“GET the fuck out of my way,” a boy snarls at me just before he shoves me aside. My shoulder collides with the wall, making me wince, but he doesn’t even bother looking in my direction. He just keeps walking, high fiving another boy as he approaches him. They glance over their shoulders at me and laugh before they walk away.
This is my life. The last three weeks, I’ve been completely ostracized. I have turned into everyone’s punching bag at Lancaster Prep, and while I’ve just been taking it the entire time, the rude comments, the whispers as I walk past them, the glares, the dirty looks. It’s all getting to be too much, and I am this close to exploding.
At first, it was much of the same. They ignored me. Pretended I didn’t exist. Even the teaching staff started to catch on to what the students were doing. If we had a group project, they wouldn’t include me in it. When a teacher would call my name, one of them would talk over me, as if I didn’t exist.
I wasn’t even worth existing in Whit’s eyes, so therefore I wasn’t worth it in everyone else’s eyes too.
After a while, teachers stopped calling on me altogether.
Only this last week has it taken a semi-violent turn. And every time something happens, each time someone makes physical contact with me, I eventually see them with Whit, as if they need his approval for a job well done.
It’s sickening. He’s the biggest bully in this school, yet he doesn’t have to lift a finger. He just gets everyone else to do his bidding and treat me like absolute shit.
Lunch has just started and I’m making my way into the dining hall. There are no sympathetic glances or whispered hellos from any other female in this room. They all view me as the enemy. The underclassmen are petrified to be associated with me for fear they’ll be treated poorly too. I have no allies here. Not even Sylvie, who’s disappeared completely. I haven’t seen her on campus in the past six weeks since the first day of school.
I make my way to the line, contemplating the premade sandwiches in the cooler. I should grab one. I can eat half now and save the rest for my dinner later. That way, I don’t have to leave my room for the rest of the night.
Pitiful, but true. My room is my only reprieve. It’s where I spend most of my time, minus when I sneak out in the early evening and jog along the trails that lead to the ocean. Administration has already warned the females not to be out there after five. The sun goes down earlier and earlier, the woods that surround the beach are dark, and they don’t want anything to happen to us.
I defy that rule. I’m treated so terribly during school hours, that time is my only refuge, and I’m not letting them take it away from me. It’s the only moment when I feel truly at peace, with my AirPods in listening to music, getting lost to the rhythm of my feet pounding on the ground. I never understood the runner’s high until recently. Now I feel like I’m chasing after it every chance I get.
I grab a sandwich, a small bag of chips and a Smart Water, and stand in line. Conversation is happening all around me, yet no one speaks directly to me.
“I hear she meets up with the guys after lights out,” a girl whispers to her cluster of friends who are standing behind me.
“Which guys?”
“Whit. Elliot. Spencer and Chad,” the girl says. “She sneaks them into her room.”
“Right, because she has a single room, no roomie to deal with.”
“Whit’s the one with the suite. I hear they all meet in his room,” someone else says.
They’re talking about me.
“Whatever. All I know is, they take turns fucking her. Or she’s getting fucked by one while giving another a BJ. Like it’s one giant orgy, straight out of porn. Ew.” They all laugh uncomfortably. “So disgusting.”
Anger spirals in my gut, but I tap it down. They can say whatever they want. I know it’s not true.
“I heard she sucks off Whit’s dad all the time, too. That’s how she’s paying for her tuition,” one of the other girls says.
“Gross! He’s an old man.”
“Like mother, like daughter.”
I take a step forward, swallowing my words. The cashier is taking forever, making small talk with everyone, a giant smile on her face. Can’t she just do her job and keep the line moving?
“Oooh, maybe they share her. Maybe they have a threesome with Whit’s father,” another one of the girls squeals, right before they all start laughing.
I can’t take it any longer.
Turning around, I glare at them. They knew I was standing there all along, that’s why they said everything in the first place, but they didn’t expect me to react. Usually I never do. This is the first time I’m publicly standing up for myself.
Their laughter slowly dies and they stare at me in return, waiting.
“You’re all disgusting,” I say.
“At least I’m not fucking someone’s daddy to keep myself enrolled,” one of them taunts. She’s young. Beautiful. Mean as a snake. One of Whit’s hangers-on.
“At least I’m not slobbering all over Whit Lancaster’s dick, desperate to get a taste,” I toss back at her.
“You’re a bitch,” she snaps.
“And you’re a heartless cunt who wears too much makeup,” I toss back at her.
She gasps. So do her friends. A shadow suddenly looms over us, and I swallow hard, dropping my head to see shiny black shoes standing right next to my scratched-up loafers.
“Miss Savage,” Headmaster Matthews says. “Come with me to my office, please.”
I gape at him, then point at the girls. “But what about them?”
“What about them?” he repeats, his brows shooting up.
“They started it. They were bad mouthing me, I’m just trying to defend myself…” My voice fades and I snap my lips shut. My argument is pointless.
No one listens to me. No one cares.
“We don’t handle our issues with name-calling at this school, especially such crude insults like what I just heard you say.” He steps closer, his fingers closing around my upper arm. “And I did hear you say it. So come with me, please.”
“What about my lunch?” I ask weakly. I set the items back haphazardly on a nearby shelf.
“Guess you’ll be skipping it today,” he says gleefully as he steers me around and leads me out of the dining hall.
I hear the girls burst into laughter as I walk away. We exit the building, and I glance to my right to find Whit standing with his minions, his gaze only for me as he watches me walk with the headmaster to his office like a criminal being led to the death chamber.
Such bullshit.
Once we’re in Matthews’ office, he closes and locks the door, then leans against the front of his desk. I’m sitting in the chair directly in front of him, and he’s so close, I can feel his pant legs brush against my knees. I try to recoil back but it’s no use.
He’s in my personal bubble, and there’s no way I can avoid him.
“Why did you call Miss Atherton a cunt?”
The word falls from his lips so easily, I’m taken aback for a moment. “She called me a bitch.”
“So that makes it okay.” His tone is maddeningly even.
“She was saying horrible things about me. They all were.”
He lifts a brow. “Such as?”
I refuse to repeat the stories. It’s bad enough, what he might’ve overheard. “Accusing me of doing—vulgar things with some of the boys on campus.”
“Are you doing vulgar things with some of the boys on campus?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of him.
I’m struck silent by his accusatory tone. He doesn’t believe me.
“Of course not. Everyone hates me.”
“Yet they’re all talking about you, so I assume some of them like you. Most likely the boys.” When I lift my head to glare at him, I find he’s already studying me, his gaze dropping to the hem of my skirt where it lays across the tops of my thighs. Reaching out, I tug on it, trying to cover as much skin as possible, and I don’t even roll the waistband up. “I’ve seen this sort of thing happen before, Miss Savage. A girl ostracized by her peers. Rumors begin to fly. Most of them exaggerated, but always with a grain of truth in there somewhere.” He leans forward, drawing uncomfortably closer, and I recoil back.
“The boys hate me too,” I whisper. “They all do.”
He studies me, his gaze wandering, taking me in. I stare back, not cowering under his scrutiny. I have nothing to hide. I’m not in the wrong here. My only crime is calling a cunt a cunt.
She deserved it.
“If we find any boys in your dorm room, you’ll be expelled,” he says, his words deadly serious. “There will be no entertaining the opposite sex in your room after lights out.”
He says it as if I’ve already done it.
“What if I were a lesbian? Then would it be okay?” I retort.
His mouth sets into a firm line, lips disappearing almost completely. “You’re not a lesbian.”
“You shouldn’t assume anything,” I say, my voice quiet.
He straightens up, still glaring at me, his hands now resting on his hips. “You’re getting detention.”
“For what?”
“Insulting Miss Atherton. Calling someone a cunt goes against school rules,” he says, going around his desk to settle into his chair.
I breathe a sigh of relief, relaxing now that he’s not so close. “How many days of detention?”
“Three. Today. As well as Monday and Tuesday of next week. Oh, and you’re barred from tonight’s football game,” he says as he pulls a pink pad out of a desk drawer and starts scratching his pen across it.
Big deal. I hate football. And who would I sit and watch the game with? No one likes me. I have no friends.
He hands me the detention slip. “You can go.”
I grab my backpack off the floor and rise to my feet, ready to make my escape.
“Miss Savage?”
Pausing, I glance over my shoulder at Headmaster Matthews.
“I’d watch that mouth if I were you. It’s bound to get you in trouble again.”
I leave his office without a word, my head held high, my stomach grumbling. I hurry to the dining hall, slipping inside just as the bell rings and I find another sandwich—not my preferred choice but it’ll do—and grab a bag of chips, a Smart Water and a Coke, before I go to the register to pay.
“Food line is closed,” the cashier says firmly.
“Not you too,” I say, my voice trembling. I glance around at the mostly empty dining hall, praying no one is watching me quietly fall apart.
Because I’m this close to collapsing onto the floor in a crying heap.
“Fine,” she says irritably, scanning my items and giving me the total. I pay her in cash, tell her to keep the change before I turn and hurry out of there, bumping straight into a firm, hot wall where an exit is supposed to be.
“Summer Savage, where are you going?” Firm hands grip my upper arms and I jerk my head up to find Elliot McIntosh grinning at me. One of Whit’s friends.
I’m sure he’s heard all the stories. Believes they’re all true. Thinks he can have his way with me and I’ll just meekly comply.
“Let me go,” I murmur, clutching my food and drinks close to my chest. I should’ve put them in my backpack before I left, but I was in too much of a hurry.
“Whatcha got there?” he asks, tilting his head to check out what I’m holding in my hands. “A late lunch, huh? You want to share? Head back to your dorm and hang out for a while?”
“Get away from me.” I jerk out of his hold and keep walking, heading straight for the library. Elliot keeps up with me, his long legs making it easy to gain on my lead and I try my best not to look at him.
“Calm down, babe. You’re in such a hurry.” He laughs. I sneak a glance. He’s dark haired and dark eyed, olive skin and full lips. As handsome as Whit, but in a different way.
Though my body doesn’t quake just being in his presence. There’s the monumental difference.
“Don’t you have a class to go to?” I toss at him as I turn left. The library looms in the distance.
“I’d skip it for you.” He reaches out, snagging my arm and making me come to a stop. “Let’s spend a little time together. Get to know each other.”
“I can’t. I have class.” As if that’s the only reason I don’t want to spend time with him.
His smile is easy. “No, you don’t. You have study hall. So do I. Let’s hang out in the library. I know a quiet spot in the stacks, where no one will interrupt us.”
I try to pull out of his hold, but his fingers tighten on my arm. “No.”
“Oh, come on.” He steps closer, so close his body brushes against mine. “I know you give it up to Whit. He says fucking you is the experience of a lifetime. Just give me a little taste.”
My mind goes white hot with rage at his words, and without thought, I lift my knee, aiming straight for Elliot’s balls.
I make direct contact.
“Fucking whore!” he bellows, letting go of me so he can cover his junk with his hands as he falls to the ground.
I break out into a run, still holding on to my food and drinks, the double doors of the library drawing closer and closer. I can feel the tears running down my cheeks, wetting my skin and I didn’t even realize I was crying.
I can’t take it any longer. I can’t. The taunts. The meanness. The violence. The pain. The lies. Whit is telling people we’re having sex?
God, he wishes. The arrogant prick.
I hate him. I hate all of them.
How they won’t give me a chance. How the teachers and staff stand by and let it happen. They see what’s going on; they’re just afraid to go against their fearless leader.
And he’s not a fearless leader. He’s a seventeen-year-old kid who acts like a vampire. Meaning he’s supposedly seen and done it all, over a million lifetimes, and now he’s bored stiff.
I can’t fucking stand him.
What’s the hardest part about all of this?
When they ignore me. Like I don’t exist. I’ve dealt with that sort of behavior my entire life. You’d think I’d become used to it by now. But I’m not.
Doubt I ever will be.
One of the doors swings open, and there stands Whit, a closed-lip smile on his face, his gaze trained on me and no one else. It’s as if he’s been waiting to greet me the entire time. His gaze shifts to his friend, who’s still doubled over in pain and writhing on the ground behind me and I come to a stop, panting hard, the tears still flowing.
“Did you hurt Elliot?” he asks me incredulously.
“Kicked him in the balls,” I say with relish, hoping he’ll think I could do the same thing to him. I stand a little taller, can feel the tears drying on my cheeks. It’s as if I willed them to stop, and they heeded my call.
“And I hear you called Lacy Atherton a cunt?” He raises his brows.
“She is one.” I lift my chin, hating that I’m still juggling my lunch and dinner in my arms. I feel stupid.
Vulnerable.
“You’re not wrong,” he says. “It’s just no one ever calls her out for being one.”
“Well, I did.” I glare.
He stares.
“Stop telling people we’re fucking,” I throw at him.
Surprise flickers in his gaze for only a moment before his expression evens out. “I never talk about you.”
“Liar,” I hiss.
“Who told you I said that?”
“Your ball-less friend.” I indicate Elliot with a tilt of my head.
Whit’s mouth kicks up on one side. “He’s the liar.”
“Sure.” I don’t believe Whit. He’s the asshole who’s convinced everyone to turn on me. He has all the power on this campus, and they bow to him. Even adults. Especially the adults. They’re probably terrified they’ll lose their jobs if they defy him.
“You don’t believe me?” Whit asks.
I shake my head.
“You’re smarter than I thought,” he murmurs, so low I almost didn’t hear him.
But I did. I heard and he must think I’m absolutely stupid to fall for anything he says.
I’ve had enough of this. I just want some peace. I have an hour until American Government, and that class is absolute torture, considering Whit’s in it. I don’t know why I’m wasting oxygen on a prick who’s hellbent on destroying me.
I’m over it.
“Let me in,” I tell him as I stomp forward, doing my best to push past him.
He stops me with a hand on my hip, his touching searing me to the bone. I go completely still, concentrating only on that tiny spot where his fingers rest upon me. Even through the heavy wool of my skirt, the cotton of my shirt tucked beneath, I can feel him. Like a brand, hot and everlasting, as if he just permanently scarred me. Gooseflesh rises, my breathing shifts. Changes.
That dull, familiar ache settles low in my belly.
Lower.
We’re standing so close. Like we’re a couple prepared to go out onto the dance floor and sway to a romantic song together. I’ve never seen him in the library at this time of day before, and it’s a shock to the system.
His touch is also a shock to my system.
I keep my head bent, staring at his belt buckle. The front of his navy uniform trousers. I’m suddenly tempted to reach out and settle my hand over him. Feel the slow swell of his erection as it grows for me, until he’s rock hard. I know he wants me. I can practically feel it vibrating off of him, flowing into me.
I don’t do it, though. I can’t touch him. I despise him.
I do.
Instead, I stand there and wait.
“You’ve got secrets, Savage. I can feel them crawling all over your skin. Just dying to get out,” he murmurs, his head bent, his mouth at my temple. “When are you going to share them with me?”
“Never,” I whisper harshly. “I’d rather die.”
He chuckles, and with his other hand, he touches my face. Draws his index finger down my cheek. Traces my jaw. Featherlight. Almost as if it didn’t happen. A shiver sweeps over me, oh so obvious to him, and I hate the shame that swamps me at my inability to control my body when he’s near. “I think you’d like it if I wrapped my hands around your throat and choked the life out of you. Knowing I was the last face you ever saw.”
His words should instill paralyzing fear inside of me. But they don’t. Desire swamps me in spite of my anger, and I throw out the first thing that comes to me. “I hear you like to do that. Choke girls.”
The moment the words leave me, I despise myself for saying it. I don’t want him to think he lives in my head, my thoughts, my dreams, my nightmares, because he does. He haunts me everywhere I go. The Lancaster name is all over this godforsaken campus, and he is the only Lancaster I’m truly interested in. The reminders of him are everywhere. I can’t escape them.
And I can’t stand it.
“Where did you hear that?” He sounds amused.
I close my eyes. Suck in a breath when his hand rests gently against my throat. Like a threat.
A promise.
“F-first day of school. Caitlyn and Jane told me at lunch.” The stutter is a weakness and I remind myself I need to be strong.
A chuckle escapes him and he steps even closer to me, pulling me into the library with him so we’re tucked into a dark alcove near the entrance. The door he’d been holding open with his body slams with a loud bang and I hear Miss Taylor shush us from the front desk.
“They’re cunts who wish I’d put my hands on them,” he says, still sounding amused. “So you were gossiping about me?”
“They were gossiping,” I correct.
“And you had nothing to say.”
“I know nothing about you.”
His fingers tighten on my neck, applying the slightest pressure. “Little liar. You know some things.”
“Like what?”
“The taste of my lips. The texture of my tongue. The length of my dick.”
I’m trembling. He’s right. I know all of those things. “That was over three years ago.”
“You remember.”
“Of course I do.” I hesitate for only a moment. “You called me a whore. As usual.”
“So the nickname has stuck. At least I’m consistent.” His grip gentles and he streaks his fingers along my skin, down toward the collar of my shirt. “My pretty little whore. You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”
I want to preen under his compliment, but I tell myself to stop. It’s still an insult, dressed-up in nicer words. “I was only fourteen.”
“So young. So innocent. Drinking champagne and tongue kissing a boy you didn’t even know. Wearing a dress with your tits practically falling out of it. If you were innocent then, I’m sure you’ve been completely corrupted by now,” he taunts.
I dare to glance up at him to find he’s grinning at me. If he only knew how accurate his words are. “Let me go.”
“I like seeing you have a backbone, Savage.” He squeezes my neck again, tighter this time, making the air in my throat clog up. “Keep it up.”
He releases his hold on me and walks away without a backward glance, his steps hurried as he exits the library. I remain in the alcove, swallowing hard, desperate to calm my breathing, my racing heart. I hate how much I just enjoyed our interaction. His fingers on my skin, the gentle threat beneath them. I wanted the pain. I was leaning into his palm, silently begging for it.
I hate myself for wanting it.
For wanting him.
