Bully Me: Class of 2020

by Shantel Tessier

  “How about you sneak out tonight, and I’ll tell you about it? Maybe challenge your parents a bit, hmm? I don’t think you’re as chained to them as you’ve convinced yourself that you are.”

  Gavriel wanted me to meet him? Did he mean tonight tonight? As in, when I was supposed to be safely tucked in bed like the good girl my parents wanted me to be?

  I should have told him no. I was clearly out of my depth here with this boy. But instead of refusing, I simply opened my mouth and said, “See you tonight, sir.” I figured if we were going to joke about me joining his gang, I should jump in with both feet.

  Gavriel was just about to walk away when I’d said that, and the playful nickname made his head cock to the side. I watched with air locked in my lungs as half of a smile teased the corner of his lips, then exhaled when he walked away.

  Chapter Seven

  Summer

  MOM WAS DRUNK again. I came home from my student council meeting and found her passed out on the floor. She hadn’t even made it to the couch this time. On the surface, my mother had everything she could possibly want. A perfect daughter. A big house. A well-known husband and her name attached to every possible charity in the area. On paper, it seemed like she led a fulfilling life, but the booze and pills said otherwise.

  I didn’t know if it was an addiction or an escape. I guess it was probably a little bit of both. But what could she possibly have to escape from?

  Dad didn’t come home. There was a missing child case he had to deal with, so I ate dinner alone. I did my homework alone. I showered, ironed my clothes for the next day, and cleaned up the kitchen in wordless routine. I had just made my way to the living room to gather the empty wine bottle on the coffee table in the living room when Mom stirred from her spot on the floor. I breathed a sigh of relief when she got up and wiped her mouth with her flat palm. Her mascara was smeared, and that pale pink lipstick she wore religiously now covered her chin. The deep burgundy wine had stained her teeth and tongue.

  “Do you want a glass of water?” I asked tentatively. Mom flinched at the sound of my voice and turned to look at me, stark venom in her shadowed eyes.

  “Are you patronizing me?” she yelled while struggling to stand up. Her wobbly legs misstepped, and she nearly collapsed on the carpet again. I reached out to steady her, but the move simply infuriated her more.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just trying to he-help,” I stammered.

  “I don’t need your help, Summer. I’m the mother. I’m supposed to take care of you, remember?”

  “I know, Mom. You take good care of me. I was just…”

  She looked around the clean house and chuckled darkly. “You were just what, trying to steal a sip of my wine?” she asked while picking up the empty wine bottle. She was being manic, and I didn’t understand it. “Well, too bad,” she continued. “It’s empty. Like me.” Mom then threw it against the wall. My entire body trembled as glass shattered around me. Droplets of the red wine left over in the bottle splattered across the wall.

  Tears filled my eyes, and I backed up until my feet were on the tile to our entryway and my back was hitting the front door. Mom swayed down the hallway and made her way to her bedroom, slamming the door and leaving me shaking in the wake of her destruction.

  I took a deep breath. Maybe I should call Dad? No. He didn’t want any interruptions while at work. The girl my parents expected me to be would have slipped upstairs and quietly gone to bed without a single concern. They wanted me to live up to the status quo and pretend nothing was out of the usual.

  But I didn’t want that tonight.

  My hand wrapped around the doorknob, and I twisted it, deciding that I needed fresh air. I needed out of this damn house that looked perfect on the outside but wasn’t perfect at all.

  I took a page from Gavriel’s book and made my way over to the curb to sit on the edge of it. I breathed in the night and exhaled. In and out. In and out. I kept doing that until the ball of pain in my chest loosened. Mosquitos nipped at the bare skin on my legs, and I swatted them away. I was wearing my satin pajama shorts and tank set, knowing full well my mother would kill me for wearing it outside. Never show too much skin. Be a lady, she always said.

  “Didn’t think you’d show up,” a deep and playful voice mused at my back. I quickly swiped at my eyes until the moisture collected there was gone. A hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist. “Why are you crying?”

  “I’m not.”

  “If we’re going to be friends, you should know that I don’t like liars. Loyalty and honesty go far with me.”

  I rolled my eyes, not in the mood for his game. “I’m not lying. Crying implies a certain sadness. It means I’m tragically emotional about something, and I’m not. I’m one of those people that cries when she’s mad. It’s infuriating. And lately, I’m mad all the goddamn time.”

  Gavriel nodded his head. “Why are you mad, Sunshine?”

  I warmed at his nickname. It felt like a special treat reserved only for me. It was intimate and familiar. Though we didn’t truly know each other that well, we shared something that seemed important.

  “My mother is a mess,” I admitted.

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “She’s selfish. She wants me to look and act a certain way, but behind closed doors, she falls apart.”

  Gavriel nodded. “Keep going.”

  “It’s infuriating. I’m pretty sure my father is cheating on her.”

  “Men suck.”

  I snorted at Gavriel’s interruption as he sat down next to me. “They really do,” I replied with a giggle. “I don’t want to play tennis anymore,” I added, letting every little frustration about my life spill at Gavriel’s feet.

  “Then don’t.”

  I almost told him how I hated my big, empty house. The clothes my mother forced me to wear, and the grades she expected me to keep. But it all felt so trivial to say to him. Here I was, complaining about the ambitions of my parents, when I had a secure roof over my head, food in my belly, and a clear shot to any college I wanted. It was exhausting and frustrating, but people had it worse. People always had it worse. “I don’t know if I like you or not. You were kind of rude to me when we first met.”

  Gavriel rolled his eyes and stood up. He held out his hand for me to grab, and I tentatively took it. What were we doing? Once Gavriel pulled me to a standing position, he tugged me closer until we were chest to chest. I bit my lip and looked up at him, still not sure what we were doing. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not sure if I like you either,” he said with a dark smile.

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “I don’t usually like such pathetic people. For Christ’s sake, you’re crying on the curb in your silk pajamas, Sunshine.”

  I looked down at myself and frowned. “I don’t usually like bullies,” I snapped back.

  “How about this,” Gavriel began before spinning me around. I stumbled a bit on the concrete in my bare feet. “I’ll keep Sunshine, and you can give the rest of the world Summer Bright.”

  I mused over his words with a smile. It felt like a secret, like a facet of my personality I could wrap up in a pretty bow and give to him. “And what do I get?” I asked. We kept playing this game, bargaining with a friendship that felt inevitable and instinctual all the same.

  “You get to feel real for the first time in your life, Sunshine. With me? You don’t have to be anyone but yourself.”

  “I think I’d like that.”

  We both sat back down and basked in the quiet for a moment. I stared at the sky while letting the peace of the moment wash over me. “What’s our gang called?” I finally asked with a sniffle.

  Gavriel smiled and glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, what was your father’s gang called?”

  “He’s going through a bit of a rebranding process with the Feds. It’s probably best we don’t use that,” he replied with a dark chuckle. Yeah, he was probably
right.

  “The girls at our school have started calling you a bullet. Something about you bragging about your gunshot wound,” I teased, not sure if it was appropriate to joke about.

  “I can’t help it. The girls like a bad boy, Sunshine,” he replied while playfully flexing.

  “Well, why don’t we call ourselves the Bullets then, huh?” I asked.

  Gavriel playfully leaned over to nudge me with his body. I snapped my attention to him, and he caught me by the chin, forcing me to stare at him. “I like the sound of that,” he said. I stared at his lips, then back up at his eyes. He let go of me and went back to staring at the sky.

  “I guess we’re the Bullets now,” I said.

  “Yup. Now you just have to kill someone.”

  I tipped my head back and laughed. “This isn’t my father’s country club, huh?”

  “You also have to get face tats. Think they’ll like that at the next fundraiser?”

  “I don’t know,” I playfully teased. “Depends on the tattoo.”

  Gavriel rubbed his fingers along his chin and debated for a moment. “Property of the Bullets on your forehead and a picture of a cat on your cheek.”

  “No teardrops?”

  “Nope, those are for posers,” Gavriel replied in a dead serious voice. I burst out laughing again. “I like your laugh, Sunshine,” he added after my chuckles were long gone.

  “I like that you aren’t as much of an asshole as I originally thought.”

  “And I like that you can sometimes remove the stick up your ass.”

  We talked for a while after that. Teasing one another. Flirting. Talking about life. And when two a.m. came around and both of us were yawning, we both walked up the steps to our respective front doors. I felt both exhausted and alive. With my hand on the doorknob, I couldn’t help but turn to give him one last glance. He stared back at me with a cocky grin. We lingered for a moment, neither of us wanting tonight to end, but knowing it had to. After a few breaths and a secret smile, I disappeared back into my lonely home feeling a little less lonely.

  Tonight wasn’t expected, but it was exactly what I needed. Despite our differences, somehow, Gavriel Moretti became my friend.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for reading! I’ve always wanted to explore Gavriel’s first days in Chesterbrook, and this idea came to me late one night, and it was really fun for me to dive back into the Bullets world. This is a prequel to my completed trilogy, Sunshine and Bullets. If you want more from Sunshine and Gavriel, you can get the full box set here: https://books2read.com/Sunshine-and-Bullets-Omnibus

  Xoxo,

  CoraLee June

  About the Author

  CoraLee June is an international bestselling romance writer who enjoys engaging projects and developing real, raw, and relatable characters. She is an English major from Texas State University and has had an intense interest in literature since her youth. She currently resides with her husband and two daughters in Dallas, Texas, where she enjoys long walks through the ice cream aisle at her local grocery store.

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  Blurb

  The day I met Hunter Maxwell he wasn’t the rich kid who lived in the giant house, he wasn’t the most popular guy in school, he certainly wasn’t the bully who had chased his own best friend out of town after a falling out—he was just a boy with a black eye and a dark secret.

  My life would have been much easier if I had stayed out of it, but I couldn’t. I saw someone hurting and wanted to help. I saw someone possibly in danger and wanted to make sure he was safe.

  There’s nothing safe about Hunter Maxwell, though. I thought there might be. I fell under his spell. Whatever the world saw when they looked at him, it wasn’t what he showed me.

  The bond we formed was real. I know it was real. But with Hunter, when the tides turn, you’d better hope you’re safely on the shore and out of his reach.

  I thought I was a strong enough swimmer to keep my head above water. I thought if it came down to it, I could resist his pull.

  I didn’t know, but now I do.

  Once Hunter sets his sights on you, there’s no such thing as out of his reach. Whether it’s today, tomorrow, or five years from now, he’s coming for me—and when he does, he won’t stop until he’s destroyed me.

  Chapter One

  Riley

  14-years-old

  AS I AMBLE along the path toward the footbridge, I adjust the heavy backpack threatening to leave a permanent indent on my shoulder. My backpack broke earlier this school year, but my mom stitched the strap back on. It has held up just fine for a while, but today Mom had to work so she couldn’t pick me up from school. That means I have to walk home. Apparently all the extra jostling popped the threads, because about a mile ago the darn thing gave out. Now I’m trying to lug this heavy sack of books on just one shoulder, and that shoulder isn’t thrilled about it.

  Movement ahead startles me and I gasp, clutching the backpack strap instinctively.

  Someone is sitting on the footbridge with their feet dangling over the edge, palms braced on the aged wood. They’re looking down into the water, not even paying me any mind, so my grip eases up and my racing heart begins to slow down. Normally there’s no one on this path, and I feel uneasy that someone else is now. Like they’ve found a place that was supposed to be secret and they’ve shown up uninvited.

  I guess since I stopped walking—or maybe it was my gasp—I catch the attention of the stranger on the bridge. Only when he turns his head to look at me, I see it’s no stranger at all.

  Hunter Maxwell is the intruder sitting on my favorite bridge. We go to school together, but we’ve never spoken. He’s kind of a popular jerk who comes to school just to hang out with his friends, and I’m kind of a quiet bookworm who actually shows up to learn. I can’t imagine we would have anything to say to one another.

  He must agree, because as soon as he recognizes me, he looks away, back down at the rippling water beneath the footbridge.

  Something unpleasant turns over in my tummy. It feels like rejection, but that’s silly. I don’t care if Hunter Maxwell dismisses me. I didn’t want to talk to him, anyway.

  Lifting my chin and bracing the strap on my shoulder, I set about ignoring him right back. I march across the distance between us, then march right past him.

  Before I make it off the bridge and onto the dirt path toward home, his low tone interrupts the mutually held silence. “Don’t tell anyone you saw me today.”

  I stop abruptly, frowning as I look back at him. “Excuse me?”

  His sigh is impatient, but he repeats himself anyway. “The school thinks I’m out of town. No one normally comes this way.” Now he turns his head to look at me. “You know this is private property, right? Mine. You shouldn’t trespass.”

  I’m so surprised, I only really hear the first part. As soon as he turns his head, I get a better look at the side of his face I didn’t see the first time he looked at me. The skin around his left eye is agitated and swollen. It kinda looks like he got hit in the face.

  The distance between us on the social hierarchy falls away and concern for him swells up inside me. I rush forward, dropping my backpack on the footbridge as I sink to my knees and lean in to get a better look. “Oh my gosh, what happened to your eye?”

  “Nothing,” he says defensively, swatting my hand away.

  My eyebrows rise. “This is definitely not nothing.” My long dark hair falls in my face, so I shove it back behind my ear. “Did somebody hit you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Mind your own business,” he mutters.

  “It does matter,” I argue. “It looks terrible. Did you put any
thing on it? If you ice it, it will help with the swelling.”

  “I’m fine,” he informs me. On impulse, I think, he pushes me hard in the chest to get me away from him.

  I lose my balance and fall backward on my butt. It’s hardly a far fall, so it doesn’t hurt, but I don’t appreciate being shoved to begin with. “Fine,” I snap, pushing up to my feet and retrieving my bag. “I was only trying to help.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “Good, then I won’t give it to you,” I tell him, hoisting my broken backpack on my shoulder and stomping away from him.

  I hear a loud sigh, then the telltale patter of sneakers against wood. “Wait,” he says, his voice less hostile.

  “No,” I toss back without stopping. “Don’t follow me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, all rushed as he catches up to me. “I didn’t mean to shove you. You were just making me mad.”

  “There are better ways of expressing anger than shoving people,” I inform him, a bit primly. “Try words sometime.”

  The corner of his mouth tugs up and he tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Thanks for the solid life advice.”

  I look over at him with a vague glower still on my face, but I can feel my genuine annoyance melting away now that he’s not being a jerk. “Anytime.”

  For a couple minutes, we don’t speak. I certainly didn’t invite him, but he continues to walk next to me along the path through the woods. My stupid backpack threatens to fall again. I try hoisting it, but that snags his attention.

  Without a word, he reaches over and takes the backpack from me.

  “Hey,” I object, but a second later I sag with the relief of not having the heavy thing on my back.

  Hunter frowns when he realizes the strap is broken, but unperturbed, he slings it over his shoulder.