Bully Anthology: Boys of Westview Academy, books 1-4 Page 8

  Okay, it didn't just bother me, it made me ragey. I wanted to walk up and scream in his face that he should get over himself, stop being such a game playing asshole and either kiss me again or leave me alone forever.

  But I didn't of course. I held my backpack on my lap and gave him icy silence. I took my usual way out of a situation that angered me, I closed myself off to him.

  Once at home, we went our separate ways and I didn't have to see him at all. I decided to eat in my room that night, and went for a run the next morning. When I got back, he was already gone and the house felt lighter without his brooding, complicated moods knocking around from corner to corner.

  Elaine asked me to go shopping so I decided to take her up on her offer.

  "There's a party tonight and I don't really know what to wear," I told her.

  "Oh my god, I will totally help you pick something out," she exhaled breathily and clapped her hands together. "This is the best thing about having you here. I never got to do this with the boys!"

  She had the driver take us to an exclusive boutique on the main street of Harrisburg and told him to pick us up in three hours.

  "That's a long time for shopping," I said and watching him drive off, wondering what I'd done to myself. Being stuck with Elaine alone for that long seemed like it could end up being torturous.

  "We can get some lunch too if we find the perfect outfit before then," she smiled and took my hand. "Listen, I know I've been hard on you this past week. The reality is that I just learned about you and then suddenly you're here living with us. It threw me off a little, but I think we have a chance to get to know each other and become friends."

  She seemed so sincere that I felt my resolve to remain guarded around her melt away and I smiled back. "Sounds perfectly nice. I'd like that."

  I followed her as she walked through the entrance to a store that seemed more of an art gallery than a retail outlet. The front facade was glass spanning the entire wall and inside there were living models walking amongst the shoppers, posing and offering fashion advice.

  We were immediately greeted by a personal advisor who fawned over Elaine like they were old friends.

  "Elaine, darling, you look stunning. Who are you wearing?" the woman asked. She was tall and elegant with straight black hair pulled into a pony tail, she had warm brown eyes and tanned skin. She reminded me of a friend back home who had been Greek. Her family had moved to Europe a couple years ago and we'd lost touch, but because of that I immediately liked this woman.

  "It's something from K. Sales' spring line. She made it for me, you know, it's one of a kind," Elaine gushed.

  "I thought I recognized the designer but not the item. You are always so perfectly appointed." She turned to me and looked me up and down. "And who do we have here?"

  "This is David's daughter, Stephanie. She's living with us now. Her mother just can't handle her out of control behavior and decided to ship her off to us. She knows we have the money and the ability to keep her in line," Elaine said with a haughty tone that instantly gave me hackles and got me bent out of shape.

  I wanted to argue with her, but suspected it wouldn't do any good. Elaine had an image to keep up, and being my benevolent savior seemed to be a huge part of that at the moment.

  So I swallowed my anger, bit my tongue and extended my hand.

  The rest of the afternoon wasn't as awful as I'd expected. Once I chose to ignore Elaine's more ignorant remarks, she was easier to tolerate.

  One might even suggest that we got along. We weren't friends or anything, but she didn't see me as the enemy anymore and that was worth the three hours trying on couture clothing for her and her personal fashion advisor.

  I didn't have a chance to see Barrett before the party. I thought my jangled nerves were going to cause me to fall over or something, I was so excited. I'd tried on several different outfits and had finally settled on something that was nice but not too revealing. I didn't want to give Whitt the wrong idea when he drove me home.

  I pulled on skin tight black jeans, and wore a white top underneath a black faux leather biker jacket with silver trim. I decided on ankle high boots with a fairly substantial heel. I kept my loose curls out, sprayed them to maximize their volume without looking too obvious that I'd done something with them, and applied make up following a YouTube tutorial.

  I was pleased with the result, No cleavage showed, no leg showed, and I certainly didn't look like I was going out to have sex.

  Because as much as I was attracted to Whitt, and as much as I suspected he would jump on me like a horn dog the first sign he got...I didn't want to go there. I'd already suffered enough by trying to lose my virginity with Josh at a party, I wouldn't mess up a chance to just get to know people and hopefully fit in.

  At exactly nine o'clock Whitt pulled up and honked his horn. Nobody was around, so I loped down the stairs and composed myself before I went outside.

  He was standing by the passenger door of a sleek red Range Rover. Not like the bulkier utilitarian ones our staff used for driving us around, but a lower model that looked fast.

  "You are gorgeous," he said and opened the door for me. Butterflies unexpectedly danced in my stomach at his compliment. Was I that attracted to Whitt? What about my attraction to Barrett though?

  I shoved the thought to the back of my mind and decided to just enjoy the present moment.

  "You look rather handsome yourself," I smiled and slid into the warm soft leather seat.

  He climbed in his side and we headed off to Mason's party.

  I felt a pang of longing when I realized that nobody cared where I was tonight. Every time I left the house in California I had to give Mom and Reg a run-down of exactly where I would be and who I was going with. We might not have had a huge mansion or an expensive, exclusive private school but we had love.

  It was strange to me that with everything these families had, love seemed to be lacking.

  Along the way, Whitt said, "Do you feel like grabbing something to eat before we go? The party won't really be bumping until closer to midnight."

  "Yeah, sure," I replied. "Why not?"

  He drove downtown and slide up to a fancy French restaurant with a valet. He jumped out, opened my door and handed the keys to the guy in the red vest to park for us.

  "They seem to know you here," I said as we were shown to a table near the front. It was packed and I wondered how he'd managed to get seated right away.

  "It's my dad's place. He's in the kitchen but whenever I'm up for something to eat, I can pop in and order something I like."

  "That's convenient. My parents don't do anything useful at all."

  We sat down and he said, "I heard you're poor. Is that true?"

  I swallowed and felt my cheeks flame red. I hated the way his question made me feel, like a bug struggling on a pin.

  "I wouldn't say poor. We didn't have this much, obviously."

  "I assumed that's why you were sent out here. To benefit you financially."

  "I was perfectly happy back home."

  I must have bristled because he took my hand in his on the table and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come off as an asshole. I'm direct and wanted to know what was going on. Please forgive me?"

  His apology read as sincere and I relaxed somewhat. "Fine, I forgive you. As long as you order me a dessert."

  He grinned and flagged down a waiter, ordered for both of us and I heard him say in French something about chocolate.

  He could be sexy when he was just being himself, and tonight I wanted to get to know Whitt without the drama of Westview Academy hanging over us.

  Tonight I just wanted to be me getting know a boy.

  Chapter 16

  The party really was bumping by the time we got there a little after eleven.

  Whitt navigated through a street of abandoned luxury cars and drunken kids staggering here and there until he parked on the grass verge in front of a massive white mansion. Larger than ours by several thousand
feet it seemed.

  "Mason Reynolds. This is what football money will buy you," Whitt announced as we walked up. "His dad was an NFL player. Got three Super Bowl rings if I recall correctly."

  "Wow, athletes make a lot of cash," I replied.

  “Too much, if you ask me. It’s ridiculous how much we worship them in our country…and yes, I know I play,” he laughed. “I don’t have to agree with everything my lifestyle stands for.”

  Whitt was a complicated guy, I liked that.

  He handed me a bottle of vodka and I almost turned him down. The scent of it made me feel ill and brought back memories that I would much rather forget.

  But I drank, I took a long draw of the burning liquid and managed to not choke like an amateur in front of him. He took a drink himself and handed it back to me.

  We kept on like that as we walked through the party and by the time we were half way through the bottle, Whitt had his arm casually but meaningfully draped around my shoulder as we talked to his friends and our classmates from Westview Academy.

  "Are you two dating?" one girl asked me at one point but the music was so loud I had a hard time understanding the question.

  Mason had hired an actual DJ for his party and there were speakers everywhere around the house and the grounds and the bass was so deep and heavy that I felt it in my chest.

  "Dating? Oh god, no!" I yelled back when I finally understood what she said. "We're just friends! He's so not my type!"

  At that exact moment the music stopped and a new song came on. My voice carried into the second of silence though, loud and clear.

  "Just friends...not my type..."

  I could have crawled into a deep, deep hole and never come out when I saw the shocked look of surprise on Whitt's face. He'd been making his way back through the crowd with a drink in each hand, one for him and one for me.

  He turned and walked away, horror flooded my limbs and my heart hit the back of my throat, leaving me breathless and gagging over my cruel words.

  That wasn't me, it wasn't even truthful. I was protecting myself though, rejecting him before he had a chance to reject me because on some deep level I didn't believe that this fairy tale was mine. I didn't deserve somebody as hot and nice as him in my life.

  I went running past him, pushing through people dancing and singing along to the new song, and saw him out on the veranda at the back of the house.

  I ran out the doors and caught his arm, tugged at him and said, "Whitt, that was awful of me. I'm sorry!"

  He turned and looked down, his brows knitted together with some flickers of pain in the depths of his eyes.

  "I get it, Steph. You're the new girl hoping to play the field. I'm just a dumb fucking jock, you're brilliant and unbelievably hot. What the hell would a guy like me have to offer you?"

  I took the drinks from his hand and set them on a nearby table. "Can we talk somewhere more quiet?"

  He nodded and led me towards a little gazebo past the hot tub and pool, both were swarming with half naked teens having an awesome time and I briefly wondered why I wasn't one of them. Why had I never been carefree and able to let loose like that?

  When we were alone in the gazebo, Whitt took my hands in his and looked down at me with his soulful brown eyes locked on mine and it suddenly occurred to me.

  I was drunk, and I had a history of making really terrible decisions when I was drunk.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," I said as my pulse throbbed in my chest while my head felt light, barely connected to my body.

  "How did you mean it, Steph?" he asked. "Because you're exactly my type if you'll have me."

  "I don't want a boyfriend," I replied. "I wanted to get to know everybody first, get settled into a routine before hooking up with one guy."

  "So it's true what they say about you?" he asked.

  "What do they say?"

  "That you play the field. You're a slut."

  "Who says that about me?" I exclaimed and tried to pull my hands away from him but his grip was too strong.

  "I've heard it around, but I don't believe it. At least I didn't."

  "Fuck you. I won't be guilted into dating you."

  My words were strong but my intentions weren't so sure. He was gorgeous, his possessive desire repelled the independent part of me but his feral sexuality lured me in like a flower to a honey bee.

  "I didn't want to guilt you into doing anything," he said and he was sincere. I just knew it. I felt it. "I told you, I'm blunt. I heard things, I ignored things, and I like you. That's all I know."

  I breathed out slowly and stared at his lips.

  Those perfect, full, cupid's bow lips. He had the slightest peppering of stubble along his jawline and upper lip, just enough that I bet it would feel amazing when I kissed him.

  "I like you too. And I'm not a slut."

  "I know you're not," he said and bent towards me. "But if you are, I hope you're slutty just for me."

  I nodded gently and his lips crashed into mine, taking away every ounce of my indecision as they swept away my logic and inhibitions.

  His tongue was soft but demanding, pressing mine down, dominating it until I sagged in his arms and almost melted away in an ocean of butterfly wings and warm sunny days. The sensation of his lips on mine took me back to afternoons dappled with light and the most exquisite, heart achingly beautiful feeling of absolute acceptance.

  It wasn't love, we were too new to each other for it to be love, but it was intense like with a generous dash of sexual attraction. Something happening on a cellular, biological level that was beyond our control.

  He broke away when the sharp sounds of laughter came from a group passing next to the gazebo.

  Whitt held my face in the palm of his hands and looked at me with a heated gaze that could have dissolved ice.

  "You're beautiful," he said. When he said it with his voice like that, so thick and heavy with longing and desire, I felt it.

  I felt beautiful. In his eyes I was beautiful and I was enough.

  And at once I realized how sex was so addictive, how boys were so completely mind boggling life altering and how I wanted more.

  So much more.

  Laughter caught our attention as it seemed to grow louder and spread through the crowd of kids partying outside.

  "What's going on?" I asked and craned my head to see. Whitt was taller and was able to see.

  "Oh shit," he told me and held me tight against him. "Oh shit, Steph. You shouldn't go out there."

  "What is it?" I demanded and squirmed in his embrace. "I want to see."

  "You don't want to see this," he groaned and held me tighter.

  The laughter was joined by whoops of boys chanting, "BJ queen! BJ queen!"

  I felt ice spread through my veins as I began to slowly understand what was happening.

  "Let me go out there," I said, my voice breaking with the weight of emotion layered there. "Let me see..."

  "Steph," he said, but I wiggled free and stumbled out of the gazebo, Whitt's butterfly kisses still burning on my lips.

  Every kid at the part seemed to have congregated on the back patio, spilling down the back steps and onto the grass beyond the gazebo.

  There were hundreds and hundreds of them.

  Some I recognized from my first week at Westview Academy, most I didn't know.

  They were all looking at the same thing.

  Projected on the stark white back wall of the mansion at about twenty feet tall in bright full color, a video was playing on a loop.

  It was me.

  First, a photo from under our dining table. Obviously taken by Barrett.

  I hadn't known he'd snuck it, and you could clearly see the red slash of my silk panties between my relaxed thighs.

  Second, another one of me. Lounging by the pool in a tiny bikini, from the afternoon before Barrett had kissed me.

  I was stretched out, one arm over my head, my legs angled seductively as if begging for a man to have his way
with me.

  I'd just been sunbathing like I did back home in California, taking in a rare New England warm day. I’d thought I was alone.

  And the third thing was the YouTube video of my humiliating exit from Josh's party.

  My makeup was smeared, some of the kids were chanting, "BJ Queen," on the recording, and I was obviously drunk out of my mind as my Mom and Reg dragged me through the groups of partying kids.

  I hadn’t ever watched it before and hadn’t realized just how bad it really was. How horrible I looked.

  How slutty I looked.

  Whitt reached my side and touched my shoulder.

  I jerked it away and said, "Now I know why you think I'm a slut! Did you know about this?"

  I looked back at him and couldn't tell what he'd known, everybody's face was a mask of mockery to me now.

  I pulled away and began to push my way through the crowd, desperate for air, desperate for escape.

  I picked up speed and by the time I reached the stairs, I was running.

  I tripped and tumbled, fell down on the smooth, white marble and pushed myself back up. My knee was bleeding and my jeans were ripped, but I kept moving.

  At the top of the stairs I caught Barrett's face above the rest, his height and perfect good looks making him stand out from our classmates.

  "Did you do this?" I screamed, feeling as if I was unraveling, breaking apart. If I stayed I might crumble into nothing in full view of the kids from Westview Academy. "Did you do it?"

  "It wasn't me, I swear!" he yelled back, but the video kept playing on loop and the crowd got louder and louder and I needed to escape.

  I saw him trying to get to me, push his way through the sea of drunken teens to come to my side and I bolted.

  I ran from him and Whitt, from Rome and Chase wherever they were in that crowd. From Becca and Sienna and all those girls.

  From all of them.

  I ran through the house and down the front steps to the street, and with the sounds of them chanting behind me, I ran.