“Why were you crying?” I try again, lifting my hand from her waist and running my thumb along the underside of her breast.
“None of your business.”
A humorless chuckle falls from my lips. “See, now that’s where you’re wrong. Do you remember what you told me Saturday night?”
“No, I’ve blocked the entire event from my mind. No point remembering.”
My brows rise as her words hit where they intended.
“Huh.” I move forward, my lips against the shell of her ear. “So you don’t remember screaming my name over and over as I made you come again, and again… and again.”
“Nope.”
“And you don’t remember telling me that I fucking own you?” I drop my hand, cupping her pussy over the fabric of her jeans and she gasps.
“No. I was drunk and probably drugged knowing you.”
“Careful, Kitten. Throwing accusations around isn’t going to help.”
“I have a right to be suspicious, you’ve got history.”
“The only thing I handed you that night was neat vodka in a bottle that you willingly took.” I pull back to look at her, hoping that she can see the truth in my eyes. “I’d never drug you, Harley. I’m not a fucking monster.”
She laughs manically, throwing her head back and exposing her neck to me. Unable to resist, I lower my hand and suck her skin into my mouth.
“Kyle,” she cries, her throat flexing beneath my lips.
She slaps at my shoulder trying to force me away but all I do is suck harder, leaving more evidence behind that I was here.
“Tell me, Kitten. Tell me why you were crying?”
“Fuck you.” I’m still lost in the taste of her when she brings her knee up. I should be expecting it, she’s got history after all.
I manage to move before she makes any real contact but the shock is enough for me to release her and she bolts to the other side of the locker room, her back to the door where she’s about to escape from.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Kitten.”
“Leave me the hell alone, Kyle. This little game you think we’re playing… I never signed up for. I’m done. So fucking d-done.” Her voice cracks on the final word and I stand back to my full height and take a step toward her. “No.” She holds her hand up as her eyes fill with tears and her bottom lip trembles. “Just no. We’re done.”
I’m motionless as she flees from the room, leaving me alone with nothing but the scent of girl’s perfume filling my nose.
“Fuck. FUCK,” I bark, planting my fist into one of the red lockers beside me. The door buckles under my force but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
“Fuuuuck,” I groan, tipping my face to the ceiling and taking a slow breath.
I know that I should walk out before I’m caught but when my legs move, it’s not toward the door, it’s toward one of the benches. I drop my elbows to my knees and rest my head in my hands. I keep my eyes shut for a beat, trying to force myself to calm down. If I don’t then the temptation to go and cause some damage—ideally to Rich’s face—is going to be stronger than I can control.
When I finally drag my eyes open, I find a piece of paper by my feet. Swiping it up, I flip it over, and find that it’s a report card. Harley’s report card to be specific.
I scan my eyes down the subjects, taking in all the good grades, until I get to one.
Math.
Fail.
My shoulders drop. That’s why she was crying.
Guilt twists my stomach that I should be helping her with this.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pushing to stand and shoving the paper in my pocket.
I manage to exit the girl’s locker room unseen and head for my car.
The second I pull to a stop on our street, I wish I’d stayed at school longer, or even better, went after Harley because the person who’s leaning against the porch waiting for me is one I hoped I’d never have to see again.
Gray stands there with his boot propped up on the first step, his body clad entirely in black—much like mine—and his head bowed as he stares at his cell. From here I can see the ink adorning his fingers that never used to be there.
I was never scared of Gray although a lot of kids always were. He’s the youngest of five brothers. Five brothers who taught him how to look after himself from a very young age.
He doesn’t look up, but I’m not stupid enough to think that he doesn’t know I’m here so after sucking in a breath, I climb from the car to find out what he’s got in store for me.
I lost him a lot of money. I can’t imagine he’s here for a nice little catch-up chat. I’m just grateful he waited a week.
The second the car door slams behind me, he pockets his cell and looks up.
I notice instantly that the ink on his hands isn’t the only new addition because he’s also got something beside his eye.
“Gray,” I say as I step up to him. He studies me silently for a few seconds, probably seeing if he can unnerve me, but he should know me better than that. We’ve been through too much, done too much shit together. A year away won’t change any of that.
“Legend,” he finally says with a nod of his head.
Walking past him, I take a seat on the swing sweat, rest my elbows on my knees and look up at him. There’s no fucking way I’m inviting him inside. Not that he’d wait to be invited if he wanted to venture inside, I’m sure.
“What do you want, Gray?”
“Now there’s a question,” he mutters, almost to himself. “How was your… little break?” A smirk appears on his lips and my fists curl in my need to knock it off. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve fought, and it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve won either.
“Fuck you.”
“Legend, now, that’s not nice.”
“Not nice? You really want to talk about what’s not fucking nice?” I ask, my anger getting the better of me as I push to stand once more. “Not nice is getting carted off with your fucking blow filling my pockets. Not nice is the search they did to make sure I wasn’t hiding any more. Not nice, is being locked in a tiny fucking room for hours on end, not having anyone to talk to, only people who want to beat the shit out of you. Not fucking nice is not seeing the one woman who gave a fuck about me before she died and having to attend her funeral in fucking handcuffs, you motherfucker.” Spittle flies onto his face at my outburst but he doesn’t react.
“You know what’s really not going to be nice?”
I step closer, my fists ready to break his fucking nose.
“What?” I spit.
“What’s going to happen when you don’t pay your debt.”
“Fuck you, Gray. I owe you nothing. You’ll have made that back ten times over by now.”
“Not the point. You lost my gear. You. Owe. Me.”
“I have nothing.” I take a step back and throw my arms out. “I have fucking nothing, Gray. Everything is gone. What the fuck could you take from me?”
He thinks for a minute and something about the look on his face makes my blood run cold.
“Harley Hunter is looking good these days, huh?”
My teeth grind, my jaw popping despite the fact I don’t want to react to this motherfucker.
“Come on, Legend. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.” He leans in. “Because I know you have. You’ve wanted her longer than you’ll ever admit. That night… that night I was just helping you out. Giving you the little push you needed.”
I have his hoodie in my fist and him pressed against the railing of the porch before I’ve even realized I’ve moved.
“You fucking drugged her, Gray. You’re fucking sick.”
“You didn’t look so bothered when she was getting ready to bounce around on your dick.”
“Fuck you,” I seethe, slamming him back against the wood.
“You’re just angry because I wanted to play too. She’d have fucking loved it, and you know it. You could have been deep inside her cunt while she ch
ok—” My fist flies, his nose crunching under the force of my hit. Blood covers both of us as an evil smile curls at his lips.
“Yeah, just as I thought.”
My entire body is pulled tight ready for him to fight back, but instead, he just walks backward toward the stairs, spitting out a mouthful of blood as he does.
“You might want to keep a close eye on her, Legend. I’d hate for her to become payment.”
“Don’t you dare fucking touch her,” I warn, but it’s too late, he’s already inside his car.
I watch as he wipes his nose on his sleeve before starting his car and wheelspinning down the street.
“Motherfucker,” I bellow after him before pulling my cell from my pocket and opening mine and Harley’s conversation.
I want to warn her. I want to tell her that he’s just threatened her. But if he’s just playing me…
Gray doesn’t play.
But would he be stupid enough to mess with Harley knowing that he’ll be going up against not only me but Kane and Zayn as well?
“Fuck,” I shout into the empty street beyond.
I pull my cap from my head and pull my hair back, pulling until it hurts.
“Fuck.”
Pulling out my key, I unlock the front door and storm inside.
I pace back and forth through the living room with my cell still in my hand trying to figure out what I should do.
I think about her tear-filled eyes as she fled from the locker room earlier and then the report card that’s stuffed in my pocket.
Without putting much thought into it, I storm to my bedroom, flip open the textbook to the page we were working on last and I send the page and exercise number to her.
18
Harley
I slam my bedroom door after running up the stairs faster than my legs wanted to carry me.
I don’t want to see anyone. I just want to hide from him, from math, from life.
“I fucking hate you, Kyle Legend,” I bark into my empty bedroom.
Tears burn my eyes once more as I think about everything today threw at me.
The memory of kissing Rich makes my stomach turn. Nothing about him attracts me, I’ve only ever threatened to do anything with him to piss off my brother. But now I’ve kissed him, touched his cock. Ew. My lips curl in disgust but not at him, at myself. It was a stupid thing to do. But that’s what he does to me. He makes me fucking stupid and drives me freaking crazy.
His scent still fills my nose from where he was so close to me in the locker room. His hard, sculpted body was pressed right up against mine, his hard cock digging into my hip reminding me of just how he tasted on Saturday night, how he looked as he lost control, how it felt when he came down my throat.
My body grows hot at the memory and annoys me even more.
Irritated with myself for allowing him to affect me even after I’ve walked away from him, I push from my door, turn my speakers up high and fall down onto my bed.
I’ve got work to do and continuing to put it off isn’t going to get me anywhere.
I pull my math textbook out and flip it open.
I stare at it for a few seconds not really seeing any of it as my brain tells me not to even bother trying. But I know I need to shut that down. If I want to be on the squad for my senior year, then I need to do this. Hell, if I want to graduate then I need to do this.
“Okay, I can do this,” I tell myself, leaning over and reading through the exercise I should be working on.
I’m halfway through my homework when my cell buzzes. It’s face down on the sheets and I know that I really should ignore it.
It’ll just be Ruby or Poppy checking in, they can wait.
But no matter how much I tell myself that, not two seconds later do I find myself reaching out and turning it over.
I groan the second I see who it really is.
Asshole: Turn to page 154 and start with exercise 3a.
“What?” I breathe.
Harley: What the hell?
Asshole: Don’t argue, Kitten. Tell me how to work it out. Show me how you work it out.
I stare down at the screen, tempted to just turn it off and banish him from my life for a few hours but then I remember how he explained things to me during our first tutoring session once we called a truce and I find myself typing.
I write the sum on the page, I tell him how I think it should work and then I give him my answer once I’ve done the equation.
It’s wrong. Obviously. But then he starts explaining why and even though he’s not here, it’s like I can hear his voice in my head as he spells it out in a way that I’ve only ever experienced with him.
Asshole: Now do the next one. Just like that.
I eagerly follow his instructions and soon discover that my next answer is right.
A little thrill goes through me as he messages back to confirm what I already know.
Asshole: Now do the rest. You’ve got this, Kitten.
Butterflies erupt in my belly as I stare down at his little pet name for me that I usually hate.
He just helped me. Why?
I shake my head, immediately realizing that I’m not going to figure him out quite that easily.
I quickly go through the rest of the exercises on the page and send him a list of my answers which, to my utter amazement are all correct.
An accomplished smile curls up at my lips, maybe I can do this. Just one step at a time.
I stare at his last message trying to figure out what to send back. There are a million things I want to say to him, to ask him when he’s not full of anger and out for revenge but even now, I refrain.
Harley: Thank you.
Asshole: What are tutors for? What’s next?
Harley: English paper. You?
Asshole: Same.
We message back and forth for the next three hours. It’s nice. Weird. But I can’t deny that I get a little thrill every time my cell buzzes and I see his name staring back at me.
It’s when he tells me that he’s done for the night and that he’s going to shower that I realize I might have a problem because I almost demand we switch to video call just so I can go with him.
In the end, I go with something a little less desperate.
Harley: Thank you. I’m going to do some more math before bed.
He reads it but he doesn’t respond, and my heart drops a little as I realize that he wasn’t getting as carried away with our interaction as I was.
I place my cell back down, and after getting myself a snack and drink I pull my math book back onto my lap and attempt some more.
I’ve got another test on Wednesday; I’m determined not to fail this one.
The second I walk into class the next morning, his eyes are on me from the back of the room. His face is impassive and totally unreadable. I have no clue if he’s still angry like in the locker room or if our messages last night softened him at all.
Ruby’s fingers twist with mine as we make our way to our seats. I haven’t told her about what happened after she and Chelsea left, and I certainly haven’t told her about our impromptu tutoring session.
“Ignore him,” she whispers, clearly seeing who’s holding his attention.
My temperature burns red-hot as his eyes run over every inch of me as we get closer. Thankfully, our seats are far enough away that we can’t talk because after everything that happened yesterday, I have no clue what to say to him, or even where to start.
Even long after turning my back on him to take my seat, I still feel his gaze on me. My skin prickles with awareness and tingles continue to race up and down my spine.
I can only hope that this is the only class we share today because he’s already messing with my head.
I manage to escape him and it’s not until I’m standing at my locker before heading to the cafeteria before lunch that I feel him.
Every muscle in my body screams at me to turn around and look at him, but I stand firm and instead remain staring at the back
of my locker, hoping that he’ll leave, or that I’m wrong and he’s not there at all.
Sadly, that’s not what happens.
My body startles when his large warm hand lands on my stomach and the length of him presses against my back. I only just manage to stifle the groan that threatens to rumble up my throat at his contact.
“Do I need to lock you up somewhere this lunch or are you going to be able to keep your hands to yourself, Kitten?”
I suck in a breath, unable to come up with a response as quickly as I’d like.
“What’s wrong, cat got your tongue?”
His hand slips under the hem of my shirt, his touch scorching my already heated skin.
“I need to go, Rich is waiting for me,” I lie, knowing it’ll piss him off. “That was the best kiss I’ve had in quite a while.”
“Harley,” he growls in my ear, sending goose bumps racing across my skin. “I warned you about lying to me.”
“Am I though?” I ask, fighting a smile. “Excuse me.” Amazingly, when I twist out of his hold, he lets me go.
I slam my locker closed and march toward the cafeteria, my stomach growling for Taco Tuesday with every step I take.
I find Ruby, Poppy and Stella waiting for me at the entrance and together we join the queue.
“What the fuck is he playing at?” Poppy seethes, looking over my shoulder in the direction of our tables.
I don’t have to turn around to know she’s talking about Kyle. I can tell by the anger on their faces as they watch whatever is playing out.
My cell vibrates in my pocket. Despite knowing that nothing good can possibly come from it seeing as my girls are standing with me, not on their cells, I pull it out.
Asshole: Wanna see how it’s really done? Turn around.
I fight it, I really fucking do. But when all three of them gasp, my body moves without instruction from my brain.
LEGEND: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Rosewood High Book 7) Page 17