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

by Belladona Cunning

  Hunter has no idea of the hardships I've had to go through since he kicked me out of his life. If I were a pettier person than I am now, I'd let him in on the secret—our little secret. But I'm not, and I refuse to do that. He hasn't been there since the beginning, and there's no use in bringing him in now.

  “You are the reason I left last time, and you know it. How was I supposed to ever show my face again after the way you treated me?" I whisper-hiss. "You’ve been making my life hell, and you just won’t let up.”

  It's difficult not to go postal on him.

  "Since when have you ever taken the easy way out of anything?" I give him a scathing look, to which he quickly amends, "Before that day, of course. The Harloe I know wouldn’t run away from shit. She was fierce. Didn't put up with anyone's bullshit."

  "Just like I told you when we first saw each other—people change all the time. I’m not that girl anymore.”

  He nods, snorting. "Yeah, no shit."

  Hunter goes silent as he stares out toward the middle of town. Where the stadium is positioned, you can practically see everything. That's why this used to be my favorite place when I was younger. It's right on the outskirts of the university's campus, and therefore, not many people wander out here. Usually, they're all too preoccupied with other things.

  Clearing my throat, I ask the question again, hoping Hunter will move past this. “Which principle of ethics do you think is more important for your business?”

  He leans his arm on his upturned knee, running his finger across his upper lip. It's a tic I have long since grown accustomed to seeing on him. It's his thinking face. But what he's thinking about now, I'd hate to know. Lord knows what's going through his mind. Whatever it is, I'm almost positive it's nothing to do with the question I just asked. For the second time, remind you.

  "Do you ever regret it?" he finally asks through a tired sigh, as if he's just exhausted with life in general.

  Taking my lip between my teeth, I nibble on it—a nervous gesture of mine. "I'm lost, Hunt. Regret what?"

  He looks at me from the side of his eye, scanning me up and down. I can't decide if he's trying to spot bullshit or if he's actually studying to see if I'm telling the truth. But what I'm supposed to be admitting to, I have no idea. It seems I'm just as lost as he is.

  "Don't play dumb." He rasps out an emotionless chuckle. "I think it's time we're honest with each other. You know why I'm pissed, have known the entire time. And this little game you’re playing? I'm done."

  "You are driving me absolutely insane," I grumble, nearly crushing our assignment in my fists. "What game? What am I supposed to regret? Should I or should I not go to a different school? Fuck, you're worse than a woman on her period."

  "That smart mouth of yours ..." He trails off, and I swear—Lord as my witness—Hunter releases a growl under his breath.

  Silently, I watch as the other groups spread out across the football field. Most are animatedly speaking with one another, smiles bright and fresh lingering on their faces. They seem like they're having the best time, while I'm over here with a brooding asshole who seems dead set on confusing me around every corner.

  Hunter is a maze of twists and turns, and no matter how long I try to figure him out, the further I am from completing my goal. In the past, he was easy, simple. Within minutes, I could find out what was the root cause of all his anger. But it's been years since we've been that close, and now we're not even remotely friendly toward each other.

  Crossing my legs, I place the paper down by me on the concrete. Sighing, I admit, "There are some things I regret." Ugh, I get the willies just hinting at Maverick's existence when it comes to letting Hunter know. "One, in particular, I'd love nothing more than to ask forgiveness for."

  His eyebrow quirks as his gaze fastens back on mine. "Yeah?"

  I nod, and then in rapid succession, it all starts falling into place. The way he rebuffed me that Christmas Eve. The way he used her to get to me, then came up with that nickname.

  He already knows about Maverick. There's no way he can't know. Not with the way he's been acting like I've ruined his entire world. Because in a way, some guys think that when you have their child. Unless they are actively planning a family with you, then the way our relationship ended is no doubt the result of him finding out about the pregnancy.

  "It's been eating me alive for three years. And now that I think about it, I'm stupid for not seeing this until now. Fuck ..." I close my eyes, reliving the horror of that night all over again before reopening them and peering over toward Hunter, seeing the truth right there in his eyes, along with the pain and anger. "You know, don't you? That's the reason you pushed me away and did that deplorable thing with her."

  All of a sudden, he leans back to rest on the palms of his hands, a smug look on his face. "Finally, she admits it. How does it feel knowing you ruined fucking everything?"

  I shake my head, at a loss for words. "Y-You can't possibly hate me that much to do what you did as a result of what happened? It was an accident, Hunter. I tried ... We tried ... I-I didn't plan it, I swear."

  "Harloe," he says in warning.

  Again, my head shakes more furiously. "No. Y-You don't get it, Hunt. I-It was an accident." And then, I think of Maverick and his adorable, chunky cheeks and whimsical laughter, and a serene smile spreads over my features. "A beautiful, amazing accident."

  "Goddammit, Harloe!" Hunter bellows, rage lining his features. "I said, fucking stop!"

  In pure hysteria, I hop up onto my knees and grasp at his shirt. Any other time, I wouldn't dare do something like this, but I need to make him listen. Maybe, once he listens to my side of the story, he will understand that none of this was my fault. That his son is no mistake.

  Damn, no wonder he's been angry with me for so long. Any man—any rich man—who sleeps with his girl protected, only to find out she's pregnant would turn their world upside down.

  Don't get me wrong, I don’t condone the way he treated me when he found out, but in a way, I can understand it. He acted irrationally, just like anyone in his position would. Hell, my own mother wanted me to get an abortion, but I'd said no.

  "It all makes so much more sense," I whisper, sorrowful eyes meeting intense, hard, angry orbs of pure hatred. "I tried to tell you. That night? That night, I was going to tell you as your Christmas present."

  Just as fast as I grab hold of him, he's pushing me off in a fit of anger. A surprised squeak sounds through my throat when I fall backward on the dirty concrete, skinning my palms from my weight. Hissing in a breath, I barely get a chance to look at the damage before Hunter's hands are wrapping around my biceps, and he's jerking me up off the ground and slamming me into the bars of the bleacher, his force knocking the breath out of me.

  If he were a dragon, I'd fully expect to see smoke spiraling out of his nostrils right now. He looks vicious, practically insane. Gritting his teeth, he gets into my face. He’s so close, I feel the warmth of his breath and the mist from his spit landing on my cheek.

  "You demented, psychotic bitch!" he roars, his throat straining from the effort. "Where did you get the idea I'd ever want to know about you and Owen!"

  Everything comes to a halt, beseechingly fast. I can't help but laugh at the absurdness of it all. "Excuse me?"

  "You fucked him and cheated on me in high school! Don't stand there and pretend otherwise." His face gets alarmingly close to mine, and he grits between his teeth, "He told me himself!"

  "He told you I slept with him?" My mouth falls open in shock. "And you actually believed him?!"

  He bares his teeth like a wild animal, and his hold on my arms tightens to the point a whimper of pain releases from my throat. "He. Had. Proof."

  Hunter releases me like I'm a live wire electrocuting him. Nearly falling, I have to grab one of the bars on the bleachers to keep from falling on my face. Staring up at him, pure disbelief shining through my eyes, I can't even begin to come to terms with what he just said—the things he's insin
uating.

  Owen? His older brother?

  I swallow the lump in my throat; it's hard to talk past the offensive knot, but I do anyway. Hunter can't believe this blatant lie. "Hunter, I would never have cheated on you—especially with your brother. The only person—and I do mean only person—I had eyes for was you."

  "Stop with the lies!" He pushes his hands into his short hair, nearly pulling them free from his scalp. "Everyone lies to me, and I'm sick to death of it."

  "I've never lied to you," I retort heatedly. Lying out of omission is still lying, Harloe. Shoving that thought out of my mind, I can see that nothing I say will have any weight. Hunter will believe what he wants to believe. Sad that he will continue on with his life believing a lie, but unfortunately, the damage is already done.

  "If you had ever loved me," I say, anguish evident in my voice as I turn to walk away. Away from this situation, and from this entire class—because fuck it all right now. "You'd have come to me before believing such lies. Must not have loved me enough to see past the bullshit he spewed in your ear." I release a deprecating chuckle. "I really hope it was worth it."

  And then, I let it all go. All the hatred. The pain. The torment of thinking I was never enough for him to begin with, and he needed something more.

  In the end, I was enough. However, it was our love that was never enough to solidify his belief in me. Sucks, but there’s nothing that can be done about it now.

  Before I can get away, I feel his hand on my arm. Shaking him off, I keep walking. But Hunter isn’t the type to be put off. Grabbing me again, he twists me around to face him. Defiant eyes meet confused ones.

  “Would you stop for a fucking minute? Christ’s sake.”

  I give him a menacing look, and my entire body shakes with rage as I grit between clenched teeth. “Get your hands off me.”

  “Lo, you have to see how fucked this is. Wait a minute.”

  “The only thing messed up about this is the fact my then-boyfriend, the only person I was closest to in this entire world, thought I betrayed him.” I throw my hands up in the air, exasperated. “Me! Betrayed him! All for a guy I can’t stand! You know how much Owen and I hate each other, Hunter! How in the world could you possibly think I’d ever sleep with him?!”

  Hunter looks frantic, almost desperate. I can tell he wants to get to the bottom of whatever is going on, but I’m absolutely through with this. I’m tired of being dragged through the mud. And to find I should never have been in the first place? Yeah, it’s like a kick to the gut.

  He looks into my burning depths, and realization finally shimmers in his gaze. “You’re telling the truth. You never slept with him.”

  “No!” I scream with everything I have in me, shoving him as the anger takes me over. He falls back a step, but that isn’t enough for me. I want him to hurt, bleed, and feel what I’ve been feeling for the last three years.

  “No! No! No! I’d never betray you like that! You were my entire world! You were the reason for my very goddamn existence! It was always Hunter and Harloe! It was always supposed to be us, forever, for always! You ruined everything!”

  My anger swiftly makes room for the pain, causing the tears to streak across my cheeks. In front of my enemy, I completely break down—more than I ever did when Cassandra and Hunter had it in for me. More than I did the night he chose her over me, all because of a lie. A lie that rips me to shreds, knowing he believed every syllable of it.

  Hunter’s big hands pull me into his chest, and I break even more. His arms wrap around my body, consoling me just like he used to all those years ago. He’s taking in my pain and making it his.

  “You ruined me,” I sob against his chest.

  “Shh, shh,” he coos into my ear. It takes him several tries to swallow his emotions, but right now, I couldn’t care less what he’s going through. What he’s feeling is the remnant of his previous actions. “God, Lo—I’m … Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

  My entire body shakes, and fresh tears escape my swollen eyes when I feel his manly, plump lips press against the crown of my head. Even with the present pain he’s caused, I can’t help but take his comfort. It may not be right of me, but I deserve it. For the past three years, I’ve barely been able to breathe. And now, for the first time since that night, it feels like I’m taking my first lungful of air.

  And this is the last I ever will. After this, I can’t break, I can’t falter in front of him or anyone. Sorry may be all well and good, but it doesn’t repair what’s broken, only tries to mask the problem.

  Stepping away, I wipe my eyes—his glisten with unshed tears. “Hunt, there’s something I need to tell you, but … I don’t know how to even begin.”

  “At the beginning,” he says, but I can’t even bring myself to smile at his joke.

  After telling me about what Owen said, I have the insane need to tell him about his son. He may have thrown me out that night, under false pretenses, but I can’t keep allowing my hatred and anger to get the best of me. If I’m going to be free, then I need to relieve myself of all things that tie me down. And my knowledge of Maverick is going exactly that.

  “That night,” I say, trying to regulate my breathing because this shit is fucking terrifying. I have no idea how he’s going to react. “I came over that night to tell you that I—”

  “Mr. Prince! Ms. Rose!” Mr. Erikson cuts me off mid-sentence. My widened eyes trail over to him, seeing a disapproving look on his face. I seriously have the worst fucking luck, man. “Assignment sheets should be complete. Time to return to class. Come on.”

  My entire body deflates, and my groan can be heard over the early afternoon air. This was my one chance to be strong and tell him that he has a son—because we are actually talking, not screaming at each other—and it’s like fate is intervening.

  Damnation. I can’t get ahead for being kicked backward.

  Our conversation ends then and there as we make our way back to class. I stop by our spot, grabbing the long-forgotten paper, and nearly blush full force when I spy Hunter actually waited for me. Honestly, I don’t know how I should feel about this. I mean, I’m having trouble switching from him not bullying me to the fact he’s being cordial.

  Hunter’s voice is low when he replies, “What were you going to say?”

  I sigh, already knowing the moment is gone. I’m too chicken to say it now. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass. Karma likes to be a bitch like that.

  “Forget about it.” I give him a tight smile. You’ll find out soon enough. And that’s a fight I’ll definitely need to prepare myself for.

  CHAPTER 20

  “Man, did you see the new girl? She’s hot at fuck,” Leo declares, groaning.

  Zeke grunts, lifting the beer to his lips. My eyes flick between them, lost. “What new girl?”

  “She’s not really my taste, man,” Easton says, grinning roguishly as he stares at Zeke from the corner of his eye. “Too Barbie meets Emo, with no chest and an apple ass. I like my girls fake and loud—sorry, bro.”

  Zeke glares through thick onyx lashes. “You all are dicks.”

  Okay, now I know I’m missing something. Because ever since Zeke moved here the summer before senior year in high school, he’s never once taken an interest in any girl Golden Oak’s had to offer. He marches more to the beat of his own drum, and that drum doesn’t include any women.

  I sense a story there, just as I always have, but I’m not going to interfere with it. I did once and ended up with a bloodied nose. Rather not go there again if I can help it. We’ve been fairly good and solid since then; we just know not to ask questions and go along with whatever the other says.

  “Shit. Leave the poor guy alone already. So what if he has a type?” I point at each in order, starting with Easton. “You like bimbos that can’t think for themselves, so they don’t cause you any trouble.” I then point at Leo, smirking, “And you! You like chasing older pussy. Preferably pussy that’s seasoned a good half-decade before the
doctor smacked your ass when you fell out of your mom’s puss.”

  Leo’s face screws up in revulsion, probably from the image of his mother giving birth to him. Serves the asshat right. Neither one should be picking on Zeke for having a type. Hell, I have a type, too. Just so happens my type has long blonde hair I’d like to wrap around my fist, a curvy, plump little ass great for grabbing a handful of, and a foul mouth when she’s angry.

  “Fuck you,” Leo and Easton say simultaneously, taking the offensive to my correct description of their preferences.

  But then Easton just has to open his mouth and insert his foot. “Our type is available. Is yours?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands with obvious glee at pricking me where it hurts. His eyes light up. “When’s the last time you got laid, Hunt?”

  My eyes immediately narrow. “I’ve been busy.”

  He barks out a laugh, slapping his leg. “Yeah. Busy, all right. Busy mentally chasing that unobtainable pussy. Don’t think we haven’t noticed where your eyes go every single time we go to class. Or the fact when you meet up with us in the quad, your gaze sweeps over everyone, hoping you’ll get a sight of your little firecracker. Her pussy must be made of gold for you to ditch your man card this fast.”

  “Talk about her like that again, and you’ll be eating my fist instead of plastic tasting cunt,” I grit between my teeth.

  I’m not even going to lie and say Easton isn’t one hundred percent correct. I don’t like it, but I’m not going to deny it.

  Ever since Harloe and I had our talk, I’ve had a lot of time to think. I still won’t answer Owen’s relentless phone calls because I need to work through this shit. Harloe looked so distraught and devastated that I’d believe something as outrageous as her sleeping with Owen. I can get that. Now that I’ve actually allowed myself to think about it, I can see how incredibly ignorant of me it was to believe it.

  When Harloe said she and Owen hated each other, she wasn’t lying. They loathed the ground the other walked on. He couldn’t be in the room when she walked into the same room, and vice versa. I still don’t know what happened there, but I never asked. It didn’t seem important at the time, but maybe … maybe I should’ve looked into it?