Bully: A High School Bully Romance (The King of Castleton High Book 1)

by Ellie Meadows

  Tarryn lifted up on tiptoes and kissed Aiden quickly on the cheek. It was just a brush of lips against skin.

  It made my chest burn and my stomach hurt.

  Tarryn walked into the classroom, not waiting for Aiden to follow.

  Aiden looked at me, his face showing he was worried how I’d respond, but then he’d shrugged. “She kissed me, man.” And he’d gone into the classroom.

  I took a step forward, but then stopped. Now that Tarryn was in mostly-AP classes, Calculus was one of the few times a day I could sit behind her and breathe her in, the way she looked and smelled and tried to answer every question the teacher asked.

  No way could I sit in the class with them right now though—watching them whisper back and forth and discuss stupid fucking calculus problems. Aiden would lean over and write something on her paper. She’d smile and write a response in one of her many stupid colored pens.

  I turned around and walked away—through the halls, down the stairs, and out the fucking door into the sunlight.

  My first instinct was to find someone, anyone, to cool the pain. A body to suffocate the burning sensation I felt. Fucking to block out the image of Tarryn and Aiden together. But everyone I’d normally call was in school.

  I got in my car and I started driving. No destination. No clear thoughts in my fucked-up head. Homecoming couldn’t come soon enough.

  It was time to end this game. Time to move on and stop being such a damn mess over a stupid fucking girl. I was so damn glad Homecoming was only a few days away. Aiden better stick to the damn plan.

  13.

  T A R R Y N

  Homecoming…

  “You’re perfect,” Mom was sitting cross-legged on my bed, elbows against thighs, chin against balled-up hands. “I miss the idea of the ballgown, but I think this is way more appropriate.”

  Sunday had sped by in a flash, and the school week followed suit. I’d been so distracted and excited that I’d completely missed Mr. Paulson’s several warnings about a quiz on Thursday. I’d missed at least one question, maybe two. The really off-habit part was… I didn’t freak out. Maybe it was because Aiden sat beside me and all I could really focus on were his perfect, straight teeth and his wideset eyes… and the shallow dimples that came to life when he smiled.

  So, I missed a question or questions and I handed the quiz in and I walked out feeling fine. That had never happened before; I always panicked if I knew I’d not done well on a test. Nothing could get me down this past week though, not even when I’d run into Drake at lunch on Friday and he’d made one of his nerd cracks about me being too square to have a round hole. Whatever the hell that meant.

  Despite me saying yes to the dance, Aiden’s behavior at school hadn’t changed either. He wasn’t acting like we were boyfriend and girlfriend, or pushing PDA. We were still going slow and easy, talking like the friends I thought we were—though he’d not mentioned any science or law things this week, which was different. Maybe he was nervous… I certainly was.

  I stood in front of my mirror and ran my fingers down the satiny sheen of the dress that was nearly the same color of the full-skirted option we’d loved in the store. It was lower cut, dipping down enough to show off the line of my cleavage. An exaggerated sweetheart, the store owner had called it. The top was a corseted style, the bodice ending just beneath the curve of my hip. From there, layers of light delicate chiffon swept down to the floor. The hemline at the bottom bore a wide line of seed pearls which crept up into the dress in a spray of shimmering opalescence.

  “How should I do my hair,” I played with curls that were beginning to loosen. I’d slept in soft rollers rather than using the curling iron.

  “Down with this dress I think.” Mom got off the bed and grabbed my brush off my desk. “Let’s soften these though.” She worked slowly, separating pieces with her fingers, brushing the very ends to make the bottom look fuller. She appraised me when she was done, clicking her tongue and glancing around my room. “Finishing touch…” her voice trailed off and she left the room, returning quickly with a tiny silver clip. She braided some hair on both sides of my head and then gathered them at the crown, clipping them there gently before pulling the braids little by little to widen and fan them out. “There.” She smiled happily.

  My makeup was already done, soft peaches and pinks blended into brown eyeliner and mascara. I touched up my lipstick and then glanced at the clock with a frown. I was ready over an hour early. Aiden wouldn’t be here until six to pick me up for the dance. He’d texted this morning, letting me know Castleton won the Friday night homecoming game and the homecoming court had shown up high as a kite and smelling like a cannabis field.

  Mom grabbed my phone when it rang while I was testing out shoes. Her peep-toes had hurt, so I was rummaging through her closet looking for something that semi-matched and didn’t pinch. “These?” I questioned, modeling the white heels I wore. She handed me the phone, her nose wrinkling in response and I kicked the shoes off.

  Heading for a peach pair of wedges, I glanced at the caller’s name. It was Sasha.

  I pressed answer and pressed the phone to my ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “I’m coming to your place,” she sounded angry, frazzled.

  “Isn’t Steve going to be there to pick you up soon?” I questioned, bending over to stand the wedges up so I could try them on. I shoved my foot into one; it wasn’t as fancy as the dress, but it was really comfy. I turned around, lifting the dress enough to kick my foot out and show mom. She made a ‘maybe, it’s not bad’ hand wave in the air.

  “I told him not to come. I’m not going to the dance with him. He’s a stupid prick.” I could imagine Sasha angrily pacing around her house in her all-black two-piece dress that had slashes of red across the angled skirt.

  “Why not? I mean… wasn’t the whole point his…” I stepped into the other wedge, glancing over at mom to see if she was listening. She wasn’t, too preoccupied picking up the shoes I’d discarded and lining them up on her bed to put back in their places later. I bounced a little in the wedges; I liked how tall they made me. I pushed my mouther closer to the phone and pitched my voice lower. “Wasn’t the whole point of going with him his, well, prick?”

  “It was,” whisper-screaming and seething, Sasha replied. “He’s developed feelings for me, the pretentious, obnoxious, pig-headed—”

  I interrupted her. “I don’t get it. The lake party was an ‘anything goes’ one time night of fun, right? I mean, I know you’d had sex with him before, but it was always just sex. How could he develop feelings from that?”

  Happy with my shoes, I started helping mom clean up and put things back. It took me a minute to realize that Sasha had gone quiet on the other end of the phone. Finally, she sighed.

  “I might’ve gone out with him a few times since the party.”

  “A few times?” I repeated in surprise.

  “Fine. Five times. I’ve gone out with Steve the Prick five times. And,” she paused to groan, “one time we didn’t even have sex. We talked. We freaking talked. Hopes and dreams kind of shit.”

  I waited for her second groan to fade away. “Five times in three weeks… Sasha, it sounds like you’re dating the guy.”

  “Shut your skank pie hole!” She protested. “I would never date such a… such a… bloated fuck monkey!”

  “Sasha,” I said calmly, hoping to talk some sense into her. “Babe, it’s okay to like Steve.”

  “I don’t want to like Steve though,” She sighed. “But, hell if I don’t. You should be able to choose who you like the same way you choose from the tampon aisle—whatever size fits your needs for that day. Steve is not a one size fits all. That just doesn’t exist in guy form.”

  “Call Steve back and apologize,” I chided. “I’ll see you at the dance.”

  “Don’t you dare hang up on me!”

  “I’m hanging up on you,” I taunted lovingly. “Now be the crazy cool progressive girl I know you are and admit t
o the guy you just shoved away that you were in the wrong. Who knows, Steve might be the love of your life.”

  “I hate you,” Sasha breathed out.

  “I hate you too,” I replied, hitting the call end button.

  It struck me, after hanging up, that my first impressions of Sasha had been both right and wrong. She looked nothing like Becky, that was true, but the friendship we’d formed in the past month still reminded me of the bond I shared with the girl back home. It made the sting of leaving a longtime sisterhood behind. But in pretty much every other fundamental way, Becky and Sasha were walking opposites. They both had a purpose though, in my life, and taught me things about myself I might not have realized otherwise.

  Mom and I moved downstairs to wait the last twenty minutes out. I rolled my eyes when I saw Dad sitting at the kitchen table, two disposable cameras and his digital one out and ready to go.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re planning on taking that many photos.”

  Dad looked up, his eyes widening at the sight of me. I wondered if he’d comment on the style of dress and the plunging neckline. He didn’t though. Instead, dampness built in his eyes and a tear rolled down his cheek. He stood up, walked over, and pulled me into a hug. He didn’t show affection often and I reveled in the moments when his softer side showed. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed. “You look beautiful, Tarryn. So much like your mom at your age.” He pushed me away gently and pushed a curl out of my face.

  When he returned to the table and sat down, he separated the disposables from the digital camera. “I got these for you to take with you. I thought you and your beau might want to take candid photos. Posterity’s sake, you know.”

  “That was really thoughtful, honey,” Mom moved over to dad and kissed the top of his head before side-hugging him.

  “I can be thoughtful, even when my wife isn’t nagging me.” He leaned into her side, nuzzling his hair against her waist.

  The doorbell rang then and my heart gave a little leap. I wasn’t going to let my worries over seeming childishly excited deter me from literally racing towards the front door. Aiden’s name was on my lips when I opened it.

  But Aiden wasn’t at the front door.

  I saw his eyes first.

  Ice blue.

  And then his hair.

  A tousled gold that shined in the fading daylight.

  His tall frame wore the tailored suit with ease. A silver dipped rose decorated his coat pocket. His tie was so pale a hue that it toed the line between silver and sky. It matched my dress almost perfectly.

  “Aiden sends his regards, but he’s unable to attend the dance tonight,” He spoke casually, one hand loosely pushed into his pocket in such a way that the tail of the suit coat was pushed back on one side to expose a lion-engraved belt buckle. His other hand was behind his back.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I backed away, crossing my arms against myself protectively.

  “That,” he said slowly, a mischievous glint in his gaze, “Is a long story, Square.”

  The hand out of view moved from behind him. He held something, though it took me a minute to focus on the object that seemed so out of place for this situation.

  A can of root beer.

  Just a simple can of root beer.

  But it knitted together a puzzle that I’d been warring with for weeks.

  Fragments of doubt collided into a noxious truth.

  It had all been a game. A game.

  My chest tightened and I felt the first tears slip from my eyes.

  Drake Castleton was standing there like the world began and ended with him.

  “You need to leave,” I spoke quietly, fiercely. I uncrossed my arms, dropping my hands to my sides. They balled into fists of their own accord. I could swing and hit him. It would feel so good to hit Drake Castleton in his smug jerk face. “You need to leave right now.”

  “You’re all dressed for a party, Square. It’d be a shame for that dress… on that body… to go to waste.” He popped the top of the root beer and sipped at it slowly. “Ever find any square cups? I feel a little alcohol might help this situation.”

  “Do you understand what a terrible excuse for a human being you are? Do you get that manipulating people is fucking wrong?” I seethed, loosening one fist to reach out and grip the edge of the door. I wanted to slam it in his face.

  At my words, the boyish enjoyment on Drake’s face soured a little. “I know.” Was all he said, and it wasn’t at all what I expected him to say.

  “Then why, Drake? Why act like you were backing off and leaving me alone? Why not just keep full-frontal attacking me like some deer in hunting season. You never took your sights off me. You never dropped the target on my back. At least doing it to my face, you’d have been honest. Maybe I’d have warmed to you after a while. It’s not likely, but maybe you could have worn me down with you stupid fucking Castleton charm. But doing it this way? That’s not something I’m ever going to forgive.”

  I was just about to close the door in his face, when I heard a voice behind me.

  “Tarryn, who is this handsome young man?” Mom’s voice.

  “Is everything okay?” Dad’s voice. “Don’t leave until I can get some photos. And don’t forget the disposables.” I turned around to find my parents both standing in the hallway from the kitchen, staring at me and Drake in our guns-out stand-off at the threshold of our home.

  “Well, invite him in, Tarryn.” Mom waved a hand, though her face was confused—she’d not only seen the picture of Aiden from messenger, but I’d talked about him nonstop since the Homecoming invite. Dad seemed oblivious to the fact that the boy at the door didn’t match my supposed-to-be date. He was holding his camera in one hand, raised a little as if poised to snap a shot.

  “No,” I blurted out before considering any other options. Because no way was Drake Castleton coming into my freaking house.

  “So silly, Tarryn. Is this some sort of joke? Come in, young man.” Mom walked forward and all but forced Drake into the house. Not that Drake needed to be forced. He stepped into my home, sunlight a halo around his back like he was a freaking angel. I knew what my parents were seeing—the golden Adonis. Charm. Good looks. A smile that stopped traffic.

  “It’s so nice to meet you both.” Drake held out his hand to my mother first, and then my father. Both of my backstabbing parents shook his hand, appraising him. “I’m Drake Castleton. I’ve heard you’re doing a brilliant job for my family’s company. My dad sings your praises.”

  Dad sputtered in nervous surprise. “You’re the Castleton boy. I should have known the second I saw you. Spitting image of your father.”

  Hey, Dad. Don’t you recall the green convertible that almost ran us off the road the first day of school? Ring any bells? How about we not swoon over Drake Castleton right now?

  I saw the way Drake’s body tensed when my dad said the part about resembling his father, but he didn’t break the picture-perfect character he’d assumed since the second my parents arrived at the door. He kept the magnetism going, despite the tension in his shoulders. “Thank you. I hope I live up to the Castleton standards.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you will,” Mom said, hands on her hips and grinning like an idiot. “I just can’t believe that Tarryn didn’t tell us that you guys were an item. I mean, up until seeing you at the door, I thought she and Aiden were going to Homecoming together.

  “We’re not an item.” Again, I blurted out the words quickly and without thinking of calmer alternatives. “Not at all.” I added, wanting to kick Drake in the dick and push him out of my house.

  “Um… I don’t understand.” Dad held the digital camera higher in one hand; he was once again poised to take photos and celebrate his daughter’s first real dance. He’d been so excited seconds ago.

  Mom didn’t say anything; she just looked at me, her smile dying.

  “What I mean is… I just mean that…” I stammered, suddenly not wanting to bust my parent’s bu
bble. This was their boss’s son. I couldn’t say anything that might compromise their position with the Castletons. I wouldn’t ruin the best job they ever had by telling them that Drake Castleton was a deplorable bully who used girls and then dropped them like a stinking sweat sock.

  “What Tarryn means is that I’m stepping in for Aiden. He’s not feeling well and couldn’t make it. Aiden and I are friends and I hadn’t planned on going to Homecoming, so I didn’t have a date already lined up. I knew… Aiden knew how excited Tarryn was and didn’t want to disappoint her.”

  “What a wonderful thing to do, Drake,” my mother breathed out in a worshipping tone that made me want to slap some sense into her.

  “Yes, that’s a very nice thing to do. I’m so glad that Tarryn has made such upstanding friends.” Dad’s face was still so happy looking. I hated that smiling for him was rare, and he was wasting the expression on Drake.

  “We were worried she wouldn’t actually.” Mom continued, to my utter mortification. “She’s a bit of a quiet thing. You’d think she was popular at her old school. I mean, look at her.” Mom reached over and pinched my cheek lightly. “She’s utterly gorgeous and smart, but she stuck to one best friend and didn’t get too involved with things at Dover Mills.”

  “Mom, stop.” I pushed her hand away gently. “That’s embarrassing.”

  “Well, it’s true.”

  Strangely, it was Drake that saved me from my mom talking more. “I hate to cut this short, Mr. and Mrs. Monroe, but the dance starts in about two hours and I wanted to take Tarryn out to eat first. I know she gets a little dizzy if she doesn’t keep food on her stomach.”

  I rolled my eyes, barely suppressing an ‘oh, please. fuck the fuck off, Drake’.

  “Handsome and considerate,” Mom sighed out. “Maybe it’s not too bad a thing that Aiden’s sick.”

  “Mom!” I admonished, though I was pretty sure Aiden wasn’t sick at all. He was just part of the stupid, awful game Drake had been playing on me for weeks.