Cruel Prep: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Princes of Ravenlake Academy Book 1)

by Nicole Fox

  I hear a car horn honking. Both Mom and I turn our heads. It’s Cora.

  She is sitting in a tiny red sports car with the sun roof open. Her red hair is blowing as she sticks her head through the window and waves to me and my mom. “Can Lily come to my house? We’re going to get ready for the party tonight together.”

  “Party?” my mom asks. But before I can explain that I forgot to tell her about it, she pats me on the shoulder and waves away her own question. “I can’t believe you’re making new friends so fast. Go if you want to, sweetheart.”

  “She’s going to sleep at my house tonight too if that’s okay, Mrs. DeVry?” Cora asks.

  My mom gives her a thumbs-up and kisses my forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun.”

  Cora gives me a wicked grin and throws open the passenger door. I climb in, feeling a little guilty about leaving Mom, but she waves her fingers at me in a cheery goodbye wave.

  Then Cora smashes the gas and we zoom out of the parking lot, leaving Ravenlake Prep in the rearview mirror—thank the fucking Lord.

  It’s a short drive to Cora’s house. She lives in a gated community—duh—and everything is just so… much.

  The exterior looks like the setting for a Jane Austen romance novel—stone walls, extravagant landscaping, and climbing ivy and flowers over the trellises.

  Cora’s room, however, is another level of extravagant.

  The walls are covered in a thick white wallpaper with silver details that catch the light and make everything sparkle. Her bed frame is also white and tufted with a fluffy white comforter and pink accents. A pink, oversized chair is tufted in the same way as the headboard and sits inside a bay window with fur throws and pillows piled over it.

  Textures and colors and patterns in every direction. There isn’t a bit of boring, bland space in the room. Every inch has been exquisitely designed, including her closet.

  Cora’s closet is as big as the motel room I’m sharing with Mom, with a small bench in the middle of the room and rack upon rack of designer clothes and shoes and coats and purses. It feels like walking into a Gucci store.

  “Pick whatever you want,” she says when she sees how my mouth has fallen open. “Seriously. Because you can’t go to Finn’s house wearing that.”

  Finn’s house.

  I’d almost forgotten the party was going to be at Finn’s house.

  She pours us each a glass of champagne. We spend the next hour trying on clothes, twisting my hair into a hundred different styles, and trying to get me to stand confidently in a pair of heels.

  “I can’t,” I whimper as I grip the nearby curtain for support. It is softer than my bedsheets and somehow smells like roses. “I’m going to break my ankle.”

  Cora has been encouraging me, but I can tell she is growing frustrated. I understand. I’m frustrated, too.

  “Fine. You can wear your sneakers,” she says. “It’s a little ‘stereotypical quirky girl’ to wear beat-up sneakers with a party dress, but you can pull it off.”

  I gratefully slip out of the stilettos and pull my familiar high-tops back on. Then, I walk over to the closet and study myself in the mirror.

  The silvery sparkly dress is barely more than a slip. The straps are merely a piece of thread over my shoulder, holding up two triangular bits of fabric to cover my boobs. The neckline plunges low across my chest, showing off a good amount of cleavage, and the hemline only comes to my mid-thigh.

  But this is the best option Cora has. All of her clothes are revealing.

  “This is so pretty, but I feel naked,” I complain.

  “Good,” Cora says, gripping my shoulders. “That’s how you know you’re having fun.”

  I’m not sure I agree with her logic, but she is grinning at me and having such a good time that I try to go along with it.

  The plus side is that all of the champagne and party preparations have helped me take my mind off what I saw back at the school.

  Hopefully, the party will wipe it all away.

  6

  Lily

  The Foster mansion is insane.

  Honestly, driving up to it, it feels like it’s in another town entirely. On another planet.

  The home is set way up on a hill with a half-mile long driveway, surrounded on either side by palm trees. When the trees part, I can see the clean lines of the modern design, the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the three levels, each filled with light and people and the deafening thumping of music.

  It looks like a dream.

  But inside is more like an orgy.

  As soon as Cora and I walk through the door, we have to squeeze past a couple who are grinding against the entryway wall. The boy is massaging the girl’s breasts through her clothes, and I’m sure it won’t be long before she doesn’t have clothes on at all.

  And many other couples have the same idea. There are kids pairing off everywhere, making out and rubbing against one another on the dance floor. Unbidden, the image of dancing with Finn that way rises in my mind, and I feel my face blush. I’m grateful for the dim mood lighting when Cora turns to me, eyebrows raised.

  “Are you doing okay?”

  “Fine,” I say. “Just thirsty.”

  She misunderstands me and grabs a beer from a silver, ice-filled bucket on the floor. “Drink up. Finn’s dad will be out of town all weekend, so we can sleep here if we’re too drunk to drive home.”

  Relief and nerves flood me simultaneously. I’m glad to know I won’t need to deal with Mr. Foster, but the idea of sleeping in Finn’s house in any capacity sets off a swarm of butterflies in my stomach.

  Sensing my hesitation, Cora grabs the beer can and tips it to my mouth, her red lips pulled back in a smirk. “Come on, Lily. Have some fun. I’ll make sure you don’t do anything too wild.”

  Years of my mom’s warnings float through my head. Reminders to always keep an eye on my drink and never fall into peer pressure swirl like a whirlpool.

  I know she’s right. But for once, I just want the noise in my head to stop.

  I want to have fun.

  So, I tip my head back and drink half the can in one go. Cora throws both arms in the air in a cheer and the people closest to us join in, though I’m not sure any of them know what they are actually cheering.

  I put the can down and wipe my lips with the back of my hand. Between the beer and the champagne Cora was pouring aggressively back at her house, I’m feeling warm and bubbly already.

  The next hour passes in a blur. I don’t see Finn for another hour, and when I do, it’s nothing like what I imagined.

  When he looks over at me, his mouth doesn’t fall open in shock. His eyes don’t linger over every exposed curve of my body in this dress, and he doesn’t abruptly end his conversation and move towards me in slow motion through the crowd. He doesn’t even wave.

  In reality, Finn turns his head, catches sight of me, and quirks his mouth up in a small smile. Then, he returns to his conversation, leaving me breathless and shaking from the brief second of attention.

  I stand there for another ten minutes, waiting for him to look over or quickly wrap up with the guys he is talking to and come find me.

  But he doesn’t. And the longer I wait, the more ridiculous I feel.

  Cora is on the dance floor with a muscular guy with dreadlocks almost as long as her own hair, and by the way they are rubbing against one another, I don’t blame her for forgetting about me. I’d forget about me too if a man’s thigh was pressed firmly between my legs.

  I turn and head for the balcony.

  When Finn finally does turn around, I want him to realize I wasn’t standing there waiting for him. I want him to know I’m not pathetic.

  Even though I am. Because the only reason I’m moving outside instead of staying close to Cora is because I don’t want Finn to think I’m pathetic. It isn’t for my own dignity, since clearly I don’t have any.

  I find a half-finished water bottle on the patio table, unscrew the top and take a drink.
I don’t even care about the germs. I just need some water in my system.

  “If you like putting your mouth on my stuff, I’ve got something better for you to suck on than my water bottle.”

  I jump, spewing half of the water out of my mouth as I turn to see Dallas standing behind me in the same leather jacket he had on earlier today, despite the warm Texas night.

  “What did you just say?” I splutter.

  “You heard me,” he drawls. He’s clearly drunk, and I don’t like the way he keeps licking his lips suggestively. “That water bottle was mine. But if you wanna suck on…”

  “Enough,” I interrupt, grimacing. “I get the idea. No thank you. I just couldn’t find any water.”

  “Water is for the weak,” Dallas says with a bitter laugh, running a hand through his blond hair. It almost glows in the patio lights.

  My head has been fuzzy since I started drinking champagne hours ago in Cora’s room, so I feel like I’m wading through mud right now. Thoughts of Finn and his feelings about me aren’t helping, either.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Enjoying a party.”

  “You really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you?” he cackles. “Jesus. Babe, this isn’t your crowd. Trust me.”

  I like his tone less and less with every passing second. I also don’t like the way he’s slowly inching towards me, cutting off my angle of escape back into the party.

  “What does that mean?” I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling exposed. “They have all been nice to me.”

  “That is why this isn’t your crowd,” he says. “Because you think these people are nice. God, they are going to chew you up and spit you out. Come to think of it, maybe I oughta take a bite first…”

  Maybe it’s the alcohol, but I feel myself growing hot and angry. Usually I’m able to brush off rude comments. I’ve certainly had enough practice at it.

  But I don’t like Dallas’ assessment of me. He thinks I’m naïve and not good enough for these people, and part of my anger is probably because I know he’s right, but I don’t like that he thinks he knows me.

  Nothing could be farther from the truth.

  “You don’t know me,” I spit. “We’ve spoken once. That doesn’t make you the authority on me. Just because you’re a freak and everyone hates you, doesn’t mean they’ll hate me, too.”

  He bites his full lower lip and shrugs. “For your sake, I hope you’re right. Actually, I hope you’re wrong. Because if these people like you, it means you are fifty shades of fucked up.”

  “Why are you even here?” I ask again. “If you hate everyone so much, why come to the party at all? Were you even invited?”

  Dallas pushes away from the wall and stalks towards me, putting one foot in front of the other until he is standing directly in front of me, close enough I can see the green flecks in his brown eyes and the bloodshot veins surrounding his irises. He is definitely already drunk.

  “I’m here,” he breathes, the smell of alcohol almost making me gag, “because I like to keep tabs on the wildlife. I’m like Steve fucking Irwin. Now, enough talking. Why don’t you come here and show me what that mouth can do?”

  He leans forward, eyes hooded. One hand paws at my hip, hot and heavy and disgusting. The other one is clamped on the back of my neck, and he’s pulling me forward like he wants to kiss me, but the waves of liquor stench rolling off his breath are so gross, so nauseating that I nearly throw up right on him.

  Instead, I shove both hands into his chest, hurl his water bottle at him for good measure, and storm back into the house.

  That sick fuck. How dare he?

  The second I’m through the kitchen door, I run smack into someone. Before I can stumble, warm hands are wrapped around my biceps, and I look up into Finn’s aqua eyes.

  “You in a hurry?”

  God, even his voice is sexy. His every word is a mating call. Despite my efforts to not seem desperate, my body is eager to answer.

  I lean slightly into him, laughing at my clumsiness, relieved to be away from Dallas. I glance back at the porch over my shoulder, but Dallas is already gone.

  “Not anymore,” I sigh, glad to be pressed against Finn.

  “Good.” Finn pivots so his arm is around my shoulders, and I’m hugged against his side. “Because I was just coming to look for you. We’re going to play a game.”

  7

  Finn

  I fucking hate drinking games.

  If you want to get drunk and have sex, then do it. There’s no need to bore everyone with depressing truths and “scandalous” dares first.

  Right now, however, I’m rather looking forward to it.

  Lily trusts me. She has no reason to, but I can tell she does. Her hand hasn’t slipped out of mine since I pulled her into the game circle.

  Cora did a good job with her look. Lily fills out Cora’s dresses better than Cora ever could, and her legs look incredible. Without her baggy jeans on, I can see her lean runner’s legs. I want them wrapped around my waist now.

  “What game is this?” she asks, her breath hot on my neck.

  She isn’t even trying to be sexy. Her brown eyes are wide and nervous, and she is nibbling on her lower lip as she studies everyone around us.

  I wonder how many parties like this she’s been to. Probably none. I’ve been to a few Public parties and they’re cute, but those kids can’t afford to have a truly good time. They smoke shitty weed and drink stale beer.

  Plus, the cops always show up. They can’t pay off police the way we can.

  Lily has no idea what she’s in for.

  “Truth or Dare!” Viktor stands on the table and shouts to the assembled crowd before I can answer.

  Cheers and boos rise up simultaneously, and Viktor flips everyone off with both hands. “Shut up, fuckers. Truth or Dare is a classic for a reason.”

  He tips his head back and swallows the last bit of vodka in the bottle, jumps down to the floor, and then slams the bottle on the table. “Me first!”

  The bottle spins and lands on a girl a grade below us. Predictably, Viktor dares her to make out with him. Predictably, she jumps at the chance and ends up straddling him on the couch while the game carries on without them.

  Lily leans closer to me every time the bottle spins, like maybe we can become the same person and no one will notice her.

  But that’s impossible for me. Her skin is warm, and her free hand is brushing lightly against my thigh. I’m not even sure she knows she is doing it, but her fingertips stroke the seam of my jeans, and I can’t forget she is next to me for even a second.

  It’s maddening.

  I’m so distracted by her touch that I don’t even realize the bottle has landed on me until Lily pulls away from me, trying to distance herself from the attention.

  I turn to see Cora grinning at me. She’s joined the game at some point, and clearly she is the one who spun the bottle.

  Shit.

  “Hey, Finn,” she purrs.

  Viktor stops making out with the nameless chick at the sound of Cora’s voice. Even with another girl grinding on his dick, he is so whipped. It’s pathetic.

  “Let’s get it over with, Cora.” I circle my finger in the air, trying to hurry her along, and wrap an arm around Lily’s shoulders. She sinks into me again, but I can tell she is uncomfortable with all of the attention.

  Because we are drawing a lot of it.

  People aren’t used to seeing me with a girl. Everyone knows I fuck who I want, but I don’t date. I’m heartless, but I don’t lead people on. I don’t want anything serious, and I make sure they know that.

  Except Lily.

  “Take this.” Cora holds up her hand, and I can see a tiny tablet between her fingers. Ecstasy, by the looks of it. Cora’s party drug of choice.

  I roll my eyes and hold out my hand, but rather than drop it in my palm, Cora leans forward and slips the pill inside of her dress, between her breasts.

  Her red
lips spread into a smile as she curls her finger, beckoning me closer, and shakes her chest back and forth.

  Lily tenses next to me, but I ignore her, pull away, and lean across the table. Everyone around us is giddy, chuckling. Viktor is glaring daggers at me, even though he knows I hate Cora. I suppose a good rack is a good rack, regardless of who it is attached to. If the roles were reversed, and Viktor was about to touch Lily, though, I’d rip his hand off first.

  I roll my eyes and do what I must. Cora’s breath smells like beer and there is a thin layer of sweat coating her entire body. Her chest is hot and sticky, and even though she is leaning forward far enough that I can see the points of her nipples, I just want to get the pill and get out.

  I find the tiny green tablet and try to jerk my hand away, but Cora grabs my wrist and leans forward, red lips puckered.

  I twist my face away and press my other palm to her mouth, shoving her away. “Not going to happen.”

  There is a red lip print on my skin, and I wipe it off on my jeans as I turn around and reclaim my seat. Cora snorts, crosses her arms, and falls back into the cushions, but her face flames with embarrassment.

  I don’t give a shit about her, though. I’ll make her pay for whatever the fuck that was later. Right now, I’m only concerned about one person at this party.

  Lily won’t look at me when I turn to her. She is smiling with everyone else, but it’s a thin veneer covering embarrassment and confusion. It makes sense. Cora is supposed to be her friend, after all.

  Whatever she is thinking, I want to wipe it away. She needs to be focused on me.

  Just me.

  I kneel down in front of Lily and grab her pointed chin, lifting her face to mine. Before she can say anything, I lean forward and press my lips to hers.

  She lets out a startled yelp, her throat bobbing under my touch as I wrap my hand around her neck and slip my fingers into her hair. Then, she softens.

  Her body sags forward, pressing into mine, and I catch her sigh. Our lips are soft for a few seconds, but I can feel myself growing more frantic. I fist her hair and crush her mouth against mine, squeezing my eyes shut as I inhale the fruit and vanilla scent of her skin and taste the sweet wine on her tongue.