Fall: A High School Bully Romance (Sunset Beach High Book 1)

by McKayla Box

  Trevor leans back in his chair, grinning at me. “Oh, yeah. Absolutely.”

  Frank pats him on the back again. “Good man.”

  The way he says it, the way he dotes on his son, I can already tell he has no idea what his son is really like. And I wonder how he can be so clueless.

  The server comes and I'm not really hungry anymore, but I order a shrimp salad so no one will ask what's wrong. My father and Frank are engaged in business talk and Trevor is just smiling and shaking his head, smiling and shaking his head.

  “So, Presley,” he finally says. “Are you enjoying the school so far?”

  I throw a fake smile back at him. “Mostly.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Mostly?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Most everyone has been super cool. But, like with any school, there are a few jerks in the bunch.”

  Trevor laughs. “Oh, I'm sure there are. I saw you with Derek Morgan yesterday, I think?” He shakes his head. “I'd stay away from him. He's nothing but trouble.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I say.

  “Presley,” Frank says. “Your father tells me you're a surfer?”

  I look at my dad, who just smiles, oblivious to how uncomfortable I am. I look back to Frank. “I don't know that I'd say I'm a surfer. I think it might be more accurate to say I like trying to surf.”

  All three of them laugh, but I hear something in Trevor's that makes me want to kick him in the balls under the table.

  “Trevor has been surfing since he was in preschool,” Frank says. “I'm sure he'd be happy take you out and tutor you a little bit.”

  “Oh, I don't think--”

  “Yeah, for sure,” Trevor says, interrupting me. “I'd love to.” His smile widens. “We'd have a blast.”

  He is enjoying himself far too much and I hate that it feels like he has some invisible upper hand.

  “Trevor, where are you looking at for college?” my dad asks.

  “I'd like to stay out here,” Trevor answers. “Near the beach. Probably UCLA or UC Santa Barbara.”

  “And what would you like to study?”

  Frank pats him once again on the back. “He's gonna be all finance like his father. Who else will run the company if he doesn't? We've got it all planned out.”

  For the first time since he arrived, Trevor looks unsure of himself.

  And I seize the opportunity.

  “Really?” I say. “Are you excited about that? Running your dad's company?”

  Trevor looks at me like he wants to take a hammer to my head, but says “Yes. It's what we've always planned.”

  I smile at him, glad I can make him as uncomfortable as he's made me.

  Our food arrives and while my father and Frank make easy talk about work, Trevor and I stay quiet. The food is unbelievably good and my appetite returns as I consume the entire salad. I keep my eyes mostly off Trevor as he eats a steak and baked potato without so much as glancing in my direction.

  When we're done, the server clears the table and asks about dessert. We all pass, but Frank asks for coffee, then looks at his son. “Trevor, how about if you take Presley out on the beach while Stephen and I go over a few work-related things?” Frank smiles at me. “Don't want to bore either of you anymore than we already have.”

  “Oh, that's okay, I don't--” I say.

  “Sure,” Trevor says, again cutting me off. He stands up and looks at me. “Be happy to take a walk with Presley.”

  My father pats my forearm. “Enjoy yourself out there.”

  If he only knew.

  I push myself out of my chair and Trevor smiles at me, gesturing for me to lead the way.

  Such a gentleman.

  “Your ass looks amazing from back here,” he whispers when we're far enough away from the table.

  “And my view kicks ass because you aren't in it,” I say over my shoulder. “The only thing ruining that view of the ocean at dinner was your face.”

  He chuckles and it pisses me off that he laughs at nearly everything I say.

  We walk outside and he quickly brushes past me, turning left before the parking lot, then left again at the edge of the building. He gets to the retaining wall separating the club from the sand and kicks off the leather loafers on his feet. He sets them on the wall and vaults himself over it. I kick myself for thinking he looks like a Ralph Lauren model with his hair and his clothes.

  He holds out a hand. “I'll help you over.”

  I ignore him, take off my sandals, and set them on the wall next to his. I leap over the wall the same way he did, and land softly in the sand. I walk past him toward the ocean.

  The sand goes from powdery soft to hard-packed and I dip my toes into it. It's cold and foamy and there is nothing else that relaxes me in the same way. I'm not sure how I've lived so long not being near the ocean and I know in my heart I'll never leave.

  “I guess we'll be seeing lots of each other,” Trevor says, coming up alongside me.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “You can't,” he says. “If our fathers are doing business, there are plenty more nights like this in your future.”

  “I'm really good at faking sick.”

  He laughs. “Good luck with that. This stuff never ends, though. You're in it for life now. You fake sick every time, your dad will think you have a terminal illness.”

  “Think I'd prefer terminal illness to spending more time with you,” I tell him.

  “So hostile, New Girl. So hostile.”

  I whirl around. “My fucking name is Presley. Are you too stupid to remember that?”

  He freezes right where he's at, surprised that I turned around.

  “It's not hard to remember,” I say, furious. “Unless you're a fucking imbecile. Are you?”

  He stares at me for a moment, then looks down the shoreline. “Nope.”

  “Then get it fucking right.”

  I turn away from him and keep walking, my feet splashing in the shallow water. It feels good to yell at him, to stand up for myself against his bullshit. I don't care how good looking he is, I'm tired of him making fun of me, trying to make me feel small. I've had enough of that already in my life and I don't need or want anymore.

  But I immediately feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe he's just trying to flirt with me. Maybe he's just trying to be funny and it's coming off as awkward and shitty. It doesn't excuse what he's done to me, but maybe the sarcasm and the arrogance is a front for something else and I'm overreacting to it. Maybe there's a happy medium somewhere.

  I remember what Bridget said, that he's trouble, that he'll turn my life into a shit show, and certainly, there's been some of that.

  But I also wonder how well she really knows him and how much of what she told me was based on what she'd seen and heard from others, rather had firsthand knowledge of.

  Maybe I need to chill out and see what's really going on.

  I stop and turn around. “Hey, look, I...”

  But he's not there.

  I look up the beach and I see him hopping the wall, grabbing his shoes, and disappearing around the side of the restaurant.

  EIGHTEEN

  It's Friday and I've made it to the end of the week.

  I'd taken my time getting back up the beach after dinner with the Robinsons and when I got to the restaurant, my dad and Mr. Robinson were out front saying their goodbyes. Mr. Robinson apologized for Trevor's not feeling well and having to leave early – how original – and I told him it was no problem. I'd told my dad that everything had gone fine and he seemed relieved.

  Classes flew by and I managed to avoid Trevor, Shanna, and Derek. It was actually nice to have lunch with the girls and not have it interrupted by the drama of the previous two days and that's when they told me about the bonfire at the Shores that night.

  “Every year, same place, first Friday of the year,” Gina explains. “You think the party at the Hump was big?” She shakes her head. “Nothing compared to the Friday night blowout. And wear your swimsuit.�
�

  “Why?” I ask.

  All three smile at me.

  “You'll see,” Gina says.

  Which is why I'm pulling shorts and a T-shirt on over my bikini on a Friday night. I tie my hair back, make sure my phone is charged, and walk outside just as Maddie pulls up in a white as snow BMW X5. I hear the music thumping behind the tinted windows and she lays on the horn as I cross the driveway. She and Bridget laugh from the front seats and I give her the finger.

  “Just wanted to make sure you're awake,” Maddie says when I slide in.

  “I think I peed my pants.”

  “She does it to everyone,” Gina says. “She's a bitch.”

  “That's my name and don't wear it out,” Maddie says, backing out of the driveway. “Let's get this show on the road.”

  Maddie is, without question, the worst driver I've ever been in a car with. She drives at least ten miles an hour over the speed limit, treats stop signs as suggestions rather than rules, and apparently thinks yellow lights are the signal to floor it. The ride to the beach has me white-knuckled, but secretly thrilled to be sharing an insane roller coaster ride with my new friends. I feel like I've found my so-called tribe, like I belong, and screaming with them as Maddie careens us toward the beach is some sort of shared bonding experience.

  The beach she takes us to is south of where I surf and the beach and tennis club. The expanse of beach is wider and I can already see the bonfire roaring near the pier that extends out from the sand into the Pacific. The lot is mostly full already and they weren't exaggerating. The crowd on the beach is already bigger than what I'd seen at the Hump on the first night of school. The sand is filled with people from the pier well past the fire and it resembles a small city more than a party.

  Maddie jerks the car to a halt in the parking lot and turns to us. “I'm just putting it out there. I'm hooking up tonight. So you all may be on your own getting home.”

  “With who?” Bridget asks.

  “I haven't decided yet,” Maddie says, grinning. “I'll let you know when I do.”

  We laugh and get out of the car. The trunk of her X5 is filled with towels and alcohol. The towels are neatly folded into rectangles on the left and the alcohol is all neatly arranged in a produce box next to a short stack of red cups.

  “Ladies, I've broken out the good stuff for tonight,” Maddie announces, sweeping her hand across the back of the car. “My parents threw a rager two weeks ago and we are benefitting from the leftovers. Or, you are, I should say.”

  “You aren't drinking?” Gina asks.

  She shakes her head. “Nope. Sober night for me. Driving and hooking up. Not in that order. So it's all yours. And you're welcome.”

  “We'll see if it lasts,” Bridget says to me. “She's notorious for declaring it a dry night, then having to call an Uber after she changes her mind.”

  “I like to have options,” Maddie says. She strips out of her clothes to reveal a bright red bikini that barely covers everything.

  “You're already changing?” Gina says, disbelieving.

  Maddie spreads her arms wide. “The goal, ladies, as I said, is hooking up.” She grins and starts backing up toward the beach. “Let's see who steps up to the plate.”

  “She's insane,” Bridget says.

  “Which is why we love her,” Gina says. “Come on. Let's get our first round so we can get down there and see what kind of havoc she wreaks on the poor, unsuspecting males down there.”

  I choose rum rather than vodka this time, the hangover from the vodka still fresh in my mind. My drink ends up being less rum and more soda this time and the three of us head down to the sand with our cups.

  There are multiple speakers blasting music and it's like being caught in the middle of two concerts. There's a quite a bit of laughing and yelling as we get closer to the mass of people. Half are still clothed and half are in swimsuits, despite the fact that it's dark out. The only lights, once again, are the huge bonfire and people's phones. I see a few bodies down by the shore, but nearly everyone is on the sand, standing, sitting, lying down, drinking.

  “Do we need to worry about cops?” I ask Bridget as we trudge across the sand.

  She shakes her head. “Not tonight. Still the first week so they're looking the other way. It really is tradition. As long as no one is doing anything really stupid, they'll leave us alone and let us do our thing tonight without any hassles. Most of them went to Sunset, so they remember. It's sort of an unwritten rule.”

  I nod, relieved I don't have to have my head on a swivel, worried that they might be running down the beach toward us.

  The rum tastes good and I relax as we ease into the party. I talk to a few people that I've met in class, but mostly stick with Gina and Bridget. At some point, a very tall, very good looking kid with dark hair hugs Gina from behind and they disappear into the crowd.

  “That's Skip,” Bridget says into my ear. “On again, off again, hooking up again, whatever again.”

  I laugh and nod. “Okay.”

  “He's a good guy,” she tells me. “They just can't seem to get on the same page at the same time.”

  I nod again.

  “And red alert,” she says, her hand on my hip. “But your boy is incoming.”

  My stomach ties itself into a knot, thinking she means Trevor.

  But when I turn and see Derek coming toward me, I'm disappointed.

  “Hey,” he says, holding up a red cup like mine. “Hey, Bridge.”

  “Hey,” she says, staying neutral, waiting for my cue.

  “Hey,” I say. I smile at Bridget. “It's cool.”

  She stares at him for a moment, then looks at me. “You sure?”

  I nod. “I'm sure.”

  She gives him a long, hard stare. “I'll be around.” She squeezes my arm and fades into the crowd.

  I turn back to Derek. “What's up?”

  He shrugs. “Nothing. Just thought I'd come say hi.”

  It's awkward. We haven't spoken since he apologized and I kissed him in the hallway. We both seem to know it and neither of us knows what to say.

  “Why is everyone wearing bathing suits?” I ask to break the awkwardness. “Is there some sort of midnight swim or something?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “They didn't tell you?”

  I shake my head. “They just said I'd find out.”

  He laughs. “Well, I don't want to ruin it then. I guess you'll find out when you find out.”

  I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

  “Hey. Are you still pissed at me?” he asks.

  I look at him. He doesn't seem anything like the drunk moron who tried to molest me outside the bathrooms two nights earlier. He's keeping his distance, making conversation. He's wearing a blue T-shirt and floral print board shorts.

  I shake my head. “No, I guess not.”

  “Because you kissed me and then I haven't seen you since,” he says.

  “Yeah,” I say. “That...I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry.”

  “I'm not,” he says. “I'd do it again. We should do it again.”

  I shake my head. “Not the right time for me.”

  “When is the right time?”

  I shrug. “I don't know. And I don't want to be caught in any drama.”

  He frowns. “You mean drama with Shanna.”

  “Yeah. Not down with that.”

  “She and I are over,” he says. “For good. I don't know what you've heard, but we're done.”

  He says it in a way that makes me believe him, but I'm still not sure I want to jump into that fire.

  “Well, I hope that's what you wanted,” I say. “But I'm just looking to chill right now. Not looking for anything. Okay?”

  He purses his lips, staring at me. Then he nods. “I hear you. If you change your mind, let me know.” He gives me kind of a half-wave and walks off.

  I exhale. I wasn't sure how he was going to react to me blowing him off, but I'm relieved that he didn't make a big deal over it. It ma
kes me like him a little bit more and makes me think that what happened at the bathroom that night was a fluke rather than who he really was.

  I wander into the crowd and I spot Bridget by the fire, but she's talking to a guy I don't know. I don't want to be a third wheel so I keep moving. The rum in my stomach is keeping me warm, but I don't feel drunk. I move through the throng of people in the direction of the pier and the crowd starts to thin. I see a few people out on the water, their silhouettes riding the small waves that are still pushing onshore. I see one shadow paddle quickly in front of the wave, then pop to his feet. He moves the board effortlessly through the water, cutting hard at the bottom of the wave, then popping right back to the top. The nose of the board smashes through the water at the top, spraying the ocean upward, and the board floats back down to the water, the rider pumping it for a little bit more.

  “Wow,” I say out loud because I can only dream of being that good.

  I watch the surfer drop to his stomach and paddle in toward the shore. When his face comes into view, my stomach knots.

  Because it's Trevor on the board.

  He sees me standing at the edge of the water and slides off his board, keeping his hand on top of it as he walks it in. He runs a hand through his hair, sending water everywhere. He's wearing a short sleeved, red rash guard that hugs every muscle in his chest. His day glo green board shorts stand out in the dark.

  He licks his lips, then stares hard at me. “You trying to pick up a few tips?”

  “Can we not do this for a change?” I say.

  “Do what, New Girl?”

  I know he's doing it just to piss me off, but I let it go for the moment. “Just not attack each other the second we see each other?”

  “I'm not attacking anyone,” he says shrugging. “Just asked if you were trying to learn something.”

  “You're really good,” I say.

  “I know.”

  I throw up my hands. “Never mind. Sorry I tried.”

  “I saw you talking to him,” Trevor says. “I told you not to do that.”

  “To who?”

  “You know who.”

  “Derek?” I shrug. “Yeah. I was talking to him. Sue me.”

  “I told you not to.”