Tainted Love: A High School Bully Romance: A Pacific High Novel

by Nichole Noel

  I sigh in defeat. It’s better not to fight because she’s just going to get her way and she’s normally pretty good at making me feel better about myself, so I count myself lucky to have her. She starts with my makeup and hair and, I have to admit, she’s done a pretty great job. Not that I’m surprised, given how much experience she has working quickly backstage during performances.

  “You look stunning,” Sarah assures me. I’ve straightened my strawberry blonde hair, and in the bright light of her bathroom, it has a golden sheen that I really like. I flip my hair around a few times, testing out the look.

  “I’m sure once things get hotter, my curls are going to spring right back into life,” I grumble, but Kennedy assures me that her straightening balm is salon-grade.

  “You can get as hot and heavy as you want, Sades. Nothing’s going to ruin that hair.”

  I blanch. I have no intention of getting hot and heavy at all, but I wonder whether she’s managed to hear from the grapevine what happened between Connor and I… twice?

  I’m always paranoid about him opening his big, assholey mouth and blabbing to anyone about it. Though, why would he? I’m the last person he wants to be associated with and it would just be a mark against him if people found out he made out with a loser like me.

  I mean, not that I think of myself as a loser, but I know he and his friends do. And screw them. And screw Connor for being such a God damn good kisser. And also, super screw him for featuring in my dreams every damn night.

  I didn’t even think I liked boys until he showed up again. Must be a reflection of my messed-up life that the first person I have a real crush on is someone who hates me, and who I really don’t like.

  It’s exhausting, really. Being me and having this enemy who also occasionally sticks his tongue down my throat. Like, how am I supposed to deal with regular school shit, study, keep up socially, manage my job and mother, and then deal with the tension between us? I definitely ignore the little voice inside of my head that reminds me, if I wanted it, Connor would probably be okay with some resolved tension.

  But that’s the last thing I need to think about. The moment I let myself be taken in by whatever scheme he’s cooking up, probably with Ainsley, I’d be toast. He probably would video tape me, or take pictures, or something horrible like that—and try to ruin my life more than he already has.

  I sigh. It’s really time for me to stop thinking about Connor O’Brien, but when he’s managed to worm his way right into my life and brain, it’s really hard to get rid of him.

  And I can’t imagine why he’s interested in keeping himself in my life—even as a bully. I’m no one and he’s practically king of Pacific High. What could be gained by messing with someone like me?

  Nothing because I’m nobody to no one, well, except my friends and mom. Sadie digs out a cute crop top and a short skirt that is probably at least two sizes too big for her.

  “I bought it on sale with the intention of taking it in, but I got lazy, so it should fit you perfectly,” she explained before passing the dark pleather skirt over.

  “Don’t normally wear skirts,” I start. I hate when my legs rub together and Kennedy must realize something’s up because she looks at my legs and assures me that she also has some tights to go with the look, which actually goes a long way towards making me feel better.

  “Not so sure about showing off my stomach,” I say, honestly, because it’s the truth. I never really show off my body and showing my stomach feels like a lot when you’re used to covering up.

  “You have a great figure, Sades,” Kennedy assures me. “You need to learn to not be afraid to show it off a little. Get some attention. You never know, you might like it!”

  I give her a disbelieving look. “Not all of us are extroverts that like being the center of attention.”

  She shrugs. “I’m good at pretending, so don’t act like this is all natural. It comes with a lot of bullshit, talking in front of the mirror to work myself up, and fake-confidence. Fake it till you make it—it’s true!”

  I still don’t really believe her, but I pull off my t-shirt and pull on her green crop top because I don’t feel like arguing anymore. And, I have to admit, I look cute. My stomach’s a little chubby, but I like the way it looks. I’ve been getting stronger from my swimming and it shows in my arms and back.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had muscles like this before,” I marvel. The crop top hangs low around the neck, so my shoulders and bra straps are visible.

  “What about these?” I ask while pulling the straps to my bra.

  Kennedy shrugs. “Go braless?”

  “Yeah, no. My boobs are way too big for that. Do you have a tank top? Maybe I can make this look a little 80s?”

  Or is it a 90s look? I’m not sure, but I don’t want to go out with my bra straps all out in the open. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I kind of want to not remind boys that I’m wearing underwear, if that makes sense? I mean, who knows who’s going to be at this party, anyway?

  “Yeah, I have just the thing,” Kennedy says before fishing around in one of her drawers. She pulls out a white tank top and tosses it over to me before instructing, “Tug it low. Cleavage is necessary for this look.”

  I roll my eyes, but do as asked and then slide some tights on, and then the skirt. And, I have to admit, I do look pretty good. I mean, I don’t look like normal me, but the Sadie that’s staring back at me almost looks hot. I kind of like the change.

  “Have you ever thought about getting into makeup?” I suggest to Kennedy while she gets ready.

  “Constantly. I’m actually considering taking classes on the side so, if acting doesn’t end up working out for me, I can still be in the business.”

  “That’s a really great idea. I have no clue what I want to do when we graduate, other than get out of B’ham.”

  “Well, you’ve got some time. What at you trying for with your applications?” she asks while twirling the ends of her hair.

  I groan. “Psychology.”

  “Oh God, good luck,” she says, even though we both know it’s kind of hopeless. I haven’t been able to pick up any supplementary university classes, so the chances of me getting into psych right away are small when it’s so competitive. I should probably just apply for general studies, but that also feels hopeless.

  “It’d help if I knew what I wanted to be, but everything just feels like… like I’m never going to succeed, so why bother trying?”

  “What about a gap year?” she suggests as she finishes up her hair and moves on to her makeup.

  “Yeah, I thought of that too, but I’m afraid of getting stuck in a dead-end job, or retail, or something, you know?”

  “Mmmhmm. Or a coffee shop while waiting for something better to come along,” she adds and we give each other a look.

  She knows more than a few kids who graduated last year and the year before and ended up working at coffee shops to pay the bills, which is fine, but they also seem to be getting stuck and the last thing I want is to get stuck here.

  “Okay, all good here. Ready?” Kennedy asks before giving herself a final once over.

  I shove her over a little and take a look at myself and she laughs before wrapping her arm around my neck. “I definitely don’t look like me,” I say.

  “Good, tonight, we don’t have to be Kennedy and Sadie. We can be whoever we damn please!”

  “You’re crazy,” I say while Kennedy links hands with me and leads me out of her room.

  “That’s why you love me,” she says with a wink. And soon enough, we’re on our way to face the night at Bobby’s Valentine’s party.

  ******

  The mood of this party is completely different from the Halloween party. It’s not nice, and I really don’t like it. We pull up and this time, instead of Bobby greeting us, it’s one of his friends who’s visibly drunk.

  People are openly drinking in the driveway and some are even smoking pot, which is really not my thing
and something that I’m not comfortable being around—the last thing I need is underage drug use on my record.

  “Kenny, I don’t know if I’m into this…,” but I cut myself off at her disappointed look.

  “We can just stay for a little while, how about that? Josh from drama is coming, and I was hoping….”

  “No, no I totally get it. It’s fine. I’ll keep myself busy,” I say, trying to smooth things over. I don’t want to disappoint my friend, especially if she’s got the chance to hang out with someone she’s had a crush on. Just because I’m a loser in love, doesn’t mean that she has to be.

  But what about Michael? my mind helpfully supplies. I mean, I guess that counts, sort of. But our last date was terrible and I kind of get the sense that he’s, I dunno, using me for something.

  I feel underdressed and uncomfortable and from the way some of the boys—and I say boys, but they look like frat boys, which means they’re older than I am—are leering, I know this outfit was a mistake.

  Still, I cross through the main area and into the kitchen where the options for drinks are canned beer, soda, or some spiked punch. Considering I’m not interested in getting drunk here, I settle on soda, sipping my can as I walk around aimlessly. There are a few faces that I recognize, but not many and I wonder if news about this party got out and Bobby felt obligated to keep it going.

  This is out of my comfort zone, for sure, but I look over and see Kennedy talking to Josh and she looks so happy that I just suck it up and drink more soda. Eventually, I need to go pee, so I head upstairs to find a restroom to use and apparently that’s a mistake because when I come out afterwards, I’m not alone.

  Shit. I should have told Kennedy where I was going… Too late now… I think. That’s what smart me would have done.

  “Sorry, did I take too long?” I ask, making small talk with a visibly drunk boy. He’s huge. At least six and a half feet tall and built like a fridge. Normally, he’d be handsome, but the alcohol makes his eyes look leery and his whole vibe is totally weird.

  I get a bad feeling immediately and it’s validated when he says, “No, I’m here to see you, sweet cheeks.”

  Okay, first of all, who the hell says ‘sweet cheeks’? And second, I’m completely fucking alone with this guy and I am not okay with that. He’s blocking the stairs, so my only option is to go deeper into the hallway and hope for an escape route to present itself.

  “Look, I think you have the wrong impression about me,” I start while backing away from him, hands up to keep him as far away from me as possible. I’ve got nothing on me other than a tiny purse and a skimpy outfit, so this is probably the worst clothing to be wearing for this kind of situation. I take another step back, only for him to lunge closer and snatch my arm—hard.

  “What, you think you’re too good for me, bitch?” he slurs as I cry out in pain. As drunk as he is, his grip on my arm is still tight and hurts. I try to twist away, but he only holds tighter.

  “Let go of me!” I cry while kicking out, but he’s more agile than I expect and he manages to deflect my kick. He steps in, big arms reaching to try to pull me into his body—I manage to dodge him, just barely, but I’ve backed myself into a corner.

  “Stop wiggling. You know, you should be flattered that someone like me is into someone like you. What’s your name, anyway? Nobody?” He laughs at his own joke as my eyes dart around frantically while I look for an escape.

  There’s nothing. Either I start screaming and hope that someone can hear me over the music, or I don’t even want to think about how this going to go—or will that only trigger his anger?

  I gotta think fast and act because I know this isn’t going to end well for me if I hesitate. He presses closer, a terrible grin on his face—had I really thought that he was handsome?—as he closes the distance between us while I panic, frozen to the spot, as I try to think of what to do next.

  Chapter Eleven

  I’m really starting to panic. I’m alone with this drunk guy, who’s about three times bigger than I am, and he is not taking the hint. Or maybe he is, but he doesn’t care.

  Some guys like this are used to getting their way, no matter what anyone says or how much they object. I’m starting to panic, eyes darting around as I look for an escape route—nothing’s coming up. He’s got me boxed right in.

  “C’mon, I see how you’re dressed. You’re practically beggin’ for it,” he leers and I think I’ve never been so scared in my life.

  “I’m not asking for anything other than for you to leave me alone, please,” I reply, hoping the please will break through his drunken haze. “You’re scaring me.”

  “Aww, poor baby. There’s no reason to be scared, I’ll take good care of you,” he assures me as he lurches closer while I try to hold him at bay. I’m just about to scream for all I’m worth when someone interrupts us.

  “There you are, Princess,” says the last voice in the world I expect to hear right now—but it’s also the last voice I want to hear. Connor is just going to make this experience worse and I’m already scared. God knows, maybe he’ll encourage this drunk asshole. He’ll probably think this is all super funny!

  This is why I should never leave the house, I think unhelpfully.

  “Oh, hey, man,” the drunk asshole says to Connor.

  Of course, they know each other. Why am I not surprised? But instead of reaching out and clasping hands with him, Connor just stares my accoster down. Connor looks like he’s about ready to rip this boy’s fucking head off and even I give an involuntary shudder at the epically angry aura he’s casting.

  Drunk asshole doesn’t seem to catch what Connor’s putting out there and drunkenly reaches out and hits him on the shoulder. “This slut’s looking for a good time, I think,” he slurs, as if this is just some wild joke and my terror is a turn on.

  Connor slowly pulls the kid’s hand off of his shoulder before puffing his chest out a little as he stretches his arms behind him. “She’s not a slut, Mason. And she’s definitely not looking to spend any time with you.”

  “Hey man, that’s not cool. What the fuck do you know, anyway?” the boy—Mason—slurs.

  “I don’t give a shit what you think. You’re going to step away and pretend that you never saw her. You’re going to find someone who’s interested in you and you’re never going to talk to Sadie MacLean again, alright?”

  Mason looks like he’s about to drunkenly argue some more, but considering Connor is about half a foot taller and ripped, Mason backs down.

  “Shit, dude. Sorry,” he grumbles while taking a step back from me.

  I finally have some breathing room and I’m just about to make my escape when Connor reaches out and pulls me tight against his side. “She’s mine. She’s always been mine. And she will always be mine. If I ever see you talking to her again, we’re going to have a fucking problem.”

  Mason holds his hands up between himself and Connor, obviously trying to calm him down as he stammers, “Sure man. Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was your girl.”

  That seemed to sober him up real quick, though as he kind of stumble runs away from us and I take a moment to glare at Connor.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  Connor rolls his eyes. “Saving your ass, Princess. C’mon,” he says while grabbing my arm and tugging me into a nearby bedroom.

  “Oh, great. From one asshole to another,” I say as I glare down at where he’s holding onto my arm. Mercifully, he lets go, though the heat from his touch remains.

  “A thanks would be nice,” he growls as my eyes adjust to the dark.

  “A thanks? Seriously? You’re lucky I don’t punch you right in the jaw—which is what I was about to do to that asshole before you showed up. I am not your fucking girl and I am not some damsel in distress!” I seethe, even though I obviously had been in some pretty visible distress. “I’m not your toy, Connor. You can’t just step in when you feel like it and fuck my life up, okay? We’re not friends
anymore. We haven’t been since forever. You don’t get a say in what I do.”

  I let him have it and he just stands there and takes it all. My anger, my hate, my fear, but also my heartache. Things could be so different if only…

  If only he wasn’t such a giant bullying asshole.

  Finally, I peter out and just settle on glaring, which earns me a “Are you finished?”

  I growl, “For now.”

  Connor steps close. Close enough that I can make out the smell of his cologne, and I’m ashamed to admit that it’s a really good smell.

  He matches my glare with his own. “Good, because now it’s my turn. Just what are you thinking by wearing something like that, anyway?” The fucking audacity! As if I give a shit what he thinks about any aspect of my life!

  “I can wear what I want. Just what the fuck do you boys think? That all girls are asking for it? That if I dare to show any cleavage, I must be a slut and want to fuck literally anything? Jesus. Fucking pigs. I’m so tired of having to be afraid!”

  “Well, we live in a world that isn’t always nice, MacLean. You of all people should know that by now,” he accuses and I take it to mean that he thinks he’s somehow done me a favor by being such a righteous asshole.

  “Yeah, I have you to thank for that. Way to go! Between dad dying and you cutting me out of your life, I sure do know how things work!” I cry. I’m so tired of this shit. So tired of him.

  “Look, I’m sorry I suggested that…” he starts, but I cut him off.

  “That what? That I deserved to be harassed because of what I’m wearing? Fuck you, Connor. I don’t need your regard, your help, or your apology,” I spit and I’m about to turn on my heel and get the fuck out of the dark bedroom when he reaches out again and grabs my hand.

  This time, it’s almost gentle, like he’s pleading with me, even though everything he’s said so far has done nothing but piss me off.

  “Sadie,” he tries. He hardly ever says my name. Always ‘MacLean’ or ‘Princess,’ or something else to annoy me. But Sadie… Oh, and he says it. So whisper soft it almost comes out like a prayer. That, more than anything else, gets my attention.