Boys That Tease: A Bully Romance (Lords Of Wildwood Book 1) Page 2
"As in... I don't know, don't be so damn desperate. Maybe try the hard-to-get act for a bit, treat her badly. Girls love that kind of shit."
"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"
"And Daddy, too!" She stuck out her tongue, and I couldn't help but chuckle just when Tinsley snuck a glance at us.
I raised my hand to wave, but Estella slapped it away.
"Remember what I said," she hissed. "It'll do you a world of good to show Tins her place."
I gave her a doubtful look, but in my head, the wheels were churning. What if she was right? What if this was the only way to get the girl of my dreams?
"So, what do you say?" Estella purred. "You down to mess with her a bit?"
"If you...if you think it will help," I managed to croak.
"Oh, I really, really do," she said, satisfied. "Just you watch, Crispin Dalton. Treat her like a princess and she'll slip through your fingers, but... treat her like you’re a bully, and you'll have her full attention."
Oh, baby, if only you knew how right you were...
Tinsley
Once my hair and makeup were done, Cristofer's words finally dawned on me. I would be kissing Crispin fucking Dalton in a few minutes. Shivers went down my spine, and I could barely fight the goofy grin on my face. I rushed to the set the moment I was ready, passing Estella on the way. She wasn't in a scene until later, and she winked at me when she walked to her trailer. Weird.
My eyes zeroed in on Crispin getting makeup touch-ups on the set of my TV home. Expecting his good-natured smile, I was surprised to find him smirking at me.
“Want some last-minute tips?” Crispin asked, and I glared in response.
"Regarding?”
"The kiss of course."
"Please," I scoffed. "I don't need tips."
“I think you do, Tins. I think you don’t have a clue about kissing. Tell me how right I am on a scale of one to ten?”
“Minus eighteen,” I hissed. “I know stuff.”
He leaned in closer, his lips just barely grazing my ear as he whispered, “Oh yeah? Ever practice with Estella?”
“No!” I pushed him back, and he laughed out loud. “Gross, Crispin. I literally just met her. Now let me focus on the scene.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t want something to ruin your big break,” he muttered in my ear.
Our conversation was soft enough so only we could hear, but I still glanced nervously over to where my mother sat.
“God, Tinsley,” Crispin clicked his tongue. “You’re really still doing what Mommy dearest says? Isn’t it about time you came out of the proverbial closet? Rebel at least a little bit? Dye your hair or something. It's like a rite of passage."
“No one asked for your opinion,” I bit back. I turned into a brat when I was angry, and we both knew it. “Anyway, I know how to kiss. As you’re about to bear witness.”
“Thirty seconds!” Crispin's Dad yelled from behind the cameras.
“Oh yeah?” Crispin smirked, and we got into position. “I just hope you’re better than a hopeless puppy licking me with excitement.”
“What?”
“Fifteen seconds!”
“A puppy,” he repeated. “Since you follow me around like one. Hope you kiss better, Tins.”
“Ten seconds!”
“What the hell has gotten into you?” I hissed, closing my eyes firmly to try to help my focus. “We’re almost on.”
“We are,” he whispered. “Now remember Tins, close your eyes, or you’ll look like an amateur.”
My skin prickled at the thought, and I glared in response just as the red light on the cameras clicked on.
Seamlessly moving into his role, Crispin gave me his character’s signature crooked grin, asking, “So, how about it?”
“How about what?” I asked, robotically repeating my lines. I was on autopilot, somehow managing to be in the scene even while my mind raced.
“The favor you owe me,” he winked, reaching for my right hand, the one not in the camera view. “You remember, don’t you?”
“You wanted to have my first kiss,” I said, and he nodded, taking a step closer. Here it is, I thought, panicking. I’m supposed to kiss him. Right now.
I stared at Crispin, watching the way his front teeth dug into his bottom lip when he smiled. He was acting so weird. How the hell was I going to do this? Growing up filming the show, I’d come to find the cameras surrounding me almost natural. But I’d never felt more on display than filming that season finale.
“Well?” he asked, going off-script and reminding me I needed to play along. His brows shot up. “How about it?”
I leaned in closer, hesitating moments before our lips touched.
I could smell him.
Feel his powerful body against mine.
His arm snaked around my waist, and he pulled me in against him.
“Afraid?” he whispered.
I shook my head. I closed my eyes like he’d told me to.
And then his lips were on mine, and he wasn’t getting my first kiss; he was stealing it. He didn’t treat it like a first kiss. He treated me like one of his fangirls, the ones who came and left his trailer in a daze.
I hated him for taking our last shred of friendship away.
His left hand, the one not facing the camera, flipped my skirt on the side. I gasped, and he deepened our kiss. His fingers wandered under my skirt.
Of all the days to wear a freaking thong… Was nobody going to freaking stop him?
His fingers were on my ass. I opened my eyes during the kiss. His were open too, staring at me. It was the most uncomfortable kiss on television ever, as it would be called time and time again after that day. Crispin’s fingers reached the piece of fabric between my cheeks, and I grabbed his shirt when he pulled on it. It didn’t stop him.
With a snap, he tore the thong off, immediately stashing it in his pocket as he whispered, "Something to remember you by.”
I should've known then and there, the boy I had fallen in love with was now a different man, but being the foolish, naive little girl that I was, but I just glared at him after Cristofer yelled “cut,” and the staff broke into applause.
It was the beginning of the end, and as I watched Crispin's fingertips stroking the fabric of my panties in his pocket while his eyes rested on mine, I knew I was doomed. Not because he was bad for me, but because I liked it.
Chapter One
Tinsley
"Have you seen Pandora Amberly?"
The urgency of the voice made me forget about my frayed nerves. I looked up from the spot on the ground I’d been fixated on, examining the pretty girl who stood in front of me, shoving a flyer in my face.
A young woman grinned in the black-and-white photo that stared back from the flyer in her hands, forever frozen in that blissful moment before. Judging by the pretty girl’s desperation, there was definitely an after.
I shifted my attention to the pretty girl. Freckles peppered her nose, and she'd stuck tiny, colorful metallic stars all over them. Quirky or weird? To be decided. Her eyes were huge and gray, her lips full, and her nose tiny. She wasn't wearing makeup apart from the stickers. Weird.
"No, sorry," I answered, hiding my hands behind my back so she wouldn’t notice them shake. "Is she okay?"
The brunette sighed, shrugging as she licked a finger and flipped through some of her papers.
"You’re new here?” she asked, and I nodded. "Then I guess you haven’t heard the story. Her name’s Pandora. She’s missing.” She told me that as if it were common knowledge, yet it didn’t stop the tremor in her voice.
I could almost feel her sister’s ghost there with us. What happened to you, Pandora?
The girl switched from quiet thoughtfulness into playful banter. She fell into step with me, like we’d known each other for a decade, bumping her hip into mine with a wink of thick black lashes. I could only muster up an attempt at a smile. All of this seemed so easy for Quirky Girl, but I was terrified.
It was an experience that magazines, TV shows, and songs all told me to cherish. Fall in love. Lose your virginity. Meet your high school sweetheart. All things I had wanted, craved to experience mere months ago, but not now, not after everything went tits-up. Now, my innocent high school dream had the potential to be a full-blown Scream-style nightmare.
"Are you related?" I asked star-sticker girl, pointing to the stack of papers in her hands. "Sisters?"
"Yes.” As she went on, her voice grew heavy, her lashes fluttering like a butterfly’s wings against her pretty pale cheeks. "Pandora went missing before we started high school. She was supposed to start at Wildwood after that summer. She was only fourteen. We called it in within twelve hours. She went to an art class and just never came back.” She swallowed thickly, and I fought the urge to reach out for her hand, knowing it might make her uncomfortable. “The police still haven't found her, and…you know, it’s rough. My parents are losing hope. They’ve forbidden me to speak about her at home."
Say what? I stared at her, knowing what to say. Your parents sound like nutcases? I managed a weak smile as she walked over to a tall pine tree and stapled a Have you seen Pandora Amberly poster to the thick, cracked wood. "I never will. You know, when we were younger, we had a little cat.”
“Right…”
“She went missing once in our garden. Pandora and I were hysterical. We made Mom and Dad look everywhere for her. We had a neighborhood search party.”
I nodded as she joined me, and we kept walking. “Did you end up finding the cat?”
Quirky Girl gave me a sideways glance, grinning. “Yeah, we did. Turns out she’d been in the garden the whole time, but she only came out when she heard my sister’s voice. They were close.”
“Okay…”
“And I know Pandora will come back if I keep looking.” She nodded to herself. “Because she knows I’ll never stop searching for her.”
I nodded, feeling the fierceness of her statement. It almost sounded like she had something to prove.
"You must’ve been close to Pandora," I acknowledged. I tried to picture myself in the same situation, even though I was an only child. But I couldn’t imagine losing someone I loved, a part of my family. Panic consumed me when I thought of losing my mom. I’d be lost without her. Please, not again. A panic attack was coming, but I forced myself to take deep, calming breaths until I relaxed more. Fuck, if I freaked out this badly, I couldn’t even imagine how messed up this was for her.
"Very. We are only a couple of years apart.” Her eyes went wide as saucers, and she added, “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself."
We stopped in the middle of the asphalt, and she shook my hand. Each of her nails were painted a different metallic color, just like the stars on her cheeks. She was definitely unique, if nothing else.
"Andromeda Amberly. Kind of unforgettable."
"You and your sister both have unique names."
She visibly lit up, and I wondered why. I realized I’d spoken of her sister in present time, and the crushing reality was that she probably got used to talking about Pandora as if she were gone.
“Our parents are historians," she explained with a well-natured shrug. "But you can call me Andie if you want. I’m trying to work on a new nickname, anyway. I don’t much like the one I have here. So, you're a senior?"
I nodded just as we came to a stop in front of the main Wildwood Academy building. My stomach dropped, and I felt another panic attack clawing to get out of me. But once again, I forced it back down.
The campus was elaborate, beautiful. It was a historical building renovated in the twentieth century and kept ultra-modern since then, and the estate stretched over enough land to host five-hundred students. A large, green property surrounded the premises, complete with tall hedges that isolated us from the rest of the city, like we ourselves were as important as the works of art decorating Wildwood’s white-washed walls. This wasn’t a school for the rowdy, restless kids of Wildwood’s rival, the public school Silverside High. This was a place for the elite, or at the very least, those whose parents were famous, loaded, or both.
"You must’ve had quite the summer," Andromeda said in her easy-breezy tone, and I glanced at her from the corner of my eye.
She knows my secret, I panicked. Everyone will know. There’s nowhere to run. For the third time, I forced myself to calm down, congratulating Dr. Morton in my mind as I prevented another panic attack from rendering me speechless. Good job training me for that, Doc.
"I didn't mean to freak you out." Her tone was softer like we were friends. It was easy to be lulled into a sense of security when she spoke that way. Or maybe I was just naïve as hell. “It's just you're kind of an urban legend around here. The Tinsley Sullivan. I didn’t recognize you first cause of the hair."
I shook my head with a suppressed groan. "How so?"
"You were supposed to come here before, right?"
"Three years ago.”
"So, what happened?" She cocked her head to the side, studying me.
"I wanted to keep going with the show." It was the truth, but it made me feel like a loser for doing something about my career. The fact was, it wasn’t cool to be worried about the future. Not when you’re almost freaking eighteen and still holding onto your cherry. Not that I’d ever admit that to Andromeda. "I was happy having lecturers on set until…” I didn’t need to finish that sentence. My five minutes of fame were over. I might have been a star once, but now, I was infamous. From America’s sweetheart to the nation’s problem child! I still remembered the headlines.
"The Life and Times of Devin Mooney. Loved it. You were like the best one on that show. I watched it from the start, just stopped when I… you know…”
I laughed when she trailed off. “Until you got too old for it. I get it. It’s why the ratings went down the last three seasons.”
She smiled with relief, asking, “How many were there?”
“Nine. I played Devin for nine years. A long time.” I’d lived and breathed that role. I was Devin Mooney, the fun, bubbly pop star who split her time between her life at home and the stage. Yeah, Hannah Montana, I did it better than you.
I’d been a child prodigy. Until a few months ago, I looked the part, too, with long, golden hair and a pretty doll face to match. These days, I barely recognized the girl in the mirror. She was not who I used to be. I realized Andromeda was still talking and tuned into her words again.
“But when all the other stuff happened… You know, when that scandal made you—”
I rushed to step in front of her, my hands grabbing her slim wrists. I felt nauseous at the thought of her bringing it up, bile threatened to rise in my stomach. Not again. Please, God, not again. "Don't say anything," I begged. "Don't talk about it. I'm trying— I'm trying to have a fresh start at Wildwood. I don’t think I can handle it right now.”
"Of course." She squeezed my hand, her smile replacing a worried grimace as if it were already forgotten. "Hey, want to eat lunch together today?"
I was surprised by her indifference, how easy it was for her to move on as if nothing had happened. Suddenly grateful, I grinned at her and nodded. "I'd like that."
The school bell sounded, and Andromeda rushed past me, her flyers rustling as she went inside the two-story building. "I'll find you in the cafeteria!" she yelled over her shoulder, and I found myself nodding.
Well, at least I'd made a friend. Better than fucking nothing.
I came to a shaky stop when a body slammed into me from behind. The push was so rough, I stumbled forward, barely avoiding a fall. I glanced up to the sound of nearby laughter, feeling my heart hammering. Holy shit, I could’ve broken a limb. A cute, squarely built guy smirked at me from behind and kept walking, his crew
following behind and snickering. I drank him in, remembering every detail from his thousand-dollar sneakers to the hundred-watt smile that was nearly blinding.
Shit list: activated. First victim: found.
Shame blazed on my cheeks from the unprovoked attack. I knew my first day would be a shitshow, but I hadn’t realized I’d stand out quite so much. I’d agonized over my appearance that morning, grateful that I was forced to wear a uniform. I’d customized my navy-and-gold skirt with an embroidered patch of a cartoon cherry and some hearts. The way I tied my shirt above my navel may have been a bit too Britney in the “Hit Me Baby One More Time” era, but I thought I looked cute. Of course, the thing that stood out the most were my studded Givenchy army boots, but on second thought, my lavender-grey hair didn’t exactly make me blend in, either. I’d underestimated the students at Wildwood. They may have been young, but they behaved—and dressed—like royalty. Almost as prissy and just as fancy. Now, the fear that I’d be mocked and ridiculed for a multitude of reasons washed over me again.
I heaved a sigh before walking into the building. I’d underestimated the time it would take me to find my classroom, and by the time I had managed to stumble down the now-empty hallway, I was late. Knocking on the door, I entered with burning, blotchy skin, feeling the shame flame harder than my twisting stomach. The moment my foot stepped over the threshold; the place went deadly quiet.
“I see we have a late student joining us.”
My eyes were glued to the twenty or so students before me. I had to tear my gaze away to find a man standing before the blackboard. He was ridiculously handsome. Jesus Christ, did everyone here look like they should model for Calvin Klein?
“I’m sorry,” I managed. My eyes danced between his blue eyes and the dark hair. Like a regular Clark Kent. “I got a bit lost… It’s my first day.”
“Ah, you must be Tinsley.” He nodded, giving me a crooked smile. “Why don’t you stand in front of the class and introduce yourself.”
Excuse me? Are we suddenly in a 90s teen movie? I gave him a shaky smile, swallowing the words I wanted to throw in his face. Now, my eyes went to the students that sat before us, and my blood ran as cold as ice water. There were about twenty like I’d estimated before, all of them with picture-perfect nose jobs, expensive hair extensions, and wardrobes models would be jealous of. The pressure is on. I felt like a fraud standing there, never as thankful for the uniform making me seem like I fit in.