Brat: A High School Bully Romance (The King of Castleton High Book 2) Read online

  He shrugged noncommittally, a small smile curving his lips. “Let me ask you this. When you were talking to me, you were talking to me. You realize that, don’t you? It wasn’t Aiden you were having conversations online with and it wasn’t Aiden who was speaking to you in school. His words were my words, Tarryn. So,” he stood up from leaning and moved towards me. He bent down, shifting so close I could smell fresh mint on his breath. He must have just eaten a breath saver or something. In anticipation of what? The thought made me angry… and thrilled me the tiniest bit. The tiniest bit.

  My hormones needed to get seriously under control.

  I walked away from Drake quickly, sucking in deep breaths of air. I was glad for the cool evening, though I wished I’d thought of bringing a sweater. I crossed my arms, rubbing up and down swiftly, trying to stop the rising goosebumps. I startled when material wrapped around my body. It was big enough to overlap in front and block out the slight breeze. A guy’s jacket, black but with barely-noticeable charcoal striping.

  I turned and found Drake standing with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his hands shoved into his tailored pants’ pockets. He’d loosed his tie just enough to look casually put-together, toeing the line of disheveled and roguishly handsome.

  “I’m fine. I don’t need this.” I started shrugging out of the suit coat, but he placed his hands on my shoulders.

  “You’re cold, Tarryn. No need to be a martyr because you hate me. Look at it this way—if you’re warm with my jacket, that means I’m chilly without it. You’re causing me discomfort.” He gripped the edges of the lapel and pulled it tighter around me. “Doesn’t causing someone pain feel just a teensy bit good?”

  “Hurting people should never feel good, Drake. What’s wrong with you?” I gripped the jacket after his hands fell away. I meant to stalk away, show him my back and make my point, but there was something in his eyes—ghosts. He looked haunted. It didn’t make sense.

  Chauvinistic Drake with swagger to spare. The words of a girl he only saw as a conquest couldn’t hurt him.

  We stood there a minute. I bit my lower lip, chewing gently and studying him. He stared back, until finally I swore I saw dampness in his eyes—and that made him turn away from me and tilt his head up at the sky.

  A pang shot through my chest and I reached for him. It was automatic. I saw pain and I wanted to stop the pain. It was the same reason I tried to keep the peace at home—not telling my parents how much I hadn’t wanted to move here, not telling them what kind of person Drake really was.

  My fingers touched his back, the jacket trying to slip off my right shoulder, and when I made contact that’s when I realized I was trying to comfort my abuser. “Are you okay?” I asked, pushing the words out fast before my better sense caught up to my actions. He didn’t respond. “God, I don’t even know why I tried. You’re not a normal human being.” I dropped my hand.

  And that’s when Drake whirled around and wrapped his arms around my body. My arms were caught inside the jacket, pressed against his muscled body. I looked up at him awkwardly, but didn’t try fighting his hold. His eyes were wild, his face full of childlike confusion. I didn’t want to startle him, not when he looked like a cornered animal.

  “Why are you being nice to me, Square?” He said it quietly, a whisper that got lost in the gentle wind swirling around us. “I don’t deserve it.”

  “No… you don’t,” I spoke slowly. “But I’m not you, Drake. Just because I’ve been treated badly doesn’t mean I’m going to change who I am.”

  He took one arm away from my body and his hand came into view. He cupped my cheek gently. “You’re not like any damn girl I’ve ever known, Tarryn.”

  “Well, have you ever actually taken time to know a girl, Drake? Or was it always fucking?” I didn’t normally say the F word. It felt sour in my mouth, but it was a language that I knew Drake would understand. I still didn’t move, though part of me did want to shift away from his fingers cradling my face. I was softening towards him. I was being kind. And he was right. He didn’t deserve it. He’d fallen quiet again. “Can you face that question? Is it that hard to answer? Did you ever look at a girl and think ‘I want to talk to her, spend time with her, not just use her and lose her?”

  Drake’s hand pressed a little more firmly against my face. “Yeah, I have. I’m looking at her right now.”

  I swallowed, not knowing how to answer that.

  He filled the void, clearing his throat and releasing me. “Come on. We’ve already missed our reservation.”

  “Good thing Daddy owns the restaurant,” I teased, halfheartedly since my mind was still spinning from his declaration.

  “Yeah, good thing.” Drake tried to smile, but he couldn’t manage it. And when he took my hand, I only hesitated for a few moments before letting him pull me towards the entrance.

  ###

  Dinner had been gorgeous. I couldn’t deny that. I’d never been to such a posh restaurant. That’s not a word I typically use, but it felt right.

  The outside of the building had been expensive-looking in that ‘obvious, not obvious’ way, with architecturally clean lines and a factory-flat roof that boasted roof-top dining. The sign—Castleton Steakhouse—was very industrial with metal lettering. The ‘o’ in Castleton was copper whilst the rest of the sign looked like weathered steel. I hadn’t been surprised that Drake had taken advantage of one of his family’s businesses. Why pay if you didn’t have to, right?

  There’d been formally-dressed wait staff. Crisp white table cloths. Multiple slate-tiled fireplaces scattered around the dining space—though we’d not enjoyed their warmth and instead been sequestered in a painfully-private room next to the kitchen, easy access for the salary chef to walk out and greet Drake and compliment my dress—and the menu didn’t have prices… which meant that things were seriously not cheap.

  The thing was… the thing that ruined what could have been a real turning point between Drake and me, was that he reverted to his jackass ways the second we walked through the door and people recognized him. He let go of my hand and flirted with the hostess, he pranced about the room as if he owned it—because he actually did.

  God, for a moment… I’d really felt for him. I’d gotten stupid butterflies when he’d held my hand and led me towards the restaurant. I mean, they weren’t a million fully-formed monarchs flitting about my stomach, but they were there. And in a matter of seconds, Drake freaking Castleton shot them down.

  I was so glad when the meal was over—all stupid five courses of it—but then we’d had to get back in his stupid car, drive over to the school, walk into the gym space that now looked like the Ritz rather than a sports arena. We’d missed all of the homecoming activities as well…not that I really cared to see the queen and king crowning and dance.

  I thanked my lucky stars when Sasha and Steve found us quickly. She was stunning and he looked like a guy totally smitten. With a quick excuse to Steve, and no words for Drake, I stole Sasha away towards the punch bowls.

  “So, you and Steve made up?” I handed her a clear disposable cup as I spoke. She grimaced, and the look said it all. “You’re not happy with the outcome?”

  “Ugh. Tarryn. The very last, last thing I needed this year was to get attached to some loser guy. I’m bound for greater things, dammit. Exotic cities far away from here. Exploring my sexual awakening with European guys with sexy-as-hell accents. Steve is absolute white bread with a few too many joints under his weed-smoked brain.”

  “Hey, Steve seems like a good guy, babe. And look at him,” we both turned around and I pointed at Steve and Drake. “He’s seriously head-over-heels for you.”

  “Head-over-heels for my vagina you mean.” She said it so dryly that I nearly spit my punch all over her. She sighed heavily. “Well, come on. I can’t keep my homegrown hero waiting. And there’s always the girth.”

  “See. If all else fails, lie back and think of the girth.” I finished my drink and wrapped my fingers suggestively
around the bottom of the cup.

  “Amen. Girth and length, girl. Girl and length.” She poked her finger into my open cup several times, fast and pointedly.

  We laughed our way back to the boys. Though, my joy died the closer I came to my asshole date. The lights above us were intoxicating and I hated the way the shimmering glow of everything sparkling around us brought out the golden highlights of Drake’s hair…

  But I wouldn’t focus on that. I wouldn’t. Because I freaking hated Drake Castleton.

  “Welcome back,” Steve pulled Sasha towards him. She gave a girlish laugh that was very unlike her. She flashed me an almost apologetic look immediately afterwards, but then she shrugged, hugged onto Steve, and let herself get lost in the moment. “Come on, babe. I’m thirsty too and you,” he kissed her cheek, “were typically selfish and only got yourself something.”

  “Hey, it’s your job to be thoughtful, not mine. You knew what you were getting into.” Sasha playfully scolded.

  “Yeah, yeah. So you keep reminding me.”

  They walked off together, leaving me and Drake alone again. Stone cold silence encased us. I couldn’t stand it for very long and I moved to the side of the room, further away from the entrance photographer that we’d thankfully avoided—he hadn’t been working when we’d entered. The million pictures taken at home with my parents had been gross plenty to remember this shit night.

  Drake followed me; I wasn’t sure he would. When I took a seat at an empty table, he joined me. I didn’t look at him. I had nothing to say. I’d seen a glimmer of a person beneath his bully façade, but I’d been wrong. It had just been another act to pull me into his game, and his true colors had shown through with force the second we’d been back in his social circle of wealth and entitlement.

  He wasn’t worth my time to comfort or forgive or connect with in a meaningful way. He’d never be worth my time, because he wasn’t the kind of guy who would ever change… even if he actually could.

  3.

  D R A K E

  I needed to say something to her.

  My mouth wouldn’t open though. Words wouldn’t come out.

  My brain was at war—at odds with the shining lights above and the erratic music pounding around us and the moment of… true fucking connection I’d felt with Tarryn outside the restaurant. In those seconds there, with her wearing my jacket and looking like she belonged in my clothes, I’d realized how great my damn need was for her still. I’d thought the ‘game’ was over the minute she’d opened the door to her house, Aiden’s damn name spilling from her lips. But I’d been lying to myself, acting like I could let go of the race without reaching the finish line.

  When she’d touched my back and asked if I was okay…girls had asked me that before. She wasn’t the first person to get a glimpse of the darkness inside. Every other time had ended in forgetful fucking. I couldn’t do that with Tarryn. I couldn’t distract her and myself and burn away the emotions by shoving my dick into her over and over again.

  I’d never wanted more than the physical release before with a girl. They were just walking solutions to my particular problem. It chased away the shadows long enough for me to survive, or act like I was surviving at the very least.

  Tarryn stood up without warning. I was frozen in place, fighting the need to stand up and follow her like a lost goddamn puppy. I wasn’t a puppy.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” she said in clipped, sharp tones. “You can stay here.”

  “Sure you don’t need help? I’ve had some experience with girls in bathrooms.” The words slipped from my mouth, cocky and so very Drake-ish, before I could stop them. I felt like I should say sorry, and I almost did, but she didn’t give me the chance.

  “Wow. Can’t imagine the STDs that experience left you with.” She stormed away towards the gym exit.

  “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, leaning back in the unstable folding chair and closing my eyes for a second. This wasn’t going as planned. The restaurant was supposed to be a turning point. She’d walk in, see the Castleton name at work, taste John’s food and I’d turn on the charm like goddamn LED headlights on a wide-open road at midnight.

  We’d had a moment, an honest-to-god mother fucking moment out in that parking lot. What if I hadn’t led her into the restaurant? Who really gave a shit about missing a reservation?

  But I’d walked into that place, seen Brandy the hostess, and the moment outside evaporated. Because I was Drake-fucking-Castleton. Girls didn’t see me weak. It was the other way around. Always.

  “Drake?” A timid voice said my name like a question riding a prayer. I sat up in the chair slowly, like the predator I was—pulling from the middle of my chest every ounce of snakelike charm. That’s what I was known for, after all.

  Tabitha was a short-girl glitter vision in gold sequins. The dress was off the shoulder, an eighties vibe, and it was barely long enough to cover her ass. “How’d you manage to get by the chaperones in that, Tabs?” I eyed her appreciatively. I knew that’s what she wanted.

  “You know Coach. Shake a little and bend over, and he’s on board with any outfit. No matter how nonexistent.” Tabitha edged a little closer, her small hand reaching towards my suit jacket, which I was once again wearing. Tarryn had refused to put it back on after dinner, even though she was freezing walking to the car. Stupid girl.

  “So, you’re with that new girl.” Her fingers played across the lightly-striped material of the suit, starting at the shoulder seam and finger-walking towards the collar. I realized her hand was shaking a little as she ventured towards the tie. She snaked her index finger beneath the silk length so she could dip her way between the buttons of my shirt and touch the skin beneath. “You said nothing happened with her.”

  I reached up and took her hand gently. “That wasn’t a lie,” I pushed the words out, one by one, firmly.

  “Sure, Drake. You never lie.” Tabs rolled her eyes and bit her lower lip gently. She was trying to sound tough, but all of her self-doubt and need to be wanted warred at the tattered edges of her words.

  Standing, I forced her hand away, losing some gentleness in the touch. “I thought you didn’t care, Tabs. You wanted to see the new girl resist my ass. Weren’t those your words?”

  She shuffled, crossing her arms over the bright gold of her dress. “I was mad at you.”

  “And you aren’t mad anymore,” I leaned in, pitching my voice low, but still loud enough to be heard over the dance.

  “I can’t stay mad at you.” Her voice was breathy, desperate.

  Why did I find that so irritating right now? I liked desperation usually. It was an easy-to-manipulate emotion. It got more girls into my bed than I could count. Screw them. Mistreat them. The desperation still remained. Tabs was walking fucking proof of that. She was the kind that would keep coming back for more, trying to fill the gaping damn cavern in her body where her self-worth should reside.

  “You should work on that,” I finally said, and I knew my eyes were cold, steel, unfeeling orbs. “Fuck, Tabs. You’ll be fucking better off if you can just stay mad at me.”

  I felt a pang when I saw the moisture build in her eyes. Goddammit, I didn’t feel badly over shit like this. I didn’t feel badly for being who the fuck I was. For the second time this evening, a girl stomped away from me. Hurt. Sad. Angry.

  King of the castle I was tonight. Holy fucking not.

  Too much pent-up energy and thoughts, I couldn’t sit down again. I started walking the edge of the room, eyes searching for Tarryn. I hadn’t seen her come back into the gym, but I’d been momentarily preoccupied with Tabitha.

  I found her after a while.

  And when I did, white-hot anger flashed through me. I took a fast step forward, and then forced myself to stop. Tarryn was talking to Aiden. Aiden, who shouldn’t fucking be here. That was part of the deal. This was my time now.

  Forcing myself to wait and watch them for a moment and not rush over in rage, I took a deep breath. I had a c
hoice here. I could let this happen—Tarryn and Aiden. I could admit to myself that the game was over. She wasn’t the kind of girl that was going to change her mind about me. Or… I could rise to the challenge. I could pull out all the fucking stops to make her mine.

  I knew the rational route.

  But the irrational desire to change Tarryn’s mind about me was too strong.

  And the thing that really fucked with my head was that I didn’t know where the desire was stemming from now. At first, I’d just wanted her, because that’s what I did when fresh meat came on the market. Once I’d found how strong-willed she was, how seemingly-immune to my charms… the chase became the aphrodisiac.

  Was that all it still was? The high of winning?

  Maybe I didn’t know the answer. My head was a goddamn zoo right now, with all the cages open—emotions fighting like animals for survival inside my body. I was sure about at least two things though.

  The lights glittering off of Tarryn’s hair and dress was a show I could watch for hours. And the way she reached over and touched Aiden’s shoulder just now made me ill with jealousy. Was she forgiving him? What lies was he telling to paint himself innocent?

  Now I did move.

  I was a sinner. Born and bred. I’d done so much wrong that the karmic balance of the universe didn’t know what to do with me. There wasn’t enough payback on the planet to right my wrongs.

  Aiden was a sinner too though.

  He could tell the truth, if it was the whole fucking truth—about the deal we made, about the blood money he’s reaped from the agreement.

  Superman wasn’t a hundred percent angel.

  Just like I’m not a hundred percent devil. Ninety-nine percent at the most.

  Tarryn bent over, adjust the strap of her shoe as I approached. The vision of that cooled the darkness in my brain, though it stoked the lava in my veins—rushing straight to my fucking dick.