Trapped (Bullied Book 4) (Bullied Series)

by Vera Hollins

  “You better buckle up,” he said.

  I glanced at him with wide eyes. “So you don’t actually intend to kill me, worried about my safety and all,” I said, half-joking, half-bickering as I put my seat belt on.

  The look he gave me took all the air out of my lungs. “I’ve already killed you mentally. I don’t want to make things any worse than that.”

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I held my hands clasped together in my lap as he lined up with the other cars at the starting line.

  Tonight, Blake was racing with two more guys, and one of them was Bobby Q, who was on Blake’s left. I looked through Blake’s window at Bobby Q. There was something about him that I didn’t like at all. I couldn’t be sure in this darkness, but it looked like he had a scar line on his face, which gave me a shiver. I whipped my gaze back.

  The crowd huddled around the starting line. Blake turned on the stereo, and a remix of Infected Mushroom’s “Shakawkaw” filled the cabin. The blaring music made my blood pump.

  I grimaced. “How can you listen to this? I can’t even hear my thoughts.”

  His eyes remained firmly on the track ahead. “That’s the whole point—I can’t hear myself.”

  I stared at him with mouth wide open, at a loss for words. The race girl appeared at the starting line, and Blake tightened his grip on the steering wheel. His expression became edged and focused, the shadows dancing over his cheekbones and jaw adding to his alluring appearance.

  I glanced away from him, biting into my lip. He’s not alluring. He’s horrible. He’s not alluring.

  The race girl announced the start of the race, and Blake hit the gas, sending us flying forward. I grabbed my seat as adrenaline burst through me. Blake took the lead right before he made the first turn, sending dust kicking up around him. Bobby Q was close behind us. He made a sharp turn on the inner side of the track before he straightened out and accelerated, threatening to pass Blake.

  My heart jumped into my throat, and I looked in the side mirror, getting restless. The other driver was right behind us, neck and neck with Bobby Q. Blake accelerated, gaining more distance from them, before he slowed down to take the next turn.

  Bobby Q needed only a few seconds to reach Blake’s rear side, driving dangerously close to us. I squealed and fisted my hands on my thighs. Unlike Blake, Bobby Q didn’t slow down but went into the turn in full speed, which sent his car skidding to the side before he straightened it up and accelerated far behind Blake. Whew! That was close.

  I glanced at Blake and found him smirking. “What?” I asked.

  He didn’t look away from the road. “You’re acting funny.”

  He hit the gas as he shifted into the sixth gear, and I grabbed my seat again.

  “This is my first time to experience this, so cut me some slack.”

  His smile grew bigger, his gaze snapping to the rear-view mirror. Bobby Q was nearing Blake’s car, but the third car was far behind now.

  “Good. I like giving girls first-time experiences.”

  I arched my eyebrows at him. He barely glanced at me before he lowered his speed and made the next, sharper turn.

  I looked in the side mirror and saw that Bobby Q was too close behind us again. I clenched my hands as I took in the last turn in the distance. The previous time, Blake had gotten nothing on Bobby Q, who’d managed to pass Masen right before the finish line. What were Blake’s odds now?

  “How many laps do you have to make?”

  “Two.” Blake sped up, his eyes darting between the rear-view mirror and the road. “Shit.”

  Bobby Q showed up on Blake’s left side and passed him, creating a cloud of dust that made it impossible to see the road.

  “Son of a bitch.” Blake pressed the gas pedal and shifted gears.

  Bobby Q was good, gaining more and more distance from Blake. Blake didn’t slow down at the turn, which sent the rear part of the car sliding to the side, but Blake managed to regain control.

  I looked at him furtively and got engrossed in the look on his face. Danger coated his stern features, but there was also fire in his eyes—a determination. He radiated energy that was contagious, and I loved the adrenaline that kept me high.

  “I won’t let you win,” he muttered to himself. He looked like there was no one in this world but Bobby Q and him; the hatred on his face weaved a tale of something immensely dark. He threw caution to the wind and stopped playing safe, entering each turn at a much higher speed, gambling with so much but refusing to step down.

  Our surroundings were just a blur as Blake raced at an incredibly high speed during the second lap, and I held the roof handle like my life depended on it. The last turn was nearing fast, and Blake got so close to the green Mustang that he actually had a shot at victory.

  Bobby Q was close to the inner side of the track, but that didn’t stop Blake from sliding in between the barrier and Bobby Q’s car at the turn. He cut the wheel while speeding up, making a power slide, which kicked up dust all over Bobby Q’s Mustang. I squealed in excitement as Blake stepped on the gas, driving side by side with Bobby Q almost until the finish line.

  I was on the edge of my seat; the heavy beats of the music fed my excitement, and it was so addictive.

  Lost in the mood, I said without thinking, “Come on. You’re so close. You can win.”

  I saw him glance at me out of the corner of my eye. His face registered surprise, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he shifted into sixth only twenty feet before the finish line and gained an advantage over Bobby Q at the last possible moment, winning the race.

  “Yes,” I screamed. “You won!”

  I started squealing and jumping up and down on my seat, before I met Blake’s gaze with a face-splitting grin. He skidded to a stop, took his seat belt off, and turned to face me with an unreadable expression that created a burning sensation in my chest.

  “Thank you,” he said in a voice I didn’t recognize, and before I could even respond, he grabbed my face with both hands and smashed his lips against mine.

  Warmth claimed all of me when our lips fused together. The kiss was verging on desperate, something deep within him merging with my pain and desire. The voice of my reason faded into the background as he twirled his tongue over mine.

  And then it was over all too quickly. He dropped his hands from my cheeks and pulled away to look at me. He watched me with the intensity I’d always dreamed of, but it hurt because I couldn’t fully embrace it.

  I turned my head away from him and let my hair hide my face. I didn’t want to let him see how I really felt.

  “Wait for me here, okay? I’ll drive you home,” he said before getting out without waiting for my answer.

  The crowd surrounded him, and the cheers and claps blasted through the air. I looked at my lap dumbly, pressing my fingers to my tingling lips. “Thank you,” he’d said, and he’d kissed me like he was starving for me. Like our past didn’t separate us.

  I couldn’t believe he’d kissed me. And not only that—I’d let him kiss me. I closed my eyes, in conflict with myself. I should have gotten out of the car right this moment before he pulled me deeper into the pool of regrets and pain.

  My phone chimed. I took it out of my pocket and unlocked it. It was Mel.

  Tell me that asshole didn’t do anything to you and you’re still in one piece.

  I looked at the crowd on the sidelines, but I couldn’t spot her. I pressed my fingers against my lips again, my chest aching at the thought of our kiss. I just had to remember that he was my bully and not let him get to me. This kiss—any of our kisses—didn’t matter. They couldn’t matter.

  I’m safe and sound, I texted back.

  I glanced at Blake, who was talking to a clearly pissed-off Bobby Q. Masen stood next to them, and he looked as tense as Blake was now. The traces of triumph on Blake’s face were long gone. Blake got into Bobby Q’s face, looking like he could punch him at any moment.

  My hand clenched around my phone. “D
on’t fight,” I whispered right before I got a new text. I dragged my gaze from Blake and opened Mel’s message.

  Why are you still in his car? Let’s go.

  Her next message arrived only seconds later.

  And guess what? My idiotic brother agreed to finally come back home. Hallelujah.

  I looked at the guys in time to see Masen step between Blake and Bobby Q to prevent things from escalating. He said something into Blake’s ear and motioned my way with his head, and Blake glanced at me. Giving Bobby Q one last glare, he spun around and marched back to the car, his jaw clenched furiously.

  I bit into my lip and quickly typed a message to Mel, acting on an impulse.

  That’s great! Btw, Blake will drive me to your place. Sorry. Talk to you later.

  I turned off the sound and put my phone back into my pocket. Blake got inside the car, slammed his door shut, and gripped the steering wheel. His breathing was rapid, and it looked like he was on the verge of either exploding in white-hot anger or having a breakdown.

  The urge to touch him reared its stupid head, and I curled my hands to stop myself. He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. Bobby Q returned to his car and sped away, kicking up some gravel for the show, and the crowd started to thin out.

  I looked at his scraped knuckles again, conflicted. “Blake? Are you okay?” He didn’t move to look at me, just clenching the steering wheel more tightly. “Can I…can I help?” I pursed my lips, feeling stupid for even asking this. There was no way he would actually accept my help, but I couldn’t just sit there and pretend he wasn’t falling apart right next to me.

  “I guess not,” I muttered.

  “You already are,” he said, so quietly I thought I’d heard him wrong.

  My throat tightened. “What?” He didn’t reply immediately, not until his breathing evened out and he raised his head, avoiding my gaze.

  “Nothing.” He put on his seat belt.

  Infected Mushroom’s “Becoming Insane” played next, and its strong, Latin-infused beats filled the uncomfortable silence between us as he started the car.

  I twisted my hands in my lap. I didn’t know how to act around him. He flashed his lights at Masen when we passed, and he waved at us with a knowing smirk on his face. I looked around for Mel, but she was nowhere to be found. I felt a twinge of guilt because I was leaving this place with Blake instead with her.

  “Are you even able to drive? Because you don’t look so good.”

  “Yeah, I can drive. I’m not made of glass, Metts,” he replied brusquely.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “If you’re going to talk to me like that, you can drop me right here and go. It was just a simple question.”

  He looked at me with parted lips. I expected him to insult me or stop the car so I could get out, but he didn’t do either, which floored me.

  The lights coming from the generators were replaced by darkness as he drove along the forest path surrounded by endless trees. This only made the atmosphere between us more intimate, and it was confusing. I found it hard to breathe evenly, too aware of how close he was. His smell was everywhere, toying with me, rousing me.

  I wanted to ask him what had happened back there with Bobby Q and what he’d done to shake Blake so badly, but I knew I would be stepping into forbidden territory and he would refuse to answer.

  “Take me to Mel’s house. I couldn’t tell my parents about the track, so I said I was going to sleep over at her place.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain myself. “That was the only way they would let me go out.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “And they bought that?”

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “Right. I forgot—you’re a good girl who just likes playing bad from time to time.” He threw me a smile, but I didn’t know if it was mocking or not.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, staring ahead. “Why did you offer to drive me home?”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  My breath hitched. I was stumped by this sudden change between us. The lines were becoming blurred, and this gray area we’d plunged into was something I hadn’t been prepared for.

  I looked at him. “You wanted to drive home a person you despised until very recently?”

  He returned my gaze for a second, two… Breathe, Jess. Breathe. “Would you rather have me despising you again?”

  My eyebrows scrunched together. “Of course not. I’m just confused by this change between us.”

  “You’re not the only one who can’t figure out what’s happening here. I have no clue what we’re doing.”

  My chest squeezed painfully. “We aren’t doing anything. We’re nothing, Blake.”

  “Sure. Lie to yourself if that will make you feel better.”

  “It’s not a lie.”

  He met my eyes. “Then why are you looking at me like you want me to kiss you again?”

  I blushed furiously and looked away, making sure my hair hid most of my face from him. “I don’t want you to kiss me again.”

  He took a turn, reaching the road. “Lie to yourself some more and maybe you’ll start believing it.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “Why does it even matter to you? You said you won’t ever be with me.”

  “And I meant it,” he replied without missing a beat. “No matter how things go between us, the endgame is always the same—we won’t be together.”

  A bolt of pain struck through my chest, even though we were supposed to be this way. Why? burned on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t ask.

  “Good to know that because I wouldn’t want it any other way,” I said as I looked at the lines on the road that passed quickly. I hoped my words didn’t sound as fake to him as they did to me, which was ridiculous. He’s your bully, Jess. Don’t forget that. Just a bully.

  Another song by Infected Mushroom, a remix of “Demons of Pain”, started playing, and its heavy bass hammered nails into my head. I sneaked a glance at Blake, who looked pensive. I fiddled with my thumbs, the bass of the song getting even stronger.

  “It’s obvious why this song is called ‘Demons of Pain’,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Because its beat gives me pain.” I massaged my temples. “I’m getting a headache from it.”

  He lowered the volume and glanced at me, the corner of his lips quirking up. “Let me guess—you’re all for sweet, lovey-dovey songs.”

  “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His smile grew bigger. “You wear pink most of the time. You also wear flower hair accessories and bracelets.” I shouldn’t have been surprised that he remembered all these details, but I was. “You’re for sweet things to the bone.”

  My brows rose. He was right. I was all for sweet things.

  “I can’t imagine you listening to this kind of music. Not after I heard you play your song,” he added, and I inhaled sharply. I wanted to remove that embarrassing memory from my mind, but it stood its ground.

  I hunched in my seat. “I get it…my song was too sugary.”

  He frowned. “I never said that.”

  I didn’t respond, waiting for him to say more, burning with curiosity to hear his opinion about it…but he didn’t say anything.

  “Okay.” That’s all I said, when I actually wanted to ask what he thought about it.

  He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I liked it,” he said, barely audibly.

  I grew motionless. Did he say he liked it?

  Fishing for a direct answer, I asked, “You liked what?”

  “You know what.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do, but you want me to say it.” He glanced at me, and the raw look in his eyes pulled me in. “Your song. I liked your song. And…I liked your voice.”

  My breath caught in my chest. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better about it,” I said, refusing to accept the possibility that he really liked it, because this meant
a lot to me, and it scared me.

  His forehead wrinkled. “You really like to put yourself down. Don’t tell me you’ve never realized how amazing your voice is.”

  My lips curved into a big smile. I wanted to pinch myself so I could prove this was real. Blake Jones had just complimented my voice. He actually liked it.

  My emotions bubbled up inside me. Had Hayden told him about my dream to become a singer? Was he even aware of how much his praise—anyone’s praise—meant to me? Did he know how afraid I was of performing in front of others, to the point of not following my dreams?

  “You really think so?”

  He glanced at me and smiled. Like an actual, real smile. “Yeah.”

  My smile widened. “Thank you.” He only smirked at that, and I fidgeted with the hem of my jacket. “I guess you don’t listen to my kind of music.”

  “No.”

  “I thought so.”

  “But I would give your songs a chance.”

  My heart leapt. “And why’s that?” I couldn’t resist asking.

  “Because they’re yours, obviously.”

  Okay. I had to pinch myself.

  I pinched my upper arm. “Ouch.”

  He snorted. “Why did you do that?”

  “Just making sure I really heard you say that.”

  He burst into chuckles, but then, as if he’d caught himself doing something he wasn’t supposed to, he grew serious. He shook his head at me. “You’re weird.”

  We were near Enfield, which meant this ride would end soon. I wished it could last a bit longer. I thought about the moments of tenderness he’d displayed this evening and the last few days, and my body warmed. He was finally letting me see his other side, finally treating me like something more than a bug to squash.

  I had so many questions on my mind. We weren’t friends. We couldn’t be lovers. But we weren’t the same old enemies. So what were we?

  I was so deep in my thoughts that I didn’t realize Blake was slowing down. He went off the road and parked his car next to it, right in the middle of nowhere. The music and all sounds died when he shut off the engine. His car lights were our only source of light.