Balls: A Bully Romance (The King of Castleton High Book 4)

by Ellie Meadows

  Maybe it was pent up need.

  Raising shit had always been a coping mechanism, even when I was a kid. Parents fighting? Throw Dad’s Armani suit into the pool. Mom missed another birthday? That was fine, her collection of furs would love a proper burial in the backyard. Their fault for forcing me to watch some ancient movie about fucking bigfoot getting adopted by a family of idiots. The behavior had never been beaten out of me either. Punishment didn’t help. As I got older, I just tweaked my rebellion to fit. Fights. Drinking. Fucking.

  Falling for my goddamn teacher.

  Trouble making was a bandage on the fact that I’d had a chance to fuck the brains out of Sienna, but I’d walked away. So, right now, I was giving Sasha shit because she was of the female persuasion and I had a series case of blue balls.

  “Well, since no one’s talking now...” I looked over at Steve, smile growing broader. “You ready to hit the road. Leave the old ball and chain behind?”

  “You’re pitiful, Drake.” Sasha shook her head. Steve, the dumbass, just stood there looking like he’d swallowed a gallon of glue, lips cemented together, voice trapped. Sasha descended the steps, moving to stand close enough that I could smell peppermint on her breath. “I think you’re so fucked up over messing things up with Tarryn that you’re taking it out on everyone else. Steve and I are solid. Even with this fight, we’re solid. And you wouldn’t know a solid relationship if it bit you in the ass.”

  Her words struck a chord, but I refused to acknowledge the pain in my chest.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Sash.” I tried to sound flippant, but bitterness bled into my words, “I think getting bit in the ass would turn me on enough to recognize the biter. Nibbles have led to many a fuck session.”

  “You really are disgusting. I’ll never understand what any girl sees in you. It’s got to be the money.” She pushed past me, stalking away from the house, but then paused to yell back at Steve. “Just don’t be a jerk and break my heart, Steve. Don’t let Drake sabotage our relationship just because he’s ruined his own.”

  She got into her car, cranked it, and swung out of the driveway like a bat out of hell.

  “God, Drake. Why the fuck do you have to make shit worse. You could have reassured her that we were just taking a harmless trip. By Saturday, she’ll know the truth anyways. So, what was all of this for?” He waved his hands, defeated and confused.

  I hadn’t been a very good friend.

  I hadn’t been a very good boyfriend.

  I was tired of oscillating between delusions of goodness and the reality of badness and wondering if I could ever truly be the former.

  I shoved my hands into my pockets and gave a sullen shrug, all the venom gone from my body. I knew, even while being an asshole, that it was the wrong thing to do. It wasn’t friendly or supportive. It was a jerk move.

  And I was trying to be a better person.

  But the ability to see past my nose, to do the ‘good’ thing, seemed to come and go like the tide.

  “I don’t know,” I finally admitted. “Come on, let’s just get on the road. Sasha will be fine when she knows the truth.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” Steve turned around and snagged his luggage from the inner foyer. “Mom, Dad, I’m heading out!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, making sure his voice carried to distant parts of the house.

  “Okay, Dear. Be sure to text when you get there!” The female voice floated down from upstairs and was faint, but the fact that Steve had a parent who was concerned about his wellbeing also pained me.

  “Yes. Text!” A male voice shouted. “Or your mother will send the state troopers after you!”

  Everyone seemed to have a family that cared. Everyone but me.

  Whatever.

  I hated feeling so fucking sorry for myself.

  I was pitiful.

  9.

  T A R R Y N

  -Friday, driving to the mountains-

  Vacation.

  From River Valley.

  From Castleton High.

  From exams and responsibilities, the pressure of the ‘next’ step.

  A vacation from the most important thing--

  My stupid broken heart.

  “It’s unbelievable that Steve went with Drake. An innocent trip to Mexico my ass. You know Drake is going to fuck everything in sight.”

  I bit my lower lip at the thought, the car shuddering beneath us as we went top speed on the highway trying to keep up with her parent’s SUV ahead of us. They’d wanted to take one car originally, but now that Sasha and I were coming home early to spend Christmas day with my folks, it made sense to drive two cars. From the way her parents were dancing around, her mom’s arms flailing around like she was living her best life at a live concert, I was sort of glad that it had worked out this way.

  I’d never been one for super loud music and singing along during trips. Or car games to pass the time. I preferred to read or nap or just generally exist while feeling the car move across the road. My parents once said I was like traveling with a ninety-year-old woman who preferred her crossword puzzles to the magnificent views of passing America.

  My grandmother was more energetic than me on trips, though she spent half the time ragging on my mother. So, I’m not sure saying I was like an old woman was accurate. More like... I was born in the wrong time, and I’d have been absolutely perfect for cross-country train trips with a box of books and noon time tea service as my only entertainment.

  “Did you hear me?” Sasha pressed. “Can you believe that Steve actually went with Drake? And he was being such an asshole too. Talking about how I was a femi-nazi and was going to trap Steve in an unhappy future where he couldn’t do anything he wanted. Me? Trap someone? Bullshit. All I want is respect and fucking equality.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered, crossing my arms and sinking down against the seat. I stared out the window, wishing I’d not packed all my books. I’d only brought two, having to keep plenty of room open for small presents for Sash and her family. I’d even bought one for Drake. Before we’d broken up. If you could even call it a breakup.

  Is it a breakup if you don’t actually say the words?

  Is it a breakup if it’s unspoken, simply because your partner has hurt you in the worst way possible?

  Yes, I guess it was a breakup. My first real-real one. And it hurt.

  That present was a stupid reminder. So why hadn’t I ripped off the wrapping paper and returned it? Why hadn’t I tossed it in the trash?

  Why in the hell had I packed it in my luggage for this trip when Drake wasn’t even going to be there?

  “Earth to Tarryn. This is supposed to be a fun trip.” Sasha reached across the middle console and poked my thigh.

  So, I looked at her. And I spoke what was on my mind, though I knew it wasn’t going to help the general atmosphere of the car ride.

  “Look, I want to have fun. But maybe... maybe it’d be easier to have fun if you didn’t bring up Drake fucking everything in sight while he’s in Mexico?” I scrunched my mouth to the side and resisted looking back at the window, instead waiting to see how she’d respond.

  “Oh, god. Tarryn, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think...” her voice trailed off, her cheeks going red. She hadn’t been trying to hurt me.

  “I know, but... I’m still pretty raw.”

  “Drake is a dick. Steve’s a dick. Boys are just dicks. Let’s forget them.” She snagged her phone and fiddled with it until music came leaking from the dusty speakers. I sunk into the sound, not focusing on the words but instead letting the melody carry me like a lazy river. Sasha sung softly as she drove, switching the songs every now and then, and she just let me sulk.

  Which was what I needed from her.

  *

  “This view is gorgeous,” I breathed out, pushing my belly into the safety wall and staring down at the array of cabins dotting the mountain face as it angled towards the large river below. “Where’s the skiing? Is it far from here?”

  “T
he lift’s on the other side of the mountain. This is prime real estate in summer though. You can zip line all the way down to the river and go tubing.”

  “Ugh, I can’t wait!” I pushed away from the wall and did a little spin.

  “Well, I’m glad the view cheered you up. Pouting Patsy in the car was gross plenty for one trip.”

  “Shush,” I chastised, “You’ll kill my newfound buzz.”

  Sasha made a show of zipping her lips and throwing away the key.

  “What are you, my mother’s age?” I laughed. “Come on, I want to see our room!” I snagged Sasha’s arm and yanked her along with me. Her parents were already inside, hatch of their SUV up and supplies mostly moved inside. They’d gotten ahead of us on the road when we’d stopped for gas and enough sugar to fuel a class of kindergarteners. That had done wonders to start lifting my spirits, who could stay mad with a lap full of candy? But the view had sent me over the edge, away from sullen daydreams of Drake and towards the escape of a mountain getaway with no worries.

  No school. No exams. No cross country training. No nagging mother.

  No girls screwing your sort-of boyfriend.

  No boys.

  The inside of the cabin was rustic, but all of the modern conveniences for cooking and washing clothes. A large kitchen with swinging antler pendants sent shadows jumping around the room. I wondered why the lights were swaying. Wondered, that is, until Sasha’s giant father leaned over the counter for a case of water and hit one of the lights with his head.

  “Again,” he growled, rubbing his head and glaring at the antler lights. “Those really are a hazard.”

  “Only for you,” Sasha’s petite mother chirped, slapping him on the ass and making him blush.

  “Not in front of the kids, babe,” he teased, turning around and grabbing her up into the air playfully. “Also, please tell me you packed something I actually like to eat. I’m seeing granola bars and oatmeal and absolutely zero bacon.”

  “Remember what the doctor said last week about your cholesterol, dear.”

  “If you really loved me, you’d let me die of a bacon overdose.” He nuzzled his big face into her tiny neck, and she giggled.

  “This is not a second honeymoon,” Sasha grumbled, “can you keep the flirting and spanking to a minimum. At least until we’re not in the same room.”

  “You say it’s not a second honeymoon,” her mom winked, “but the minute you and Tarryn are on the road back to River Valley, it’s hot tub and champagne time. Who knows, maybe we’ll make you a new sibling.”

  “Absolutely not.” Sasha’s mouth gaped open; her voice horrified.

  “Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. Your dad got snip-snipped years ago.”

  “Babe, don’t tell her that. It’s too personal.”

  “God, yes. Please don’t tell me stuff like that,” Sasha groaned, and it was her turn to grab my hand and drag me towards the spare bedroom we’d be sharing during our stay. She closed the door, not gently, behind us and let go of my hand before frowning. “Why are parents like that? One day, they’re giving you shit about everything. Do this. Don’t do that. Wear this. Don’t wear that. And then the next day? When they think you’re almost an adult or some shit, they start treating you like you want to know all of their personal details. Like you want to know that they’re human to with... urges.” She shuddered, a whole body shake as she possibly recalled what her mom and dad had just said. “Who in the hell wants to know that their dad got a vasectomy?”

  “I would be perfectly happy to never know a single detail of my parent’s sex life. They’re way flirtier since coming to River Valley, and I’m glad they’re happy, but there are definitely moments where I sort of wish they’d go back to arguing all of the time, so I didn’t have to see them like,” I cocked a finger back at the door to the main area of the cabin, “that.”

  “Yep. I’m scarred for life. And now I’m going to spend the whole trip thinking about the moment we leave, and how they’re going to be naked in a hot tub sipping bubbly.”

  Maybe it was my imagination, but Sasha looked a little green around the gills at this new thought. A full body shudder wasn’t enough to shake the mental picture.

  “Okay, enough about parents. This is our time. Right here. Right now. Our time. The minute we let mothers and fathers having sex ruin our mood, it’s over.” I did my best ‘Goonies’ impression.

  “Did you just try to Mikey pump me up?”

  “Did it work?”

  “Is Sean Astin the sexiest old person alive?” She countered.

  “If you say so.” I laughed, moving to the twin bed closest to the window so I could sit on it and stare out at the forest. The sun was setting already, thanks to the long drive, and tendrils of pink and orange were flowing between tree limbs and spraying the world with a violently hued light show. “I can already tell. This trip’s exactly what I needed.”

  “Oh, let’s change. If we hurry, we can go to hot cocoa mixer over by the ice-skating rink.”

  “I don’t have skates.”

  “They’ve got rentals, just like the bowling alley. Just put on something warm.”

  I changed quickly, slipping into flannel lined jeans and long sleeve shirt before pulling on my thicker sweater, which was horribly ugly with snowflakes and deer, but insanely comfortable. I didn’t care what I looked like though. There was no one to impress here. And it was freeing. A high ponytail, thick socks and boots, and I was ready to go.

  10.

  T A R R Y N

  If we were meant to skate on ice, God would have given us blades instead of feet.

  “Wait!” I shouted, holding onto the rink’s entrance gate while slipping and sliding around like a newborn seal. “I’ve never done this before!” I yelled again; Sasha’s responding laugh tinkled merrily above the bouncy, festive music.

  The smell of chocolate and marshmallows filled the air.

  The chill of coming snow kissed my cheeks.

  This should be fun.

  “You’re doing great,” Sasha smiled, gliding over to me quickly like a damn professional.

  “Easy for you to say. God, have you been skating since birth?”

  “Basically,” she shrugged. “Do you want one of the animals?” She pointed towards a bank of assistive devices. Basically, old person wheeled walkers with wooden animals attached to the fronts to make them more kid friendly.

  “No.” I scowled at her. “I’ll figure this out.”

  “Come on. Just take my hand. As soon as you get moving, you’ll realize it’s not so hard.” She reached for me, fingers waggling.

  “No, I’ll end up yanking you down with me when I fall. Just give me a minute.”

  “Have it your way then,” she sighed before skating backwards. Backwards! I couldn’t even skate a few feet forwards, let alone freaking backwards.

  When I’d almost gotten up the nerve to let go of the gate, I felt a tap on my hip. When I looked down, I found the face of a small ruby-cheeked child staring up at me.

  “Can I get by?” his voice, thin and reedy, was confident as he pointed out at the ice. He was decked head to toe in puffy winter gear, a striped hat nearly hiding coppery curls.

  “Oh, um. Sure.” I shifted, holding onto the gate for dear life. Let’s see you skate like Sasha. I bet you’re terrible too, kid. I can’t be shown up by a toddler. To my chagrin, the child hopped onto the rink without a moment’s fear and glided almost as easily as Sasha. He was mocking me.

  “I hate this,” I mumbled, irritated.

  “Come on, Tarryn! You’ll get the hang of it in no time!” Sasha shouted from the other side of the rink, before giving me her back as she skated away with long, smooth movements of blade against ice.

  I shook my head. “Better luck next time,” I grumbled at myself, still holding on to the gate and readying myself to leave, but also not yet able to take my eyes off the little redheaded kid who was basically already primed for the next winter Olympics.

  “It�
�s like dancing; you have to feel the ice. Get a rhythm. The music helps.” A deep warm baritone of a voice came to life near me. I started responding before turning to look at the new stranger, knowing that I was once again inconveniencing some would-be skater.

  “Sorry. Am I in your way too?” I struggled to shift around, now resigned to stepping off the ice and taking the stupid skates off. This was enough of a try for one evening. I didn’t need to make a complete fool of myself. Better to stagger it out and let different people laugh at me on different days.

  And then I saw his face.

  I didn’t know why I hadn’t immediately recognized his voice.

  Maybe because it was out of context.

  He shouldn’t be here, in the cold of the mountains waiting to step onto the ice.

  He should be in Mexico, or halfway there at least, with summer-style sunlight bringing out the gold of his hair and the flecks in his eyes as he basked in the heat.

  Without thinking, I let loose of my safety net and stepped back away from Drake quickly. My right skate hit the ice awkwardly and my legs splayed out wildly, feet desperately searching for traction.

  Drake reached for me, strong arms snaking around my waist as he pulled me up to steady my body. I felt frozen, unable to push him away, unable to form words.

  “Like this,” he spoke softly, leading me back further, my skates barely touching the ice as he supported me. And then he changed directions, so that he moved backward, and I followed forward. His arms relaxed a little, hands shifting to grip my waist and keep me moving on my own versus carrying me across the ice. He lowered me, little by little, until both of our skate blades properly kissed the ice.

  He was as skilled as Sasha and the kid, flowing across the frozen ground like MJ moonwalking across a stage, and somehow, he magically gifted me the ability to stay upright. Though I was so angry with him, and more than a little surprised to see him, my fear of falling overrode all of that and I found myself holding his shoulders tightly.