Burned: A High School Bully Romance (Del Sol High Book 2)

by McKayla Box

  Nick can barely stand, he's laughing so hard. Aiden's mouth is a tight line of frustration and embarrassment. I feel badly for him.

  “Look,” I say. “If you like her, you should tell her. The worst that can happen is she doesn't like you and how does that make it any different than where you're at right now?”

  “She's...kinda scary,” Aiden says.

  I nod. “Oh, yeah, for sure. But she's also pretty cool. So as long as you talk to her like an adult and not like a dumbass, you'll be okay.”

  “That'll be tough for my boy,” Nick says. “He's pretty much a twenty-four hour dumbass.”

  “Don't listen to them,” I tell Aiden. “They're teasing you.”

  “I hate them anyway,” he says. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. I was just asking hypothetically anyway.”

  Nick and Archer burst out laughing again and I just shake my head.

  Nick finally settles down and glances at me. “I saw you talking to that kid this morning.”

  “What kid?”

  “The writer kid,” Nick says. “From lunch at the stupid dance rally thing. Brooke said something about him bugging you the other day. Is he hassling you or something?”

  “Who's hassling you?” Archer asks, hopping over the side of the truck. “What writer kid?”

  “It's nothing,” I tell him, shaking my head.

  “Who is it?” Archer frowns. “What does he want?”

  I hold up my hand. “Chill. I don't need you to go murder anyone, alright?”

  “The kid from lunch,” Aiden says. “Dicky.”

  “Ricky,” I correct him. “And he's fine. He wants to write this article about me and I just said I wasn't interested. That's all.”

  “So then why is he still bugging you?” Archer asks, coming around Nick.

  “He's not...bugging me,” I say. “He's being a newspaper person. He really wants to interview me and I don't want to do it. It's all good.”

  Archer stares at me for a moment, then walks over to me. He slips an arm around my waist and pulls me into him. He leans down, hesitates, then brushes his lips against mine. His touch is light, soft, and I know he’s trying to be gentle because of the cut and the bruise on my jaw.

  My heart nearly explodes and every inch of me tingles.

  “I don't want anyone messing with you,” he whispers, touching his forehead to mine. “Ever.”

  I put my hand on his chest. “No one's messing with me. It's okay. I've got it. Relax.”

  “Jesus, are you two gonna crawl in the back of the truck and just do it?” Aiden asks. “Do I need to clear out the boards?”

  Archer and I laugh.

  “We can if you want,” Archer tells him, turning around. “Maybe give you some tips in case you catch Dylan off-guard?”

  Aiden once again shows him his middle finger.

  Nick laughs and slaps his hands on the truck. “Come on. Let's get going.”

  Archer puts his forehead against mine again, then kisses me, longer this time. I want to glue his lips to mine and devour him.

  “I don't want anyone messing with you, Nola,” he whispers. “Not ever.”

  There is a seriousness in his voice that I'm not sure I've heard from him, or from anyone else in my life, for that matter. He means what he says. He wants to protect me. He will protect me.

  And I've never felt that before.

  Not ever.

  Chapter 13

  The ocean is kicking my ass.

  The four of us drive to the beach and, I have to admit, watching them get ready to attack the water is like watching some sort of special-ops team head into battle. They each have their own routine of pulling on their wetsuits, choosing a board, and then striding down the sand toward the Pacific as if the dark blue water is their natural home. The few people on the beach watch them enter the water and the surfers out at the break welcome them into the lineup.

  Archer asked if I wanted him to stay with me, but I tell him to go out and I'll work on my own. I walk up to the public restroom, change into my swimsuit and pull on my wetsuit, then walk back to the truck to grab the board Archer got for me. I've gotten used to carrying it on my head because it's so big and I don't feel nearly as weird doing it any longer.

  But the water is choppy and there's a steady breeze. It's making the waves that I'm trying to ride uneven and rough, and I'm doing a lot more falling into the water than standing up. I've gotten better, but I'm still not great. I'm trying to paddle into the small waves that no one else is interested in and, normally, I can do alright. But, today, not so much. I'm banging my knees on the board and drinking more salt water than I care for. After about forty minutes, I give up, paddle in, and sit on the sand to watch the boys.

  Archer isn't having any of the issues I was having. Each time he finds a wave, he's up on his feet before I can even register what he's doing. He maneuvers the board across the face of the wave, cutting back and forth, spraying water in multiple directions, until he's had enough and glides up and over the wave as it dies off. It's effortless and athletic and magical and sexy as hell.

  I lean back on my hands, letting my fingers dig into the sand. The wind is cold, but today I don't mind. I’m slowly starting to appreciate the changing temperatures on the beach, even when it's beating me to a pulp. There is comfort in wet hair, a soaked wetsuit, and wrinkled skin for me.

  Archer rides a wave all the way in, drops to his stomach, and paddles in. As soon as he’s in the shallows, he slides off the board and strides out of the water toward me. I remember calling him Aquaman the first time we met on the beach and at the time, I meant it in a shitty way.

  But now I think of him as Aquaman in the best of ways.

  He drops his board to the sand and sits down next to me. He takes a deep breath, then exhales. “A little rough out there for you?”

  I laugh. “Uh, yeah. A little. What gave it away? The fact that I was trying to drink the entire ocean?”

  He laughs. “You're doing better than you give yourself credit for. The water is choppy today, the breeze is strong, and the sets aren't consistent at all. It's just a lot of mush out there. Don't beat yourself up over struggling on a day like today.”

  I have a momentary flashback to tangling with Reese on the beach. “The water beat me up.”

  He laughs again. “You know what I mean.”

  I do know what he means and he's incredibly sweet for saying it.

  He leans over and brushes his lips against mine. It’s still gentle, as soft as a feather, and even though the cut still stings and my jaw still hurts, I want to deepen the kiss and crawl on top of him.

  “What was that for?” I ask, when he slowly pulls away.

  “What?”

  “The kiss.”

  “I need a reason to kiss you?”

  “Not ever. I was just asking.”

  He stares at me for a long moment. “Sometimes, I look at you and I just want to kiss you. And...other things.”

  “I am not against other things,” I tell him.

  He laughs. “Oh, I know. I'm just telling you. Sometimes, I can't help myself.”

  “Don't let me stop you then.”

  He leans over and kisses me.

  For a long time.

  Damn.

  When we finally come up for air, my heart is hammering inside my chest and I'm ready to strip him naked right there on the sand.

  “Maybe we should've gone home rather than to the beach,” he murmurs.

  “Now you suggest that.”

  He laughs. “Poor planning. Tomorrow, maybe.”

  I kiss him again as a way of showing him I'm all in on that plan.

  We finally separate and we both lean back on our hands.

  “Does Aiden really like Dylan?” I ask.

  He laughs. “I have no clue. I mean, he's always sort of crushed on her. That wasn't bullshit. But I have no idea. Maybe he's realizing that time's running out and he better make a move if he's ever gonna do it.” He eyes me. “You think she's in
terested?”

  “I really don't know,” I tell him. “I wasn't just saying that. I have no idea.”

  “Just curious,” he says. Then he shrugs his shoulders. “I don't know. Maybe he's serious and maybe he's just talking shit. Hard to know with him. Kind of a clown.”

  “But one of your best friends.”

  He nods. “Absolutely. I'd do anything for that guy and he'd do the same for me. Same with Nick. Been like that since we were kids. No bullshit between the three of us. Always straight up, always on the level. We don't always agree on shit, but we always tell each other the truth.” He pauses. “That's why it works.”

  It almost feels like he's talking to me about me and my stomach immediately knots.

  “That wasn't a dig,” he says, like he's reading my mind. “I didn't mean anything by it.”

  “I know,” I say. “It's okay. And can't really avoid it.”

  He puts a hand on my knee, still watching the water. “We're good, Nola. We're really good.”

  The knot in my stomach tightens into a jagged little ball.

  Because I know we're not really that good since I still haven't told him anything. I don't know how it's so easy to swing from a place of feeling so great to feeling so awful. I know what I need to do and yet I still can't do it.

  I am so afraid.

  I have to do it.

  “My mom,” I blurt out, forcing the syllables out of my mouth.

  Archer looks at me. “What?”

  I feel like I'm going to vomit. “My mom.”

  He studies me, small beads of water still on his tan forehead. “What about her?”

  But now my mouth dries up and I can't find any words to say to him.

  She's in jail. And you won't believe what she did.

  That's what I want to say because I know if I can get those words out, the rest will tumble out behind them.

  But my throat tightens and I can't make a sound.

  “You wanna go visit her or something?” he asks, still trying to figure out why I've turned into a mute.

  It's the last thing I want to do, but it's also an easy way out.

  So I nod.

  He nods, too. “Yeah, I'd think you miss her. Have you talked to your grandparents about going to see her?”

  I hesitate, then shake my head. “No.”

  “So talk to them,” he says. “I'm sure they'll understand.” He smiles. “And I'll bet your mom wouldn't mind seeing you, either.”

  It's the smile that gets me the most.

  He means it.

  And he has no idea what I'm talking about.

  I look at the ocean because I'm afraid I'll burst into tears if I keep looking at him.

  “Yeah,” I finally say. “She probably wouldn't mind at all.”

  Chapter 14

  The boys finish their surfing and we leave the beach. We drop Nick and Aiden off at school so they can pick up their cars, and then Archer drives me home.

  When we get there, we spend a few minutes kissing before I start laughing.

  “What?” he asks. “And that is not the response I was hoping for.”

  “I was just thinking of my grandmother spying on me from the window or something,” I tell him.

  “You think she's watching?”

  “It feels like something she might do.”

  “So I shouldn't try to get my hand up your shirt?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “No.”

  He tugs on the edge of my shirt. “Come on. It'll be funny.”

  I swat his hand away. “Stop.”

  He laughs and holds up his hands. “Alright, alright. Hands off.”

  “It's not my preferred choice,” I tell him. “But it kind of creeps me out.”

  He laughs again and nods. “I hear ya. I won't embarrass you in front of your grandmother.” He glances at the house. “Are you gonna ask her about visiting your mom?”

  And just like that, it's like the air is sucked right out of his truck.

  “Uh,” I stammer. “I don't know. Maybe.”

  “You should,” he says, touching my hand. “Don't be afraid to ask her, if that's what's bugging you.”

  “It's not that,” I say.

  “What is it then?”

  “I...I don't know,” I tell him. “I just...I'm just not used to asking for things from them.”

  He squeezes my hand. “Trust them. What's the worst they can say?”

  I force a smile, desperate to move off of the topic. “Okay. I'll try.”

  He pauses for a moment, his eyes bearing down on me.

  “What?” I say.

  He licks his lips and pulls his hand away. “I need to ask you a question.”

  “Okay.”

  “And you have to give me an honest answer,” he says.

  The knot takes up residence in my gut again. “Um. Okay. You're kind of freaking me out.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Am I?

  “Yeah, a little bit.”

  He nods slowly. “Well, this is kind a serious question.”

  My mind immediately begins racing. I wonder if he knows about my mom. About the fact that she's in jail. About what got her there. Has he been holding out, waiting for me to tell him, and I've failed? And now he's going to ask me why I haven't told him and why I've flat out lied about her? I want to spit it all out to him, but I know that would be pointless. I have to sit there and take it.

  “Nola,” he says.

  I swallow and nod.

  He hesitates, and I think I stop breathing, waiting for the question that will end us.

  A slow smile spreads across his face. “Will you go to the winter ball with me?”

  It takes me a second to register what he's asking me. I still feel like I can’t breathe, but for an entirely different reason now.

  “I was, uh, hoping you'd say yes,” he finally says.

  I exhale audibly. “Yes. Yes. Of course I will.”

  He squeezes my hand and leans over and kisses me. “You looked unsure there for a second.”

  I shake my head, laughing. “Never. Yes, absolutely.” I grab his head and kiss him back to make sure he knows I mean it.

  He finally pulls back. “Maybe I should do that more often.”

  “Not unless you want to see me have a heart attack,” I say.

  “I don't want that,” he says. “And just so you know, you're the first girl I've ever asked to go to a dance.”

  “Ever?”

  He nods. “Ever.”

  “So you've never gone to a school dance before?” I frown. “But I danced with you at homecoming.”

  “I said I've never asked anyone,” he says. “I've been asked. And I’ve shown up to a couple with the guys. So, yeah. I've been. But I've never wanted to ask someone. Until now.”

  My heart flutters and I'm rethinking my decision to not let him feel me up in the truck.

  I grab his shirt and pull him back to me. I kiss him. Hard.

  He is the best kisser on the planet.

  “Your grandma is gonna be looking,” he says, his lips brushing against mine. “And if you don't get out of this truck now, she's gonna find us naked out here.”

  I laugh and reluctantly slide away from him. I grab my clothes and my backpack off the floor and push the door open. I get out and watch him back out of the driveway. He gives me a small wave and disappears down the road.

  I take another deep breath and exhale. I am lucky to have him. And I need to make sure nothing gets in between us. I owe him the truth.

  I'm thinking about those things as I punch the code on the side of the garage and the door goes up. I walk inside, strip out of my wetsuit, and hang it up on the hook my grandfather installed on the wall for me. I push the button next to the door and the door slides back down. I use a towel to brush off my feet and then wrap myself up in it before I go inside.

  “Hey, Grandma,” I call out. “It's just me.”

  “Nola, dear!” she calls back. “We're in the living room.”


  As I walk down the hall toward the living room, I assume she means her and my grandfather.

  But I'm wrong.

  So wrong.

  Because the first person I see when I reach the living room is Reese McClure, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

  Chapter 15

  I freeze in my tracks.

  My grandmother waves me in. “Nola, dear. You made it in time. We have guests.”

  Reese is sitting next to her grandmother on the sofa opposite my grandmother.

  “Hello, Nola,” Ruth McClure says. She is dressed impeccably, in navy slacks and a polka-dotted blouse. A thick pearl necklace match the pearls in her earlobes. “I'm so pleased to see you again.” She pats Reese's knee. “Reese just happened to be dropping something off at our home when I told her I was coming over to meet with your grandmother and she offered to come along.”

  I look at Reese.

  She smiles at me like she couldn't be happier to be there.

  “I...I was surfing,” I say, still unsure what I've walked in on.

  “Oh, that's fine, dear,” my grandmother says. “Ruth came over to discuss the annual charity luncheon that we do at the club every year. We hold it every spring and this year, she and I are the co-chairs.”

  “When will we ever learn to say no?” Ruth says, smiling at my grandmother.

  My grandmother rolls her eyes. “Probably never.”

  They both laugh.

  “I was just telling your grandmother about school,” Reese says.

  I glare at her. “Oh yeah?”

  Her eyes grow big. “Oh yeah. I was just about to tell her how the school paper wants to do a feature on you.” She turns and looks at my grandmother. “Isn't that amazing?”

  My grandmother claps her hands together. “Nola! That's exciting!”

  “Indeed,” Ruth McClure says. “How lovely.”

  “There's just one problem, though,” Reese says.

  “Oh?” my grandmother says.

  Reese turns back in my direction. “Nola keeps turning them down.”

  I feel the heat in my face and if I could reach out and choke her, I would.

  I can just tell how much she is loving the fact that she’s put me on the spot. Her perfect little eyebrows bounce up and down and she’s fighting a smirk.