Feisty: A High School Bully Romance (Midpark High Book 1)

by Candace Wondrak

  When I saw Bobbi in choir, before class officially started and we had to do our warm-ups for our vocal cords, I stood beside her and tugged on her sleeve. It was a friendly gesture I couldn’t take back, but I needed to talk about it.

  Not about the money, but about the party.

  “I was invited to a party this weekend,” I said, causing Bobbi’s eyes to blink in shock. “I know, it’s crazy, right? I probably shouldn’t go.” What I wanted was for her to tell me that I should stay home, where I was safe and sound, and be miserable because I failed at hiring Jacob. Granted, she didn’t know about Jacob, but still.

  “A party?” Bobbi echoed, her lips slowly smiling. “As long as the invitation wasn’t from Brittany.” Brittany had, somehow, become the butt of most of our jokes. “Why don’t you want to go?”

  “I never said that.”

  “Well, it kind of seems like you don’t want to.”

  Other kids filed into the room, setting down their stuff in the corner. “That’s not it.”

  Bobbi lifted her dark brows. “So you do want to go?”

  “That’s…also not it.”

  The girl who was probably the closest thing to a friend I’d make in this place laughed. “So you don’t want to go, but at the same time you do? I think I get it.” She still grinned. “Was it a boy who invited you?” The look on my face must’ve given it away, because she immediately said, “It was! Who?”

  “Shh,” I shushed her, not wanting everyone to know my business. I opened my mouth to tell her who it was, but the bell rang, and Ms. Haber walked out of her office, coffee in hand. Anytime she was, well, on time, you knew you were in for fifty minutes of straight singing.

  I was getting the hang of it—I still thought my voice sounded like shit, but I knew how to warm up my voice, at least. Bit by bit I’d learn. Still couldn’t read sheet music that well, though. I mostly had to go off how the girls beside me sounded to catch the tune and the notes.

  By the time the bell rang again and I picked up my stuff, I went to Bobbi to tell her about Archer, but she shook me off, saying, “I have to stay here and talk to Ms. Haber. You go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She gave me a grin before disappearing in Ms. Haber’s office.

  It was probably for the best. If I started gossiping about Archer, things would only escalate.

  With a sigh, I exited the choir room and entered the hall. My feet drew me through the crowded halls, my boots clicking on the clean tile below. The boots were pleather, and they were years old, well-worn in places. I loved them all the same, though.

  I made it to my locker, my mind lost in everything that was going on. My fingers twirled the lock and found the numbers to the combination, and I opened it—immediately I was hit in the face with something that sat on the top shelf of the locker. It wasn’t hard, and it wasn’t big, but it came out of nowhere. After it slapped against my face, it slid to the floor, and it took me a few moments to realize what it was.

  Money.

  A stack of bills with a small white paper wrapped around their middle to keep them together.

  Shit.

  I bent over and picked it up, cradling it to my chest between my books, tossing a quick look around to make sure no one else had seen it. My mouth fell open when I touched the corner of the bills—one hundred dollar bills, to be exact—and flipped through their corners.

  There were at least ten bills here, probably more.

  What the hell…

  Another glance over both shoulders, and I couldn’t see anyone looking at me, watching. No one creeping around to make their presence known. Someone had stuffed this money into my locker, but why? And who?

  I should probably take it to the office, but the selfish part of me won out, so I stuffed it in my backpack, in one of the front zippers, before grabbing my lunch and closing my locker.

  That money could pay for Jacob.

  I hurried to lunch at an almost ridiculous pace, my feet nearly tripping over each other as I went. For the first time ever, I made it to the lunch table before Vaughn. Seemed odd for him to take his good old time coming, unless the line in the kitchen was long—I threw a quick glance at the kitchen in the back—and it wasn’t.

  Minutes passed, and I slowly began to eat, feeling weird sitting by myself. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried so much, because Vaughn showed up ten minutes later, sliding into the chair across from mine.

  I stared at him for a long while. He had no food, so he hadn’t gone to the kitchen. He wore a thin black sweater, its sleeves long and covering up most of his arms. My eyes fell to his tattooed hands, at the words scrawled across his knuckles and the black tribal design on the rest of them. Did those hands shove money in my locker?

  No. No way. He knew I suspected his family of something, so I highly doubted he’d ever fork over cash for me.

  I decided to be straightforward, asking, “Where were you?”

  A slow, careful smile spread on his lips. “Nowhere,” he said, obviously lying, because unless he fazed in and out of reality, he had to be somewhere at all times. Checkmate, bitch. Try again. “I came in late. Had some family business to take care of.”

  I nearly choked on the cracker I was currently chewing on.

  Vaughn smirked. “Kidding. I overslept. It happens.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a deadly low decibel, “Wouldn’t want you thinking I was into any shady business.”

  Was he…was he mocking me?

  I swallowed the cracker in my mouth, needing to take a sip of water. Mom packed me those tiny water bottles, the ones that were less than half the size of the normal ones—I had to drink nearly all of it before I was able to say, “I never accused you or your family of anything.”

  His smirk was gone; he simply cocked a single eyebrow at me now.

  “All I’m saying is that something felt off, and the more you get offended, the more I think I’m right.” I had no idea what kind of business his family could be in, but there were lots of illegal things rich people did—they just had the money and power to cover their crimes up.

  “I’m not offended,” Vaughn spoke. “I just wish you’d let things be.”

  “Says the guy who told me to hire a PI.”

  His gaze narrowed. Those dark eyes looked sinister, downright evil when he wore an expression like that. “You really want to know what my family does?”

  I could not nod fast enough.

  Vaughn’s gaze dropped to my chin, slow to rise to meet my stare. His head gestured back, and he got up. He…wanted me to follow him? He must, because he said nothing else as he walked away, zigzagging through the crowded lunchroom.

  My eyes darted around, wondering if it would look weird for me to get up and go after him. Oh, hell. What other choice did I have? I had to know. I had to. I was dying to know the secrets Midpark held, and knowing what Vaughn’s family did would knock at least one secret off my roster.

  Deciding why not, I got up and walked in the same direction.

  The halls were empty because everyone was either in class or at lunch, and I watched as Vaughn disappeared in what looked like a unisex restroom. I threw a look over my shoulder to make sure no one would see me disappear the same place he had, but no one was around. It was safe enough to go into a bathroom with a handsome boy with knuckle tattoos.

  Yeah. Safe enough.

  He might radiate danger, but my curiosity drowned out my danger radar.

  The moment I walked into the bathroom, I spotted a sterile room, white walls, white floor tiles, a clean porcelain toilet. I took a few steps in, for a stupid moment wondering if my eyes had deceived me and Vaughn didn’t enter this unisex restroom—but then I heard him.

  He was behind me, near the door, helping to close it…and then his tattooed fingers flicked the lock.

  Our eyes met, and I wondered, for the first time, if Vaughn was more dangerous than I thought. The look he gave me right now made my stomach harden and my breathing catch in the back of my throat.

&nb
sp; Maybe it wasn’t smart to follow him like this, but it was too late to turn back now. Far too late, because the more I looked at him, the warmer my body became. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, it was true. Vaughn Scott turned me on.

  Damn it.

  Chapter Fifteen – Vaughn

  I shouldn’t have egged her on like that, but I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t late. I was able to use the excuse of sleeping in because lunch was the only time I saw Jaz. The reason I was so late to lunch was because I was trying, stupidly, to avoid her.

  I could not get her off my mind, no matter how hard I tried, couldn’t stop myself from thinking about her as I lay in bed at night. Hell, I couldn’t even stop myself from dreaming about her—which was just odd to me, because I’d never dreamt of anyone like that before. Being close to anyone, desperately desiring someone else, it just wasn’t me. I was born into a family of psychotic, obsessive monsters, but I’d never been like my brothers.

  Until her, it seemed.

  The moment Jaz walked into my life, everything was thrown off. She sat with me at lunch, didn’t flinch away at my glares. She didn’t try to get with me out of a thrill, nor did she avoid me because I was an outcast. She was…she was different. So different.

  Jaz held her head high, her gaze unblinking as she said, “I don’t see why we had to have this conversation here.” I stood near the door, having just locked it, and she appeared completely at ease.

  Well, mostly. There was a slight twinge to her cheeks that was not there before.

  “We didn’t,” I confessed, seeing no reason to lie to her. She stood less than four feet away from me, and I closed the distance between us with two long strides, studying the way she held her ground. She did not back herself up to the wall as some might’ve. “I just wanted to get you alone.”

  Jaz didn’t let my confession rattle her. “Why?” The pink color in her cheeks grew, and I recalled the same reaction from her when we’d been in the woman’s study in Oliver Fitzpatrick’s house. Her house, too, technically.

  Why seemed to be the million-dollar question here. Why was she so adamant in finding out everyone’s secrets? Why couldn’t she just let things be? Why did she affect me like no one else had ever affected me before?

  My fingers flexed at my sides; keeping my hands to myself had never been so hard. What was this girl doing to me? Making me crave things I’d never thought twice of before…this wouldn’t end well for her, or for me. I wasn’t like everyone else here. My family was unlike any other. If she kept digging, she’d see it.

  I just wished she’d keep her focus on Oliver, not me. Not my family. Investigate Oliver’s past, dig up his skeletons, and leave mine alone. His were ugly, but my family’s were worse.

  “Why do you think?” I posed the question, cocking my head at her.

  Jaz’s eyes, more of a light amber than dark, soulless pits like mine, fell to my chest. “I don’t know. It’s why I asked you first.” Her lips drew into a pout, and I wondered, just for a split-second, what they’d feel like brushing against mine.

  A kiss. I’d never been interested in kissing anyone before. I never saw the point, but this girl…this girl was bringing things out of me left and right. I felt crazy, like a madman, with how much I thought of her, how badly I wanted to touch her. Was that normal? Did other people feel like this, too?

  I took another step towards her, pressing my front against hers. Still, she didn’t take a step back, didn’t seek to put more space between us. “I think you know,” I whispered, meeting her eyes and holding them.

  Her face was…stunning. High cheekbones, not a scar or blemish in sight. Full, luscious lips and wide, innocent, alluring eyes. Her black hair was down today, falling in waves over her shoulder, and I had the urge to tangle my hands in its lengths, tug, expose her neck to me and that throbbing artery I knew pumped full of blood—harder now, based on the way her cheeks were pink. Her heart was in overdrive, but that was fine…mine was, too.

  My heart beat almost wildly in my chest, beating so loudly I could practically hear it. Simply being near her made my heart go crazy. If this was normal, I could understand why other people would be addicted to the feeling.

  “I don’t,” Jaz muttered. “Your family…” Not another word she could say, because I’d lifted both hands and set them on her waist, just over her shirt. I could feel her warmth seeping through the fabric, and I wondered how warm she’d be skin-on-skin.

  “I don’t want to talk about my family,” I whispered, my hands holding onto her more firmly now. Now that I knew she wasn’t going to push me off or run away—like any sane girl would’ve done at a time like this—I felt a bit more confident.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t be. This feeling, this inner urge, was as new to me as something could be, and yet I let instincts take over—wasn’t that what my family had always fostered? Our instincts were primal, baser, more animalistic. We were monsters wearing the faces of men and women, and we used it to our advantage. My family would surely be shocked that a girl had somehow claimed my attention.

  I wouldn’t be the first to fall prey to a woman. Other men in my family had, and the results were mixed. Sometimes the woman fit well in our family. Sometimes they didn’t. Above all else, though, our family remained. We were huge and we were widespread…my father had many women, and they in turn had many children. Not every man I called a brother was a full-blooded brother, but they were brothers all the same.

  Cousin just didn’t have the same ring to it.

  But, enough about them. Right now the only thing on my mind was the girl in front of me, the girl whose hips felt ridiculously warm under my touch. The girl who currently gazed into my eyes with a level expression, her lips slightly parted.

  “Then what do you want to talk about?” Jaz asked, hardly sounding like herself. Her voice was soft and light, the kind of voice that a breeze could blow away. Her eyelids fluttered as if they fought to instinctively close. Her body leaned against mine, and her hands were slow to grip my arms, her fingers curling around my biceps, keeping herself steady.

  “Maybe I don’t want to talk,” I suggested, sounding utterly serious. Sounding like I’d suggested that before, to other girls. I hadn’t. This was completely new territory for me, and I wasn’t sure if I was nervous or not.

  My heart didn’t beat in anxiety or nervousness; it beat with anticipation, a hunger that I’d never known until now.

  More. It wanted more. It wanted everything Jaz had, everything she was, everything that made her Jaz. My heart beat with a steady throbbing desire to take what I wanted, and right now—and for the foreseeable future—that was her.

  “I don’t think we should be in here,” Jaz whispered, angling her head up to mine, a wordless challenge. When she breathed out, I felt her warm breath on my face, and my heart sped up even more, which I didn’t know was possible. “We should probably go back to lunch.” A feeble attempt at getting this—whatever it was—to stop.

  I feared the time for stopping was in the far distant past, because as I gazed down at her, my body warmed up, and I felt a twinge of longing between my legs. My dick wanted her, too. Every single part of me wanted to make this girl mine, which hardly made sense; I barely knew her.

  But maybe that was the thing. You didn’t need to know someone that well to want them. You simply did. You wanted what you wanted and you couldn’t change it, no matter how hard you tried.

  A new feeling for me, definitely.

  “You’re probably right,” I agreed with her as my hands on her sides slid downward, my fingertips grazing her skin just above the waistline of her jeans. Her skin was on fire, searing to the touch. “But…” I trailed off, for there were so many things I could’ve said right then, so many things I both wanted and did not want to say.

  Me, caught between what I wanted and what I knew would happen in six months. This was just a game, just a temporary respite from my future. Whatever strange feelings this girl elicited from me would never last. It c
ouldn’t.

  Jaz’s voice caught on the word, “But?” Begging me to finish, begging me to say more.

  I didn’t know what to say. This was stupid, and yet I could not fight the pitter-patter of that box in my chest, my heart that had never beaten for anyone else before. What was it about her? Why was I drawn in like a moth to the flame? In that analogy, I should be the flame, not her. I was the destructive force of nature, not her. She was beauty incarnate, not death. She wasn’t like me.

  She’d never be like me.

  That thought alone almost made me push her away—both figuratively and literally. The fact that she would never be like me meant we couldn’t last, but wasn’t that the thing about life? Nothing lasted. Nothing was forever. Eternal was merely a word in the dictionary people used occasionally, not truly knowing its full definition. Nothing, not even love, was eternal.

  I said nothing, because I had no idea how to voice the feelings inside of me, how to tell Jaz without sounding too over-the-top about how frantic my thoughts were. The only thing I could do was hold her body close to mine, lose myself in the way she stared at me, how her hands gripped my biceps, and drown myself in everything she was.

  We wouldn’t talk about my family. We wouldn’t talk about Oliver Fitzpatrick or her fears of Midpark. We wouldn’t talk about anything.

  I took a step forward, my hands gripping her bare sides under her shirt, forcing her to step back. I stopped us only when I had her against the wall, and I brought my hands to her neck, holding onto her perhaps a bit too roughly.

  She was strong. She could take it.

  She had to.

  My hands moved up to cup her jaw, my thumbs lightly running over the edge of her mouth, her lips softer than I ever could’ve imagined. I pressed my hips against hers, the heat inside my lower gut only growing when she let out a shaky breath.

  I really shouldn’t want to kiss her, but I did. I did, more than anything.

  I was slow to lower my head to hers, leaning my forehead against hers. Our noses brushed, both our breaths catching the moment our lips came together.