Our Secret: A College Bully Romance (Golden Crew Book 1)

by Belladona Cunning

  Hunter merely stands there in a fit of rage, eyes glimmering with deep-seated fury. He looks like he could kill me right now, and honestly, I have no idea what I did wrong. He instigated it. He’s the one who kept getting into my space and touching my lips with his.

  This is all on him!

  But you didn’t have to go along with it, I inwardly chastise myself, knowing it to be true. I didn’t have to, but I did. Call it a momentary lapse of judgment on my part. But fuck, you can’t dangle a steak in front of a starving woman and expect her not to reach out for a bite.

  “That’s how you get your way, huh?” he asks, grinding his teeth. “Fuck with guy’s heads and then toss them to the side.”

  He has the gall to readjust himself before leaning down, caging me in with his fists on the mattress. I’ve never seen so much hatred pointed in my direction. Even on the night he sent me away, he didn’t look at me this harshly.

  “Wh—” I swallow hard at the sight of his flared nostrils and sadistic gaze.

  “Don’t ever try to use your body against me.”

  My mouth gapes open like a fish on a hook. “I didn’t. You were th—”

  He slams his balled-up fists on the mattress, and the viciousness of the actions startles a squeak out of me. “I fucking mean it, Harloe. Stay the fuck away from me. Get out of my goddamn life, and if at all possible, out of my town. You fucking disgust me.”

  A sob catches in my throat at his harsh words, nearly cutting me as deeply as they did the day he showed up with the bitch standing next to him now. Quickly gathering my wits, I launch off the bed like my ass is on fire. Hurrying out the door, I make my way down the hallway and ignore the catcalls that pierce through the hazy air.

  I hear someone shout my name, but I pay them no attention. I keep going, my plan to get as far away from this house as possible.

  Coming here was a bad idea, and it ended the exact way I predicted. I’m no closer to finding out what happened three years ago than I was before, but I’ve lost another piece of myself I couldn’t afford to.

  I hate Hunter Prince.

  I hate him almost as much as I hate myself.

  CHAPTER 14

  “What do you mean I can’t switch?” I ask hysterically. I’m ready to pull my own hair out at this point. Going head-to-head with my advisor is like riding a merry-go-round—you get nowhere really fast.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Rose, we just cannot switch you.”

  “Surely there’s a spot open in one of the other business ethics courses. Actually, I’m sure of it.”

  With my English class getting canceled, I knew this was the perfect opportunity to get the ball rolling on some transfers. After the other night at the party, I’d much rather eat dirt than continue sharing a class with Hunter.

  Desperation is my only motivator. Having been caught with my pants down, almost literally, there’s no way I can take no for an answer.

  “Seriously, I don’t even care if I have to drop it and take another course until next semester,” I frantically reply, hoping she’ll see past that screen of hers and realize she’s speaking to a real person and not some number on a piece of paper.

  She gives me a scolding look and purses her lips, fishing for the granny-style glasses hanging around her neck. Just from her actions alone, I feel like an insignificant little twat who’s here trying to waste her time, even though I know differently.

  After several minutes of searching, she once more pulls her glasses off, giving me an ‘I told you so’ look, declaring, “There is absolutely no other class you can be transferred to, Ms. Rose. Your situation is very delicate, and there need not be anything that, let’s say, rock the boat.”

  My mouth fishes open and closed.

  Then, the only woman I’d describe as the devil’s mistress goes one step further in my abject humiliation. Placing her hands down on her desk, she weaves her fingers together and gives me a hard glare. “Might I suggest one thing? Since there seems to be a reason for such a bothersome request, you may, I don’t know, ignore whatever it is distracting you and focus on your education.”

  Easier said than done, I’m afraid. This lady absolutely has no idea who Hunter Prince is. Even with his silence, his mere presence is taunting enough.

  “I begging you.”

  A knock sounds at her door, and by the way she straightens her appearance, it’s safe to say she’s through with this meeting. Huffing, I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. Nothing about this place is fair and just. They only care about themselves, and now I’m paying the price for it.

  I’ll have to sit through a semester with Hunter right next to me, living through the utter humiliation I brought onto myself when I kissed him back. Anger should be the main focal point when I see him, not desire. I shouldn’t want him period.

  Except, I do. Goddammit, seeing him again after all this time—regardless of what has transpired between us—makes me remember all the good times we shared with each other.

  The ups and downs—the time I fell in his backyard when we were kids, and he kissed the boo-boo on my knee because it hurt. The time I found Hunter down by the creek behind his house, steaming mad because of something Owen did to him. That day, I found out his brother had made fun of him because he’d never been kissed. That day, we had our first kiss.

  Call me weak. Call me spineless. Call me anything you want, but it’s the truth. When someone is already an asshole, you tend to overlook things a little easier than you would from someone who isn’t. Not to say that’s an excuse for the way he acts, because it’s not.

  No one should treat someone the way Hunter treated me the other night. Or, hell, since the time he put me to stepping sophomore year. However, your head and heart can want different things. Like a wife or husband cheating on their spouse—it’s not easy to end things.

  Not by a long shot.

  The wronged in the scenario will always think about the past and how it got them to their present. They will remember the good, the bad, and the ugly. Hate and love? They’re two vastly different emotions, but can, and most of the time, do come from the same place.

  People say love and hate are separated by some imaginary fine line. That you, in some instances, can feel one while experiencing the other. In a sense, that’s correct.

  Love and hate? Both are your balance, your inner peace, and utter chaos. They are two deep-seated sentiments that are the very foundation of your being. While vastly different in unexplained aspects are still remarkably similar.

  And I’m lost to both while maneuvering my way through the sludge that makes up my life. I can’t explain it, and I’d rather not even try to. The most I can come up with is that I both hate and love Hunter.

  The sight of him causes my heart to flutter in my chest, both from anger and longing at the memories that assault me. It’s hard to dismiss someone so completely from your life, especially when they made up the vast majority of it.

  From the time we were in diapers until that fateful Christmas Eve, I don’t have a memory that doesn’t have him in it. When I said we did everything together, we did everything.

  As funny as it is, Hunter was the first person to buy me feminine products. He was the only person I trusted at the time, and he did so like a knight in shining armor, even though it made him look absolutely ridiculous. But still, he pushed through and dared anyone to say a word.

  He taught me how to ride my bike, even though he’d just learned a few days prior. We shared ice cream cones in the middle of summer, laughing and snorting when it melted all over us.

  We spent nights tucked away on his second-floor balcony, growing closer and—at that time, we didn’t know—more in love as each season sped past us.

  The same willow tree we shared our first kiss under sits in his back yard, old, weathered, but still beautiful, strong, and majestic. Still, to this day, our initials are carved into the trunk of that weeping willow, as if it were a promise to all of God’s creation that Hunter and I would never pa
rt.

  Hey, yeah, you see how good that went down?

  Giving her a weary smile, I leave her office and head out. Stopping into the bathroom to relieve myself, I do quick work, and then find I just don’t want to leave. Sliding down to the floor, it’s hard to keep the tears from falling as my mind gets trapped in the past. The pain completely encases my chest, making it hard to breathe, as memory after memory of our laughing faces flashes behind my closed lids.

  Maverick will never know the love that his dad and I used to have. That, in itself, is a tragedy.

  Deciding I need to hear my little man’s voice, even if it’s just for him to scold me about calling so much, I step into a stall and close the door while fishing out my cell phone. I quickly dial my dad’s number, and on the second ring, I barely stop myself from releasing the tears I’m holding back when I hear his voice.

  “Mommy!”

  I sniffle. “Hey, baby boy, what are you doing?”

  “Poppy’s showin’ me to whistle. Wanna hear?” Slobbering whistles sound through the line, causing a smile to break out across my face. Talking to him, even about something as mundane as learning how to whistle, always makes me feel better.

  “You’re doin’ so good!” I coo, listening as he chatters excitedly to who I can assume is my dad.

  Moments later, I’m proven right when my dad’s voice echoes in my ear, “Hey, baby girl, how’s the joys of college life?”

  His soft, gentle voice causes me to break from absolutely nowhere. Well, that’s not exactly true. It’s been building for quite some time, I just didn’t expect to release all over the phone.

  A gut-curdling sob rips right out of my throat as I lean my elbow on my upturned leg, cradling my head in my hand. All of the pain from the last few weeks burns my throat, and dare I admit, my pride as well. I never wanted my dad to know how terrible it is.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says, trying to calm me. “What’s going on?”

  “Did you know?” I ask, hoping he gives me the answer I want.

  “Know what?”

  “Did you know that Hunter never left, Dad?”

  He sounds frantic. “He’s still in town? Does that mean he’s—?”

  I cry out, interrupting him. Usually, I would never do such a thing, making sure I’m locked up in a private place, but this is a sensitive subject. “Yes! He’s here at GOU. Whoever told you he was gone is a liar.”

  “Darlin’,” he quips. “Did something …”

  About that time, the door to the bathroom opens. Not being one to spread my private shit all over campus, I hurriedly get off the phone and promise to call back as soon as I get to my apartment.

  From the way he reacted, he’s just as taken off guard as I was when I saw Hunter the first day, which is surprising. He works for Hunter’s dad in the accounting department. If anything should know the goings-on with the Princes, it should be my dad.

  Drying my eyes, I take a few cleansing breaths while I get my stuff together. Once I’m ready, I make sure all my hair is in place and presentable, and then open the door to leave the stall.

  However, that’s as far as I get before I’m accosted back inside the handicap stall by Cassandra and two of her minions.

  “Think you can make a fool of me?” she snaps, anger making her entire body shake.

  Pain blooms against the side of my face, taking me off guard, as one of her lackey’s fists slam into my jaw. Stumbling back against the wall, my hand comes up on autopilot to rub the smarting skin.

  “What the shit was that for?” I fume out, stretching my jaw through the ache.

  “Hunter is mine,” she snarls, getting into my face. “Him, his family, and his money will belong to me. I’ll not have you ruining all the work I’ve done since you left. You touched what is mine, so now you must suffer the consequences.”

  “And you’re too much of a pussy to handle it on your own,” I wisecrack before thinking better of it.

  Cassandra’s face screws up in blazing fury. “Girls! Now!”

  My brows furrow seconds before both of her minions attack, overpowering me. Three against one isn’t exactly fair odds. Shit, two against one isn’t any better, either. But if you have beef with someone, handle that shit yourself like a goddamn woman.

  “Get the fuck off me!” I scream and fight, twisting and turning, kneeing and elbowing them. They grunt and whimper from my hits, but neither one of them let loose. Instead, they drag me toward the toilet—the very same porcelain bowl I relieved myself in moments ago.

  “Stupid bitch, maybe this will teach you!”

  Cassandra lifts the toilet seat seconds before my head is forced into the bowl. I’m too busy trying to kick and punch my way out from under the water, I don’t even worry about how disgusting and degrading this is.

  Water shoots up my nose and down my throat. My lungs burn as I try to hold my breath to keep from inhaling more water. Bubbles of air slip out of my mouth, little by little until there’s no longer any air in my lungs to release. My vision starts dimming. The fight in me is failing. And right before the darkness swallows me whole, I’m ripped out of the water.

  Coughing and sputtering, I heave and gasp for air. Through the wet strands of my hair that’re glued to the side of my face, I watch as Cassandra gets down on our level.

  “Have you learned your lesson?” she grits out.

  Confusion wars with anger, and before I can respond, she’s stepping out of the way and signaling for the water once more. I try to fight them, my knees slipping and sliding from the water on the floor, but it’s no use. They force my head under the water once more, the chloric taste of it running down my throat and causing nausea to churn.

  My stomach heaves and purges, and before I can stop it, the salty taste of sickness causes me to release the contents of my stomach in the toilet where my head is.

  Thin, bony fingers weave through the strands of my hair, jerking me back out of the toilet. The smell of city water and vomit practically exudes from my skin. My cheeks heat in embarrassment and shame.

  “Disgusting piece of shit,” Cassandra curses, her grip tightening. “Leave Hunter alone, and I will leave you alone.”

  Fucking bitch. I’d like to rip the hair extensions right out of her mousy head. “I don’t want him! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—a blind person can see he and I want nothing to do with each other. What is your problem?”

  She jerks her face closer to mine. “You exist!” Her fingers tighten even more. It feels like she’s about to rip my hair right out of my head one strand at a time. I grit my teeth, meeting her eyes with blazing defiance.

  Yes, I got caught up in the moment with a guy. Big fucking deal. But we both know, she’s nothing to Hunter if this pissing contest has anything to say for it.

  If Hunter wants you, make no mistake, he will make sure you know it.

  One of these days, when she least expects it, she will pay for this. Her day will come, and it will turn her inside out and show people how much of a diabolical piece of cunt she really is

  “Do we have a deal?”

  I mean mug her, seeing her death playing out inside my head and loving every minute of it. “If this is your version of a pissing contest, it’s pathetic!”

  No sooner than the words fly out of my mouth, my face is plunging beneath the water once more. My lungs start burning, but I refuse to give in.

  Fuck this bitch, I’ll never cave to her demands.

  CHAPTER 15

  Damn, that class was brutal. No wonder English is the hardest language to comprehend. I mean, threw and through? It sounds exactly the same, only the spelling is different. No wonder people all over the world think we're blooming idiots, and definitely unoriginal. We can’t even come up with words that are spelled and sound completely different, yet mean the same thing.

  Considering I don't need this class, because my future is already set in stone, it’s inherently worse. Because this is just a waste of my time, and my time is too precious to be frivolo
us with. I just have to take it because it's a requirement to get my degree, and my dad won’t allow me to take over without getting at least my associates in business first.

  Plus, that teacher ... she's hot as fuck. Hardly any of us could get any work done because we were too busy staring at her ass or her barely-there cleavage she was sporting by undoing the top three buttons of her shirt. We could even see her lacy black bra, and that gave me a raging boner.

  Hey, you can take the man out of the boy, but you can't take away his petulant thoughts. It's ingrained in our DNA, and make no mistake, we're not going to spout out excuses for it.

  However, I will say that some guys take their lewdness a little too far, even by my standards. Instead of working up to a girl being hungry for their cock, they automatically flash that son of a bitch like it's God's gift to women. I'll be the first motherfucker to say: no, it's not, far from it.

  Dicks are actually pretty fucking disgusting unless they're in their “useful” state. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. I've nicknamed it the “get fucked” state, which seems pretty self-explanatory. Otherwise, they look like shriveled up sea cucumbers, and that's just not attractive at all.

  "Dude, how much longer until we're through with that class?" Easton groans, resituating himself in his pants.

  I feel his pain. Fuck, we all do. There's a lot that can be said about a professional woman who doesn't care what people think and lets her girls hang free.

  She's risky. Gives no fucks. She doesn't need, nor want, a man to take care of her. Our professor is the kind of woman I need in my life, instead of the suckers who cling to me in the hopes of draining me of my portion in the kingdom my dad built from the ground up.

  If only I went after older women.

  "Hey, maybe Leo should give that a go," I snark, laughing when he calls me an asshole and nearly pushes me into the wall.

  Everyone who knows Leo knows that he has a soft spot for the cougars—the women at least a half-decade older than him. He says it's because younger girls are too immature, and I'm all too inclined to agree with him. Girls our age are immature and only care about what they can get instead of what a relationship can provide for each of us.