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

by McKayla Box

It feels good to call him out, to say everything I've been thinking. I never would've said anything like that to anyone in the past and it's shocking how cleansing it feels to spit everything out, to not hold it all inside.

  Brett turns back to me. “That's what you think?”

  “What's what I think?” I ask, irritated that I'm even standing there with him.

  “That there's a turnstile to his bedroom?” he says.

  It's not the question I'm expecting and it surprises me, throwing me off my game for a second. “I don't give a shit if there is or not. You're missing the point.”

  “You can't go to that dance with Morgan,” Brett says.

  “Gee, I don't recall asking permission from you, Dad,” I snap.

  “I'm serious.”

  “So am I. I don't need you or anyone else to tell me who I can go to a dance with,” I tell him. “Quit wasting my time.”

  Brett looks down at the ground for a moment. “He's freaking out.”

  “Who?” I say, already knowing, but not wanting to say his name out loud.

  “You know who,” he says, looking at me again. “Trevor. He's freaking out.”

  “Maybe he should've thought of that before he bailed on me this morning and then was letting Holly Skankpants stick her tongue in his ear,” I tell him. “So I don't give a shit if he's freaking out. And how fucking lame are you to let him send you here to tell me that? Jesus, have some pride.”

  “He doesn't know I'm here,” Brett says. “I came on my own. He got called into the office because he bailed on second period when he found out about you and Morgan. So that's where he is.”

  I'm not sure whether I believe him or not.

  “There's no turnstile to his bedroom,” Brett says, then frowns. “Or whatever you wanna call it. It's not like that.”

  “So he was a virgin, too?” I say. “Give me a fucking break.”

  He starts to say something, then something flashes through his expression. “What?”

  “I don't believe that for a second,” I say. “Don't lie to me and tell me he's been saving himself.”

  “He isn't,” Brett says. “Or wasn't or whatever. But wait. That was...your first time?”

  My cheeks are burning and I can't find the words.

  “Wow,” he mutters, looking away.

  “Oh, that's super shocking?” I say, angry at his reaction. “That I haven't just been opening my legs for every guy I run into? Yeah, not sorry for that.”

  Brett holds up a hand. “Not what I meant. Sorry.”

  The apology is strange, like he's saying a foreign word that I've never heard before.

  “I'm going back to finish my lunch,” I tell him. “With my actual friends.” I walk past him, back toward the restaurant.

  “I'm not sure anyone else has ever been there,” Brett says.

  I stop and turn around. “What?”

  “His house,” he says, looking at me. “I'm not sure he's ever taken another girl back there.”

  “Bullshit,” I say because I can't believe that's true.

  Brett shrugs. “Believe what you want, but I'm pretty sure that's the truth.” He shakes his head. “You aren't seeing it. You're different. For him.” He unfolds his arms and pulls his keys from his pocket. “And now you're fucking it all up.”

  THIRTY FIVE

  We got back to school from lunch, but I can't keep my head clear.

  Was Brett telling me the truth? And if he was, why was he bothering to tell me? What did it matter to him? I just didn't believe that Trevor had created some sort of sanctuary in his house and I'd all of a sudden been chosen to enter it, when he'd kept others away. It didn't make sense to me.

  I'm thinking about all of that when Shanna takes the seat next to me in art. I've been dreading this moment since I told Derek yes. I know that she's told me he's fair game, but I also know that people don't always let go so easily.

  “Do you see it?” she asks, setting her bag down next to her desk.

  “See what?” I respond.

  “The elephant in the room,” she says. “I guess we need to talk about it since everyone else fucking is.”

  I nod slowly. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Not gonna lie,” Shanna says, looking at me. “I was pretty pissed when I heard. Not just that you said yes, but that he asked. I know we had that conversation and I told you whatever I told you, but...it still made me want to puke.”

  I don't say anything.

  “Derek and I have been together since, like, sixth grade,” she says. “Off and on and not like middle school matters, but you get what I mean. We've been together. And, yeah, we fight like shitheads a lot, but we always come back together.” She pauses, tapping her fingers on her desk. “It's just what we've always done. And I know I told you we were over for good and that he liked you and all of that shit, but it's still just...weird. And it doesn't help that people are just running their mouths all day long.”

  “I'm not sure I understand what you're telling me,” I say.

  “I'm not telling you anything,” she says. “I told you I don't have any claim over him and that he liked you and that he's not a bad guy. I just know that everyone expects us to have it out in front of school and I'm telling you I'm not looking to do that.” She shrugs. “He asked you, you said yes, and that's that. I need to deal with it and I might be kind of a bitch about it, but whatever.” She sighs. “I guess I'm just telling you that whatever I'm feeling, I'm not pissed at you or anything like that.”

  It's not at all what I'm expecting to hear from her because I was sort of figuring she did want to have it out with me in front of the school. I knew what she'd said to me before, but I also know that things can change really fast. I wouldn't at all have been shocked if she'd come at me with claws. But she hasn't and I'm surprised and conflicted.

  “Should I have said no?” I ask her.

  “Why would you say no?” she says, leaning back in her desk. “It's Derek. He's hot, he's captain of the football team, and he's single. What is there to say no to?”

  “I don't know,” I tell her. “I feel like I said yes without thinking.”

  “I mean, I'm sure Trevor isn't happy about it,” she says. “But that's your business. If you mean you said yes without thinking because of me, okay. But I told you it was all cool, so there was nothing to think about.”

  I'm not sure how she's managed to go from raging bitch to reasonable person in about a week, but she has, at least in my opinion. I appreciate her honesty and I still feel guilty about agreeing to go to a dance with her ex-boyfriend.

  “I'm not awful,” Shanna says, like she's reading my mind. “I know people think I am and I know that I've given them reasons to think that, but I'm not.” She laughs. “At least not all of the time.”

  I laugh, too. “If what you're really trying to tell me is that it makes you super uncomfortable, I'll tell him no. I'll back out.”

  She shakes her head fiercely. “No, that's not what I'm trying to tell you. At all. Don't back out. That wouldn't be cool, either.”

  She's right. It wouldn't be. I've said yes and now I need to follow through.

  And live with the consequences.

  “We should go get coffee,” Shanna says.

  I look at her, surprised by the offer.

  “I can tell you about him,” she says. “The things he likes, the things he doesn't. Not so you'll do all of the right things and avoid the wrong ones, but just you'll know. Like, inside information.”

  I'm not sure I want to hear all of those things, but I like that she's making the offer. I don't want an enemy and I don't want to be caught in the drama of a breakup. It's probably harder than she makes it sound and I know she's trying to be nice to me.

  “Okay,” I say. “That would be cool.”

  She smiles at me and the bell rings, as the last few stragglers make their way into the classroom. Two boys who I don't know turn to us as soon as they walk in and it's clear that they are expecting something.
>
  “Nothing to fucking see here, Joey,” she hisses at one of them. “So maybe just give Seth a reacharound, like you normally do?”

  Both of them go red in the face and keep walking to their seats.

  She turns and smiles at me. “Fuck the elephant in the room.”

  THIRTY SIX

  “Your mother was pretty angry,” my father says.

  We're sitting at home, sharing a pizza he brought home. True to his word, he made it home for dinner after not being home the previous night. The first few minutes are nerve wracking because I'm worried that he knows that I was gone all night and he's waiting to say something, but it becomes clear pretty fast that he really was working all night and really doesn't know that I wasn't home. I'm able to relax and eat some of the pizza.

  Until he brings up my mother.

  “Oh,” I say, reaching for another slice out of the box between us.

  “Presley,” he says, pointing the crust in his hand at me. “She's still your mother.”

  “So?”

  “So she's your mother and no matter what's gone on between us doesn't mean it has to affect you.”

  “Except it does,” I tell him. “She left. She's with Roger. We're here. The end.”

  “It's not the end,” he says, not bothering to hide his irritation. “You still have to have a relationship with her. It doesn't just end because we live in different places.”

  “I'm not going there for Thanksgiving,” I tell him. “I won't get on an airplane and you can't make me.”

  He drops the piece of crust to his plate and wipes his hands with the paper napkin. “I'm not telling you that you have to go anywhere. Let's not jump the gun yet on that. All I'm trying to tell you is that I think it's important that you talk to her and see where it goes.”

  “Not to her house.”

  He sighs. “Presley, stop. This isn't a contest. She just wants a relationship with you. And, no, it won't be what you once thought it was. But it can still be...something.”

  I'm angry that he's taking her side. Or that it feels like he's taking her side. There was no decision for me when they split up. I knew that I wanted to live with my dad and I told them both that, looking them both in the face, on the couch in our old house. My mom tried to tell me that I didn't have to make such a fast decision when they told me about the divorce, but I looked her right in the face and told her I didn't need anymore time. I was going to live with my dad and not her.

  And that was never going to change.

  “Just think about it,” he says. “Think about giving her a call in a day or two. Start there and see where it goes.”

  “Okay,” I say, having no intention of calling her.

  “You done?” he asks, pointing at the box.

  I nod and he closes the lid. Then he glances at his watch. “I have a favor to ask.”

  “I can do the dishes,” I tell him. “And clean up. It's fine. Thanks for getting the pizza.”

  “I appreciate that and I'll let you do both of those things,” he says. “But that's not the favor I need.”

  “Uh, okay. What is it?”

  He glances at his watch again. “Can you be ready to go in half an hour?”

  “Go where?”

  “To Frank Robinson's home,” he says.

  Hearing his name is like a punch to the face. “What?”

  “He wants me to come over for a drink and to go over some paperwork,” he explains. “And he specifically asked if you'd come along, so his son wouldn't feel like a third wheel.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head.

  He raises an eyebrow and I know I've declined too quickly.

  “That was...fast,” he says. “I'd really like you to come.”

  I shake my head. “I can't. I have...homework. I can't.”

  “We won't be long,” he says. “I'd really like you to come with. Because he asked if you would.”

  “Just tell him I can't,” I say. “School stuff.”

  He purses his lips and lowers his chin and I know I'm screwed.

  “Presley,” he says. “I need you to come. He specifically asked if you would and this guy is the biggest client I have right now. And he's...big. If he goes away, I'm...well, I don't know what I am, but it won't be fun. So I don't want to rock the boat with him and if he's asking for something simple like for you to join us so that his kid is entertained, I need your help.”

  I look down at what's left of the pizza on my plate and it no longer looks appetizing.

  “What's wrong?” he asks. “Do you not like his son?”

  Oh, I just lost my virginity to him last night, Dad, and he turned out to be a giant asshole. No big deal.

  “It's just...I don't know,” I tell him. “I'm tired and I do have homework and I just was hoping to stay home tonight and go to bed early.

  He reaches across the table and pats my hand. “I understand.”

  For a moment, I think I'm off the hook.

  “So I promise we won't be there long,” he says. “If you go get ready now and we can be out of here in twenty minutes, we'll be home early. You have my word.”

  And just like that, I'm back on the hook.

  And it feels like the hook is sticking me right in my heart.

  THIRTY SEVEN

  I take the full twenty minutes to get ready, switching back and forth between not caring about how I look to thinking I should show up looking better than he's ever seen me. I settle for somewhere in between, pulling on a denim skirt and a short-sleeved yellow top and running a brush through my hair. I touch up my makeup and put in gold hoop earrings. I look good, but not like I've spent an hour getting ready because the last thing I want Trevor to think is that I got ready for him.

  My dad asks me questions as we drive over to their house, asking about my classes and friends and the normal parental questions. I give him mostly truthful answers, staying away from mentioning anything about Trevor or the parties. He seems pleased that I've made friends with Bridget and am not eating lunch by myself.

  “We need to get you a car,” he says.

  “Agreed.”

  He laughs. “I didn't think that would be a tough sell for you. Maybe we go shop this weekend?”

  I look at him. “Are you serious?”

  He nods. “Yeah. You need your own car and, money-wise, we're in good shape right now. So, let's go look on Saturday and see what we see.”

  “I'll take anything,” I tell him. “Seriously. I don't need anything new or expensive.”

  “We'll get you something you aren't embarrassed to drive to school,” he says. “Not that that's the most important thing in the world, but I know I've asked a lot of you lately and I appreciate that you've sort of rolled with the punches. We're in a good spot. So, consider it a thank you gift. Or something like that.”

  It's one of those things I haven't been pushing him about for a million reasons. The divorce, the move, the new job, all of that. As much as I want my own car, I haven't wanted to add to his list of things he has to deal with. But I'm thrilled that I might finally be able to have my own car.

  “Thank you,” I tell him. “Really. Thanks, Dad.”

  He smiles and nods and no matter how I feel about the divorce and the move and everything else, I know I'm living with the parent I really want to live with.

  When we pull up to the Robinson's house, he lets out a soft whistle. “Holy crap. Maybe I'm not charging him enough. You ever seen anything like this, Pres?”

  The front of the house is much like the back – lots of glass and angled white stucco. Huge palm trees frame the exterior. Trevor's truck and a sleek, white Mercedes are both parked in the crescent-shaped driveway that cuts through the emerald colored lawn.

  “Uh, no,” I lie. “Pretty amazing.”

  We park behind the Mercedes and I try my best to ignore the knots in my stomach. I know that if I'd fought my dad hard enough, I probably could've stayed home. But I also know that if I'd done that, he would've started asking me mo
re questions that I'm not sure I would've had the answer to. I also don't want to put him in an awkward position with his most important client.

  Stomach, meet knots.

  The massive doors open before we get to them and Frank Robinson stands there, holding up a hand in greeting. He's dressed the opposite of the last time I've seen him. He's wearing a red golf shirt, tan shorts, and no shoes. I realize how much he looks like an older version of Trevor.

  “You found it,” he says, offering his hand to my dad.

  “We found it,” my dad replies. “What an amazing house.”

  “It's a good home,” he says, making it sound both awesome and normal at the same time. He smiles at me. “It's nice to see you again, Presley. I'm glad you came along with your father.”

  “Nice to see you, too,” I say.

  “I think Trevor is out on the water, but I told him to come in by 6:30,” Frank Robinson informs me. “Come on in and I'll show you guys around and get you down to his room so you can drag him inside.”

  The mention of Trevor's room tightens the knot in my gut, but I manage a smile as he ushers us inside.

  We're on a level of the house I didn't see when I was there. It's all open air and from the entry way, we can look across the formal living area out to the bay and the Pacific. The elevated view is even better than the one from downstairs.

  “Can I get either of you something to drink?” Frank asks. “Stephen, I've some small batch bourbon that you'll love if you like bourbon.”

  “That works for me,” my father says.

  “I'm fine,” I tell him.

  “Let me give you guys a quick tour before we settle in,” Frank says.

  The rest of the house is just as impressive as what I saw before. The master bedroom is almost the size of our entire house, there are bathrooms in nearly every hallway, and I don't think there's a spot in the house that you can't see the water from. I manage not to throw up when we get down to the bottom level and he shows us Trevor's room.

  “Presley, that door back there will take you out to the back lawn and if he's not back, you'll probably be able to see him coming in off the water. And if you don't see him, holler at me and we'll track him down.” He smiles at my dad. “I think you and I will head back upstairs to get you that drink and talk business, if that's okay?”