King of Denial : An Academy Bully Romance (Boys of Almadale Book 3)

by Jacie Lennon

“Trixie isn’t just pussy, you fuckwit,” I yell, and Brock is staring up at me, holding his cheek, eyes wide.

  “Dude, calm down and quit yelling,” Corbin says from behind me.

  Finally, I stop struggling. I look around. “She’s not.”

  “We know. He didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

  “He didn’t mean it in a good way either. Trixie is my girlfriend, and you need to accept that, Brock.” I level him with a glare and watch him pick himself up off the floor. There’s already a red mark blooming across his face, and my bet is, it will turn into a bruise before too long.

  “I do accept it. I didn’t mean to piss you off. I’m sorry,” he says. “But if you ever haul off and punch me again, don’t think I won’t reciprocate next time.” He steps closer, his face near mine as we stare each other down.

  I finally grin, satisfied that he got what was coming to him for that asshole comment, and now, I’m ready to go have some fun. I stick my fist out, and he bumps it, hooking our fingers before pulling back with a snap.

  We grab our swimsuits and T-shirts, slipping them on. Sunglasses and hats follow, and we are ready to go enjoy Senior Skip Day as the only freshmen aboard Pearl, my family’s mega yacht.

  I grab my phone, pulling up Trixie’s messages, and send her one.

  Bodhi: Won’t be at school today. See you later?

  It might sound stupid, but I’m already going to miss not spending time with her today. Brock and Corbin are right though; I need to get out and do my own thing every once in a while.

  My phone chimes with Trixie’s incoming message.

  Trixie: Where are you going?

  Bodhi: Senior Skip Day.

  Trixie: You are a freshman.

  I grin at her reply. As if I didn’t know what grade we were in.

  Bodhi: Not today. ;) Maybe you’ll let me drive you around later since I’m older now.

  Trixie: In your dreams. Be safe!

  I start to type out love you before I realize what I’m doing. I quickly backspace and delete the two words before my thumb tries to send them. I’m not sure where that came from. We haven’t said that. I don’t even know if I do love her. Sure, I enjoy being with her and all, but that could be chalked up to being in a new relationship. Love is a strong word, and maybe I know that better than most. Since my mother, who was supposed to love me unconditionally, walked out, love holds a different meaning for me.

  Bodhi: I will. Bye.

  I slip my phone in my pocket and shake my head. I’ll deal with those thoughts another time. Right now, I’m going to have some fun.

  “Fuck, we should have come last semester,” Corbin says, glancing around at everything going on onboard our yacht.

  I wonder if Dad knows exactly what goes down since he foots the bill. I can’t say I blame the seniors for doing this twice a year; it’s exactly what’s needed in between classes and tests and living on top of each other in the Almadale dorms.

  I don’t recognize everyone here, but I see a few faces I do recognize, only not from Almadale.

  “What the hell?” I hiss, glancing across the top deck. “What are they doing here?”

  “Who?” Brock swings his head around, and I know the moment he spots them. “Fucking Heywood Prep,” he spits, jaw clenched.

  Our school rival in all things. Money, prestige, and a small amount in sports. Our prep school doesn’t press the athletics much since we are already spoiled little shits.

  Brock stalks across the deck, and I follow.

  “Who are they?” Corbin asks.

  Sometimes, I forget that he grew up in Loredo and not swimming in our elite, shark-infested circles.

  “Seth Hastings and some of his buddies. He goes to Heywood Prep, and he’s the biggest douche bag you’ll ever meet.”

  “The biggest,” Brock agrees, still walking toward him.

  I see Connor Stanson and some other guy standing next to him. They see us coming, pasting asshole smirks on their faces as they lounge against the built-in bar area.

  “How did you get on here?” Brock asks.

  “I was invited,” Seth says, hooking a thumb toward another group of guys I vaguely recognize.

  They are older than us but definitely go to Heywood.

  “You aren’t seniors; you shouldn’t be here.”

  “Neither are you, idiot,” Seth says, raising his glass to his mouth. He looks like he thinks he delivered the greatest insult ever.

  God, I can’t stand him.

  “My cousin is a senior; he let us tag along,” Seth’s friend says.

  “This is our boat. Now, get off.” Brock crosses his arms across his chest, and I do the same.

  Corbin hangs back beside me, one brow cocked as he watches the show.

  “Nope,” Seth says, popping the P on the end like an asshat and tilting his head toward us.

  “This boat belongs to your dad, not you. You aren’t supposed to be here either,” he says, and I hate that he’s right.

  Fuck.

  We spend a few more moments staring each other down before Connor steps forward, hands raised.

  “Why don’t we stay out of each other’s way? And at the end of the day, no one gets hurt.”

  He seems to be the most reasonable of the trio, but I still can’t stand his fucking face.

  I move closer to him and ball my hands into fists at my sides.

  “If you step foot on this boat again without an invite from one of us, you are dead,” I say.

  “Oh, real scary, Montgomery,” Seth says, pushing off the bar. He walks beside me, dropping his voice to a whisper. “How’s that girlfriend of yours?”

  “The fuck you just say?” I spin and grab his T-shirt by the throat. It only makes him grin wider, and I realize he knows something I don’t.

  “You are dating Beatrice Northcutt, are you not?”

  “Keep her fucking name out of your mouth.” I’m seething, but he doesn’t act affected.

  What is with this asshole?

  “I’d listen to him if I were you,” Brock says behind me, no doubt feeling his cheek throb at the memory of my fist.

  “It’s not her name you should worry about being in my mouth,” Seth says with a wink.

  I lose it for the second time today. I rear back with the fist not holding his shirt, and as Seth’s hands come up to cover his face, I land the blow right in the soft part of his stomach. He doubles over without a sound, clutching his belly, and I take the opportunity to bring my knee up, right into his nose. There’s a sickening crack before I feel hands grab me, pulling me back.

  I look over my shoulder, seeing Connor is the one putting his hands on me, so I throw my head backward, intending to make contact with his face, but he dodges me at the last second.

  Corbin is ducking while the friend swings at him, catching his arm and throwing it down before his other fist comes back around. Brock has taken over with Seth, and I watch as he rushes, grabbing him around the middle and falling to the ground.

  I spin, fists raised and ready to fight Connor, but he grabs my arm, and with some voodoo spell or some shit because I don’t see him move, he twists it and has me lying on my back, staring up at him.

  “Cut this shit out,” he says, bending over me, spit flying from his mouth and landing on my face. He growls at me, “Don’t fucking move.”

  He shoves my head back down as I try to get up, and I turn to watch him effectively stop Brock and Seth’s fight. It’s not much of one, considering Seth is lying on the ground while Brock pushes his foot into his side.

  I grin as I watch the blood pour from Seth’s nose, where I hit him. It’s got to be broken. No nose makes the sound his did and remains intact.

  “You okay?” Brock is beside me now, and I can still hear Corbin and whatever the guy’s name is grunting as they grapple.

  “Fine,” I say, sitting up and placing my arms on my bent knees.

  I glance around, noticing we’ve drawn a crowd. One I didn’t even see or hear in the heat
of the moment. All I could focus on was doing the most damage I could to that fucking douche Seth. His words ring in my ears, making me see red all over again.

  “It’s not her name you should worry about being in my mouth.”

  I want to kill him for that.

  “Get the fuck off our boat,” I hear Corbin say as Connor pulls him up.

  Seth is getting to his feet, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

  “This isn’t over,” Seth says, staring straight at me.

  I feel his words in my bones, sending a chill down my spine, and I’m not sure why. Usually, I would write him off as a punk-ass wannabe tough guy, but the way he looked at me when he talked about Trixie and how he even knew we were dating make me think twice. He knows more than he’s letting on, and I don’t like it. I don’t fucking like being kept in the dark.

  From the railing of the top deck, we watch them leave, walking back down the gangplank to the marina. I stick my middle finger up at Seth when he turns around and finds me watching him.

  A hand raking across my back has me turning, and then a palm to my chest has me looking down into brown eyes. But not the brown eyes I want to see right now.

  “What do you want, Christina?” I try to move back, but I’m pinned between the rail and her damn hand touching me.

  “I wanted to check and see if you were all right,” she says, moving closer.

  I shift to the side, trying to get out from under her. I think most guys would welcome her attention—she’s fucking hot, and she obviously wants something. I don’t know why she would choose me though. I’m a freshman, and she’s a senior. I’m pretty sure she’s eighteen, which would make this a bad idea for her.

  “I’m fine,” I say, trying to keep my voice from being gruff.

  “That fight looked rough,” she says, reaching up to touch my face.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, and she presses up onto her toes. I turn at the last second, and her lips graze my cheek. “What the fuck, Christina? I have a girlfriend.”

  I grab her shoulders, pushing her back a little. She lowers back down with a pout.

  “I didn’t think that was serious.”

  “It’s serious.”

  But you can’t say I love you, my inner voice reminds me.

  “I’d be way more fun,” Christina says.

  “Have some standards,” I grit out and watch as Brock hooks one arm around her waist.

  “Christina, why don’t you come with me? I have the same face, and I’ll let you call me Bodhi,” Brock says, grinning at me over her head as he turns her.

  Corbin and I watch them walk away before he bends over, guffawing at the turn of events.

  “You should have seen your face when she tried to kiss you.”

  “How come girls can do that shit, but if I tried, it would be sexual harassment?” I reach up, rubbing my cheek where her lips touched.

  Corbin shrugs. “I don’t think she would have considered it harassment if you had kissed her.”

  “Tough shit. I’m not interested. And I don’t think she’s interested in me specifically. She’s more interested in what I could give her. You know, her family is on the brink of bankruptcy. Heard Dad talking about it over winter break.”

  “No shit? Well, I wouldn’t know. I’ve been bankrupt my whole life. What’s the brink of it like?” Corbin grins, and I mock punch his arm.

  “Shut the fuck up, man. You are our friend now. What’s ours is yours. You are fucking rich now.” I pull my pack of cigarettes from my shorts pocket, my finger tracing a dent where it got roughed up during the fight.

  “Who even buys those for you?” Corbin asks, eyeing my cigs.

  I shrug, pulling one out and sticking it between my lips. I cup the end as I light it. “Don’t tell Trixie.”

  “Does she know?”

  “No, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Probably shouldn’t keep secrets from her,” Corbin says, and I roll my eyes.

  “I’m not. I don’t do it a lot.”

  “It’s becoming more of a habit.”

  “Who are you, my fucking mom?” I growl, and Corbin throws his hands up. “I’ll do what I want.”

  I don’t know why I’m being like this. Maybe it’s the adrenaline wearing off, leaving me shaky and needing something to calm me down. Getting the third degree while I’m like this has my blood boiling. Maybe I don’t like the fact that Corbin is right.

  I don’t fucking know.

  All I want is to smoke in peace.

  “Fine. Fuck it,” Corbin says, striding away.

  The guilt sets in. He was trying to help—I know this—but the emotions running through me right now are building up, clawing their way out of my throat, and I want to yell. I want to punch something again. I’ve got a thirst for it after today.

  I look down at my hand. Two of my knuckles are cracked, dried blood crusted to them, and I flex, watching the area stretch and new blood seep out.

  If I never see Seth fucking Hastings again, it will be too soon.

  10

  Trixie

  End of Freshman Year—May

  “You are coming to stay with me, right?”

  “Yes, as soon as I okay it with my parents,” I say, grinning up at Bodhi, who has me pulled close, his hands resting on my lower back.

  He moves his face to rub his nose against mine. “Good. I’ll pick you up on Saturday. Dad said you can have a guest room for as long as you want.”

  “I’m sure I can’t stay the entire summer, Bodhi.” I sigh, knowing that’s what he wants me to do.

  My parents won’t be thrilled about me staying in the first place, but I’m determined to put my foot down on this. It will be hard enough to go a week without seeing him.

  “I’m going to chain you in our basement, keep you for myself.”

  I narrow my eyes at him as he looks down at me.

  “You said that very calmly,” I say, shaking my head.

  “But I’ll miss you.” He sticks his lower lip out, pouting.

  “It’s a week, and then I’ll be at your house. Apparently chained in your basement.”

  “I’ve got to go find my extra-heavy-duty chains,” he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his grin, “so you can’t escape.”

  “Okay, weirdo. I’ve got to go.” I try to pull out of his tight embrace.

  “Hey,” he says, growing serious and pulling me in closer, if that’s even possible. “I really, really like you.”

  I push up on the balls of my feet, rubbing my nose across his. “I really like you too, Bodhi Trent.”

  “See you soon, Beatrice Lucinda.” He presses his lips to mine.

  “Gross. Get a room,” Brock says, walking past us with some bags that he throws in the back of Bodhi’s car.

  We break apart with a laugh, and I walk to our town car, opening the door and throwing another wave his way before I step inside.

  I’m putting my seat belt on when there’s a hurried knock at my window, scaring me. I press my hand to my chest, looking up into Bodhi’s face, where he has it smashed against the tint.

  I roll it down, laughing as his face distorts when the glass pulls his skin. “What are you doing?”

  “I need one more kiss.”

  “Get off her, man. You are going to scare her,” Brock says, standing to the side as he pulls his arm.

  Corbin is laughing, leaning against Brock’s black truck. I’ve always found it weird that Chester lets both of his sons drive. Or maybe he doesn’t let them. But I still refuse to ride with Bodhi until he has an actual license.

  Bodhi sticks his entire head, plus his shoulders, in the window, puckering his lips. I laugh, gripping his face with my hands and bringing us together for a quick peck.

  “One week, Bo.”

  “One week,” he whispers back before he’s wrenched out of the open window by Brock, who looks disgusted.

  “Get yourself together,” he hisses at Bodhi, who pays him no mind as
he raises one hand in a wave.

  I roll my window up.

  One super-long, lonely week.

  “Mr. Northcutt is expecting you in his study,” Jan says.

  I’ve always hated how my father makes the staff be so formal. Archibald Northcutt is an old-fashioned man, who expects everyone to be professional and on top of their game at all times.

  Jan’s one of the head chefs for my family. Why we need more than one is a mystery I’ve always wondered, but I don’t run the house, so it’s none of my business.

  “Thank you,” I tell her, setting my purse on the floor and slipping out of my shoes. They are new and pinch my feet.

  I continue up the stairs and turn, finding the study door, where I pause.

  I take a deep breath. Standing on the outside of my dad’s study has never been fun. Anytime I’ve been called in, I’m usually in trouble, and this doesn’t feel any different even though I know I haven’t done anything wrong.

  I raise one fist and knock, the sound echoing through the empty hallway.

  “Come in.” His gruff reply makes me cringe.

  I crack it open, and I can see him sitting at his desk, hands folded over the top, my mom standing behind him. The silent supporter and trophy wife that she’s always been. He’s not looking at me but instead across the desk, and my heart drops. Someone else is in here too. I push the door open the rest of the way and see two men sitting in the chairs across from my dad. My mom waves me in, and I step forward before shutting the door behind me.

  As I get closer, I see one of the men is actually a guy about my age, and he looks familiar. His eyes dart toward me, raking me up and down before his gaze lands on my chest and stays there. I shiver.

  “Come here, Beatrice,” Dad says, getting my attention.

  I walk toward my dad and stop at the side of his desk, standing in between my parents and the strangers in the room. I can feel the guy’s eyes still on me. There’s a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, a tension hanging in the air.

  “Was your ride home acceptable?”