Cruel Kisses: It’s Just High School #2

by Mpofu, Thandiwe

  “Henry, can you give me and my son a moment?” Dad asks, making me sigh. I don’t want to hear whatever he has to say.

  “Sure,” Old Grey says. “I’ll meet you in court in twenty minutes.”

  “Yes, we’re right behind you.”

  When Old Grey is gone, Dad gets up and walks over to my side, taking in the view of the city like I am, not saying a word. I appreciate the silence and the fact that right now, he isn’t pushing.

  “If you think I’m going to change my mind about giving them some fabricated dirt to use on her…”

  “I wasn’t going to ask you to do that,” he mutters, cutting me off.

  “What then?”

  “I was going to ask if you believe her.”

  This time I turn around to stare at him in shock.

  “What?”

  “Well, she did tell you she didn’t know what her father was doing and that she believed she was in danger when she did all that stuff.” Dad shifts on his feet, never glancing away from the view in front of us. “Do you believe her?”

  “How did you know all that?”

  “Your brother told me that day when he came begging me to do something.”

  Goddamn it, Liam and his fucking big mouth.

  “I don’t know,” I grit out, my jaw ticking.

  “Since when don’t you know?” Dad grunts, pissing me off now.

  I don’t want to tell him the truth. The truth that I don’t know if I believe her simply because if I do, if I hold on to the quiver that I heard in her voice or the way her tears broke my damn heart the last time I saw her, then I’ll succumb only to let her shatter me all over again.

  “I have old Band-Aids all over my soul that are barely holding me together, Julian. You can’t possibly love someone like me.”

  Fuck, didn’t she know that I have a thin thread loosely running through mine? That I loved her for so long, I would’ve gladly taken her in any way that I could and now… protecting her when she was just playing me… I don’t want to believe that, so I don’t fucking know.

  “Since she entered my life like a fucking storm, I’ve no idea what the fuck is going on.”

  The most raw, honest answer I’ve admitted to my father, hell to myself. I notice him glance at me from the corner of his eye, studying me and for the first time in my life, I see something I’ve never seen in his eyes before.

  Complete and utter understanding.

  We don’t say a word, as we stand there. Time stretches and expands as we stare out at the city. There so much I want to say, but I don’t. So much I wanted to do but will never get the chance to do any of that shit.

  It’s fucked up, sure, but in all that, I just clench my jaw and then sigh, turning around to grab my suit jacket so we can get this dog and pony show on the road.

  I might rot in jail soon. I might not get to live the life I wanted to live or watch my brother grow into an incredible human being, full of life. I might miss out on so many opportunities of being right there with my best friend as we broke record after record in football, all that might happen, but the one thing I regret the most, is kissing Mia that first time.

  I should’ve never kissed her.

  * * *

  When we get to court, Old Grey is waiting at the door, looking flustered and out of breath like he’s just run a thirty-yard sprint and is about to have a heart attack from it. High cholesterol, definitely.

  “Henry?” Dad questions, a frown on his face.

  “The judge threw out the case,” he pants, his face red, eyes wide with shock.

  “What?” Dad demands like he didn’t hear him the first time.

  “In all my years practicing law, a case like this has almost always been a sure shoe-in, but when I arrived here ten minutes ago and talked to the clerk, she told me the judge threw out the case a few minutes ago and that all charges were dropped against your boy,” Old Grey shouts, practically bouncing off his feet, a proud look on his face while I just stand there, staring at him, trying to hear what he’s not saying. The why part of it.

  “They just dropped the case?” I question, my stomach sinking, not knowing what to do with this.

  “Yes!”

  “Just like that?” Dad asks, an impassive look on his face that mirrors mine. Is he thinking what I’m thinking?

  “Yes, this is good news! You could be a little happier.”

  Oh, I’m thrilled., just jumping with joy. Dad and I glance at each other. Why the sudden change of heart now, Mia? What game are you now playing at?

  Just then, I see Cole and Liam walking toward us, both of them dressed to the nines in tailor made suits, sans tie. I’m the only one who looks like a damn highly paid car salesman with the damn tie Dad forced me to put on.

  I see it on their faces before they even come to a stop. They know.

  “Holy shit, you’re free!” Liam hollers, confirming my suspicions.

  They know and they had something to do with this.

  “Where is she?” I grit out, my voice so low, Cole quirks an eyebrow, sensing my anger.

  “You could look a little happier,” he counters.

  “What did you do?” I demand just as Dad turns to Old Grey and shakes his hand, dismissing him. I turn fully to look at my brother and best friend just as Dad joins the little circle in front of the courthouse.

  “Okay you two, what the hell is going on?” Dad demands, his voice brooking no argument.

  “Come on, Dad,” Liam starts. “The truth prevailed. Mia never lied to you.”

  It’s like a punch to the gut. I’m silent as I stare at him, like what he’s saying is foreign to my ears but I know it’s not. The thing in my chest is telling me it’s all true.

  “Dude, Mia was right about everything she said,” Liam goes on. “She really thought her life was in danger, that’s why she ran.”

  “What about when she was missing?” I question.

  “She has full and detailed accounts and evidence to match each day that she was reported as missing,” Cole says, looking pleased. “She really does have an IQ that matches Sherlock Holmes.”

  I’m tempted to fire back that Shezza is nothing more than a fictional character hyped up by Hollywood, but in this moment, the relief that floods my system is too intense to fire out insults. I wouldn’t be able to do them justice anyway.

  “She has evidence?” Dad questions, the tense expression on his face melting bit by bit.

  “Yup,” Cole says. “Saw everything myself Records. CCTV footage of the hotel we traced her to that other time. Everything really.”

  “Holy shit,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

  “You do know what this means now, don’t you?” Cole looks at me, a look of relief crossing his face.

  “But coach…”

  “Is waiting for you back at school, I filled him in on everything.”

  “And if Dad can take care of letting the world know of your innocence,” Liam says, looking at our father who nods, taking out his phone to make phone calls, obviously desperate to make sure the Fitzgerald family name is cleared of any public wrong doing. The secret stuff however, will remain hidden in plain sight. “Now you’re all set to resume life as you intended to live it.”

  Resume life…

  “Mia,” I whisper, searing pain shooting through my insides. The way I treated her….

  “She really did come through for you and cleared your name,” Liam says, all the bravado draining from his face. “You’d think we could have shown her a little bit more trust when she practically told us she didn’t do it.”

  “I never doubted her,” Cole says with a. grin, the shithead looking like a fucking saint in that moment. Of course, he never doubted her. He adores the ground she walks on.

  “Fuck, where is she?” I need to go see her right fucking now. God, I was such an asshole. I shut her out, treated her horribly when she was right all along.

  My Little Minx never lied to me. She really didn’t know what her father w
as doing. Fuck. I messed up big time.

  “Down boy, you know how she takes her education seriously,” Liam chuckles at the urgency in my voice.

  “Fuck, it’s the first day back to school today.”

  Shit, how did I forget that?

  “Yeah, Romeo Capulet,” Liam says with a sarcastic bow that makes me roll my eyes. “Her grace, Lady Montague takes her future seriously, unlike some people.”

  I deadpan.

  “Romeo was a Montague, asshole.”

  “Exactly.” He winks, then we start walking toward our cars. “Fuck, I have a lot of groveling to do.”

  “Yup,” Cole agrees, grabbing Liam into a headlock to mess his hair up. “You basically accused her of sitting on a throne of lies.”

  Liam winces, the color draining from his face. “I couldn’t sleep for days, the look on her face when I said that will haunt me forever.”

  Her tears and cries will haunt me forever. But then again, I have forever to make up for it and make sure she doesn’t cry a day in her life because fuck, she was mine to trust and I failed miserably.

  Just then, Cole’s phone rings, breaking the camaraderie. When he fishes it out, a frown crosses his face. Then he glances up at me, a hard look on his face that makes the blood in my veins freeze.

  “What is it?”

  “Where the fuck is your phone?” he questions instead. I reach in my suit jacket for the damn thing that I switched off because I didn’t want to read Mia’s texts. She stopped trying to contact me a few days ago, but I still have a habit of re-reading the texts she sent before, pretending she’s still important to me—which she’ll always be.

  “What’s wrong?” Liam demands, looking between us. Just then, his own phone buzzes and he fishes it out.

  I press the damn button to power my phone and glance up to look at my best friend as the hole in the pit of my stomach widens alarms blaring in my head. The look on his face hardens with repressed anger but it’s what’s in his eyes that stops my heart.

  Pure and unadulterated fear.

  The hairs at the back of my neck rise up on end. That dread I felt before? It comes back with a rush, slamming into me like a freight train.

  “FUCK!” Liam bellows and I… I almost drop to my knees in shock and pain as my vision blurs, shrinks and dims at the edges until I feel like passing out.

  Mia…

  She lies there in what looks like a dimly lit room, completely naked, bruises on her face, a dead stare in her eyes that twists my gut and will stay tattooed on my eyelids for the rest of my fucking life. And in the background, sits Sean Matthews, sitting beside her, also naked.

  Jesus.

  There’s a text as well.

  Matthews: You sold her off just so you could avoid paying for your sins in jail? But, she’s delicious though. Thanks Fitz!

  HOLY FUCK!

  To Be Continued in

  Holy shit!

  Coming this December!

  Pre-order your copy now!

  We’re at the part where I start rambling. Not this time though. It’s pretty clear who I want to acknowledge and love on; my readers!! My Spitfires. My tribe! My village! My posse! Whew, you get it, I mean you, the one reading this, the one who went through all of that and is reading this now! YOU!

  I love you guys so much. Thank you for being patient with me. Thank you for encouraging me. Thank you for picking up this book and giving this girl a chance to do what she loves to do (no idea why I’m referring to myself in third person) Thank you for making it incredibly worthwhile to write stories that I not only love, but that you enjoy as well. You and only you are the reason I do what I do, no one else. It’s a whole thing between you and me, we’re in this!

  To the Baddest Queens in the game. You’re unmatched. You’re incredible. You’re amazing! Thank you for ALL you do! I adore you.

  To the people behind the making, the polishing and the delivering of this book, people who tolerate and find a way to accommodate my insanity without too much judgement, especially Christina S, thank you for not yet shouting from a rooftop that you quit. I see you.

  To the amazing PR teams, the bloggers, the bookstagrammers that do their thing so flawlessly and elegantly, thank you for spreading the word about this book.

  To the friends made through this journey, thank you for checking in and loving on me.

  Spitfire ‘til I die. Bye.

  P.S: If you loved this book Cruel Kisses, please consider leaving a short and honest review to let me know what you thought. I love hearing from you!

  God Bless y’all,

  Thandie xx

  Books by Thandie Mpofu

  Westbrook Blues Series:

  Reckless Hate, #1

  Vicious Hate, #2

  Broken Hate #3

  PR—A Westbrook Blues Novel (TBA)

  PA—a Westbrook Blues Novel (TBA)

  Incongruity Series:

  A Billion Dollar Plan

  A Billion Broken Pieces

  Billion Dollar Hearts

  It’s Just High School series:

  Devious Kisses

  Cruel Kisses

  UNTITLED (pre-order now)

  Anti-Love

  Mean Notes

  Fake Feelings

  Want to stay in the loop about the latest, upcoming releases? Join my newsletter!

  Enjoyed Devious Kisses? Make sure you keep in touch to find out more about upcoming books in the It’s Just High School series.

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  Before you leave, check out the Prologue of Reckless Hate. Please be warned, the following material is dark and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18+ as content may trigger some readers. Reckless Hate is a dark high school bully romance and is book one in the Westbrook Blues series. Please, DO NOT take this TRIGGER WARNING lightly!

  Four years ago. . .

  Dread fills my bones. Fear attacks me and grips me by my throat. I can’t breathe. My vision is hazy, but then again, maybe, it’s because I’m drunk, but I remember specifically choosing cola and not touching any alcohol, not even the wine coolers Brittney brought to the party. But either way, I can’t see clearly.

  “Please.”

  Tears start falling down my cheeks like a torrent of rushing water and my voice is shaky, hoarse and so damn small. I know even if I do scream, no one would hear me. There is no one currently in the house apart from myself and this, this. . .stranger. The next house is at least half a mile over. Stupid estates and their damn huge mansions.

  “Please leave me alone,” I cry out, backing away and into a corner. Heavy breathing greets me and then the smell of smoke—not just any smoke, tobacco. My father smokes that when he’s with his friends, but I know this intruder is not my father since my father left two days ago with my mother for something I never bothered to know about or understand. Why would I when I was looking forward to attending my first teenage party? The best party of the year where everyone, and I mean everyone important and popular in Westbrook, would be in attendance to ascertain the ever fun and ongoing social power struggle for teenage superiority, and I was going to ascertain my place once and for all.

  At least, that’s what I thought the night would bring.

  But this, this kind of danger, I never anticipated this. I’m not one of those girls in the news or in books who falls victim to all sorts of vultures and predators in the dark. I’m a fighter, and I will fight this. . . fight him.

  My heart pounds painfully in my chest, threatening to deafen my ears. But that heartbeat, it reminds me that I’m still here, and I still have time to fight. The haze that has fallen over me dissipates, and I realize my back is plastered against the wall. Literally and figuratively.

  “Beautiful, vivacious, young Astraea.” His deep voice awakens goose bumps and shivers all over my body—not the good, delicious kind, no. It’s the kind of shi
vers that alert of an impending disaster.

  “I guess it’s my lucky day. I didn’t think you would come back this early. That drug must have worked faster than I thought,” the man says, ignoring my pleas.

  He drugged me? He has been waiting for me? Was he at the party? How did I not sense I was being watched? How did I not see him?

  “My father has money. I can give it to you. Please,” I plead, but the mysterious man with a ski mask covering his face begins to laugh, hard. His throaty, ugly laugh grates at my ears, but what shocks me about it is the genuineness of his laugh.

  Like, he is truly laughing—however ugly it is, anyway—as if he finds my cries and pleas amusing.

  “You are so stupid and naïve to think your father could give me what I lost,” he says, and my gaze frantically searches the room for anything, any weapon, that I can use to defend myself and escape.

  “He’s very rich, please let me go,” I stammer, the pitch of my voice becoming higher as the man advances.

  In a sudden move, he pins me to the wall with his large, fully grown male body, stinking of body odor much like a pigsty. My panic becomes full-blown now, the realization of danger now ripe in the stale air filled with the harsh remnants of tobacco.

  My entire body cringes. I feel like I’m going to vomit as bile rises up my throat. His breath smells so bad, like a rodent crawled up his body, straight into his mouth, and died in there. I feel like I’m going to pass out when he opens his mouth to speak, as he leans into my ear.

  I lift my arms from where they had helplessly fallen like deadweight, and plant them on his chest, and with all my might, I start fighting like a banshee from hell. But he doesn’t so much as blink or move.

  In that moment, I realize, I’m now in the fight of my life.

  “I’ll make it quick. A rich bitch like you needs to loosen up. I can help with that.” He watches me with an evil glint in his eyes.