“You’re gorgeous, Tarryn. You could be drooling into a pillow with fucked up hair and you’d still be gorgeous.” He took a step up closer to me.
“No, stay there.” I stumbled away, a wave of déjà vu hitting me. I was back in that beautiful dress, waiting for my date, excited for my first dance.
“Tarryn,” he stepped off the stairs, not advancing towards me anymore. “I need to tell you this. I need you to listen.”
“It’s three in the morning, Drake.”
“I know, I know.” He held up a hand to stop me saying anything else. “God, if I don’t say this now though, I don’t think I ever will.” He blinked and I leaned closer. His eyes were bloodshot.
“Are you okay? Your eyes are…” I let my voice trail off.
“Yes. I’m fine. I’m fine. Coming down. I hung out with Bradley and Dax earlier and…” He stopped talking, shaking his head. “That’s not important. It doesn’t matter. What matters is I need you to listen.” His voice was getting louder and I instinctively walked down the steps.
He stopped talking, watching me, curious what I was doing. “You’re being too loud. I don’t want to wake my parents.” Again, I knew it wasn’t rational—Mom’s snoring was far louder than Drake talking to me outside.
“Sorry, I didn’t think.” Drake hung his head a little and started moving backward. “I didn’t mean to bother you. Fuck, Tarryn. All I do is bother you.”
I could have let him keep moving away, keep going to his car, but I stopped him. I stopped him, because I’m an idiot.
I can’t feel badly for Drake Castleton.
He’s not my friend. He’s a bad person. He’s bad for me.
“Drake, it’s okay. You’re not bothering me.”
“Yes I am. You should be sleeping. It’s the middle of the night and here I am, high as a goddamn kite, wanting to confess shit to you that I’ve not told anyone. Not a fucking soul.” His hands went to his hair and his fingers acted like they were going to rip out fistfuls of golden strands.
I don’t know what came over me, why my stupid heart ached as I watched this stupid, stupid boy beat himself up. He was that kid again, on the floor of the gym after beating Aiden to a pulp. Lost, confused, full of self-hate.
My legs took me to him, my arms lifted before I could stop them, and my hands found their way to his hands, resting my palms atop his tanned skin. “Drake, everything’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
“I hate who I am. I hate who I am ever since she left.”
“Who, Drake? Your mom?” I’d heard his mother was rarely in town, always off at some spa or getting some procedure. Bitter gossip had her in a longtime affair with a man in LA. Feeling awkward, I dropped my hands and crossed my arms over my body. The kimono bunched up and parted to reveal the thin, nearly see-through sloth nightie.
“God, no. My mom’s… a fucking nonentity.” Drake finally lowered his hands from his head, but he didn’t’ shove them back into his pockets. Instead, he moved to me and touched my right hand which rested against my upper arm as I hugged my body. “I was young. A sophomore. She was a new teacher.”
“A teacher?” I said in surprise, not able to keep the judgment out of my voice.
He sighed. “Yeah. Look, I know it was wrong. Taboo. She was older. I was a minor. I get the morality issues. I understand all the legal red. She did too. But it didn’t matter. Okay?” Drake sounded defensive and that made me draw back from him. I’d seen him lose control.
“Okay. I understand.”
“No you don’t. I loved Lane. But my father found out. I don’t think he ever told the rest of my family. Blackmailed her to get out of town. That’s not even the worst of it,” he choked on a laugh, “she was pregnant.”
My eyes widened and my mouth felt dry. “Pregnant?” I stuttered out the question.
“It’s funny, you know. I did everything I could not to think about it. I got angry, so fucking angry. I focused on sex. Any girl I could get into my bed. Or my car. Or a sleazy hotel. I didn’t want to think about her. I didn’t want to think about the fact that eight months after she left town, I might have a kid somewhere.”
“Drake…” I didn’t know what to say. He was a victim, but he didn’t see it that way. He’d been the prey, his teacher the predator. I guess I’d been wrong.
Sometimes prey learns their lesson. Sometimes they realize being the predator is safer.
“It’s fine. I know the truth now. I don’t know what’s with me tonight.” He stopped touching me and he turned away, facing his car parked on the street. “I confronted my dad tonight. Threw his best goddamn bottle of scotch into the fire. He gave me a letter from Lane. She’d sent it a few months after leaving River Valley.”
His words ran dry and his head tilted up towards the sky. It was a clear night, stars twinkling.
“What did the letter say?” I prompted him, feeling a lump in my throat. It couldn’t have been something good. Not with the way he was acting.
He turned back to look at me, tears streaming down his face. “She lost the baby. There was something wrong. It wasn’t on purpose. My dad kept track of her. He wouldn’t have let a Castleton offspring go unchecked, not if he could help it. But it turns out it didn’t matter. There was no baby.”
“God,” I breathed out. “What happened to her? Where is she now?”
“Fuck if I know.” He moved past me, returning to the front stairs and sitting down on the top riser. I followed slowly, tugging the kimono back over my chest and wishing I’d opted for the pig pajama pants my mom gave me last Christmas. It was too hot for fleece, but at least I’d not sit on the cold step of the front porch next to Drake Castleton whilst wearing something that barely fell a few inches lower than my but cheeks. “That was the end of it. Dad dropped her like… like fucking trash. No Castleton baby, no Castleton concern.”
I swiped my hands over the back of the kimono as I sat down, hoping it would keep it in place. Once I was seated though, the nightgown and wrap slid down my legs almost to crotch level. I pulled it down repeatedly, but then finally decided to just hold the hem in place. “I’m sorry that happened. I’m sorry about the baby… and Lane.” It’s not what I wanted to say. I wasn’t sorry that the teacher who’d preyed on him was out of his life now.
“Thanks,” he muttered, wiping his eyes dry. “It’s done now.”
As if the confession about his teacher didn’t empty him enough, he kept talking. And I didn’t know what to do except keep listening.
“I hurt a girl. After Lane was gone, I mean. I let it get to wild, too rough. I was just trying to… to feel something. Anything. It’s like there’s this,” He hit his chest with his fist, so hard it made me wince, “giant fucking hole in the middle of my body and I’m never going to be able to fill it up. It’ll be a cavern forever, a place where anything good goes to die.”
He hit himself again. And again.
He didn’t stop until I reached out and grabbed his wrist, holding it between both my hands. “Stop it, Drake. Stop hurting yourself.”
“If I don’t hurt me, I end up hurting other people.” He looked at me, eyes wild. “Isn’t it better if I hurt myself instead?”
“How about,” I pushed his fisted-fingers down into his lap, flinching when I realized how close to his crotch our hands were, “no one gets hurt. You’ve had hard things happen to you, Drake. It makes sense that you’d become such a…”
“Self-important womanizing asshole?” He finished for me, a smile almost bending his lips.
I smiled for him, chuckling softly. “Exactly.”
He turned his body, one leg full resting on the upper step whilst the other leg stretched to rest a foot several steps down. I shifted a little too, facing him. “You’re really not like any girl I’ve ever met. Not even like Lane. She didn’t challenge me. She didn’t read books by Abbott and quote Austen at me.”
“It sounds like you were a different person when you were with her too though.”
�
��Less jaded.” Drake did smile now.
“A senior in high school shouldn’t be jaded at all,” I murmured, biting my lower lip.
“A senior in high school shouldn’t have her first dance ruined by a scumbag,” he volleyed back, reaching out and tucking hair behind my ear.
“Well, he was a handsome scumbag at least. Looked great in a tux.” I scanned him from tip to toe. “He’s not so bad in regular clothes either. Though, I like him better in broad daylight versus starlight. And maybe a little less post-weed.”
“Hmmm,” he looked up at the sky, “It’s the opposite for me. Stars seem less judgmental than the sun.”
“The sun is a star, Drake.”
“Don’t bust my balls with facts.”
We lapsed into silence then, with both of our heads tilted back, our faces bathed in the less-judgmental starlight.
“Tarryn?” Drake’s voice was a soft whisper.
“Yeah?” I looked over at him automatically, and gasped a little when I found his face inches from my own.
“Thank you for listening. It’s the first time I’ve felt heard in a long time.”
“Maybe if you talk to people, that would change. Don’t only show them the bully. Show him the goodness underneath. Because you have goodness, Drake.”
He blinked at me, blue eyes glowing. My body moved again, before I could think better of it and tell it “warning, Will Robinson, warning!” My body moved. My head tilted forward, and my lips pressed against Drake-freaking-Castleton’s lips.
To his credit, he didn’t respond at first, his body stiff and surprised.
But then he did.
And it was fireworks.
Our mouths danced against each other, his tongue pushing gently between my lips. He didn’t lift his hands to touch me otherwise, but my hands did move. I gripped his shoulders and shimmied even closer, the kimono belt giving way and the silky material falling off my shoulders to fully-reveal the nightgown.
I didn’t have a bra on… and the material was so thin… I knew if he looked and the light hit just right, he’d see the outline of my breasts beneath the sloth pattern. I didn’t care though, not even as we pushed close enough to one another for me to feel his muscles beneath his shirt. Which meant he could feel me too, the way my nipples were hardening.
I pulled away, my breathing coming too fast as my heart thumped erratically. I felt lightheaded, swoony… a damsel in an old black and white movie who’d taken power into her own hands and kissed the guy rather than wait for him to kiss her. So uncouth for a lady of that time, so contradictory to the dainty white gloves and perfectly-pressed dresses she wore, but she’d done it anyways. She’d lifted up on her kitten heels and kissed him, full on the mouth.
It was a few moments later, with Drake staring at me like he’d just seen heaven when he was sure his soul was bound for hell, that I realized I wasn’t only lightheaded from kissing my bully. I stood, too quickly, and my head rushed. Drake was beside me in seconds, grabbing me around the waist as I stumbled.
“Look at you,” I laughed weakly, “One kiss and I’m dizzy.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
I tried to think. “I skipped dinner. I don’t remember.”
“Come on,” Drake held me and lead me up the stairs.
“I’m okay, really.” But it sounded like a lie, even to me.
“Sure you are.” He opened the front door and helped me through, walking towards the kitchen. He sat me down at the bar and I leaned against the counter, waiting for my head to stop swimming and the floaty feeling to fade. “Any year-old candy bars around here?” Drake opened and closed cupboards.
“Confiscated by science teachers? Not hardly,” I said with a smile, my cheek now pressed against the cool eating surface.
“Okay. Let’s see.”
I didn’t watch as he busied himself about the kitchen. I heard the distinct sound of the fridge opening and closing. The clink of a glass. The sound of liquid rushing.
“Here, drink this,” Drake’s voice called my attention to him and I lifted my head to find a full glass of orange juice sat in front of me.
“Thanks,” I smiled, picking it up and taking a few quick sips. “I really do feel better.”
“Your face is paler than my mom’s teeth after her millionth bleaching, but sure, you’re fine.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the farmhouse sink. “I like your house. It’s homey.”
“Says the guy who probably lives in a mansion.”
“Says the guy who does live in a mansion.”
“See.” I took another sip of orange juice.
“Trust me when I say, sometimes the bigger the house, the emptier it feels.” He sounded sad and I reached across the counter to him. He uncrossed his arms and also reached over. We held hands as I finished the juice.
I don’t know what it all meant—him coming over and spilling his guts, the kiss, the hand holding now.
Was he still a bully?
Was I still prey?
Were we just those two sides of nature naturally coming together?
Maybe. Not that it mattered right now, with his ice blue eyes looking so warm instead of so cold. Drake Castleton was thawing. And butterflies were a riot in my stomach.
And, shit, I guess I really need to tell Sasha I was out. No waffling, no giving her shreds of maybe. I’d chosen my place on the chessboard. Just call me frontline fodder. A pawn for the bigger pieces to knock over.
11.
T A R R Y N
“So, we’re still on for Friday.” Drake hovered in the doorway, his golden hair tousled and his eyes searching my expression. It was nearly five in the morning now. We’d talked in the living room once I’d felt better. He’d found a copy of Utopia on the bookshelf and it had sparked an intellectual conversation unlike any I’d had with a boy before. How could I loathe someone in one breath and then… find him intriguing the next? How could I feel so abused by someone… and then so taken care of by them? Nurtured by the hands that hurt me. Kissed by the lips that tricked me.
And the butterflies were floating inside of me still as I thought about our future date, because the last one had gone so great—which I seemed to have conveniently forgotten.
Be smart.
Be smart, you idiot.
“At seven.” I nodded.
“I’m really glad you agreed to give me another chance. I—”
“It’s not another chance yet.” I held up a hand, stopping him. I bit my lip, feeling stupid for laying down ground rules after having kissed him earlier and talking for so long and acting as if… I like-liked him. “I’ve never been treated as shitty as you treated me, Drake. But… I can’t help but think,” I stopped talking, brow furrowing and stomach clenching. “When I was texting with Aiden, when I thought I was texting with him I mean, it was really you. I liked that person on the other end of the conversation. I liked the things he liked, I liked that he seemed interested in science and art and books. And it turns out that he’s you. It’s very confusing for me.”
“I’m sorry—”
I cut him off again. “No, don’t say sorry anymore. I told Aiden this already: I’m done with sorry. Instead of saying sorry, show me… God, I don’t know. Show me your truth? That sounds so lame.” I shook my head, feeling stupid all of the sudden. “Look, I want to see if you can be that guy, really be that guy. The one on the other end of the phone. I want to know which one of you was the act—the one pretending to be Aiden or the one flirting with the hostess in front of me and beating the hell out of another guy. Or maybe you’re just the guy treating a girl like she’s disposable and only good for sex.”
Drake stood in front of me, arrested by silence. “I’ll try.” He finally said, looking like the boy lost in the woods, the boy coming up for air after a period of violence.
“That felt like the truth.” I smiled at him.
He scratched his brow gently, smirking. “Yeah, I don’t have a lot of practice lately with the truth.
Feels foreign.”
“Well, learning a foreign language might do you good. Spread your cultural horizons a bit.”
“Tu me donnes envie d'être un homme meilleur,” he whispered, a beautiful accent floating towards me.
I quirked an eyebrow. “Let me guess, you’re already bilingual.”
“Multilingual.” He shrugged casually.
“Show off.” I pushed him gently so he was stood full on the stoop rather than blocking the doorway. “It’s time for you to go. My dad will be up any minute.”
“My dad’s an early bird too.” He pulled his car key out of his pocket and looped his finger through the ring, swinging them around gently as he talked. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Are you actually coming into school this time, or do you plan to chill the week away in your convertible?”
“We’ll see.” A hint of ye-olde cocky Drake peeked out from the proverbial OZ curtain. When he saw my reaction, the cockiness faded. “Yeah, I’m coming into school tomorrow. Who could resist that den of education.”
“Bye, Drake,” I spoke with finality, starting to close the door. I stopped though, after only a few inches. “Hey, what did that mean? What you said before in… was it French?”
Drake was already off the stairs and walking down the front path. He turned back to face me. The sun was starting to rise, the forgiving stars fading. His smile this time was soft and genuine. “You make me want to be a better man.”
“Oh…” my voice trailed off. “Oh,” I repeated stupidly.
He didn’t say anything else, only giving me a slight nod as he turned again and strode off to his vehicle. I watched him get into the green car, watched him crank it and pull away from the curb. I didn’t close the door fully until he was out of sight. And when I did close it, I leaned against the wood, a million emotions rushing through me.
Brat: A High School Bully Romance (The King of Castleton High Book 2) Page 8