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

by Nichole Noel

  “I need to protect you. My dad, he… there’s something with your mom. Things he knows. He found out we were friends when we were kids and he hit the roof. Promised that he’d… well, I’d rather not say what he promised to do to you if I didn’t stop being your friend.”

  “But that’s so fucked up,” I manage, holding tight as my cheek rests against his chest. “None of it makes sense.”

  “I’d do anything to keep you safe, Sadie. Anything.”

  “Even cut me out of your life?”

  “If it meant that I’d keep you safe from what my dad would do—what he’s done to me, yes.”

  I stand and let his words sink in for a moment. I’ve always known that Mr. O’Brien was an angry man, a man with issues, and I’d hoped that he hadn’t taken out that anger on his son, but I was wrong.

  “Connor, you don’t have to do this alone. There has to be something I can do?” I say, feeling small and powerless.

  “There’s nothing you can do. If my dad found out I was here, he’d fucking kill me.”

  “Then don’t tell him. Don’t tell him anything. Lie to him,” I suggest as a plan comes together in my mind.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want you. You want me. What if… what if we just date in secret?”

  “Lie to my dad? You’re braver than I thought, MacLean,” he says. I think he thinks I’m joking, but I’m dead serious about all of this.

  “No, seriously. We don’t have to tell anyone. It can just be our little secret. We’re going to graduate soon. We’re both technically adults—they can’t tell us how to live our lives anymore.”

  I watch as he stops and really considers what I’m saying here. Whatever we’re doing, the love-hate thing, it’s not working for either of us. He’s looking for ways to see me, while simultaneously looking for ways to keep us apart. And it all seems to come back to our parents, for some reason, so let’s just eliminate them from the picture by not letting them know.

  “Sadie… I don’t… You don’t deserve that.”

  “I don’t deserve to be in a relationship with someone I care about—with someone I’ve cared about since childhood? Because I never stopped caring, you know that. And I know you never stopped caring either. So, let’s cut with the bullshit.”

  He blinks down at me like he’s really seeing me for the first time and the possibility that exists between us. His dad is terrifying, and defying him could open up a whole can of worms that I won’t want to deal with later, but right now, I want Connor. And I’ll let nothing stand in my way.

  “I… I never stopped caring. I hated every minute of what I did. Every second. I’m so sorry, Sadie.”

  “Show me, then. Forget it all. Forget your father. Just you. Just me. Just us,” I say like my words can solve everything. I’m over simplifying, I know it. And I know that there are years of heartache between us to work through, but I’m willing to give it a chance if he is.

  The alternative is to go back to what we were, which was worse than nothing. Having to live with him as he pretends to ignore me, or is cruel to me to keep up appearances, as I’m cruel to him. I don’t want that. I want him.

  “Sadie…,” he murmurs softly. I love the way he says my name, like a prayer from between those full, lush lips. Like something sacred—a secret only he knows the answer to. Makes me feel like his and that makes me feel powerful.

  “Connor,” I say his name, and it feels like an answer to a question that we’ve both been secretly asking each other.

  I don’t know who steps first, who’s arms come up to touch, to grab, all I know is that in a moment, I find myself pressed up against the slick side of his car, hands in his hair, lips against his, as he kisses me like he might not get the chance to again.

  This is what I want, what I’ve ever wanted, that moment of connection that only exists between me and him. It’s like magic, the way he makes me feel. I almost feel high, like my brain’s just floating between heaven and earth and my body is trying to catch up as my senses are invaded by the wonderous, dangerous being that is Connor O’Brien.

  He smells like midnight, he feels like a dream, and when he kisses me, my hands thread into his hair and pull—ever so slightly—and he lets out the most delicious little moan that I can’t help but do it again.

  And that’s it, that’s all it takes, Connor grabs me by the backs of my legs and leans me against the hood of his car, his muscled body pressing against me against the metal as he grinds, kisses me hard.

  It’s raining in earnest now. Drops of water drip off of his face and onto me as we kiss and kiss and kiss until we’re soaked through until I’m shivering and he’s shivering, but neither of us wants to stop.

  “The car?” he suggests and I nod as he tugs me off the hood.

  I’m going to get a cold, but I don’t care. I climb into the back seat of his car and the moment I’m facing him he’s pulling, tugging, pressing me into his lap, bodies tight as we both sigh in that moment of delirious contact.

  His hoodie comes off first. His shirt is soaked, so that comes off too. And I’m treated to the amazing sight of Connor shirtless—his skin prickles with the cold, goosepimples dotting his beautiful skin as my hands skim over him. He’s warm, so so warm, as if he’s absorbed the heat from the sun like the golden God he is.

  I let one finger drift over his nipple, his breath catches, and soon he’s pulling at the layers of my pajamas too. He’s slow with me, gives me time to say no if I want to, but I pull at my shirt impatiently, the wet fabric clinging to my curves as we peel it from my body. And, for a moment, he just stares, and I feel so self-conscious that I reach up to cover my chest, but his hands still me.

  His mouth is open slightly, and I realize that he’s in awe of me, so I feel a little less anxious about him being the only boy who’s ever seen me this naked before.

  “God, Sadie. You are… I just… Wow.”

  He’s speechless, the great Connor O’Brien, known asshole who always has a comeback, is struck dumb by the sight of me. I love it. I lean back a little, chest pressed high, and he groans. His hand reaches out, he asks, “May I?”

  “Please,” I beg. And when he touches me it feels like fire heating me from the inside out. He’s gentle, patient, trying to make me enjoy it as much as he obviously is.

  I grind down a little and realize just how much he’s enjoying what we’re doing and I must look a little scared because his hands slide down to rest on my hips, gently tracing against my skin in a soothing way.

  “Say the word, and I stop,” he whispers, and I love that he knows exactly what I need to hear.

  “Don’t stop, Connor,” I whisper back.

  And soon, he’s kissing me, and I’m kissing him, and our bodies are so entwined that I don’t know who’s who anymore. And we don’t go all the way, neither of us was prepared for that, but we go further than I’ve ever gone with any boy before and I revel at the hard feel of him in my hand.

  He touches me slowly, patiently, and I come apart in his arms and him soon after. We sit together, breathless, brows touching. It’s too much. It’s not enough. And I know it’s just the beginning of what’s yet to come between us.

  I’m Connor O’Brien’s.

  And he’s mine.

  And it feels like a little piece of past pain is finally being healed at this moment. I know for certain, there’s no going back now. And I don’t want to. Not this time. This time, it’s for keeps.

  Chapter Thirteen

  At first, it almost works. We text. A lot. And we meet in secret. He quits smoking—which is as much for me as it is because he needs the lung capacity for hockey.

  It’s nice that Connor has a car because I can just say I’m going to work, walk down the street, and wait for him to pick me up. It’s overwhelming the way we feel for each other. As much as we talk, it’s also very physical between us.

  Connor is… well, he’s everything I’d want in a boyfriend because he’s the exact boy I’ve wanted and
missed for my entire life, just grown up into a broad, muscled package. Some nights, we’ll park by the water and just talk for hours about nothing. Some nights, we’ll park by the water and do just about everything other than talk.

  He’s… God, he’s remarkably good at reading my reactions, at giving me exactly what I don’t know that I need. We’ll sit in the back of his car, steam up the windows, then laugh about the dumb shit that happened to us during the week.

  I don’t even mind that he has to keep things a secret, don’t even really mind that he has to pretend not to see me in the halls. Because, in secret, he’s all mine. He texts me to ask how my day went. Texts me to wish me a good night’s sleep.

  I dream of him often, and the times we share together, and I’m almost blindingly happy, even though part of me does know that it could all backfire in an instant. That almost makes it more exciting—that someone could find out, but that’s about as far as I take it because if someone actually did find out, then what would happen next?

  In a strange way, I feel closer to him than ever before, because of the secret we share, even as I’m reminded that a terrible secret is why we can’t tell anyone that we’re dating in the first place. But, at least this time, it’s a secret that both Connor and I share with each other.

  I learn so many things about him—that he’s spent the last three years working at summer camps, that he can’t eat dairy, but loves it, that he’d like to travel to Italy one day. Connor is an only child, just like me, so he grew up lonely, just like me. And then we’d found each other when we were kids.

  Connor remembers his dad being pissed about that, even then, but his mom was fine with him and I being friends, at least at the start. But as we grew, and it became clearer that we were going to keep being friends, his dad couldn’t contain his rage anymore.

  I’d invited Connor to my birthday, like six months after my dad died. I think that triggered it—a little handwritten card with hearts and sparkles and stickers triggered an adult man’s rage and turned my best friend into an enemy.

  I think I’ll hate him forever because of that, and more than a little part of me is spitefully, selfishly glad that I have his son back in my life, despite what Mr. O’Brien has decreed.

  Sometimes, I’ll imagine that I tell him that I’m dating Connor, just to see the look on his face, but because we both still live at home, I’m not ready to live with the consequences of that decision—yet. But we’re determined to get it to work, even if we have to keep meeting in secret.

  Tonight, I wait for Connor on the pier while the sun sets. Both of us have to sneak out and lie about where we’re going. Fortunately, Kennedy is willing to cover for me, though I think she’s getting suspicious about my ‘late night swimming.’

  I’ll tell her, eventually. I hope she’ll understand, given that her opinion about Connor isn’t great. Neither is Sarah’s, but… If I can come around, maybe they can too?

  Footsteps distract me from behind and I turn around, smile in place, expecting to see Connor there, except it’s not. Not even close. My mind conveniently reminds me that Connor had warned me about muggings in town and that I should have planned this a bit better, but I’d been so excited at the possibility that I might see him that I’d forgotten. My eyes dart around as I search for an escape route while a giant, scruffy man stalks closer.

  “Hey, sweet thing, you all alone out here?” he says, leering at me as he closes in.

  His skin is ruddy like he spends too much time in the sun, but his clothes are nice—so he’s just some asshole that gets off on accosting women.

  “I’m not alone. And you better get out of here. My boyfriend is on his way and will be here any moment,” I stammer, trying to back away. I’m at the edge of the pier, so there aren’t many places for me to go, except the water—and I’m definitely thinking about jumping in to get away.

  The man lets out a sick laugh as he stares. “I don’t believe you, sweet thing. That’s a nice bracelet you have there. I think I want it.”

  “I think you should go to hell!” I cry, shouting as loud as I can so that hopefully someone walking by might hear and come to help me. But either no one’s around or everyone is looking the other way.

  I’m backed up against the edge of the pier as my would-be mugger closes in, breath reeking of alcohol as he lunches and is immediately pulled back by something! Either I’d been too scared to notice, or Connor to sneaky, but he’d managed to get the jump on my attacker, pulling him out of range before he could touch me.

  “What the fuck!” he curses before taking a wild swing at Connor.

  Connor laughs, dodging easily as I try to get on the opposite side of the boardwalk so I can make a run for it once Connor is free. But the man isn’t as inebriated as I’d thought and I watch as a knife glints in the low light of the setting sun.

  I scream out, warning Connor, but my voice is a distraction, and he looks at me while our attacker moves and for one horrible moment, time seems to break. Everything is moving too slow, but I’m not fast enough to stop it. I watch as the man Connor’s wrestling with digs out a knife from his pocket. I scream—a warning, but it’s too late.

  Everything’s always too late. I couldn’t save my dad and now I can’t save Connor, either. I watch as the knife plunges into Connor’s side, watch as he gasps with the sudden shock and pain. And all I can do is stand there and scream.

  I don’t really know what happens next. The man leaves, or I think he must have because, by the time my brain catches up, I’m somehow leaning over Connor, sobbing as he lays beneath me bleeding. I try to call 911 and eventually I get an emergency operator on the line who tells me to keep the knife in his side until emergency services get there.

  I tell her where we are. How to get to us. I try to be useful, but all I want to do is scream and cry and kill the man who’s done this and I blame myself for being the reason this is happening at all. And in one precious moment, I realize how selfish I’m being. How foolish. How childish.

  I find my center, calm myself, as I describe the scene, and tell her how Connor looks. I take his hand in mine and hold tight. The operator keeps talking, reassuring me. Connor stares at me, that same intense gaze that I love, and manages to smile.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispers. “I hate it when you cry.”

  “Then stop making me cry,” I choke back. “And don’t you dare die. If you die, I’m going to bring you back to life just so I can kill you again.”

  He smiles and grimaces. “I think I’m gonna pass out, Sadie,” he announces.

  “No, stay awake! He says he’s going to pass out,” I tell the operator. “Stay with me, Connor. Stay with me, please!”

  “Sadie…,” he whispers. “I love you, okay? Know that I love you.” He sounds delirious like he’s not sure of where he is or what’s really going on.

  I take a deep breath and say, “You asshole. Don’t tell me this when you’re hurt. Tell me later! When you’re better. Tell me any other time than this!”

  His lips quirk a little and I give him a teary smile back. He can’t die. I won’t let him. I need him—need every bit of him, the good and the bad. I need all of it and I won’t let him be taken from me. Not now. Not after everything that we’ve been through.

  The blood pools around us, stains his shirt, stains my jeans. I hear an ambulance in the distance. “Someone is coming to help. They’ll be here soon,” I say out loud, to reassure us both.

  “Okay,” he breathes softly and I watch in horror as the color seems to drain from his face. His eyes roll back and his hand slips from mine as he faints.

  I choke back a sob and describe what’s happening to the operator who tells me that he’s probably going into shock. She tells me I need to remain calm and find the emergency services people so they can help them. I look around through teary eyes and see bright, flashing lights.

  I whisper a promise to Connor that I’ll be right back and I run faster than I ever have in my life to find help for the boy
I love.

  ******

  They don’t let me in the ambulance, so I’m left with the police until my mom comes to pick me up. Somehow, during all of this mess, I managed to call her and she arrives on the scene soon after Connor is taken away.

  I’m a huge fucking mess by the time she gets there, and she immediately goes into mom-mode, asking a million questions about whether I’m okay and what happened.

  Given that she has no idea I’ve been seeing Connor, and I certainly didn’t want her finding out like this, I lie and say that I’d been walking, ran into Connor, and gotten attacked as I left—which was not what I’d told the police, but the last thing I wanted right now was a lecture about how I should have known better than to get close to Connor.

  “I’m just so glad you’re safe,” she says finally. “Do you have to stay for more questioning?”

  I shake my head and shiver a bit. The police were nice, but the whole experience had been a bit overwhelming. I don’t normally have to talk to the police and I find them intimidating—and it feels like I’ve magically managed to do something wrong and they’re going to somehow find out about it.

  “Well, come on, then. Let’s get you home,” she says before giving me a side-hug.

  I immediately freeze. I can’t go home now! What if Connor dies? What if he asks for me? No. I need to get to the hospital, but how? Mom’s going to wonder about what’s going on if I demand to go, so I need to think of a plan.

  For the moment, I decide to go home with Mom to get cleaned up, but I text Kennedy on the way over, swear her to secrecy, and she promises to pick me up down the street after I sneak out.

  Every minute that passes feels like torture. Every minute that passes, I wonder if Connor is okay. I wouldn’t even get a phone call if something happened! No one knows about us and, even if his parents did, they’d never call me willingly. I scrub off in the shower and try to wash the memories of Connor getting stabbed down the drain with the filth that flakes from my body.