Brawl: A Bully Romance (King of Castleton Book 3)

by Ellie Meadows

  “Honestly?”

  “Always.” She nodded as I glanced over at her. The hair wasn’t covering her face now; she was there in full color, next to me, and so real. Maybe I wasn’t as bad as I thought I was. Maybe there was enough goodness left in me that I could deserve her.

  I wouldn’t hurt her.

  I wouldn’t be rough and unfeeling.

  I wouldn’t toss her to the side, because I’d never stop feeling about her the way I did right now. Different than Lane, different from all the soulless fucks in my past.

  “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a Castleton.” I shrugged, like the statement was casual, like it didn’t scrape up my insides. Sandpaper, smoothing out my rough edges. It hurt, but god I needed it.

  “Why?”

  “My dad’s a bastard. He’s the reason...” I couldn’t bring myself to say that what I’d had with Lane was a construct of his control.

  “The reason for what?”

  I swallowed, the sandpaper replaced by thumbtacks. Sticking into my throat, coating at the tender flesh inside.

  “The reason I got involved with Lane. He hired her to keep an eye on me.”

  “He paid a teacher to... to take advantage of you?”

  I couldn’t look at her and see the disgust on her face that I could hear in her voice. Hearing it was hard enough.

  “No, he just wanted her to watch over me, befriend me, make sure I was being a proper fucking Castleton.”

  “But then you got involved with her?”

  “She said that was her choice, that she wanted to. My father wasn’t behind that part. She said she really had feelings for me, and she knew how much trouble she could get into by being with me. He started everything though, and that makes any good memories being with her held for me feel like...like they’re rotting in my goddamn brain.” I took a hand from the steering wheel and pressed it against my forehead. I lifted my palm and slapped hard, twice. Two jolts to the brain to get me thinking straight again.

  Lane was the past.

  I needed to get over it.

  I wanted to get over it.

  Tarryn didn’t say anything, and there was a tornado of emotions in my body all of the sudden. Hurricane winds. House debris flying about like shrapnel, cutting holes in my recollection.

  I must seem crazy to Tarryn.

  Oscillating between pain and healing, self-hate and acceptance.

  I pulled into her driveway moments later, not realizing that I’d already cut a path through town. I wished I’d taken more side streets, delayed the arrival, but I hadn’t.

  “Drake, I believe her.” Tarryn’s voice was soft, a whisper that was still somehow strong enough to quiet the storm inside of me. “It’s easy for me to imagine someone loving you. Falling for you when they shouldn’t.” I looked over at her and she cocked a smile. “Look at what you did to me when I first moved here. You tricked me and taunted me from the shadows. You made me fall for this version of you inside a computer that didn’t seem to exist in real life.”

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured the two words, knowing they weren’t enough.

  “No more apologies. I’m tired of them.” She shrugged and turned in the seat to face me, our hands still holding onto one another. “If I was smart, I wouldn’t like you. If my parents knew what you and Aiden cooked up, they’d probably quit their jobs and we’d move again.”

  I wanted to apologize again, but I didn’t. I kept my lips tightly pressed together as Tarryn kept talking.

  “Apparently I’m not smart though. God, I was just mostly naked in the middle of a lake making out with my former bully.” She laughed, and it wasn’t mocking or sarcastic. It was genuine. Golden bell rings of lightheartedness. “So, I can understand why Lane went against your father and risked her career. It was stupid. Of course it was, but I can understand.”

  “How can you understand?” I asked in disbelief, holding myself together with the meager supply of willpower I had left after the thing with Tabitha at the drive-in and the heartbreaking shit with Lane.

  “Because you’re you. The real you, Drake. Underneath the personality you created to protect yourself after Lane. The guy I messaged with for weeks and weeks, who I told everything to. Who lived inside Aiden’s ear and whispered what to say. The real you is worth taking chances for.”

  “You don’t know all of me, Tarryn. I’ve told you I hurt a girl before. But I didn’t tell you that I put a guy in the hospital last summer. I lost my temper. Beat the shit out of him. He made some crack about my mother. And bitch that she is, she’s still mine.” Mine. I protected what was mine, even if I hated it at the same time.

  “That’s the past.” She smiled, her free hand reaching up to cup my chin. “This is now, and I’m only going to judge you on how you treat me. Period.” She leaned forward across the arm rest and she pressed her lips lightly to my mouth.

  My whole body flared to life, warm and wanting.

  If I could take her right now, pull her into my lap and take away another measure of the unexplored land, I would.

  “I’ll do my best to be good for you, Tarryn.” Not good to you, but good for you. There was a difference.

  “I know.” She kissed me again, this time our tongues dancing together until she pulled away and rested her forehead against mine, her breathing uneven. “We should get inside before my parents do their snooping thing.”

  I glanced towards the window and smirked.

  “Too late for that.”

  Tarryn looked towards the house and groaned.

  Her parents were standing in the windows, her mother holding a book and a mug, and her father had his hands on his hips, mouth gaped open slightly.

  “Crap,” she sighed. “They’ve never seen me with a guy like this. Ever. This’ll be new territory.”

  “They’ve never caught you making out with someone?” Quirking an eyebrow, I laughed.

  “Hey, shut up. I told you I didn’t have a lot of experience. A kiss here and there is not the same as hardcore frenching in a guy’s car.”

  “You’re such a square.”

  “Fine. If I’m a square, what shape does that make you?”

  I wanted to say something silly and teasing, something to show that I could be the guy she needed me to be.

  But what hit me then wasn’t funny and amusing. It wasn’t a soft lie to part the waters and move us out of the car and into her house where I’d push out the Castleton charm and make everything easy.

  Truth hit me.

  “A circle, maybe.”

  “A circle?” Her free hand, which had left my face, curled rogue strands of hair around her ear.

  “No matter how hard I try, I end up back at the beginning. No corners, no escape. I just keep going around and around making the same damn mistakes. I don’t want to be that anymore.”

  “Then break the cycle. And if it’s too hard for just one person to do, then I can help. You’re not alone.”

  “I’ve felt along for a long fucking time. Even when I’m not alone, I still feel like it. You know what I mean?” I could tell she didn’t get it, but she was trying. Trying to understand and help me and put a label on what I was going through. “God, Tarryn. You know how many girls I’ve... how many times I’ve tried to find a person who...” he couldn’t seem to finish his sentences.

  She could help me through this. I knew she could.

  Squares were like that. Organized and they refused to see there was a problem they couldn’t fix.

  I wondered how long I could keep pretending that I was fixable. I wondered how long I could trick Tarryn into believing...

  “Can people just choose to change shapes? Break out, bend the programming that’s locked into our heads?”

  “We all live in a house on fire with no fire department to call and no way out, just the upstairs window to look out of while the fire burns the house down with us trapped inside, locked in it.” She got this faraway look as she spoke, trying to remember something. “That’s not a direct qu
ote, but close.”

  “That’s... bleak.” I felt a hole in my chest, thinking about the words.

  “Tennessee Williams,” she nodded, “I’ve always hated that line from ‘The Milk Train’, because I believe there’s always a way out. If the house you were born in is on fire, then why stay? Even without help, there are the upstairs windows. Even if breaking the glass and jumping hurts you, isn’t it better to take that chance? To jump and maybe break a leg but... be free to change? Change our lives and our shapes?”

  I opened my door, thinking about her words.

  “If you’ve been broken before, and you’re still broken, breaking something else is scary as hell.” I stood up from the car, glancing towards her house and the curtains that were now back in place, her parents no longer spying. At least no longer being obvious about it.

  Tarryn got out too, clicking the door closed with a gentle push. “Maybe life’s about breaking, healing, and breaking again. And what matters are the people who are there as you heal.”

  “Shouldn’t you want to be with people who keep you from breaking in the first place?” I shook my head, thinking again about a cyclical life in which, no matter how fucking hard you try, you still find yourself back in the same damn place.

  “You think that’s possible?” She bit her lip. “I don’t think so. And relying on someone else to keep you unbroken is a lot of pressure. I’d rather keep taking step,” she moved backwards one stride towards her house, “after step,” she took another, “living a life I think will make me happy, no matter the bruises and breaks, and hope that as I walk, someone walks beside me. Someone to be there when things are great, or when they’re complete shit. You know?”

  I just looked at her.

  Wondering what it must be like.

  To have the kind of family she was talking about.

  Because it was about family.

  About the two people who peered through windows at us to keep her safe, and to pick her up the moment she was broken.

  And I wondered if, sooner rather than later, I’d be a bruise or a break that she'd need help healing from.

  “I don’t know what you’re saying, Tarryn, but I’m willing to try and understand.”

  She smiled. “That’s all that matters.”

  9.

  T A R R Y N

  Maybe, if I were honest with myself, I liked the bad guy side of him.

  My mom was trying not to grin when we walked through the front door.

  I mouthed ‘stop it’ at her, and then I looked at my dad, who was presently staring daggers at Drake. I guess the Castleton charm didn’t translate past ‘you’re making out with my daughter’.

  “Hey, Dad.” I forced a smile, even though it felt like I had ‘nearly did it’ stamped on my forehead.

  “You’ve been gone for hours.” Dad kept looking at me, not at Drake. “And you didn’t answer your phone.”

  “Yeah, I mean I was on my run and literally ran into Drake. We went for a drive and hung out at the lake. Nothing crazy. And I meant to take my phone, but completely forgot.” I shrugged and tried to be casual, infuse the ‘nothing crazy’ statement with my desperation for him to just let this slide, and not dig too deep into my disappearance. I’d always been trustworthy, and I’d gone on insanely long runs before. I’d never been in trouble.

  Of course, ‘before’ didn’t involve a boy.

  “What lake?” Dad crossed his arms, puffing out his chest like one of those stereotypical overprotective dad types.

  “The lake the party was at. Mom knows all about it. Didn’t she tell you?”

  He glanced at Mom, then back at me. “She might have mentioned it. Maybe.”

  I almost grinned, knowing that Dad didn’t want to admit that if Mom had told him, he hadn’t been listening.

  “Oh, well then that lake. Remember? It’s not too far out of town, owned by some good people. We got some sun, talked. It was nice.” Casual. Cool. Nothing to hide.

  “I tried to call you.” Dad pressed, unfolding his arms and shoving his reading glasses further up his nose.

  “I’m so sorry!” I widened my gaze, dropped my mouth into a forgetful-looking ‘o’ of surprise. “I hadn’t prepared for being gone long, of course. Just a quick run. I’m super sorry.”

  One of Dad’s bushy eyebrows arched.

  “Come on, leave her be.” Mom finally jumped in, and I gave her a grateful glance. “This is Tarryn we’re talking about. She’s barely dated, always been great about checking in and being safe. I for one am glad she’s finally acting like a regular teenager.”

  Dad huffed. “I don’t want a ‘regular’ teen. I want my daughter.” He eyeballed me, still not sure if he believed what I was saying.

  “Scout’s honor,” I held up three fingers, “I promise to take my phone every run, and if I want to go somewhere, let you know first before I take off.”

  “Good,” he relented. “You didn’t eat much this morning. What if you’d had one of your episodes?”

  Drake, who’d been quiet since we’d walked through the door, side-hugged me. I almost pulled away. Giving Dad a visual of us together might recharge his twenty questions battery. “I keep juice and crackers in my car now, just in case.”

  Dad turned his attention to Drake. “You do?”

  “Yeah, not a bad idea to have snakes on the go, right? And the first day I met Tarryn, she got a bit sick in class. All I had was a candy bar and she told me that wasn’t the best thing, but it would do. So, I did some research. I know better now.”

  “You did some research?” Mom spoke this time, and her face looked like she’d just stumbled on the holy grail of potential son-in-laws. As if I was even thinking about that sort of thing at my age. But, lord, if she wasn’t. I could tell by her expression. Neon lights flashing above her head couldn’t have been clearer.

  Drake nodded, giving me a squeeze.

  “That’s Drake, always so considerate.” I couldn’t help the tiniest bead of sarcasm from slipping in and I looked over at Drake, showing him my grin so he’d know I was teasing and not blaming.

  “Well, then... if that’s the case.” Dad reached forward and clapped Drake on the shoulder. “Good man. Like I said though,” his eyes bore into Drake’s, a twinkling tease dancing around his baby blues, “next time, give us a little heads up. If you’re so considerate, that is.” With a wink, Dad turned away from us, lifting his glasses up to perch atop his head.

  Drake laughed, sounding appropriately reprimanded and completely charming.

  “You kids want something to drink or eat?” Mom blinked at us, cheeks pink and her smile wide. “I’d be happy to make something.”

  “No, we’re fine,” I said quickly, not ready quite yet to submit Drake to my mom’s culinary skills, or lack thereof. “We’re going to hang out upstairs for a few minutes. That okay?”

  “Door stays open!” Dad’s voice carried from the kitchen and Mom tutted, padding away from us to no doubt shush him up. She didn’t want the perfect boy to be scared off.

  If only she knew how things had really been at the beginning, how things still were to a small degree, with the Castleton golden boy.

  “Did you hear me?” Dad’s voice sounded again, just cutting the edge between serious and joking.

  “We heard you,” I called back, and then I grabbed Drake’s hand and tugged him up the stairs. “Come on. Before this gets anymore embarrassing.”

  As I mounted the steps, I realized the track suit was still damp, this time from lake water.

  I pulled him into my room, wishing I’d made my bed and straightened up this morning before going on the run. And things were so... so pink. But that couldn’t be helped. I released his hand and fussed about the room, throwing the comforter over the mussed-up sheets and picking up dirty clothes from the floor.

  “So, this is your room.” It was a statement. I whirled around to find Drake appraising every inch of the bedroom.

  “It’s not your house, I imagine. How many
rooms does the Castleton mansion have? Thirty. Forty?”

  “Don’t be absurd,” he scoffed, acting offended. “Only ten bedrooms, not counting the pool house.”

  “The pool house?”

  “Yeah, can’t have a pool without a pool house.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You can have a pool without a pool house, Mr. Zillionaire.”

  “Absurd.” He poked at me, finger digging lightly into my side as I carried a few stray shirts—clean, but discarded when I was trying on clothes—past him.

  “Do you need to be anywhere?” I threw the shirts into my closet. “I mean, like today?”

  He shook his head and walked to my bed, sprawling himself out against the mattress like he’d been in my room a dozen times before and he was comfortable making himself at home.

  “Okay,” I smiled. “I’m going to take a shower. You okay waiting here?”

  “Got a book?”

  “Do you even have to ask?” I bounced over to one of my bookshelves, knowing exactly what I wanted. Seconds later, I dropped a compilation of Tennessee Williams plays onto the bed. “So you can learn more about escaping a burning house.” I leaned over him, searching his face which was plastered with a sort of pleasant neutrality that I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m teasing you,” I bit my lower lip, feeling awkward now.

  He smiled then, and it was real and warm. He picked himself up, leaning on one elbow.

  “Come here,” he gave a little jerk of his head, beckoning me downward. I complied, easily and willingly, and he kissed me. A quick, sensible kiss that might not even offend my father if he caught us. No, it probably would. When he pulled away, his eyes seemed brighter, maybe even a little damp. His gaze held mine and I might have fallen into them if I wasn’t keenly aware of my need to shower.

  Sweat and lake water and... the memories of what we’d done on the lake were all clinging to my skin in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but being clean was still a siren call.

  “I’ll be right back. I’m a quick shower taker.”

  “You wouldn’t be if I was with you.” He cocked a boyish smile and heat danced across my cheeks. I pressed a hand to his mouth.