Bitter: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Wicked Brotherhood Book 1)

by Eden Beck

  But no such luck.

  That conversation with Caleb is the end of it … especially once I mention to him that I’ve actually gotten to ride in an Aston Martin when he hasn’t so much as seen one in real life.

  I spend the next couple of weeks getting relatively tortured by my brothers … especially when they find out I’m heading out for a couple days to attend a history conference. The conference itself only lasts for three days, but you’d think it lasted a lifetime from the way my brothers make fun of me about it when I come back.

  Apparently pretending to be a boy is normal, but liking history is for nerds.

  But still, their roughhousing is strangely nostalgic.

  Caleb, Blake, and Mason are very physical. Mason’s tall and lanky, but he’s also wiry and strong. He likes to pick me up and throw me. Blake likes to hold me down so that someone else can tickle me or annoy the shit out of me. Caleb’s the same way. Spencer is more laid-back, and I’m sad when he has to leave way earlier than the other boys to go back to California.

  “Can’t miss class,” he says, tugging on his UCLA sweatshirt.

  My best friend in the house becomes the new dog, Taco. He’s a mutt from a shelter with floppy ears, and he’s sweet as can be. He takes to following me around and sleeping in my bed with me.

  The last night before I leave, I lay in my bed with Taco snuggled up to my side and stare up at the ceiling. How are things going to be when I get back? Will they be normal?

  What even is normal anymore?

  I thought that I’d use this time here at the house to start to unpack the series of events that have occurred these last couple months, but instead, I’ve found myself just slipping back into the comfort and normalcy of my old life. But in truth, this isn’t normal for me anymore. This is the fantasy because, in just a few days, I’m going to have to return to Bleakwood.

  As much as I’ve enjoyed this little slice of fantasy, I’m going to have to face my new life there sooner or later.

  And one of the thoughts that keeps coming back to mind is what I’m supposed to do with The Brotherhood now … and most specifically, Jasper.

  How do I feel about Jasper?

  That seems the most pressing question of all to deal with, right? He thinks I’m a boy, and he definitely almost kissed me that night we were drunk. There was definitely something with Beck, too, though.

  For all I know, Heath got handsy with me too. I never did get all my memories back from that night, and they do seem to do things together, these three.

  But there’s no answer to those questions.

  I should hate Jasper, Heath, and Beck … but I can’t bring myself to. Not completely, anyway. My time here at home has made me realize why that might be, that I’ve gotten used to being tossed around by boys bigger than me, but part of me knows that’s got to be screwed up.

  I’ve got to be screwed up, too. Why otherwise would I keep explaining away how The Brotherhood treats me as anything other than abuse?

  I turn on my side; Taco grunts but adjusts, and I reach out to scratch his ears. Maybe things will be fine when I get back. Maybe it’ll be … normal.

  Or at least, as normal as a life at Bleakwood can be when you’re as tangled up with The Brotherhood as I am.

  Chapter Twenty

  New haircut, more oversized hoodies, healed ribs—I’m fresh and almost excited when I arrive back at Bleakwood.

  I walk through the courtyard with a bounce in my step. I’m wearing a comfy sports bra beneath my shirt and oversized jacket that still somehow straps everything in place. My hair doesn’t look like I snipped it off with my own dull scissors. Things are gonna be better.

  I can just feel it.

  That’s not a feeling that lasts long.

  As soon as I walk through the double doors, scanning the milling crowd eagerly for Rafael, I feel a hand on my shoulder push me toward the wall. My back slams against it and almost knocks the breath out of me.

  My lips part, my breath heavy with the scent of the cigarette I smoked on my way up here, as I lift my eyes to meet those of my attacker.

  Heath shoves his finger into my face, and I go cross-eyed trying to focus on it before looking back up into his narrowed eyes. He scans the shape of my body with a half smear painted on his face as he takes me in.

  “Looks like you’re finally back in fighting form,” he says, hands groping my upper arms and squeezing too tight, tight enough to leave bruises. Then just as quickly, he lets go of me and takes a half step away. I have to catch myself before I fall forward onto my face from the sudden lack of pressure pinning me back.

  “Time for you to play lacrosse,” he snaps as I regain my footing.

  I squint up at him. His eyes look … crazed, sort of. He seems jittery and shaky, like he’s had about six cups of triple espresso.

  “What?” I ask stupidly.

  “Davis got mono,” Heath says, spit flying out of his mouth.

  I wince, forcing myself not to wipe my face in front of him. “Who?”

  “Davis got mono and can’t play, so you have to start coming to practice again. We have a game coming up.”

  I groan inwardly. I thought we were through with that. I guess I’m going to have to go back to bandaging my chest regularly after all.

  “I’m just a bench warmer,” I say, staring up at his agitated expression. “Do you really want me out on that field?”

  Heath grits his teeth. “Of course not, but we need a certain number of players.”

  Someone walks a bit too close in the hall behind him, causing Heath to suddenly spin round and briefly shout at him to watch his step. Behind us, the crowd of returning students—and a couple of girls loitering from the girls’ school, for some reason—stop to look.

  Upon seeing it’s just one of The Brotherhood bullying that scholarship kid again, they return to their business.

  Of course. Assholes.

  Heath turns back to me with a grimace. “If our team doesn’t have the minimum number of players, bench warmers or not, then we don’t qualify to even play other schools. So, get your ass back to practice.”

  That seems like a stupid rule to me, almost as stupid as the fact that this league has heated fields that allows them to play outside well into winter. “Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll get checked out after I get my shit set up in my dorm. Happy?”

  Heath blinks, lowering his finger slowly, but he’s still got a manic look on his face.

  “Calm down, man. God.” I put a hand on his chest to push him back, but he springs away from my touch like I’ve got a disease.

  Speaking of diseases, Beck suddenly materializes out of the crowd and takes his turn jabbing a finger in my direction.

  “Good thing you decided to show up again,” Beck calls, his finger wagging accusatorially. “We’ve got to get back to work on our project.”

  I swallow hard, looking between Beck and Heath here in front of me. There’s no sign of the meek boys who wouldn’t look at me before break.

  I glance once down the hall behind them. Where the hell is Rafael when you need him?

  To my surprise, there’s a girl with Beck, clutching his arm and looking around like she’s daring anyone to take him away from her. She spots me looking and grins sort of maliciously as she walks in step with Beck toward me.

  “Yeah, I know,” I say to Beck as he approaches.

  So, we are back to normal, then, I think, looking from Heath’s crazed expression to Beck’s manic grin to Beck’s new girlfriend’s evil smile. I just forgot, for a second, what normal really was here.

  Great. Now all I need is—

  Even as I think it, Jasper moves through the crowd with none other than Olive on his arm.

  Good. Excellent. Just what I needed.

  Jasper meets my eyes, but his gaze slides quickly past me. It’s the only hint at the events of that one drunken night, and it doesn’t last long.

  “Oh, look,” Olive says haughtily, her lip curling up at the corner of her mouth
. “It’s Alex.”

  “Olive,” I reply, nodding at her once.

  She sniffs and lifts her chin, looking down her nose at me. Jasper keeps his gaze firmly over my shoulder. I can tell he’d like nothing better than to get out of here already, but Olive keeps her feet firmly planted in front of me and her nails dug like claws into Jasper’s bulging arm.

  I guess she’s through with pouting that I won’t answer her messages and has reverted to spiting me instead. If it keeps Jasper from trying to murder me again, then I suppose I should be grateful for the change, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting just a little.

  “Are you going to go to the Christmas dance?” Olive asks, her eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes me want to shrink back. It’s obvious from her inflection that her intention is to somehow hurt me.

  All I do is glance between the three four of them.

  “Dance?”

  Heath leans on the wall next to me, grinning. “This guy probably couldn’t get a girl if he tried,” he snickers, his face uncomfortably close to my ear. I wince and jerk away from him.

  “Probably not,” Olive says, her voice carrying over the hall as Jasper finally manages to pull her away, “since his dick is so small you can barely tell it’s there!”

  The three boys—and Beck’s new girlfriend—burst into laughter, as do several of the people still in the hall. I feel my face color. Why is this embarrassing to me? I don’t even have a dick, so I shouldn’t be self-conscious about its supposed size.

  But still.

  Finally, someone I want to see materializes; Rafael, Fox, and Neville the nerdy kid approach in a little group. Neville’s obviously been sunburnt. Fox looks the same. But Rafael spent his break in Bora Bora, and he’s tanned so much his white teeth practically glow as he smiles.

  “Alex! There you are.”

  I gratefully slip away from Heath’s too-close jitteriness and rush to Rafael, who whisks me into the crowd. When we’re out of sight, he grabs my elbow and yanks me around the corner and into an empty hallway. Fox and Neville flank us.

  “What the hell was happening back there?” Rafael asks.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” I run my fingers through my hair. “I thought things would just go back to normal.”

  “They have,” he asserts. “It was the peace that was weird.”

  I know he’s right. I knew it as soon as Heath cornered me in the hall, spittle flying.

  Rafael has a stack of pamphlet’s clutched in his other hand, and I’m grateful for the excuse to change the subject.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him, nodding at the pamphlets.

  He takes one and shoves it into my hands. It’s printed on thick, glossy paper, and it’s proudly advertising the winter dance.

  “I’m on the board,” Rafael says by way of explanation. “You know, the dance Olive over there was trying to rub in your face?”

  I just shake my head again. “I kind of deserved that.”

  Rafael shakes his head too. “No, Alex. No one deserves that.” His eyes slide over to Neville and Fox. “Making fun of a guy’s dick is never okay.”

  Even if “he” doesn’t have one.

  I take another look at the pamphlets. “This looks like the real deal.”

  “You bet your skinny ass it is,” Rafael barks. “This bitch is going to be my mistress until Christmas.”

  My heart sinks. “So, you’re really going to be busy, huh?”

  Rafael nods. “You have no idea, but don’t worry … you’ll be busy with lacrosse,” he says. “I heard what Heath was yelling at you.”

  “The whole school probably did,” Neville adds, falling silent when Rafael shoots him a glare.

  “Let’s head back to the dorm.” Rafael grabs my elbow again and nods at Fox, who taps Neville’s shoulder, jerks his head toward the end of the hallway, and walks off with Neville in his wake. “And don’t worry, Alex. Things could always be worse.”

  Now that The Brotherhood seems to be back to normal, it sounds more like a promise than a reassurance.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The door to our dorm room is barely shut behind us when Rafael begins lecturing me on the importance of bringing a date to the winter dance.

  “You’ll be a loser forever if you don’t,” he says. “People pity you now when The Brotherhood gets on you.”

  “Do they?” I ask dryly, unzipping my bag so I can start unloading my sports bras into my dresser. Too bad they’ll be pretty much useless until lacrosse is officially over now that Heath is insisting I get back to practice.

  “Yes!”

  “They have a funny way of showing it.”

  “Well, they won’t pity you at all if you show up dateless.” Rafael sighs. “You can try Olive again.”

  “Did you not hear Olive yell to the whole school that I have a small dick?” I reply. “She hates me now.”

  “Wow. You’re totally clueless.”

  I glance back at him. “What?”

  He sighs heavily and sets his pamphlets down on his desk before sinking down onto the edge of his bed, clapping his hands together. “Where to begin. Okay. So, this is a game.”

  “We’re playing a game?”

  “No, you absolute forehead, Olive is playing a game. You didn’t do this when you dated boys?”

  “I didn’t date much before I came here.”

  “Actually, that does not surprise me in the least. All right. So here’s the deal—Olive is angry that you ghosted her. But she’s angry because she likes you now. She’s trying to make a big show of hating you and moving on, getting over you, to convince you that she’s fine. And also to convince herself. Are you following?”

  “Seems complicated,” I reply. “Also, didn’t you say dating Olive was a death sentence?”

  “Well, now that Jasper secretly wants to jump on that tiny dick he thinks you have, maybe you’ll be safer.”

  “Oh my God.” I feel so, so bad for my imaginary penis. Everyone’s being so mean to it. And my own feelings are a little hurt, surprisingly. I know the intent behind the words even if I don’t have the particular thing Olive insulted earlier.

  “Find a date. That’s the only advice I have for you.” Rafael scoops up his pamphlets. “I won’t be able to help you until the dance is over, and it’ll be too late by then. I have a lot of shit to do.”

  “What about you?” I ask. “Won’t you seem like a loser if you don’t get a date?”

  He shrugs. “Everyone knows I’m gay.”

  I hesitate. “Do you think other gay guys will ask—”

  “No.” He’s gone flat. “They won’t.”

  My heart aches, and I want to ask him about it. I want him to elaborate. But Rafael’s face has gone blank, his eyes lifeless, and I know that if I pry, it’ll just tear open his wounds for my curiosity.

  “Coming out as queer in any way is basically cutting yourself off from your own livelihood. Giving up your family’s fortune.” He shakes his head, his gaze still fixed blankly on the wall. “So, no, Alex. They won’t ask.”

  I don’t reply. He walks past me and out the door of our dorm. I’m alone.

  Something it seems I’m going to have to get used to in the coming weeks.

  The next morning there’s an assembly in the gymnasium. I’ve actually never been in here—lacrosse always takes place outside on the heated field—and I’m startled by how big it is. It’s more like an indoor amphitheater than a regular gym.

  And since it’s not actually ever used as a gym, it doesn’t smell like one either.

  Like everything here at Bleakwood, it’s somehow outdone itself.

  I drift in on my own, searching for Rafael but he’s nowhere to be found. He really is busy. He didn’t come back to the dorm until well after midnight last night, and he was up before I was this morning. From the way he was talking last night, he has enough of his own shit to deal with. It sounded like I wasn’t the only one a little shaken by their trip back home over
break.

  So, without wasting any more time looking for someone I know I’m not going to find, I plop myself into an empty seat and try to stay away from The Brotherhood. It doesn’t work. It’s only minutes before Heath drops down next to me.

  “Lacrosse today,” he says, his voice short and charged. He fixes me with a stare that’s impossible to ignore.

  “Yeah, chill,” I snap back. I don’t want to deal with any of their shit today. I already have enough on my mind. This stupid winter dance is all anyone’s talking about, and Rafael’s warning from last night won’t budge from its place center stage inside my head. I know he’s right. The only thing that’s going to save me from Olive’s relentless mocking is if I somehow find another date.

  At the very least, that might buy me a little space in the coming weeks … if not respect. Respect is too much to hope for.

  “Any idea what this assembly’s about?” I ask begrudgingly after a few minutes of silence, waiting for something to happen. I have to talk to someone, and since Heath is the only one here, it’ll just have to be him. Maybe it’ll at least make him stop shaking his leg incessantly. He can’t seem to sit still beside me, not for a second.

  “Probably about the mono thing. Some of the girls have it, too.” Heath twitches, and I look over at him, startled. What the hell is wrong with him?

  I’m prevented from asking by the dean getting himself behind a podium on the gym court and adjusting a microphone, causing muffled thumps to echo through the huge room. He’s not the only one there, however. The head of Grandview, Dean Robin, stands behind him and off to the side, her arms folded across her chest as she surveys the student body above her.

  Of course she’s here too.

  “All right,” the dean says, and everyone falls silent. “First things first—welcome back. Hopefully you all got a nice break.”