moves, I see a faint sheen of dust on her clothes, and it hit me that my new friend is a sculpture. “Listen, Abby, there’s something you need to know. Everything at Trinity Prep is a big deal. Everything. If you can figure that out and play by the rules then you’ll probably be fine. I think.”
“Like staying out of Quinn’s way?” I ask. Madeline’s not stupid. I’m sure th
at she saw how he reacted to me coming to class.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Quinn’s a dick, Abby, okay? You don’t want to get involved with him, trust me. Everyone here is out for blood, and he leads the charge.”
That is a hell of a warning. Opening my mouth, I want to ask her more, but before I can say anything, Mrs. Scarlet walks into the room. She’s holding a huge book and drops it to her desk at the front of the room with a loud slam.
Immediately, everyone in the class sits up straight and turns to the front of the room. Mrs. Scarlet doesn’t command the room quite like Mr. Thiel, but there’s something fascinating about her. Maybe it’s the way her dress is just a little too short. Maybe it’s the oversized jewelry that she has on. Maybe it’s the fact that when she talks, she makes really aggressive eye contact.
Whatever it is, something about Mrs. Scarlet immediately intrigues me.
It’s just the second period of the day, but it’s already easy to see that I have a lot to learn about Trinity Prep.
***
After science I have history, but Madeline wanders off to the art hall. “I’ll see you at lunch, Abby! Good luck with history!”
Waving, I can’t help but smile to myself as I turn away from her. Science wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought that it would be. Mrs. Scarlet is full of herself, but at least she didn’t call me out in front of the entire class the way that Professor Thiel did.
I stop in the middle of the hall to look at my schedule. Even though I know that I have history next, I’m not sure where exactly I need to go for class. There’s a map on the bottom of the back of the paper, but it’s so small that it’s hard for me to see where I’m going.
Swearing to myself, I turn around in the hall and run right into someone.
Someone big.
Someone muscular.
Someone who smells like heaven.
I can’t help myself. I take a huge whiff, enjoying the way the smell plays in my nose, before I look up.