Reckless Hate: A Bully High School Romance (enemies-friends-enemies-lovers-enemies) (Westbrook Blues Book 1)

by Thandiwe Mpofu

  She might put on a brave front, she might hate me and I know she does, but she is still nervous when she is around me. I make her nervous.

  “Why are you here?” She grits out, stepping backwards away from me.

  “You know exactly why I’m here, Star.” I look into her eyes and notice that she was crying. I can see the dried-up tears on her cheeks and my jaw automatically clenches.

  “Who the fuck made you cry again?”

  I don’t joke about her tears. They fucking burn my insides, disintegrating from within like those damn tears are a grenade thrown into my damn inside, waiting for me to blow up from within if I don’t do anything about them. Even when she makes herself cry, I fucking hate it and can’t handle it at all.

  “What will you do, Ace? Give me back the time you stole away from me? Give me back my brother? Make me whole again?” She shouts, her body shaking so violently, I can’t handle it.

  “You took away your own time. You should have never left!” I grit out, trying to control myself but she gasps out loud, then scrunches her nose at me and turns on her heel and quickly crosses the room heading towards the bathroom, but I catch her in just two strides.

  “Let go of me! If you think you can come in here and accuse me of fucking my own life, I suggest you take your bullshit and shove it up your. . .”

  I shut her up with a growl, tilting her face by her delicate chin as I kiss her. She fights me though, banging her fists on my chest, but I kiss her deeper, feeling her start to respond to me.

  I back her into the wall behind her and continue what we started at that fucking party. I want to erase any trace of Myers ever being near her. Or any other guy for that matter.

  I want to fucking make her face the truth that she’s been denying since she and her family fucking moved to Westbrook. I want her to see the error of her ways.

  I kiss her with all the pent-up tension in me and all too soon, she wraps her arms around my neck, deepening the kiss.

  At this point, it isn’t a kiss anymore, it’s a battle of wills. She wants me to submit, pushing me to the brink of insanity, the metal bar in her tongue doing wicked things to me and it all goes straight down to my hard cock. I kick her legs apart and grind into her like I did at the party, on my car, which has suddenly upgraded to being my favorite car. I enjoy the moan that she lets out, moving along with me.

  “Who has taken this mouth?” I demand as I nip her lower lip, biting down on it so hard she moans and screams at the same time.

  “None of your business.” She sasses, but at this point, I can’t take her fucking mouth, I pull back and punch the damn wall but she doesn’t so much as flinch or break eye contact. In fact, she smirks. She smirks and closes the gap between us, raises a lone finger and caresses it along my lips, looking into my eyes.

  My entire fucking body shudders and I hope she doesn’t notice but those eyes, those damn eyes are filled with that rebellious fire, twinkling again. She leans in as I watch through a hooded gaze and then kisses me so damn softly.

  I. Don’t. Fucking. Move.

  She fucks my mouth and as I’m about to wrap my arms around her sexy body, she bites down on my lower lip, hard and I groan.

  “I kiss whoever the fuck I want to kiss just as you fuck whoever you want to fuck.” She says in a throaty voice that almost makes me fucking come in my pants like a damn school boy.

  She steps away quickly and gets into the bathroom, and locks the damn door.

  But no matter, I need to fucking calm down anyway and she won’t stay the entire night in there. So, as she starts showering, I kick off my shoes and remove my shirt. Fuck, I need to shower as well. I move around her room and just like last time I was in here, I pause at her desk, that picture of Star and George in London.

  What Star doesn’t know is, I was there that day, just stayed in the shadows watching her enjoy her birthday with her twin, listening through the wires that George volunteered to wear.

  Shit, that entire operation was fucked up on so many levels but he did it for me, I guess. Fuck, I need to find the asshole that killed my brother and I need to do it real fast.

  There’s no rest for the wicked of Westbrook, after causing commotion out there, I’m back here with her, knowing damn well I have to be out there getting all the shit I need to find this killer, but all I can fucking think of is Star and her sexy goddamn body.

  Back to London though and this day immortalized by this picture, I heard all the questions she asked George. About Noah and Emmett, asking her brother how Westbrook was. But she never once asked about me and each time George would mention my name, she would tense and change the topic immediately.

  As if I care if she cares about me. She didn’t then, but she will now.

  I hear the water stop and I place the picture down. When she comes out wrapped in a huge towel, I stop her and kiss her, fucking her mouth that tastes like spearmint. She moans.

  “You and I both know that we’ll be fucking soon.” And with that, I get into her bathroom and shower, taking my time so that she thinks about what I just said. It’s pathetic of me to rub one out while she’s out there, but I don’t fucking care. I want her so bad, but I can’t have her right now.

  Groaning under the pelting cold shower, I let go to the thought of her. Her wet, sleek body wrapped around me as I pound into. . .

  “Fuck!

  By the time I dry up and wrap a towel around my waist, she is lying on the bed, wearing my clean t-shirt and a pair of my boxer-briefs, watching me. Fucking hell. I’m hard again.

  “I want to be comfortable.” Is all she says then she gets up, walks over to the balcony windows and opens the doors, leaving me speechless. Yeah, she’s different all right.

  I walk over to my open gym bag and grab the extra pair of boxer briefs that I threw in there, thank fuck. I drop the towel around my waist and hear a sharp intake of breath behind me, and I put them on with a satisfied smirk on my face.

  “You got tattoos?” She questions.

  “So do you.” I have noticed a glimpse of ink on her lower back, but couldn’t see what the drawing was off. I doubt she will figure out the one that covers my back though.

  I turn and watch her in amusement as she looks down, unable to look me in the eyes and somehow that blush in her cheeks—something I haven’t seen in over eight years now—loosens my chest and I chuckle. I walk over to her bed with the blue sheets and covers that Noah picked up and pull them back, knowing damn well that neither of us will sleep tonight but I’m not going anywhere.

  “Come here.” I tell her, watching her eye me and the bed then to me again.

  “Ace, I. . .”

  “You are not ready for that yet, it’s just us sleeping in bed together again.” My voice is deeper and hoarse to my own ears and I can see the effect it has on her.

  This won’t be the first time my Star and I have ever shared a bed, hell we shared the damn hospital bed four years ago, until the next morning when I went home to shower and get her some of her favorite chicken, only to come back and she was gone.

  Just like that.

  “Ace, I’m not that girl anymore.” She starts, all the confidence from just a few seconds ago now gone, but her eyes are still brave as she walks over to the bed. “I don’t flow like that anymore.”

  She doesn’t sleep well like she used to. I have never slept well, like a normal person since before I ever laid eyes on her and claimed her as mine.

  “I know. Get in.” Is all I say and watch as she struggles, a war going on in her head but I let her go through her hell because when that is over, no matter what she decides, she will still lie next to me in bed.

  I get in under the covers, push away the pillows and watch her as she watches me. We don’t say a word and I watch as a storm passes through her eyes but soon, she gets in under the covers as well. Laying all the way on the other side.

  I growl, then pick her up, dropping her right on top of me. I clap twice and all the lights in the room switch
off, leaving the breeze from the open balcony doors to drift in, the glow in the dark blue stars on her ceiling doing their thing.

  “I fucking hate you, you know!” She squirms in my arms.

  “I know.”

  She settles down in my arms and then soon, she circles my torso, lifts her leg to cover both of mine and rests her head softly over my chest.

  “You feel different. I can’t even recognize my Ace anymore.” She guts me open with those words and makes me angry at the same time.

  “You are the one who feels different. Nothing about you is the same. Not even the secrets on your tongue.”

  She tenses but doesn’t move away, instead, she burrows deeper into me.

  “Some secrets are heavier to bear. And sometimes your soul doesn’t want to make some else bear those secrets.” She says.

  “Do you believe that?” I ask her, not knowing that I’m holding my breath. It takes a long time for her to answer, more than ten minutes passes until she does.

  “Does it matter if I do? Everything is different now.”

  And isn’t that the truth. Everything isn’t at all what it used to be. It all feels foreign, feels dangerous and so damn unpredictable. She is unpredictable and it fucking grates on my nerves.

  “You hate me, don’t you?” She asks around three am. We have switched positions and we are both looking out at the sky. She is lying on top of me, occasionally kissing me, our lips are way past swollen but we can’t stop. Either way, I have never felt so relaxed like this since the threats began last year. She does that. She creates the illusion of peace but as soon as her lips start pressing down on my neck, it’s a chaotic mayhem in her bedroom.

  “Yes.” That’s the truth. I hate her so much, it’s too much at times.

  “Will you ever stop hating me?” She asks, turning my chin by her delicate fingers so that our gazes connect. There is a storm brewing and I know she is thinking about George but hasn’t said his name. I know she has been thinking about what happened at the party and what of Myers but she won’t ask me. She knows better than to bring up all that when we are so damn intimate with each other.

  Only for her, only ever with her.

  “Will you?” I counter and watch her closely. We stare at each other for long seconds, stretching into minutes until she responds.

  “Not after everything you did to me. I can’t let that go.”

  I know she won’t so I don’t bother answering her, allowing her to leave the bed so she can use the bathroom. As soon as she is back, she climbs back into the bed and then straddles me again, lying her head under my chin.

  We lie there until sleep finally takes her under. We lie there with our demons, our secrets, our grief—until I can’t look at her without hating her as much as I do.

  So, I lift her softly and place her to the left, her favorite side of the bed, then get up. She frowns in her sleep, reaches over as if looking for something so I grab one of the huge pillows on her bed and get it in her reach. She grabs onto it and sighs, then eases into a sleep again but there is still a frown on her beautiful face.

  Even in sleep, her demons still chase her as they do me when I’m fully conscious. I can’t help but lean over and press a kiss to her every inch of her body, her creased forehead, her tits pebbled through my shirt, both her arms, her thighs, her toes and then finally her lips.

  She stirs at each kiss but doesn’t wake and I prefer that. I can’t answer the questions that I know she will have when she wakes. With one last glance at her after dressing up, I leave.

  I need a fucking drink and a damn blunt.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ASTRAEA

  I KNOW HE IS GONE BY the time my eyes flutter open around seven on Sunday morning.

  I guess I only slept a few hours, a few hours that I wasn’t expecting to get without my pills at least. But just listening the pounding of Ace’s strong heart beneath my ear was the best sound I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Combine that with the way he wrapped me in his arms as we professed our hate for each other, I couldn’t help but fall asleep, tired by the events of the day but now, I’m up and pounding the shit out of the punching bag that hangs in the indoor gym.

  I discovered the gym a few nights ago when I was walking around, trying to see if I can get into George’s room but as always, Trumbull was there.

  Why is he always there?

  Punch.

  Why is the damn door locked?

  One two punch, reposition. Keep your head down. Your core stable.

  Where is the key?

  Light on your feet. Push from the balls of your heel and then step with light toes.

  What’s the issue with Dereck Myers?

  Punch, straighten left arm again. Guard your face.

  What was Dereck planning on doing to me last night?

  One, two punch. Circle around, keep a steady eye on your target. Be strategic.

  What did Ace do with Dereck?

  Another quick succession of perfect blows to the bag.

  The gym is huge and with each hit to the heavy punching bag, I grunt and the sounds bounce off of the walls and volley right back to me. I sound like a dying beast but I don’t bother stopping or taking a rest. I can feel sweat dripping from my temples but I don’t stop, trying to drill the tension from within and nail it to the bag.

  I hate the way I woke up this morning, desire still coiled in my body, my lips puffy and swollen from all the kisses Ace gave me last night. I can’t believe I let him do that, or that I let him stay in my bed the entire night.

  One, two punch. Make sure there is power in each hit.

  My thoughts are racing, my heart is racing and I just can’t stand still. I need a clear head in order to deal with the rest of the day. I have so many questions and I’m not comfortable with the pace at which everything is taking to fall in place.

  Just when I think I’m about to get my damn answers, it all swerves around and shits in my face—leaving me with more questions than I came with. The whole thing with Dereck and last night’s party doesn’t sit well with me. What was he trying to do?

  Why was the party at the edge of town like that? And why were most of the attendees college students? Is that normal for parties in Westbrook? And how did Ace, Emmett and obviously Noah, know I was there?

  I know my mother told me that I have my counseling sessions every Sunday and the new guy can come in at the house but today, I made sure to alert Trumbull who was already up by the time I got down here—to cancel the appointment. I don’t want to see him and I’m just about done with talking. I need action.

  Ace was never going to answer any of my questions. I knew that from the moment I saw him coming through my closet and into my bedroom. The look on his face was murderous and his lips were pressed together, watching me with a haunted gaze. Somehow, I knew even then that he was going to make my life spiral out of control.

  Everything felt so. . .so damn blue. Everything.

  Drowning in his blue eyes. A ceiling of blue glow in the dark stars. Feeling blue within because he stole my breath with every touch and every kiss.

  The way he looked at me last night.

  The way he just about knew what was going on with me. Knew that I wasn’t the same anymore and didn’t question it. And yet the blue icy flakes in his eyes never eased, never softened and I knew that hate was still alive and well. Knew in that moment that he could hurt me much worse if I let him. That he would break me if I wasn’t careful.

  But this time around, I'm going to break him as much as he did me. And that’s a fucking promise!

  A sheen of perspiration coats my body and I can feel my calves burning, the muscles of my arms growing tired as I deliver blow after blow and as I drown in my thoughts, my concentration becomes shitty and soon the bag is swinging in my direction and almost knocks me down to my ass, but I move out of the way in the last second.

  I remove my gloves and throw them to the floor, feeling frustrated as faces come and go through my
head and Emmett’s tense face comes and stays behind my eyelids as I breath heavily. Why the fuck is he angry? I feel like I’m missing something crucial here but should I care? Should I bother?

  These boys are sweet talkers, can manipulate themselves into and out of any situation. God knows, they might actually be responsible for my brother’s death. Directly or indirectly, that remains a fact to be proven. But why the fuck was Emmett mad at me?

  And then there is the issue with Ace. I’ve been trying for years to feel comfortable with people, especially boys, touching but that has never really worked, but as soon as his royal spoilt ass touches me, my entire body sighs into his damn strong arms. I never anticipated myself to react the way I did to Ace’s closeness, his touch or his kiss or rather, his kisses.

  I have never, in the four years after everything, thought I would be able to have a somewhat normal reaction towards a guy. Any guy for that matter. I mean, I have read the books, I have done my research.

  My therapy group and the doctors all told me about it. Having a panic attack, or an anxiety attack when near a male—or a female in other cases—is a reaction that many victims of abuse face, constantly.

  Hell, I don’t like to be around so many people at the same time but I went to that party with fear in my veins. I absolutely hate being touched by anyone, but to my horror, I completely melted in Ace’s arms.

  It was more than that though, he not only touched me, he. . .fuck, I feel it again, just by thinking about the way he ground his hardness into me like that. The times that I was rebelling and acting out in London were easier because nobody knew me, to them I was just a random American looking for a good time, getting tattoos and kissing strangers for the hell of it.

  Yeah, it was a crazy time out there.

  As the music filters in through my ears, my eyes closed, I imagine him and it’s not a hard task to do. I see him, right there, holding my face in his large hand, gazing down at me and then the way he kissed me. As if he would have burned in that moment if he didn’t quench the thirst.

  I imagine him with the tattoos that cover his back. I never really looked at them but I should have. I should have looked at them, studied them but I was too nervous and too starved for his touch at the same time all I wanted to do was lay my head over his chest and just. . .breath blue.