Tainted Rose: A High School Bully Romance (Rosehaven Academy Book 2)

by Leila James

  Aunt Liz clears her throat. “It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. His kind are different, Scarlett.” She closes her eyes. “I hate to say it, but this is what I was afraid of. There’s something about that school. Something that makes them think if their parents have enough money to pay for them to be there, then they can do whatever and get away with it.”

  My eyes flash. “Why does it feel like you aren’t telling me something?”

  She sighs and sits on the other side of me, clasping her hands together. “It’s nothing that I haven’t said or hinted at before. I always assumed that your father used your mother and dumped her. We figured he was a Rose and was too embarrassed to be seen with your mother—a Thorn. Too fucking selfish to stand by her when she found out she was pregnant with you.” She shakes her head, mumbling to herself, “It’s like it’s happening all over again.”

  “No.” Oh God, no.

  “Tell me you haven’t slept with him, Scarlett.”

  A harsh swallow works its way past the lump in my throat. “I can’t.”

  Aunt Liz makes a show of trying to breathe calmly.

  “I’m going to kill that little punk.” Uncle David’s face turns an odd purple-red color.

  They truly would kill him if they knew the whole story. And there is no way in hell I’m telling them—especially not now. The more they know about the shitshow that’s been going on since I set foot on the grounds of Rosehaven Academy, the more likely they are to pull me out and make me attend the local public school, River Rock High School. I dig in my heels. “It’s fine. I’ll be okay. I don’t really want to talk about it anymore right now. Do you mind if I take a shower and go to bed?” I chew on my lip, waiting on their answer. I need the sweet oblivion of sleep. When Mom died, sleep was the only thing that helped for a long time. Funny that I’d equate the loss of my relationship with Xander to a death of sorts. We’re over before we’d ever truly begun.

  The plea flashing through my eyes must convince them because after conferring silently with one another, they nod. “Okay. But we’re right down the hall if you need something.”

  After my shower, I pull on a tank top and sleep shorts and slip between the sheets of my bed. I’m both mentally and physically exhausted, but I don’t foresee sleep coming any time soon.

  I lie here for what feels like forever, thinking through every word, every gesture, every moment over the last month. Flashes of memories with him hit me one after another in rapid succession—licking his ice cream with a naughty twinkle in his eye, running toward me all decked out in his football gear, whispering dirty things in my ear. My heart aches with the loss.

  Somehow, I should have known better than to trust him. He used me. For what? Just to get off? Because he thought it would be amusing to prove that he could? To see if I’d let him go that far? My mind flashes back to Aria and her cheer bitches cornering me in the girls’ bathroom earlier this week. I remember her words as if she were standing right here at my bedside whispering them in my ear. Her sickly-sweet voice taunts me over and over again. He’ll leave when he gets what he wants. My eyes drift shut. When he gets into your pants.

  And that’s exactly how it’d happened. He’d played my body like a master violinist. He’d known exactly how to touch me, precisely what I’d needed. Every moment with him had felt good. How could it have all been a lie?

  Chapter 3

  Xander

  My eyes slowly attempt to open but my eyelids feel heavy, and my head is pounding a furious beat. I wince. What the fuck did I do last night? I peer around my room, vision blurry. Seeing Scarlett’s discarded panties on the floor brings a smile to my face despite the hangover.

  And then it hits me like a freight train, what I’ve done—what I had to do.

  Fuck. I sit up, memories of last night hitting me hard, a punch to the gut. I wonder how she is, what she’s doing. I drag my hands over my face. The sick feeling in my stomach has nothing to do with the alcohol I consumed, and everything to do with the girl whose heart I broke last night. This fucking sucks.

  A knock sounds on the door. “Xander? Are you awake, honey?”

  June. I raise my voice so she can hear me through the door. “Hang on a sec.” I grumble as I sit up. There aren’t many people I’d even open the door for on a morning like this, but June happens to be one of them. She’s been Sebastian’s cook since before Mom and I came to live here. She actually worked for his parents before that and has known him his whole life. I pull a T-shirt over my head before I unlock my door and open it. “Hey.” My voice sounds rough.

  She raises one eyebrow at me from the doorway where she holds a tray with a tall glass of water, a couple of painkillers, and a mug of steaming hot coffee. She tilts her head to the side. “I thought so.” I stand back and gesture that she can come in. She harrumphs and strides into the room.

  My lips twitch. “How did you know?”

  She pauses, turning back to me to answer. “You should know better. I’m well aware of when liquor bottles disappear, honey. And since neither Sebastian or Isabella look none the worse for wear this morning, I figured it must have been you.”

  A smile spreads across my face, even though my head is still threatening to pound right off my neck. “Yeah. Rough night.”

  She surveys the room as she comes in, setting the tray on top of the table in front of the couch. “Looks like it.” Then she clears her throat and says with a huff, “Glad I’m not the housekeeper. I’ll be honest. Smells like debauchery in here. You need to air things out.” She crosses the room and cranks open a window. “Also looks like your girlfriend forgot something.” She gestures to Scarlett’s panties as she walks back to stand in front of me, her brow pinching as a troubled look slips over her features.

  I rub my hand over the back of my head. If anyone can embarrass me, it’s June. “Uh. Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  “Nothing really surprises me anymore, young man. I’ve been around this family for way too long.” She looks at me pointedly. “But Sebastian said she left in a big hurry last night. Everything okay?”

  I press my lips together and shrug one shoulder. “Not really. It is what it is.”

  “Sebastian said she seemed like a nice girl—pretty red hair.”

  I study her curious expression for a second before I shrug. “June, I think the problem is that she’s too nice for me. I never should have gone near her. Never should have touched her in the first place.”

  “Well, it takes a real man to own up to his mistakes. Keep that in mind. I watched your stepdad do that plenty over the years.”

  At Micah’s house later that night, I look around at everyone partying, celebrating last night’s big win, yet I don’t really see them. It’s all old hat to me now, nothing new. Micah’s parents aren’t here, as usual. My classmates dance, drink, fuck around, and have a good time. It all means nothing to me. Feeling like absolute shit, I slouch quietly on a couch in the corner with a bottle of tequila. Because another night drunk off my ass is totally going to make all of my problems disappear.

  A bikini-clad Aria, wrapped in a towel and fresh out of the pool, plops herself down on the cushion next to me. She flips her long blonde hair over her shoulder, appraising my current status. “Getting fucked up tonight, Xan?” She aims a faux-sweet smile in my direction. “Looks like you’re doing an excellent job of it.”

  I’m not fooled. She wants to know what’s going on with Scarlett, and I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I haven’t said a fucking word to anyone. Part of me wonders if that’s because I wish it hadn’t been necessary to do it. But that had been the plan all along; she wouldn’t leave, so I needed to reel her in, make her fall, then make her hate me all over again. I’ve got to commend myself—I did a fan-fucking-tastic job of it. So good, in fact, I’m afraid I may never forgive myself.

  “You could say that. Different day, different bottle.” I tip the bottle up to my lips, not even wincing as the liquor flows down my throat. I deserve e
very bit of the hangover I’m going to have again tomorrow.

  “Where is she?” Aria’s shrewd eyes scan the room.

  And there it is. Aria won’t even refer to Scarlett by name. Never has with me. She probably figures if she ignores her, maybe she’ll go away.

  “She’s not here.”

  “Why not? You two have been attached at the hip lately.”

  I cock my head in her direction and shake my head. “She doesn’t want to be, I’m sure.”

  “She doesn’t want to be here or attached to your hip? Why are you being difficult?” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling.

  “Both.” My response is clipped, effectively ending the discussion.

  She knows better than to push me when I’m in a mood like this. She narrows her gaze on me, then touches her tongue to her upper lip the way she always does when she’s thinking. After a few seconds, she tilts her head and gives a little shrug before holding her phone up in front of her face. At first, it looks like she’s checking her lipstick in the reverse camera, but then she leans over, presses herself against me, and snaps a photo.

  “Come on, Aria,” I grunt, trying to shift away from her.

  She gets really close, looking into my eyes. “She’s no good for you.” Before I comprehend what she’s doing, she puts her lips on my neck.

  Click.

  “Stop.” I push her away with a frown, then let out a deep sigh. “Actually, I need to ask you to do something with those photos.” My inebriated state makes it hard to formulate in my head what to say.

  She gives me a wicked grin. “What?”

  I tug her close so I can whisper in her ear. “I need you to make sure you post those. I need it to look like we’re together.”

  She edges back and quirks her brow at me. “Really? The photos I just took?” She hesitates, searching my face. “What did you do, Xander?”

  Pushing thoughts around in my sloshing brain, I demand quietly, “Please do it. Trust me. Don’t ask me again.”

  “Hey, Xander, what’s going on, man?” Micah plucks Aria up by the waist, and she squeals as he deposits her on the far end of the couch. She scowls and gives him a little slap to the arm before she stands and slides a private wink in my direction, mouthing I’m on it. She stomps off for Micah’s benefit, exiting the house to the patio.

  “When are you going to cut her off once and for good?”

  I give a noncommittal shrug. “She’s like my sister.”

  He runs his hands over his long thighs. “Even more reason to cut the cord. Where’s my favorite ice cream girl?”

  I wince. “Home?” It comes out like a question. Fuck. I don’t know how I can possibly make anyone understand why I pushed her away.

  He frowns before he snags the bottle of tequila right out of my hands and takes a long swallow. Handing it back, he nods. “You fucked it up already?”

  My hand rubs over my face. “You might hear some stuff. I was an asshole. Can you just—” A defeated sigh has my shoulders sagging even more.

  His eyes narrow on me. “Just what?”

  I let out a long, agitated breath. “Would you do me a favor?”

  “Anything, man. You know that.” His eyes search mine for an answer as to why I’m acting like this. I can tell I have his attention.

  I lower my voice. “Look out for Scarlett for me, would you? No matter what I say or do.”

  His brows raise, and he angles himself toward me, propping his arm up on the back of the couch.

  I know he’s waiting for me to say more but I shouldn’t. “Please trust me.” I tilt the bottle up and suck down more tequila.

  He sighs deeply, then holds out his fist.

  I knew I could count on him. He’s been more like a brother than a friend for years now.

  I bump it back. “Thanks. I’m going to go crash in one of your spare bedrooms, if that’s okay. I’m not up for all of this tonight.” I wave my arm toward the bumping and grinding happening in front of us.

  “Fuck, man. Yeah. Go ahead.”

  I stand, swaying on my feet.

  From behind me, Micah quietly asks, “I don’t want to know, do I?”

  “No man. You really, really don’t.” I don’t know if he can read the pain in my eyes but I hope he can sense it. When word gets around about what I’ve done, I hope he remembers exactly what he’s seen tonight.

  I wander toward the front of the house and march myself up the stairs. It takes me a minute or so to find an empty bedroom. When I finally locate one that doesn’t have two or more people in various stages of undress, I close the door behind me, yank off my T-shirt, and collapse onto the bed. All I can see when I close my eyes is Scarlett’s face as I kicked her to the curb. Her anguish and confusion haunt my dreams.

  Chapter 4

  Scarlett

  I’ve wallowed for a full day and a half. I’ve eaten a boatload of chocolate fudge ice cream, binge-watched seasons one, two, and three of Pretty Little Liars again, and spent way too much time in bed. The wallowing process is necessary, but I’m done. I know I have to put on a brave face, not only for the sake of my aunt and uncle, who are worried sick about me, but also because I know that’s how I’m going to be able to face everyone at school tomorrow.

  Will he have told everyone what he did? Before he stomped all over my heart, I felt myself falling. I was far enough gone for him that I hadn’t seen it coming. And to break up with me while I was naked, while I could almost still feel him inside of me? I’d wanted to die right on the spot. He ruined every moment we’d shared, trashed them like they meant nothing.

  I don’t get it. I don’t understand why he’d do this to me. I’ve got to hand it to him, if he’d been looking to catch me off guard, it worked. I’d been utterly blindsided.

  Shaking it off as best I can, I pull on some old jeans and a ratty T-shirt in preparation for scrounging around in the garage when Max and Daphne get here.

  It isn’t long before the doorbell rings, thankfully throwing me into action, giving me something else to think about. Today, we track down Mom’s yearbooks and hunt for any clues about who she’d been dating. Because, yes, I want to answer the question that had come to me via a text from an unknown number—Who’s your daddy?

  It’s clear to me I need to try to find out, come hell or high water. I’d thought my mother had taken the secret to her grave, but apparently, that’s not the case. Someone knows. Someone is tormenting me with their knowledge of my personal business. It’s time to find out for myself who is doing this to me and who my father is. Contrary to what I would have thought, my worst fear is not actually identifying my father; I’m afraid I’ll somehow tarnish my memory of my mother. She was my best friend, my confidante—my everything. That fear makes my stomach turn, the acid inside bubbling away.

  I look at the reflection in the mirror. This girl has the same blue eyes, same fiery red hair, same pale, freckled skin—same everything. I may look the same on the outside, save for the dark circles under my eyes, but on the inside? I’m devastated. There’s no other way to put it. The night he broke up with me, Xander ripped out my heart, threw it on the floor, and I left it right there next to my damn panties.

  I hurry down the stairs as the doorbell rings a second time. Yanking the door open, I find Max and Daphne standing on the other side, deep in conversation. Their lips clamp shut and force into smiles when they see me. Those smiles fall as they scan my face.

  “What’s wrong?” Daphne steps cautiously into the house as I step back and wave her in.

  Max follows. “You look like you need a hug. What’s going on?” His arms extend, and I don’t hesitate. I sag against his strong body, letting him enfold me in a hug.

  I nibble on my lip and try to breathe normally. Dammit, I thought I was hiding it better than that. It’s several long, awkward moments before I let him go. Pressing a couple fingers to one temple, I can only manage a half-smile. “He did exactly what Aria said he was going to.” I don’t expand on it, but head into the ki
tchen, Daphne and Max both trailing behind me.

  “What do you me—” Daphne doesn’t finish the question before the light bulb goes on over her head. “Nooo. Tell me he didn’t.”

  I nod, my eyes briefly flicking to Max’s as I pull out a container with cookies I’d made yesterday.

  His jaw clenches. “Are you shitting me right now?”

  I slowly shake my head. “Nope.”

  Daphne groans, accepting my offer of a cookie. “Why didn’t you say something? This happened Friday night after the game?”

  I take a second to contemplate my answer. Why hadn’t I reached out to them? There’s really only one answer. “I was embarrassed. I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming. I’m sure you both think I’m the biggest idiot ever for assuming he actually wanted me.” I take a bite of a cookie to stall. I chew and swallow, then lick my lower lip clean of chocolate before I finish explaining. “I ran the whole way home afterward.”

  Max tugs me back into his arms. “You’re not an idiot.” He squeezes me a little tighter before he says, “And I’m pissed as hell that you didn’t call one of us for help. But back the fuck up for a second, please, Cupcake. How did this go down?”

  “He took me back to his place after the game, and we—you know—then he pretty much told me to get the fuck out, that I’d only been a challenge and since he’d been successful getting what he wanted, he was done with me. Something like that.” I shove the rest of the cookie in my mouth, chewing and swallowing before either of them say a word.

  “But—” Daphne’s brow furrows deeply in confusion as she huffs out a few exasperated breaths. “Everything was okay right up until—?”