Soulless: A High School Bully Romance (The Privileged of Pembroke High Book 2)

by Ivy Fox

  “It wasn’t her, Elle! Will you cool it?” the boy hollers, taking a step back before one of Elle’s kicks almost reaches its intended target. And by the looks of how high it was, I’d say the target was Addison’s face.

  “Don’t play me, Reid! I know it was your sister. She’s the only one vindictive enough to pull a stunt like that,” Elle growls.

  It’s getting harder to watch from afar since most kids have forgotten their food and are more interested in getting a closer inspection of the fight. But the small breach they offer to the rest of us that remain seated at our tables is enough for me to get a better look at Addison’s brother.

  The first thing that pops into my mind is that they are both magnificently tall and have an aura of elegance hovering around them. Even in a fight right smack in the middle of the cafeteria, they look like something out of a traveling magazine’s cover, depicting picturesque places and its exotic inhabitants. With their dark, jet-black hair and light eyes that seem to see right through a person, they look opulent, yet deadly. That’s exactly the perfect description for them—deadly exotic. Although from here, Reid’s blue eyes look just a little bit darker than his sister’s gray ones, his are still no less stunning.

  “I swear to you, she’s not the one you want,” Reid stutters insistently, struggling to keep hold of his sister.

  “Shut up, Reid! I can deal with this trailer trash myself!” Addison screeches out.

  “Oh, you bitch!” Elle roars.

  “The fuck!” Chad bellows.

  “Damn it, Addy,” Reid moans.

  I swear I’m getting whiplash trying to keep up with the four of them.

  “I feel like we should be eating popcorn or something.” Saint laughs behind me. “This shit is too fucking hilarious.”

  “I don’t see what’s so funny about it,” I snap, turning to face him again so he sees that I’m not half as amused as he obviously is.

  “No? Two privileged, white girls who’ve never had a hard day in their lives, going at each other’s throats like they were born and bred in the hood. You don’t think that shit is funny? Cause I find it fucking hysterical.”

  “Elle, simmer down. You’re going to get your ass in trouble for this.” I hear Chad warn her, once more gaining my attention, entirely disregarding Saint’s opinion on the matter.

  “Yeah, Elle. Wouldn’t want to damage that perfect record of yours, little miss holier-than-thou. What would people think?” Addison taunts, her gorgeous face looking uglier by the minute.

  “Can’t say the same for you. I doubt getting bitch-slapped ruins your rep for sucking any dick that winks at you,” Elle rebukes with a snarl, her foul mouth reminding me that she grew up with Ash.

  “Your brother didn’t seem to mind my rep when I was on my knees for him.”

  This time Elle’s kick does reach Addison, straight into one of her large breasts, getting the extra push from her taunt about Rome.

  “Damn! That had to hurt.” Saint whistles out, impressed.

  I shake my head because no matter how tough-looking or worldly-experienced a guy seems to be, at the end of the day, I always remember what Candy used to say growing up back in Brookhaven—boys are dumb.

  “Jesus, Murphy. Can you get a grip on your girl?” Reid shouts as Addison tumbles down in pain.

  “Does it look like it’s easy? Want to trade?” Chad counters.

  “Nah, I’m good,” Reid replies after he watches Elle mercilessly slam her elbow into Chad’s gut.

  I’m sweating bullets over here, wondering why no one is putting an end to this. Where did all the teachers and staff suddenly run off to?

  “No one’s coming to your friend’s aid. Addison is Senator Hurst’s daughter, and Elle is Judge Grayson’s. Two men in New York City you don’t want to fuck with. The adults of this school know better than to mess with those girls. And if you’re paying attention, you’d realize that nice girls like you shouldn’t mess with them either,” Saint cautions sternly, bringing his barbell piercing into full view again as he bites the corner of his lips.

  I don’t tell him that he’s wrong about Elle, or that I did nothing to deserve Addison’s wrath, aside from being the daughter of Craig West—a man most Pembroke High students blame for their friends no longer attending this school. I don’t say anything in reply since all I heard was Judge Grayson’s name, and how right people are to fear him.

  I’ve experienced firsthand how ruthless Elle’s father can be. I also recall my interaction with Senator Hurst at my mother’s party last week, and how he did seem overtly unpleasant.

  His wife, however, was anything but. Before my mother showed up to ruin her mood, she was nothing but kind to me. Claire Hurst gave the impression of being a bubbly, affable woman—traits that her daughter has demonstrated she did not inherit.

  If Saint is right about Senator Hurst, then maybe Addison gets her malicious schooling from him. And by the way Reid is trying to protect his sister, he must take after his mother.

  “What’s the big deal anyway? So your new bestie had some lame video of her showing what a tramp she is. Big deal. It was bound to come out sooner or later.”

  “Addison, I’d be careful with your next words. Not everyone is a two-timing whore. In fact, if you don’t back the fuck off and leave Holland alone, I’ll tell the whole school who you were stepping out on Rome with when you were dating him. You know? The reason why he kicked your sorry ass to the curb?”

  I watch as Addison’s composure turns from confident to fearful with Elle’s threat.

  “Whatever. Let me go, Reid. I’m done with this bitch.”

  “Oh, honey, fuck with me or anyone I care about again, and the only reason you’ll find yourself on your knees is to pray that I’ll have mercy on you,” Elle warns gravely, making the small hairs on my arms rise at how similar she sounds to Rome.

  No. That’s not right.

  How she sounds like him.

  I shudder, pushing the thought away, knowing I can’t let the devil play with my mind when there are so many witnesses that can attest that I’m losing it.

  Thankfully, this time Reid accomplishes getting Addison away, grabbing her by the shoulders and guiding her to safety outside. Elle shakes Chad off of her and begins to stroll her way back to our table, parting the crowd that had gathered around them like the Red Sea. When she reaches our table, she doesn’t sit next to me as I expected but stands right next to a slouching Saint.

  “You’re in my seat.”

  “The queen bee must have gotten a jab to your head that I didn’t see because I’m pretty sure this is my seat,” he relents, crossing his arms over his large chest, but never once craning his head back to look at her.

  Elle huffs out aggressively, and I’m starting to worry for Saint’s safety. It’s a ludicrous sentiment since he’s double her size in weight and stature, but Elle just showed she isn’t the least bit intimidated by enemies that are bigger than her. She’ll climb him like a tree until she has the advantage to slap him silly.

  “Just get up, Saint. Addison might come back, and Elle doesn’t want to be caught off guard with her back to the entrance,” Chad explains, showing how in tune he is with the inner workings of his best friend’s mind.

  “Then give her yours.”

  “Fine, I will.” Chad pulls his chair, offering it to Elle with a smile. “Then you two can sit next to each other for the next half hour of our lunch break.”

  Saint grabs Chad’s untouched BLT and gets up from his chair without missing a beat.

  “I hate it when you play dirty,” he complains, taking the seat next to me.

  “Liar.” Chad winks at him while Elle’s fuming face just grows more intense by the minute.

  “Elle, it’s over. You can sit down now,” I tell her, grabbing her hands in mine. “Defending me like that was very noble of you, but you really shouldn’t have gone to such extremes. The video isn’t even up anymore.”


  “Somebody has to watch over you,” she counters, still angry.

  “I can take care of myself, Elle. I’m a big girl, you know.” I squeeze her hand in reassurance, hoping she doesn’t see how poorly I’m keeping it together.

  Not being able to tell Elle what happened Saturday night is slowly eating me up inside. But I know Rome was right when he said that his little sister wouldn’t let her father go unpunished for what he tried to do to me. She just proved his point with the way she attacked Addison. Elle would go to the ends of the earth to rectify a wrong committed against someone she cares for, no matter the cost.

  Unfortunately, the world won’t see it the same way. As much as I’ve tried to disconnect from the outside world, it’s impossible to miss how the news of Judge Grayson’s frail health has gotten this city in an uproar. Everyone thinks he’s New York City’s white knight, fighting for justice. Little do they know he’s the worst criminal there is—stealing innocence and ruining lives. But no one would believe me. While he’s the epitome of truth and integrity, I’m the daughter of a liar and a thief.

  Elle lets out a sigh, interrupting my troublesome thoughts, and I watch her stiff shoulders finally relax.

  “I’m sorry, Snow. I know you can. It’s just, that woman always hits a nerve with me.”

  The way Elle so casually called me by my nickname sends another pang to my chest.

  I’ll never be Snow again. Snow is supposed to be pure, while I’m tainted beyond measure.

  “Hey, you okay?” she asks thoughtfully.

  “Yeah,” I lie.

  “Babe, I thought you told me you didn’t know who Addison cheated on Rome with. You holding out on me?” Chad interjects, and I silently thank him for taking Elle’s attention off of me.

  Elle’s devious smile crests her lips, and the twinkle in her whiskey eyes assures me my friend is back to her usual, playful self.

  “I lied.” She giggles. “I haven’t got a clue who Addison was sleeping with. But I do know she hasn’t made it public knowledge either, which tells me she’s ashamed of whomever it was, and she doesn’t want people to find out about it.”

  “So you bluffed, backing her into a corner? Nice job, Princess,” Saint adds with a crooked grin.

  “Hooray! As if I live to impress your ass.” She sneers coldly, slanting her eyes at him while he feigns boredom.

  “Now, babe, play nice and take the compliment,” Chad coos, gripping her chin softly to try and distract her from her glare.

  When he sees that her scowl is set in stone, and Saint’s blasé attitude is not going anywhere, Chad decides to let it go and moves on to another topic.

  “Well, after that killer performance, anything we do tomorrow night will pale in comparison. Next time, schedule your fights for Friday, Slugger.”

  “Funny,” she replies with a blush, slapping his hand away playfully.

  “Count me out. I already have plans. Tomorrow is the first swim meet of the season,” Saint interjects between mouthfuls, apparently remembering his untouched food. I’ve had lunch with Chad and Saint every day since I started school, so I’ve become accustomed with Saint wolfing down whatever Chad buys for himself.

  “Oh, that’s right. I totally forgot about that. Count me in. Elle, too. Right, babe?”

  Elle shrugs, not looking too convinced or enthusiastic at cheering Saint on. The animosity they have for each other is so thick that not even a machete could cut through it.

  “Come on. Asher is going to blow the competition out of the water. Don’t you want to be there and cheer on your big brother?” Chad croons, placing his hand on hers, rubbing her thumb with his.

  Elle’s lashes beat a mile a minute, but then she turns to me with hope in her eyes.

  “I’ll go if Holland does, too.”

  Damn it.

  “Of course Holland’s coming. The more, the merrier, right Saint?” Chad asks cheerfully, a smile so bright it can probably be seen from outer space.

  “Sure.” He shrugs, finishing his BLT.

  “Well, it’s settled then. I’ll pick you two up tomorrow at six.”

  Great.

  Disheartened for having no say in the matter, I turn around and scan the crowd to see if there are any kids still looking our way, and catch only one cold pair of eyes, sending shivers through my whole body. Trevor Manning is sitting in the same spot he was the first day I saw him in this cafeteria. Only this time, all his friends are talking about is today’s beat-down, instead of the broken nose he got from Ash. No one is paying us any mind except for him. Today his sunglasses are nowhere in sight, and he’s made no efforts to hide the brownish bruising under his eyes.

  He catches my stare, and I freeze in my seat when he pretends to slice his neck with his finger. That’s all the interaction we have, as he turns his back and starts talking to one of his friends. But his message came loud and clear—Addison Hurst isn’t the only one gunning for me; Trevor Manning wants my blood, too.

  After that, I reckon the rest of the day will be uneventful in comparison.

  One thing is for sure—I’m grateful that Elle is back in school. Although she’s still a junior and doesn’t have any classes with me, it’s nice to meet each other in the halls and just see a friendly face. I also don’t miss the fact that Chad and Saint are no longer playing chaperone, so I actually go to classes on my own. But after Elle’s little cafeteria performance, I doubt anyone would mess with me anyway.

  I know that Ash is also back to school. Not that Elle told me as much, nor have I seen him. I had an inkling when Chad first said that Ash was going to attend tomorrow’s swim meet, but when Saint later stated he was eager to watch him at practice today, it was all the confirmation I needed.

  He’s avoiding me. He has been since that night. And anytime our paths cross, he averts looking me in the eye or talking to me. I disgust him now, and I hate how a part of his revulsion is rubbing off on me. I think he blames me.

  I want to scream in his face that it wasn’t my fault. I never once gave his father any inclination that I wanted to sleep with him. I’d never even spoken more than two words to my mother’s new husband. But, unlike Ollie, I think Asher still believes I’m nothing but a backstabbing liar.

  I don’t know what hurts the most—my feelings regarding what his father did to me, or how Asher is reacting to it all.

  The worst part is, despite all this hate and ugliness that is polluting my soul, I still have love in my heart for him. Why can’t I just switch that part off? He’s done it without remorse. Why can’t I?

  These are the ramblings that are running through my mind as the calculus teacher at the head of the classroom talks endlessly about arithmetic operations and equations, unable to contain her excitement about the subject. I envy her giddiness and enthusiasm about something so uncomplicated. Not that calculus is easy, but compared to my life’s dilemmas, it’s a walk in the park.

  Tears I refuse to shed begin to burn my eyes, and they couldn’t have come at a worse time. Asher doesn’t deserve my sorrow or my pain. I just have to accept the fact that my lost boy is truly gone, opening up a chasm inside me that I can never refill without him. I already have so many hardships to move past, what’s one more?

  I’ll need to find solace in the knowledge that, for a brief time in my life, he was mine. He might try to deny it, but I know he loved me. It’s not my blind faith that reassures me of it; it’s the way he proved it to me over and over again. It’s not a childish belief. It’s a fact, even if he never said it out loud. I’m as sure of it as the blueness of the sky above me. And even after our parent’s marriage, maybe a piece of his heart was still mine—until his father’s actions stole it from me.

  I wish he would just talk to me. Be upfront and tell me why I’m the one that has to bear his hate. I am not the villain here, but I doubt Ash sees me as a victim, either. The menacing tears rise to the corner of my eyes, and I curse the wicked things for making this class even mor
e unbearable. I raise my hand and request a hall pass to escape to the bathroom before my tears make a mockery of me.

  I run through the hall, barely reaching the girls’ bathroom before the damned things break free from their prison. As each tear plops to the ground, I acknowledge that none of them came to life out of sorrow. In this precise moment, I don’t feel sadness, only anger.

  I’m furious this happened to me.

  I’m mad that I have to be here, at a school that despises me for reasons out of my control.

  I’m pissed that my mother manipulated her way into my life and brought me this new brand of hell.

  But most of all, I’m angry that I let him touch me.

  Why did I let him get close?

  Why didn’t I yell for help?

  I screamed no. I know I did.

  I screamed no! Didn’t I?

  The whole night is hazy in my mind. The actual events are blurry to me. Maybe it’s my trauma pushing the memories away, desperate to heal and move on. I can’t say I’m overtly sorry that I can’t recall every single detail. But the feeling of helplessness still prevails. How impotent I felt. Not even when I was diagnosed with lupus did I feel that powerless. I knew that I would fight it with everything I had in me. But all my resistance and strength disappeared when he walked into that room.

  Where did my fight go?

  “Get up, Holland! What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” I reprimand myself, wiping the tears away from my face and promising these are the last ones I’ll shed today. I open the stall door and go to wash my hands, grateful that no one heard me talking to myself.

  And then I do the idiotic thing—I look in the mirror.

  I see a girl who was on the cusp of becoming an independent woman, moving to a new city and living out her dreams of music and lyrics. I see a girl who was loved. Cherished. To the untrained eye, the image of possibility is still there—a strong, young woman, on the verge of starting her adult life on her own two feet, ready for whatever the world has to offer.