Boys That Tease: A Bully Romance (Lords Of Wildwood Book 1) Page 3

  Except for the fucking purple hair.

  “Well?” The professor grinned at me, motioning to the class. “We’re all waiting, Ms. Sullivan.”

  It was then that someone laughed, and my stomach sank even deeper. I followed the sound until my eyes settled on Crispin.

  Crispin Dalton. Lacrosse god of Wildwood High and the heartthrob of every teenage girl in the country. Six-feet-five, about as ripped as Noah Centineo—excuse me, yum—and offering the world the knowledge that eight-packs do exist. And let’s not forget, he also had a face modeling agencies fought over, and a slew of talents that would ensure he'd have any career he wanted. Be it professional sports, model, actor, or musician, Crispin would have an amazing life no matter what. And somehow, my own mess-up had only made things easier for him.

  His light brown hair was just a tad too long, falling into his gaze in that adorable, puppy-dog way that made girls’ knees weak. I’d seen it enough times before Wildwood to know I wasn’t the only one he drove crazy. And his soulful-gray eyes made insides melt. With permanently tanned skin that looked good enough to bite into, like a caramel popsicle, Crispin made me want to lick him all over.

  And I wasn't the only one who thought so. I shared my opinion with his nine-million closest friends—his Insta followers. Because after what I did to him, Crispin Dalton was Insta-famous. He would never forgive me for what had happened. How could he? I’d ruined so many lives. I didn't stand a chance. But worse than any worry of what people thought of me after the scandal, was knowing that Crispin Dalton officially hated my guts. In fact, he’d made it his mission to ensure my life at Wildwood was miserable. He’d made that plenty clear when I walked into that classroom, and he greeted me with a patronizing laugh.

  Worry and doubt made my heart pound harder, and I wondered how the hell I was supposed to stay cool when he had already turned my knees to jelly. “Hello,” I managed to get out, my eyes quickly skimming over a certain Dalton and settling on a girl in the front row. Good, I can focus on her. “I’m Tinsley Sullivan. I’m new.”

  “Is that it?” The professor dug deeper, making me shoot him an annoyed look. Um, hello? Have you heard of the fear of speaking to a large audience, Professor Douchebag?

  “Tell us something unique about yourself, Ms. Sullivan. This school prides itself on creating capable public speakers. The sooner you realize you’ll be doing this a lot, the better.”

  “Well…” I swallowed, his comment rendering me speechless. Thanks for that, Prof. The girl in the front row offered me an encouraging grin, and I gave her a timid one in return. “I know some of you may remember me from…stuff. But I want to start over. I need a new beginning.”

  “Let’s hope you get one and that your public speaking is not something you consider a talent,” the professor responded dryly before sending me to an empty desk in the middle of the classroom. “I’m Professor Mulroney. Now that you’ve finally graced us with your presence, Ms. Sullivan, perhaps you can tune into today’s lesson.”

  I took my seat, feeling my cheeks burn again. I’d somehow managed to score the worst seat in the classroom—one where Mulroney could see everything I did with zero privacy from the other students. And worst of all, the seat was right in front of Crispin Dalton.

  I sank down into the chair without giving him a shred of my attention, even though my heart pounded because of him. Pulling out my books, I stacked them on the desk next to my colorful gel pens and arranged it all in perfect order. There. That felt better. Now, freaking breathe. Once I was done, I opened the notebook at the perfect angle to my right hand and pressed ink to paper.

  I could do this. I reassured myself. I could totally do this. I just had to get through this one lesson. And then I could get away from him.

  I really thought I’d go uninterrupted for the whole hour, but I should’ve known better. Crispin was going to try to break me. He always did, after all. The class had ten minutes left when I heard his voice.

  “Yo, Devin Mooney.”

  The skin on the back of my neck prickled. There he was, ruining my concentration, yet again, as if I hadn’t had to put up with it for years on set.

  “Or maybe we should call you Tinsley the Homewrecker?”

  “Fuck you, Prince goddamn Charming,” I hissed before returning my attention to Mulroney and writing the name of the class, my fingers shaking as I struggled to focus on the task at hand.

  The sound of wood scraping against the floor made me bite my bottom lip, trying as hard as I could on the letters. E, and then an N, and then a G…

  “I guess you put the ho in homewrecker.”

  “I guess you put the douche in douche-canoe.”

  “No, but don’t you wish I’d put something else inside you?” he teased in a low, seductive voice that made my skin crawl. “Welcome to Wildwood, Homewrecker. You’re not going to get away with the same shit here, so don’t even think about it.”

  “Crispin. Fuck. The fuck. Off,” I demanded. “In fact—”

  “Miss Sullivan!” Mulroney now stood in front of my table, glaring down at me with his hands resting on my open notebook where the name of the subject remained unfinished. “I would advise you against causing trouble on the first day,” he scolded. “You don’t want to end up in the headmaster’s office, do you?”

  “I’d prefer to stay here uninterrupted,” I hissed, glancing at Crispin in plain view of the teacher who followed my gaze, seemingly realizing what had happened, but just as easily, a smile replaced his frown.

  “Yes, Miss Sullivan, we don’t want you to interrupt anyone,” the professor replied icily. “Now, please focus on the task at hand, and open your book to page one-hundred-and-two. And Miss Sullivan? Make an accusation like that one more time and I won’t need another excuse to send you to Headmaster Hawke. Things may have worked differently in La-La Land, but this is Wildwood. You’d better get used to it.”

  I nodded, dumbfounded by the way he’d disregarded me. He finally left my desk, launching into an explanation of something that went in one ear and out through the other. I couldn’t focus. I kept thinking of the bully breathing down my neck. And the fact that even the goddamn teacher worshipped the ground that prick walked on.

  “Oh, am I interrupting, Tinsley?” His whisper crept along my neck, “Just you wait and see what the others have in store. I’m going the fucking easiest on you, you can trust me on that.”

  His breath was cold, and now I felt it on my shoulders. He was so close. Close enough to brush his lips against my skin. And I wasn’t sure whether I wanted him to move back or come closer. At the same time, I was painfully aware of the truth in his words. I remembered the boy who’d pushed me outside. He was fucking right. They were going to eat me up alive here.

  I didn’t answer, pressing my pen onto the paper with such force it tore.

  “I’m going to make fucking sure you’re protected,” he went on. “But Tinsley, if you don’t let me do that, I’m going to make your life hell. Do you understand why? Because here… The teachers, the students, and the parents listen to one person only. And that person is me. I’m not going to risk losing that because of a piece of ass.”

  Biting my bottom lip, I glared ahead, refusing to acknowledge him. It was then that I felt fingers wrap around the French braid my mom had helped plait in my hair. I hated myself for responding to his cruelty. Like a moth to a fucking flame. Long, strong fingers pulled hard. I gasped; the sound barely audible.

  “Now, Tinsley,” Crispin went on calmly. “Will you listen and be a good girl? I’m not asking for much here. Just your complete obedience.”

  In the split second it took me to answer, two options flashed before me: saying no, and being ridiculed, the eternal outcast. Mocked, singled out, alone. Or saying yes to him but betraying myself, and worst of all, the people involved in the scandal that made Crispin hate me, to begin with.

  “No,” I got out through gritted teeth.

  “Are you fucking sure, kid? I can protect you. Just
work with me on this.”

  “Fuck you for thinking I can’t protect myself,” I hissed back.

  “Your funeral,” Crispin grunted, pulling on my braid, hard.

  I went tumbling down.

  The class went quiet before students started to snicker and outright laugh. Professor Mulroney came to stand by me, and I stared up at him, half-expecting him to stick up for me. But there was nothing in his eyes but pity. Should’ve seen that one coming.

  Just then, the school bell sounded.

  “Well, well, well,” Mulroney muttered. “Saved by the bell, Miss Sullivan. Class dismissed.”

  I practically ran out of there, not even making sure I’d grabbed everything before stuffing it all in my bag and walking into the black Italian marble bathroom on the ground floor. I placed my shaky hands on the elaborate sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face was ghostly pale, my bottom lip jutting out. My hair had come undone from Crispin’s harsh pull. I unbraided it, letting the lilac tresses fall down my back in messy, wavy tendrils. My blue eyes stared back as empty as I felt. I couldn’t bear to see myself anymore, so I forced myself to pull away from the sink. Fuck my life. I heard approaching voices. Locking myself in one of the toilets, I listened to the melodic sound of someone’s laughter.

  “Did you see how she fell?” A girl snickered.

  “Serves her right,” another voice answered. “You read the articles, right?”

  I stiffened, pulling my feet up onto the toilet so they wouldn’t know I was there.

  “Yeah,” the first girl sighed. “Poor Crispin. That girl is bad news.”

  “He should’ve done something worse to her,” the other girl agreed. “Like cut that braid off. He’d be doing her a favor, anyway. I mean, lilac hair? Really? What is this, 2009 at Coachella?”

  “She’s a loser,” the first voice answered, and they both laughed. “Plain and simple, and Crispin totally knows it. Everybody knows it. She probably does, too.”

  I forced myself to bite back tears, waiting until they left the bathroom to exit. My face was red and blotchy, but I only had five minutes until the next class, and I couldn’t afford to be late, again.

  Pushing open the door, I walked into the hallway, feeling every pair of eyes in the long space on me. I kept my head down, briskly walking toward the next class, when he called out to me.

  “Hey, crybaby!”

  The hallway was so quiet I could have heard a feather float. I tried to keep moving when he appeared in front of me.

  “I was talking to you, Devin Mooney.”

  I looked up into Crispin’s stupid storm-grey eyes, hating every second of our interaction.

  Ugh, he was ridiculously handsome. How was this fair to the rest of us mortals? And why did he keep picking on me?

  “Don’t call me that,” I muttered. “In fact, don’t call me fucking anything.”

  “Crybaby?” He laughed. “I think I will, actually. Suits you, since you’re already crying on your first goddamn day. Which, let me remind you, could have been prevented.”

  “Stay away from me, Crispin. I don’t need you.”

  “Oh, poor little rich girl,” he smirked. “I think you and that mother of yours are the ones who need to stay the fuck away. I’m just giving you the option to make your life here better than the fucking nightmare you’re in store for if you don’t do as I say.”

  “The option?” I laughed out loud bitterly. “And what might I have to do to make you take pity on me?”

  He came closer, his presence intimidating and his gaze intense. “Do everything I say.” His tone softened. “Follow my every command. Be a good girl, and I’ll reward you accordingly.”

  “I’m not your lapdog.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Well, if you were, your life would be a lot easier.”

  Feeling braver than I was, I uttered, “I like a challenge.” The burn of my blush tinged my cheeks when I turned around and half-walked, half-ran to my next class.

  His laughter echoed in my mind for the next few hours as I struggled to get through math and philosophy. High school was a trip. Mean boys and pretty girls lined the rooms at Wildwood, making me feel even more miserable than I’d thought possible. The clang of the bell hours later sent a rush of relief coursing through me. It meant it was time for lunch, although, that was nerve-wracking on its own. Where the hell was I going to sit?

  Slowly, I gathered everything I’d scattered over my desk and made my way to the cafeteria. The hallways were filled with people, bodies pushing this way and that, the scent of expensive perfume and cologne thick in the air. God, they even smelled fucking good. I followed them farther inside the space that would make or break my time at Wildwood.

  The cafeteria was spacious and just as modern as the rest of the campus. The room opened into a large sitting area which spilled out onto the courtyard. High ceilings and a lot of space made it appear airy and relaxed, but I’d seen enough teen movies to know it wouldn’t all be fun and games. And as far as food was concerned, there were almost too many options, all of them gourmet and making my mouth water. At least I could muster up an appetite.

  I joined the line for a meal and opted for the mandarin quinoa salad. I grabbed a chia drink and left the line feeling strange for not paying. But all the food here was included in the hefty tuition Mom had shelled out for my time at Wildwood, which only made me feel more guilty. I needed to find a way to make this work.

  Coming to stand at the end of the pickup line, I felt the blush creeping into my cheeks. There was nothing scarier than staring into an open cafeteria of a new school, not knowing where the hell you were going to sit. The fear held me captive until a familiar voice called my name.

  "Tins! Over here!"

  The relief was intense, and I turned to the left, feeling the pit in my stomach fill once my eyes connected with Estella's. My best friend was pure perfection, all five-feet-eleven inches of her. Her hair was luscious and thick, a deep shade of brown, while her eyes were a mesmerizing shade of blue. The girl had an hourglass figure that would make Kim K jealous. She’d been my best friend for a few months, and she was the one bright spot in my future at Wildwood. As I locked eyes with her, relief flooded me. She was still wearing the friendship bracelet, the same one that I had around my wrist. She still cares!

  I neared the table where she sat with a timid, mousy blonde and plopped down on the bench, not before Estella shooed some girls off to make room for me. It made me feel special; that acceptance instantly made me feel more at ease.

  The table made the girl.

  "Babe, this is Inca." Estella motioned to the girl next to her with a saccharine sweet smile. "She's my little pet project this year."

  Inca blushed to the roots of her hair, her lips tugging upwards in the way expected of her, though she was obviously uncomfortable.

  "Inca, this is Tinsley, my best friend in the whole wide world," Estella went on in a sing-song voice.

  Stells was the kind of friend a girl met once in a lifetime, and we’d been thick as thieves since she’d guest starred on Devin Mooney. Even though she was the quintessential mean girl from time to time, she always treated me nicely. There were a couple of years between us, but we had clicked instantly. Knowing she went to Wildwood had calmed my anxiety over the whole high school experience I was about to live, or, more likely, stumble through.

  "Has anyone bothered you today, amor?" Estella asked with raised brows, leaning toward me with a conspiratorial nudge. "Just say the word, and I'll get the problem fixed for you." She punched her palm with her fist.

  "I'll be fine," I assured her, choosing not to mention the earlier incident. It was nothing, anyway. That guy probably just bumped into me by accident. "I met a really nice girl."

  "Oh, really?" Estella asked, spreading organic peanut butter on a rye cracker. "Who is she?"

  "She's a sophomore," I explained. "Her name is Andromeda. Cool, right?"

  She stopped with her knife in the air, raising her eyes at
me. "As in, Awkward Andromeda? Like, the biggest freak in the school? God, Tins, you really know how to pick ‘em."

  I furrowed my brows, shaking my head and muttering, "No, that can't be her. She's gorgeous and super sweet."

  Estella gave me a doubtful look, sighing dramatically. "Honestly, babe, how many Andromedas do you think there are in this school? I know exactly who you're talking about, and I'm telling you now, don't associate yourself with her. You don't want to hurt your reputation at Wildwood from the get-go, right, cariño?"

  While she talked, I let my eyes scan the cafeteria crowd, and they stopped on a now-familiar tall, lanky figure. Andromeda waved at me, jumping up to catch my attention. Her star stickers reflected the light.

  "Right," I muttered, looking away.

  I wasn't sure whether Estella saw us, but I felt guilt settling right back in the pit of my stomach as I turned to my salad. But my appetite was well and truly gone, and after a couple of minutes picking at the mandarin and quinoa, I pushed it away, done pretending.

  The whole time, Estella had been chatting with the other girls, making Inca and myself outcasts. We exchanged a few glances, but neither of us spoke. Lunch was miserable, and despite sitting at the cool kids' table, I felt singled out and alone. Great. Just great.

  I used the time alone to inspect the rest of the people sitting at our table. Estella's other friends either wore lacrosse or cheerleading jackets over their uniforms. Occasionally, one of them would glance at me, but Estella gave them the death glare a second later, so no one dared snicker or say anything. I was grateful for that. Despite the comfort of my best friend attending the same high school, there was still someone I'd have to deal with throughout the year. Although I didn’t want to admit it, I was more terrified of a certain Crispin Dalton than anyone else who went there. Nobody else had the power to hurt me as much as he did.