Bully (Angel & Demons Trilogy Book 1)

by Ashley Love

  Huffing in frustration, I palm the wetness through my jeans, groaning before I can help it. I've never been like this before. I've never just gotten wet like a teenage girl who just hit puberty before. Even when I hit puberty, I didn't get like this. This is stupid. I've never been affected by anyone like this before.

  And then Zane fucking Peterson just had to come along like a goddamn typhoon in my life, tearing things apart, tearing me apart, in all the worst and best ways.

  I stare at my reflection, watching water droplets drip off my eyelashes and roll down my cheeks like tears. I need to snap out of it. I told myself that I wasn't going to try to fight the fact that I have a crush on Zane anymore; I even ripped up the Project FAZ list. But me and Zane will never be a thing. It's just not going to happen. And I didn't expect it to hurt this much, giving in to my feelings.

  With a weary sigh, I wipe the rest of the water off my face with the front of my T-shirt. It's a shirt Dad got for me at a souvenir shop in Tennessee, with Elvis's Graceland written across it. It's torn in the armpit and it's too big for me, but it's soft from use, so I wear it occasionally.

  I gather up my books and wander out of the bathroom before I'm late for my last class. I halfway expect Zane to be waiting for me outside the bathroom, but the hallway is nearly empty. Most of the students are already in their next class, with the exception of a few laggards who don't care whether they're late or not.

  I spend the rest of the day trying to ignore my wetness and push thoughts of Zane out of my head.

  When I go to my locker after my last class, I'm surprised to find my missing backpack hanging in there, as well as my iPod, which I assumed I was never going to see again.

  I know immediately that it was Zane who put my belongings back. I just know. Swallowing hard, I glance both ways, but I don't see him lingering there. I grab my stuff and close my locker, wondering how Zane got in there in the first place, and I wander out of the school.

  I have to pass by The Docks on my way home, as usual, but when I glance over there, Zane isn't there. The snake-like Slate whistles and catcalls at me, but I ignore him and step into the woods, walking a little faster than necessary, half-expecting them to jump on me again. It's scary walking home now, ever since I was attacked. I'm on edge for most of the way through the woods. When I pass the spot where I spent the night, I shiver, every time, and my eyes automatically dart around, looking for the deer that spent the night with me, keeping my cheek warm at least with its tongue.

  I wonder if I imagined the deer. I was a bit delirious at the time.

  Gulping, I continue on. I pull my iPod out of my pocket once I'm sure that the Cancers aren't following me, and stuff my headphones in my ears, putting my music on shuffle. The first song is the theme song to I Dream of Jeannie, and it puts me in a mildly better mood. When the next song comes on, it's something heavy, with growling guitar riffs and angry vocals. My forehead wrinkles in confusion, and I look down at my iPod. I don't know this song.

  I click the gadget on. "Some Kind of Monster" by Metallica flashes across the screen. I cock my head in confusion. I've never heard this song before—how the hell did it get on my iPod?

  I press the skip button, moving on to the next song, and my confusion only doubles when "Black Dog" by Led Zeppelin starts playing. Where did all this new music come from?

  I continue to skip song after song, looking through all the strange music. Aerosmith, and Deep Purple, and Def Leppard, and Pink Floyd show up. Song after song that I don't recognize. Heavy metal and classic rock and angry words and screeching guitar solos. I'm confused for most of my walk home.

  And then I realize.

  This is Zane's music. I've seen him wearing band shirts with these same band names and logos on them under his leather jacket.

  Zane put music on my iPod. Why?

  I stop skipping ahead, and just listen to one of the new songs for a moment. It's a song called "Learning to Fly" by Pink Floyd. I chew on my lip as I listen. It's actually kind of lovely. I've never really explored this type of music before, and while some of it is definitely too heavy for my taste, this song is actually nice. It's calm, and the lead singer's voice is enthralling. The lyrics are a lot deeper than I expected them to be.

  As I exit the woods and walks toward my house, I find myself smiling a little. When the song ends, I start it over again and listen more closely. I can see Zane in my head, laying on a bed, headphones in, green eyes closed, just listening to this song, relaxing into the music. And for once, thinking about Zane doesn't hurt, not when I'm listening to this song too.

  I make it home after listening to the song four times over, and I pull my headphones out of my ears for a minute to pick up Sophia from Bonnie's. Bonnie gives me another casserole with a layer of crumbled blue cheese on top. I smile and thank her, and she checks over the wounds on my face briefly before shooing Sophia and me off.

  When we get home, the house is cold. The heater must be broken...again. But right now, I'm a little too blissed-out to care. I stick the casserole in the fridge, and makes sure Sophia is sitting down doing her homework before I wander up to my room, closing the door and flopping back on my bed.

  I stick my headphones back in and start "Learning to Fly" over again, putting the song on repeat, and resting my head on my pillow, staring up at the ceiling. When the vocals start up, and that calming voice begins to sing, I close my eyes, tucking one arm behind my head, the other resting on my stomach next to my iPod. This is arguably the most calming song I've ever heard. I never knew Rock could be this peaceful.

  I drink in the lyrics with an awestruck smile on my face.

  A flight of fancy, on a windswept field

  Standing alone my senses reeled

  A fatal attraction is holding me fast,

  How can I escape this irresistible grasp?

  I don't know how much time passes, but the music continues to play, the song starting over and over again on repeat, and eventually I drift off to sleep.

  I dream of Zane. Of course I dream of Zane.

  But I've never had a dream like this before.

  I'm kissing him, and his lips are as soft as I imagined, like kissing velvet. He's a little aggressive when it comes to kissing me, just like he's aggressive in real life, but he's also gentle. He lets me lead sometimes, and then other times he's pressing in, licking his way hungrily into my mouth.

  Dreams are perfect, so obviously I know how to kiss well in my subconscious mind, even though in real life I've only kissed two other people, and one of them was on a dare when I was in third grade. I kiss Zane back enthusiastically, my heart beating fast, barely able to pull in enough breaths between the kisses.

  Zane's hand comes up, resting on the side of my face, his thumb stroking my jaw gently. His other hand winds around the back of my head, fingers twining through my hair, holding my face to his. I'm shy, so I'm not sure if I should touch him or not. I settle on resting my hands on his waist, fingers curling around his back a little. It's a solid, muscular back, and I can feel two dimples at the small there right above his ass.

  I want to grab Zane's dick. I want to. But I'm too shy, too much of a virgin. It's a little embarrassing—or it should be. But this is my dream, so I don't have to feel embarrassed.

  When Zane moves closer, pressing our bodies together, I suck in a sharp breath. I can feel Zane's hard length through his jeans, pressing against me. And I can't help it. I press closer, grinding against him, winding my hands all the way around Zane's back to hold him as close as possible, fingernails digging in gently over the soft material of his T-shirt.

  And all at once, we're suddenly laying down. It's a dream, and it makes no sense really. We were standing a second ago, and now we're laying on a bed, and I don't remember how we got here, but Zane is on top of me, a solid, comforting weight, laying between my spread legs. He's gentle at first, but then he begins to grind down against me.

  I don't think. I just meet Zane's
hips with my own, pressing up against him, our bodies rubbing together through our clothes. I wonder what it would be like to slide my hands up his shirt, to feel his warm skin for the first time. I wonder what would happen if I unbuckled his belt and reached inside his jeans, and wrapped my hand around his dick. It would be the first time I had ever touched anyone so intimately.

  But I don't. I don't, because this is my subconscious mind, and secretly it knows I've never done something like that. And my brain has no experience in the matter, no memories to work with.

  But I'm okay with this. I'm okay with how this is going. I hear Zane moan low and deep in the back of his throat, kissing me roughly, and I can't help but moan in return, because that sound coming from Zane is irresistible. It's the most delicious sound I've ever heard, and I gasp as we continue to thrust against each other, dry humping there on that bed.

  I can feel that burning begin to build in my lower abdomen, and I can feel the heat growing and growing in my pants. I know I'm close, and I squeeze my eyes shut, gasping and moaning as I grind desperately up against Zane's every thrust.

  I can't help it. I slide my hands down, and grab Zane's dick. It's firm, and long, and perfect, and that's all it takes for me to cum.

  My body jerks, and I cry out, my cry muffled by Zane's lips, as I shoot my load in my panties. I continue to thrust through my orgasm, and seconds later, I feel Zane stiffen, the muscles of his body tensing as he cums too.

  I jolt awake with a sharp breath, my body jerking a little as I snap abruptly from the dream. I'm sweating and breathing hard, and "Learning to Fly" is still playing in my ears.

  I just lay there for a moment, breathing hard, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. My body feels like it's melted, and I don't know quite why until I shift a little.

  Oh.

  There's a warmth in my pants, and I glance down at my crotch. A wet spot has formed, seeping through my jeans.

  Oh my God.

  I just came in my pants.

  I just had a wet dream.

  About Zane.

  I've never had a wet dream before, not about anyone. Of course my first wet dream would be about Zane.

  Jesus Christ, I feel like I just lost my virginity.

  I stare at my wet crotch for a long few moments in disbelief, and then I tear my headphones out of my ears and get up from the bed. I ignore how weak and loose my body feels after my dream-induced orgasm, and I strip out of my pants and underwear, wiping away the cum and throwing my soiled clothes in my hamper. I quickly pulls on a fresh pair of panties and a pair of sweatpants, and then just stand at my dresser, holding onto it for support and breathing hard.

  I can't believe that just happened.

  Frankly, I should've seen it coming. I've been wet all day, ever since I saw Zane looking at me in the cafeteria. And I've been laying on my bed listening to Zane's music, that he put on my iPod for reasons I can't fathom.

  Of course I would fall asleep and have a dream about Zane. And what did I think my sick subconscious mind would have in store for me besides a wet dream? I've been imagining what it would be like to kiss his full lips for a long time now. I've wanted to for a long time now. Maybe ever since the first time I saw him at Hartley's Bend.

  It was only a matter of time before I had a dream like this.

  I huff an exasperated breath and stumble back over, collapsing on my bed again. "Learning to Fly" is still floating in my ears, and I stubbornly close my eyes, listening to the music. Listening to Zane's music isn't going to help me stop thinking about him, and frankly I don't want to, but I still feel shitty inside for doing it. I shouldn't be thinking about Zane. I've accepted the crush, but it's unhealthy to think about him all the time. It's just fucking unhealthy. I think of green eyes and melt into the lyrics once more.

  There's no sensation to compare with this

  Suspended animation, a state of bliss...

  40

  "Ow! Dammit Liam, be careful!" Zane grumbles, flinching as Liam dabs disinfectant on the gash above his eyebrow.

  Liam rolls his eyes. "Don't be such a baby," he says, finishing with the cream and pressing a bandage over the wound. "There, done."

  Zane leans back and prods at the bandage. He has a firm belief that wounds hurt more as they're healing than when they are first inflicted. This shit is tender. It hurts like a bitch.

  He watches as Liam packs up the first aid supplies on the bathroom counter. Liam has been insisting on caring for Zane's wounds meticulously ever since Mike beat him up a week ago. Maybe it's some leftover guilt of Liam's. He's probably blaming himself for the beating, like he blames himself for everything. Zane does the same thing. They're both so mentally unstable.

  Zane also thinks that maybe Liam likes to take care of the wounds and play doctor for a while. Liam had once wanted to go to medical school after all—it was his dream for a while. Now, according to him, he wants to go to law school. Zane knows it's because Liam's crush, Kylie wants to go to law school, but he doesn't tease or say anything, because he kind of hopes Liam does go to law school, and becomes a big shot lawyer. That would make him so proud.

  "Lemme check your ribs really quick," Liam says, and his tone leaves no room for argument.

  Zane rolls his eyes, but stands up, lifting up his shirt. "Dude, I'm fine," he insists. "You don't have to keep doing this. I'm not dying."

  Liam ignores him and leans in, prodding at the dark bruises over Zane's ribs like he's done every day since the beating. Despite the fact that Liam has seen Zane's burn scars plenty of times since The Accident, Zane still stiffens a little at how close Liam is to them as he examines his ribs. He doesn't like people looking at his scars. It's one thing he's shy about. It leaves a knotted feeling in the back of his throat. But he lets Liam do it anyway. Liam doesn't seem to mind Zane's scars, even though Zane knows he feels guilty about it. Zane wouldn't have the scars if it wasn't for the fact that he saved Liam from the burning car.

  But Zane doesn't regret it for the world. It's the best thing he's ever done, saving his little brother. He doesn't know how he could have lived without Liam.

  It may be the only good thing he has ever done in his whole life, saving Liam.

  "Ow! Fuck, Liam!" Zane curses, pulling away as Liam pokes too hard at a particularly tender spot on his ribs. Zane suspects that it might be fractured, but he's had broken ribs before, so he's been dealing with the pain in stride.

  "Sorry," Liam mutters, straightening up, and Zane lets his shirt fall back into place.

  Liam pushes him back down on the toilet seat, forcing him to sit, and he starts poking at his face again. Zane slaps his hands away. "Dude, we've been in here for twenty minutes. I think it's safe to assume my face isn't going to fall off."

  Liam glares at him. "Just...humor me, okay? If you won't go to the doctor, then at least let me make sure you're not going to suddenly have an eye pop out or something."

  Zane goes to snap back a witty retort, when suddenly there's a thump outside the bathroom door. They both look back as the bathroom door swings open, and Mike walks in looking disheveled. Last Zane checked, Mike has been napping all day.

  "Will you boys keep it the fuck down in here?" Mike grumbles, too tired to really yell. He rubs at his eyes and squints at the two of them.

  "Sorry Dad," Liam mumbles, shuffling a little closer to Zane, his fingers resting right under Zane's eye where he was prodding at the purple bruises. Zane reaches up and slaps his hand away again as Mike stares at them.

  Zane looks up at his father, and Mike is eyeing the bruises all over Zane's face. He looks tired and weary from his nap, but there's a certain lucidity in his eyes. Mike isn't drunk right now. It's rare, but it happens. He's probably hungover, but he's sober.

  Mike stares at Zane's wounds for so long that Liam and Zane both squirm a little in discomfort. And then he clears his throat.

  "Sorry son," Mike says quietly. "About..." He gestures vaguely at his own face, indicati
ng that he's talking about Zane's bruises.

  Zane blinks. Wow. Mike hasn't apologized for hurting either of them in years. To be fair, this beating was particularly bad, probably one of the worst Zane's ever taken from him. But Zane goaded him on. Zane wanted Mike to hurt him, so it isn't exactly his dad's fault.

  Nevertheless, he nods slightly, swallowing. "Yeah," he says, and that's pretty much all he can say. This is awkward, Mike apologizing. And his father seems to realize that too.

  He sets his mouth is a grim line, and then grumbles and turns, heading out of the bathroom and back to his own bedroom. Zane waits until he hears their father's door close again, and then he looks up at Liam. Liam raises one eyebrow, and Zane shrugs, chuckling a little and standing up.

  "I'm gonna go out for a smoke," he tells Liam on his way out of the bathroom. "Don't forget to finish your homework."

  Liam rolls his eyes. "I never do."

  Zane glances back at him briefly, and ruffles his hair. "What a stud," he says with a grin, and then he walks out of the house, stopping by his bedroom to grab his jacket before stepping out the back door. He climbs up onto the trash barrel pulled up to the side of the house and hoists himself onto the roof, wandering over and plunking down next to the chimney, leaning against the bricks.

  He fishes his cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up. The first drag is almost erotic, it's so good. He hasn't had a cigarette all day, on account of the fact that he was avoiding The Docks at all costs. If students are caught smoking anywhere else on campus, they get detention. Zane savors the hot burn of the smoke trickling down his throat and holds it there for a moment before blowing it out into the cold night air, watching it cloud up and mingle with his breath before floating away.

  He chews the filter and tastes the menthol as he takes another drag, and he lets his head drop back against the chimney, staring up at the clear winter sky. There's no moon tonight, so Zane is shrouded completely in shadows, and the stars are vivid and bright. He can see a stripe of the Milky Way from where he is. That's one advantage of living in a small, isolated town far from the city lights. You can see the stars more clearly, and that's something Zane indulges in regularly.