Wicked Heartbreaker: A Dark College Bully Romance (Westforde College Book 1)

by Serena Lyons

“Yes,” Faith’s words come out instantly, louder than is really acceptable in this hallowed library. A few heads turn to look at us. “Someone else could really need that money.” She lowers her voice, but her brown eyes flash with conviction.

  “Then they should have worked harder. Professor Headley only hires the best.”

  “Oh, that’s why she hired you is it?” Faith arches an eyebrow. “It wasn’t because you fluttered your pretty blue eyes at her?”

  I smile, “You think my eyes are pretty?”

  Faith swallows hard, her gaze flickering from my eyes to my lips then back again. “You know you’re good-looking, there’s no need to fish for compliments.” She sighs theatrically, twists a strand of her hair and turns back to the textbook.

  While she studies, a million arguments for why I deserve the TA job spill into my head. That because I have rich, famous and talented parents, it sets the bar incredibly high for me. It’s easy to be a nihilist when you know that nothing you do really matters. I love music, but I know anything I do will always be overshadowed by my Dad. Even if I’m better than him, everyone would say I only made it because of my connections.

  Philosophy is something my parents barely understand. If I make it in this field, it’s totally my own achievement. No one can say ‘oh it’s just because his father is Chris Carter.’ The people who matter probably won’t even know who Chris Carter, or the Gremlins, are. Although as soon as the Westforde principal discovered who my parents are, he started schmoozing them and they obviously thought it was charming.

  I understand why so many rockstars’ kids—or rich kids in general—end up as loser addicts. What’s the point of life when you know you’ll never outperform your parents or need to make money to eat. Bill Gates has the right idea, leaving his kids less than 1% of his fortune. They’ll have enough to always have food, but not enough to lose all sense of purpose in their lives.

  I can’t tell Faith any of that though. She’d probably just call me a ‘poor little rich boy’. And she’d be partly right.

  Then I remember her face when I caught her snooping through my drawers last week and sigh. More likely she’d just sell the story to the press.

  “You okay?” Faith is looking straight at me.

  “Where’s your essay? Sooner I see it, the sooner we can be done.”

  Faith starts flicking through the pages of the textbook in front of her. “I just wanted to add…”

  I lean over and tug on the printed pages in front of her. Faith presses down on them harder for a second, but then sighs and lets me take them.

  “I’m going to browse some of the bookshelves,” she says, pushing her chair away from the table. She walks over to one of the many long walls of leather-bound books. I can’t help but watch her go, the way her hips sashay as she crosses the library. I want to run after her and grab on to them, pull her in for a kiss.

  Stop it. She was snooping on you, she’s not worth your attention. I force myself to look down at her essay instead.

  I lose myself in it. It’s good: well-structured arguments, a nice overarching flow. It’s better than good, it’s first class.

  But there’s something disturbingly familiar about it.

  I lean away from the paper and close my eyes. Where do I recognise the words from? A textbook or published paper? The back of the chair digs awkwardly into me, but I stay there trying to force my mind to find the connection. I would swear that I’ve read this essay before, but I can’t have, this is the first submission essay that I’ve ever read. Well apart from my own. I wasn’t Miranda’s teaching assistant until summer term, well after she’d made her decision on this year’s students.

  I go back to one of the more unusual phrases and re-read it. I’ve definitely read this before.

  Fuck, I shiver as the answer comes to me. It’s exactly like Millie’s draft entrance essay. A few weeks after we started dating she suddenly decided, that she wanted to do the exact same university course as me at the exact same college and sent me a flurry of application materials. Her essay was surprisingly good, deeper and more nuanced than I’d anticipated from her.

  And if my memory can be trusted, incredibly similar to the one lying in front of me.

  It doesn’t make any sense though. How could Faith have accessed Millie’s entrance essay after she died? She’s not the kind of girl Millie would have hung around with.

  “So, what did you think?” Faith’s voice forces me to look up from the paper. She’s staring down at me, biting her bottom lip as if she actually cares about what I think about this essay. “What did you think? You’ve finished, right?”

  I simply stare at her, unable to answer. Who is she?

  “Oh god, you hated it didn’t you? You think there’s no chance I’m going to get this scholarship?” Her words come out in a messy jumble.

  I can’t say anything until I know for sure if this essay is similar to Millie’s, or if I’ve just misremembered.

  “Sorry, I’ve got to go. Our rugby coach has called an emergency practice, he’s not happy with how we did in the last few games.” I quickly stuff everything, including her essay into my bag.

  “But…”

  I walk away before she can say anything else.

  Who the hell is Faith Davies and how is she connected to the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life?

  18: Faith

  “That’s a big sigh,” Nina’s voice emerges from the shadows as I climb the stairway to my attic room.

  I pause, I want to unburden everything that’s happened between Callum and I on someone, and everything tells me I should trust Nina, but… how can I explain anything without telling the truth about why I’m really after him? The sanitised version of the story just won’t make any sense. There’s no rational explanation for sneaking through his drawers, just like I can’t think of a valid reason for why he just ran out on me in the library.

  “Ignore me, I’m being a baby,” I make my voice cheerier than I feel. “I don’t think the TA helping me with the scholarship essay competition likes me much. Or maybe he just thinks I’m an idiot. He practically ran out when he read my essay, I’ve no hope of winning.”

  “Sounds like it’s wine-o’clock then.” Nina grins mischievously. “I stole an excellent bottle of Chablis from my parent’s cellar that I’ve been desperate to try.”

  “Sounds great.” Something eases in my chest, it does sound great. Even if I haven’t got a fucking clue what colour wine Chablis is. It’s not like I’m picky. “Your room or mine?”

  “I’ll be up in five,” Nina promises.

  I run up the stairs and quickly neaten up my room, not that I have many things to tidy, I only came with a suitcase of belongings on the train. My bed is still covered in the ugly, institutional covers that college provide, but when I glimpse into all the other rooms everyone has pimped them up with designer cushions and duvet covers.

  There’s a soft rap on my door.

  “Wine,” Nina is smiling and waving a bottle of white. “God, you really drew the short straw on room size.” She looks around my room which is essentially the size of a broom cupboard. If I lie on my bed, I’m pretty sure I could touch all four walls at the same time. The slanting attic ceiling adds to the general feeling of claustrophobia. I am under no doubt that this was a servant’s room when the building was first constructed a hundred and fifty years ago.

  “Yours is more spacious?”

  She reddens, “Er, just a little.”

  “Let’s go to yours then?” I’m already standing up. “No point squishing in here.”

  “Sure.” Nina reverses out of my pokey room and I follow her down the stairs. “Home sweet home,” she looks almost guilty as she pushes the door open.

  As soon as she steps in and allows me a full view of the room, I understand why. It’s massive—you could fit six of my rooms in it—but also beautiful; a Victorian, tiled fireplace is the centre point of the room, she has polished wooden floors and even a double bed.

>   “This is just a regular room? Assigned randomly?” Envy makes my words stick in my throat. Am I always going to be a second tier citizen here?

  “Well, that’s what they said.” She won’t meet my eyes as she pours out the wine. “I don’t believe them though, I’m sure my parents paid for this. They can never just let me be normal.”

  If anyone else had complained about the gift of this room, I’d be trying to shake some sense into them, but something about Nina’s sad voice makes me feel sorry for her.

  “Are you an only child?”

  “No, thank God, I’ve got three brothers. Three playboy brothers who are much too like our Dad.” She rolls her eyes, but her face softens. “Not that it matters.”

  “What do you mean?” I wish I understood what it’s like to have a sibling.

  “I’m the one that makes my parents worry despite my brothers all behaving way worse than me.” She rolls her eyes. “They say it’s because I’m the baby and the only girl. Really, it’s just because I’m nothing like them. They’re always disappointed by me.”

  “I’m sure they’re not disappointed in you.”

  Nina grimaces and takes a big gulp of wine. “Enough sad stories,” there’s a shake in her voice that tells me I can’t ask any more tonight. “Let’s watch a trashy movie.” She’s picking up a remote and turning on the huge flat-screen before I answer. “Clueless?” The screen fills up with Alicia Silverstone in a silly, flouncy outfit.

  “Sounds good as long as it isn’t your polite way of telling me I’m like the skanky new girl in it who needs a make-over?” It’s meant to be a joke, but I swallow hard. I know my vampy style is out of place here and I’m judged for it. Christ, I’d judge my own outfits if they were on anyone else, but they’re only a costume.

  “Come on, Faith, if either of us needs the make-over it’s me. You’re turning everyone’s heads here.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good thing. They’re staring because I’m different.”

  “Like this college needs anymore pearls and tastefully shapeless dresses.” Nina rolls her eyes again and the worry bubbling in my chest subsides.

  “It is like I’ve stepped into a time warp and surfaced in the 1950s. Who knew so many tea dresses were still manufactured.”

  “Or that grown women still wore Alice bands.” Nina’s eyes flash with mirth.

  “Shh.” I clamp my hands over my ears. “That’s traumatised me so much, I have to pretend not to have noticed.”

  Nina laughs, “Shh, the movies starting.”

  Two hours later we are flopped out on her comfy double bed and the wine bottle is empty.

  “I forgot how much I loved that movie,” Nina smiles easily for once. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

  “Thanks for that delicious wine, seriously the best I’ve ever had.” I empty my glass, slightly conscious that I’m well on my way to being drunk.

  “Maybe my parents have some good points.”

  I reach for my phone, I forced myself not to give into the temptation to see if Callum had texted me all through the film.

  Idiot, he doesn’t even have my number. Because he doesn’t trust me. The irony.

  “Shit have we missed hall?” I squint at my phone, focusing is hard right now, but it seems to imply it’s passed seven. “I’m starving.” My stomach rumbles as if to emphasise my point.

  “Oops,” Nina pulls out her own phone and giggles. “Although I can’t say I’m sad to miss that gauntlet.”

  “I am, breakfast is too far away.”

  “Just order some food in,” Nina yawns. “That Thai place on High Street is meant to be amazing.”

  I wriggle away from her. With one offhand remark she’s managed to pierce the fantasy I had of us being proper friends, equals. I can’t afford to just order food.

  “I’m trying to eat healthy,” I pat my stomach. “I might just pick up some salad from the supermarket.”

  The air in the room chills as Nina turns pink. “I know I’m a pig, you don’t need to rub it in.”

  Oh, fuck. “Nina, don’t be silly, you’re not—.”

  “I’m tired now, I think I’m going to have an early night.” She yawns, but it looks forced. Her message is clear.

  “Thanks for a fun evening.” I try to smooth things over, but she won’t look at me. What was I thinking mentioning watching weight around someone who clearly had some sort of eating disorder? Just because I was embarrassed about being so much poorer than her. “Let’s do it again.” I say as I pull the door behind me.

  Nina doesn’t answer.

  I decide to pop into the lodge, see if Callum’s left me a message that might explain why he ran off on me this afternoon. Or maybe I could leave one to ask to meet up on the essay again, see if I can start getting back into his good books.

  “Evening,” I say to the receptionist.

  There’s a piece of paper folded in my slot. My pulse speeds up as I unfold it.

  You don’t belong here. Leave or suffer the consequences.

  What the hell? I look around as if whoever sent it will be standing behind me, but the lodge is empty apart from the receptionist.

  The message is typed, and on standard white printer paper. Exactly like the threatening one the other day, no hints about who sent it.

  Maybe it’s Jess again, she seems to like leaving notes. Or more likely it’s from Callum. Maybe he worked out what I was looking for at his house the other day. He’s playing me, like he played Millie, trying to send me crazy this time. I stumble against the wooden shelving.

  “Are you okay love?”

  I look around, confused about where I am for a second.

  The receptionist is looking at me, his forehead wrinkled with concern. “You went white as a sheet there.”

  “Oh, I haven’t dinner yet, I’m just feeling a bit faint.” There’s no way I’m eating dinner now. “Did you see who left this note.” I hold it up, my hand shaking.

  “I don’t watch every delivery I’m afraid, impossible to see which slot people put stuff in anyway.” He waves his hands towards the three hundred tightly packed mail slots.

  “Did you see Callum Carter-Wright in here this evening? Or Jess Parker?”

  The receptionist’s concern is rapidly fading. “I just told you I don’t spy on the students. I have actually work to do.” He snaps, his argument somewhat lessened by the canned laughter ringing out from the TV he was watching before I interrupted him.

  “Thanks anyway.” I rush out of the lodge and head straight back to my room. I’ll go to bed hungry, I can’t face wandering through the dark evening to get food. Even just walking through the quads to my room, I can sense eyes watching me.

  The words on the note keep screaming through my brain: Suffer the consequences… like Millie did?

  19: Faith

  I barely sleep. The words in the letter echo in my head every time I close my eyes. ‘Leave or suffer the consequences.’

  The few times I do drift off, I wake up in a damp mess the duvet suffocating me. I get through the morning on caffeine and sugar—at least five cups before lunch—and after an afternoon nap, I’m starting to feel halfway back to human and ready to fight.

  I can’t just ignore this, I’ll go crazy. This is from Callum. I’m certain. I stuff the note in my back pocket and stumble out into the bustling quad.

  If only I had his bloody phone number, I’d ring him right now and give him a piece of my mind. He’s playing me exactly like he did with Millie; blowing hot and cold every minute, and then gradually ratcheting up his cruelty until I lose my mind like Millie lost hers. Well, it’s not going to work with me. I know exactly what he’s capable of, and I’m made of stronger stuff.

  Someone bumps into me. “Sorry—” I turn to say, but the words die in my mouth as I see someone glaring at me.

  Of course, it’s one of Jess’s friends. The redhead who always looks like she wants to spit at me. The one who’s always close to Jess. Sure enough I see Jess and a
nother girl a little further on to the quad.

  “Don’t be stupid and block the way next time,” she hisses.

  She clearly knows that I’ve kissed Callum, that I’m still chasing after him, and therefore stepping on her friend’s turf. The fury in her eyes is way too extreme for it to be just down to a silly bump.

  “I thought most people here were intelligent enough to look where they were going.” I bite back. I am not a doormat.

  “The charity case talking about intelligence. You do know they only let you in to improve their state school stats?” She slowly looks up the length of my body and suddenly the make-over I joked about with Nina the last night doesn’t seem so ridiculous.

  “Sorry, who are you?” I make sure my voice is steady. “I don’t think we’ve met before, but you seem to have done your research on me. I hate to tell you this, but I’m not interested in women.”

  “You little—” She starts towards me, but Jess walks over and tugs her arm.

  “Come on, the Northern skank isn’t worth it. Let’s go to the bar, the boys should swing by after their rowing practice.” Jess’s voice is loud enough that her words hit me like a slap in the face. Her posse glides towards the street, but not before Jess turns around to glare at me.

  I shouldn’t blame her, I know Callum’s previous form. He’s probably been stringing her along for as long as she’s been at university and she’s got some kind of Stockholm Syndrome going on.

  But that the superior tone of her voice as she called me a skank stings. Like I was trash compared to her and her glossy, preppy friends. I thought she was better than that, especially when we’re supposed to be teammates.

  At least they just gave me a solution to my problem: Callum will be at rowing practice. I’m going straight to the boathouse before I can think twice.

  I rush out on to the cobbled street, it’s a mess of students on bikes, tourists taking selfies and shoppers dawdling too slowly for my liking. I try to squeeze past people, but the journey across town is slow until I reach the sloping hill past Christ Church College, down to the river. The crowds of tourists and students thin out as I move away from the city centre towards the snaking Thames.