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

by McKayla Box

  “I'm not exactly with him, so I'm not sure there's anything to walk away from,” I say.

  “When you see him, turn in the other direction,” she says. “Don't go somewhere you know he's at. We can eat lunch someplace else. Just cut him out completely.”

  I swirl the cup in my hand slowly, letting the ice bounce against the sides of the cup.

  “What?” she asks.

  I shake my head and don't say anything.

  She pulls the car over.

  “What are you doing?” I say. “We're gonna be late?”

  “Who fucking cares?” she says. “Talk to me, Presley.”

  I realize my hand is shaking and I set the coffee down in the drink holder. I sigh and lean back in the seat. “I don't want it to be like before.”

  “Like before? What do you mean?”

  I lay my hands flat on my thighs. I've never said any of what I'm about to tell her out loud to anyone, not even my dad. I've kept it to myself because I thought if I kept it there, I wouldn't have to admit it to anyone. But I trust Bridget and she's asking and I'm shaking.

  “At my old school,” I tell her. “I was...a doormat. I was this little mousey girl, who never opened her mouth, who never said a word to anyone. And it started in elementary school. I never stood up for myself. Boys teased me and then girls latched onto that. I was a punching bag. And it was like...I couldn't get out from under that, no matter what I did.” I take a deep breath and tears cloud my vision. “And I dated his guy in tenth grade who was just an asshole to me. Just a complete asshole. And I just took it. No matter what he did, I just took it, until he finally broke up with me. Last year, I only talked to people when I had to. I was like a hermit. So when my dad said we were moving, I was glad. Because I could almost start over, you know?”

  She squeezes my arm and she's crying, too.

  “So I just decided, I'd be different when I got here,” I continue. “I wasn't going to be that person I didn't want to be anymore. I wasn't going to be afraid. I was going to take chances. I wasn't going to give a shit what people thought about me.” I look at her. “Just getting in your car last week on the first day of school was a total change for me.”

  “I'm glad you did,” she says, wiping at her eyes.

  We both laugh.

  “Me, too,” I tell her. “I can't tell you how relieved I was that I had a friend for a change. And Maddie and Gina, too. You have no idea what it was like to not feel like I had to go into hiding again.” I shake my head. “But I'm not doing it again. I'm not hiding. From anyone.”

  “Okay,” Bridget says, nodding.

  “So all the things you're saying? About staying away from him if I know he's going to be somewhere? Just avoiding him all the time?” I shake my head. “I'm not doing that ever again. For anyone. Ever. I don't care what he's like and I don't care what his friends are like. I'm not fucking doing it. I won't let him or anyone else have that power over me.”

  Bridget squeezes my arm again. “I'm sorry.”

  I look at her and wipe at my eyes. “For what?”

  “For suggesting it,” she says. “I didn't mean it like that.”

  “I know.”

  “But I shouldn't have said it,” she says. “Guys like Trevor, they always control us. It's like our world can only revolve around theirs and it's total bullshit.”

  “It is,” I say, nodding. “It is. So I don't care how much he messes with me or whatever. I'm not going to hide and I'm not going to change what I do because I'm afraid of him or hate him or whatever.”

  “Do you?” she asks.

  “Do I what?”

  “Hate him,” she clarifies.

  It's the same question I've been asking myself. I hate him for how he's reacted and how he's treated me, for how he's let his friends treat me. I hate him for how he's made me feel about myself, for making me cry to my friend on the way to school.

  But there's something else there, too, that I can't deny.

  I don't hate him for the way he looks at me or for the way he took me up on that pier or the way he held my hand when we fell to the water. I don't hate him for the way he talked me through the terror I felt before we jumped.

  “No,” I finally say to Bridget. “I don't hate him. I hate some things he's done, but I don't hate him.”

  Bridget leans back into her seat. “Oh boy.”

  “What?”

  She turns to look at me. “If you don't hate him, he's got you.” She touches my arm. “And I'm not blaming you or telling you that it needs to change. I hear you. I get it.” She smiles. “But he's got you.”

  I turn away from her and look straight ahead. “Maybe. I guess I just need to figure out if I want him to have me. If he even wants me.”

  “Hey,” she says.

  I look at her.

  “Any guy at school would be lucky to have you,” she tells me. “Any guy. For real.”

  “Thanks.”

  She turns the car on, pulls away from the curb, and we are on our way back to school.

  And I can't stop thinking about Trevor and how I feel about him.

  TWENTY FIVE

  We pull into the parking lot and before I can even open my door, Trevor's truck roars in and parks within inches of my door. There isn't enough room for me to get out. I'm essentially trapped.

  “Jesus Christ!” Bridget says. “What the hell?”

  The anger is boiling in my gut and it's about to spillover. I had my pity party, telling Bridget about what my life was like before and what I used to be like. The old me would've sat there in the car, maybe cried, then figured a way out with my tail tucked between my legs.

  But this isn't the old me.

  “Get out,” I say to her.

  “I will, but what are you going to do?”

  The music is pouring out of his truck and I hear them laughing. “I'm going to follow you out.”

  She pushes her door open and gets out. I throw my backpack out behind her, then I crawl across the middle console and get out on the driver's side. I grab my iced coffee out of the console and stand up, Bridget's car between me and The Asshole.

  Trevor is leaning out of the driver's side window, smiling down at me. “Looks like Bridget's gonna need to do a better job of parking that midget car.”

  Brett and Jake are climbing out of the monster truck, cackling like hens.

  I look at Bridget. “If your car gets wet, I'll pay for the wash.”

  She looks at me, confused. “What?”

  A crowd has now gathered around us, watching, laughing, and pointing.

  Good. I'm fine with that. I want them all see what I'm about to do.

  I rear back and fire my drink over Bridget's car and towards the truck. The cup smacks Trevor right in the face. The lid flies off of the drink and the ice and coffee explode all over him and the side of the truck.

  “Holy shit,” Bridget whispers.

  The rest of the parking lot is silent, watching.

  Trevor seems stunned, still leaning out the window, his face now covered in iced caramel latte. It's dripping off of him onto the side of his truck, trailing down the door like it's crying coffee. He looks down for a moment, trying to comprehend what's happened. Then he looks up at me, daggers in his eyes.

  “What the fuck?” he yells. “What the actual fuck?”

  I look at Bridget. “My dad made me play softball when I was in middle school. It finally paid off.”

  Bridget laughs, but she's still staring at Trevor, like everyone else watching.

  I look at him. “You parked too close to my friend's car with your oversized boy toy. Either learn how to park better or get a car you can actually handle.”

  Brett and Jake are standing in front of the truck, looking from me to him, unsure of what to do.

  Trevor makes an angry swipe at his face, coffee flying off of his fingers. He looks at his fingertips like he can't believe there's coffee on them, then looks at me. “You are fucking insane.”

  “I kno
w,” I tell him. “So stop messing with me. You wanna fuck around with someone, go find your little piece of arm candy and do it with her. But stay away from me and my friends, asshole.”

  “You're going to regret this,” he says.

  “Wow,” I say. “That's the best you can do? Throwing some shitty B-movie line at me to try and scare me?” I pretend to shrink into someone who looks afraid and make a face at him. “Oh, gosh. Please stop scaring me.” I straighten up and throw my shoulders back. “Fuck you, fuck your truck, and fuck your unoriginal comebacks.” I pick up my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. I look at Bridget. “Let's go.”

  She hesitates, then turns with me, following me through the crowd. They part, giving us room to walk, a low murmur buzzing in my ears as they all whisper about what they just saw.

  I grab onto the strap of my backpack with both hands, not because it's too heavy, but because my hands are shaking and I don't want anyone to see that. I want them to think that they've just witnessed someone finally take down the oh so scary Trevor Robinson and do it without fear.

  But I'm absolutely afraid. I know what I've done is something I can't take back. I don't regret it, but I know it's not as simple as just walking away, either.

  I know Trevor is looking at me, too. It's like I can feel his eyes burning into my back. I refuse to turn around and it takes everything I have to stick to that.

  Because I know what I've just done.

  I've poked the beast.

  And I know he's coming for me.

  TWENTY SIX

  “Did you seriously do it?” Derek Morgan asks.

  It's lunchtime and we are at The Hamburger Hut in our booth. It should feel normal. I'm sitting with Bridget, Maddie, and Gina. I have my food. It's what I've gotten used to.

  But there's a current running through it all. Word spread immediately about what I'd done and who I'd done it to. I couldn't ignore the whispers and the looks in my classes and it was the same inside the restaurant. I haven't seen Trevor since it happened, but it feels to me like he's lurking somewhere, waiting.

  I nod as I pick up a fry. “Yeah.”

  He shakes his head, holding onto his tray of food. “Sometime, I'd like a detailed replay of what happened.” He smiles at me. “Right from the horse's mouth.” He walks away and toward the other side of the restaurant.

  “Well, you got his attention,” Maddie says. “Again.

  Gina watches him walk away then turns back to us. “He really does have a great ass.”

  We all laugh.

  “What?” she says, bewildered. “I'm serious. Must be all those squats they do in the weight room for football or something. I'd like to spank him and see if it hurts my hand.”

  We all laugh again and it feels like the first time that I've been able to breathe since I got to school that morning. I realize that I keep watching the parking lot to see if Trevor's truck pulls in, looking out the window every few seconds, my stomach tied into a knot. I take a deep breath and concentrate on my food.

  “It's too bad he's such a jock,” Maddie says, shaking her head. “He has potential.”

  “Why does being a jock make him...lose potential?” I ask.

  She wrinkles her nose. “I don't know. They just all get this inflated sense of how important they actually are, like they should be carried around like Cleopatra or something. Derek was a decent kid in elementary school, but as soon as everyone realized he could throw a ball, his head grew by the day. If it wasn't for Trevor, he'd be the guy running everything.”

  I turn around. Derek is outside at a table with four other guys, all of whom I assume are football players, based on their size. They are laughing and nodding, involved in some conversation I can't hear.

  I turn back to the table. “What's their story?”

  Gina snorts. “It's like two rhinos butting heads. One lost.”

  “They fought?”

  Bridget nods. “Yep. First day of freshman year. Everyone knew it was coming. It was down at the beach. Derek made a big deal of it, telling everyone to come, and that he was going to kick Trevor's ass, and then no one would have to deal with him after that.” She took a bite of her burger, a drink from her soda. She tilted the drink in my direction. “So nearly everyone in our grade was there to watch.”

  Maddie shakes her head, grabbing a handful of fries. “That kid bled so much.”

  “Trevor?” I ask.

  Maddie shakes her head. “No. Derek. Trevor just...destroyed him.”

  “That's being kind,” Gina says, then looks at me. “Trevor beat the living shit out of him and, like, took his time doing it. He knew that Derek had been running his mouth and that everyone showed up because he told them to. Trevor knew it was a show. When it was over, Derek was on his back in the sand, blood covering his face. He had a busted nose and I heard he lost a couple of teeth, but I don't know.”

  “I heard he broke the bones around his eye,” Maddie says. “Whatever you call those things.”

  “Orbital bones,” I say.

  She snaps her fingers. “Yeah those.”

  “He couldn't walk,” Bridget says. “I think he had broken ribs, too? I don't remember exactly, but I do remember a couple of his friends carrying him off the beach. He was out of school for a week and there was supposedly a bunch of meetings with his parents and Trevor's dad and the school. No one really knows what happened, but he was back at school a week later and I don't think he's said a word about it sense.”

  “Did Trevor get in trouble?” I ask.

  All three shake their heads.

  “He doesn't get in trouble for anything,” Bridget says. “Remember? I told you that. I wasn't exaggerating. He doesn't get in trouble.”

  I turn around and look at Derek again. He's still laughing with his friends.

  “What was he like when he came back to school?” I ask, turning back to them. “Derek, I mean.”

  “He looked like shit,” Gina says. “His eyes were black, he had cuts around his mouth. Was his arm in a sling?”

  Maddie nods. “Yep. He missed a couple of weeks of football, too.”

  “It was kind of weird,” Bridget explains. “Once the injuries healed and he went back to looking like himself, he was sort of the same as before. Arrogant, obnoxious, thinking he was god's gift to vaginas.”

  I laugh.

  “But he's been terrified of Trevor ever since,” Bridget continues. “Like, it's totally obvious. They still hate one another, but he's afraid of Trevor and Trevor knows it.”

  I think about the interactions I'd seen between both of them and I realize it's true. Each time, Derek backed off. And Trevor never seemed worried that he would. He knew he would.

  “And Trevor just became the king,” Gina says. “No one was going to challenge him after that. I mean, most people thought Derek would actually win that fight. When we all saw Trevor just take him apart, it wasn't just Derek that didn't want a part of him. It was everyone.”

  The knot in my stomach tightens and I'm not as hungry as I was when we'd gotten there. I remember the look on his face when the coffee hit him, the threats he'd made toward me. He was furious with me.

  “Derek pretends like it's no big deal,” Maddie says. “But it is and we all know it. People don't forget that shit. So he acts like a cocky asshole, but I think it ends up being more amusing than threatening. No one's afraid of him.” She points at me with a fry. “People are afraid of Trevor.”

  “What was Trevor like afterward?” I ask, pretending to be interested in my burger.

  “Larger than life,” Bridget says. “He knew no one was going to challenge him after that. About anything. He does what he wants and he gets away with it. You can blame him or his dad or his money, but it doesn't matter. He does whatever the hell he wants and the rest of us just have to deal with it. Derek is a close second. His dad's super rich, too, and he gets away with a lot of shit. But it's totally different when the kid above you beat you down and everyone knows it.”

&nb
sp; I nod and I can't help feeling sorry for Derek. Or maybe it's just empathy. I remember how I felt back at my old school, in my old town, like everyone was better than me and that everyone knew it. It made it hard to breathe sometimes, making me want to crawl into a dark closet and never leave it. I knew how it felt to walk around a school and have everyone think they knew who you were. It was an awful feeling. At least he'd been able to fall back on football.

  I had nothing.

  “Are you worried?” Bridget asks.

  I realize both Gina and Maddie are looking at me, too.

  “Worried?” I say. “Why?”

  They all exchange these uncomfortable looks I can't quite identify.

  “No one's ever stood up to him,” Gina says. “Since that fight with Derek, no one's ever stood up to him.”

  “You threw coffee on him,” Maddie adds. “And his precious truck.”

  “And everyone saw it,” Bridget says, her voice lower now. “Everyone saw what you did to him. And he knows it. He's not gonna be cool with that, Presley.”

  I know everything they are saying is true. It's why my stomach is tied up in nervous knots. It's why I can't stop looking for his truck in the parking lot. And I know if I admit that I'm worried, then it's like going right back into my past.

  I look at each of them, then smile and lie my ass off. “I'm not worried at all.”

  TWENTY SEVEN

  “I saw the video,” Shanna says. “Holy shit. Never in my life have I been so bummed to be late to school.”

  We are in art and it's the first I've seen her. She can barely get the words out before she sits down.

  “Lisa sent it to me,” she continues. “And I saw a couple of other angles. You hit him right in the face.” She leans closer to me, her eyes wide. “Right in the fucking face!”

  I chuckle and look down at the desk because I'm not sure what else to do.

  “Trevor fucking Robinson,” she says. “That's just incredible. You're going to be a legend here for, like, forever.”