Play With Me: A High School Bully Romance (Diamond In The Rough Book 1)(2)

I’d kill to have that relationship with my one parent.

Allison cleared her throat. “So what are you two doing this weekend?”

Michael smiled. “Please, oh please tell me this is leading into another weekend visit at your place. I love your basement, and girl talk is always fun to listen to.”

I laughed. “You know I’m not doing anything. I only work every other weekend at the grocery store even though I beg for more hours. You know how it goes. Why?”

Allison linked her arm with mine. “Well, my parents are going to Palm Springs Thursday evening for a spa retreat. Won’t be back until Monday afternoon.”

Michael thrust his fist into the air. “Yes! Girl time! Nailed it!”

I threw my head back in laughter as Allison shook her head.

“Seriously, though. You guys should come over. The both of you. We can watch girly movies and eat shitty food,” she said.

Michael smiled brightly. “And I can finally get you two to watch Top Gun.”

I sighed. “Are you really still on that tangent? You haven't gotten us to watch it for two years. What makes you think this weekend is gonna be any different?”

Allison snickered. “We’ll watch Top Gun if you paint our toes.”

Michael pointed at the two of us. “Deal.”

My jaw dropped. “Wait, don’t I get a say in this?”

Michael shook his head. “Already made the deal. Sorry, guys!”

Allison whispered, “I mean, he’s going to paint our toenails. Make the most of it, okay?”

I shook my head, watching as Michael grinned. I knew there wasn’t a damn thing that boy wouldn't do for Allison. He had it bad for her, and she knew it. It was cute, though. They’d been going back and forth for damn near two years with one another. Flirting, but neither of them making a move.

I mean, they’d make cute preppy little babies. With his above-the-knee shorts and her collared shirts.

The child would come out wearing boat shoes, if they had anything to do with it.

Allison furrowed her brow. “What’s so funny?”

I giggled. “Nothing. Just thinking about this weekend.”

Michael paused. “You better wash your feet. I’m not painting grody toenails.”

I shrugged. “You already agreed. No toenails, no Top Gun.”

He shook his head. “You’re gross, you know that?”

Allison winked. “I’ll wash mine, don’t worry.”

Michael stared down at me. “If you don’t wash your feet, I’m painting your toenails purple.”

I gasped. “You wouldn't dare.”

Allison butted in. “Or pink!”

My eyes narrowed. “I’d kill you both in your sleep.”

Allison moved from my arm to Michael’s as the three of us stepped onto the school’s sidewalk. We kept talking about our weekend, making plans for food and drinks and what time we’d be over. I knew it wouldn't be an issue, either. Mom never gave a shit what I was doing on the weekends. She was nowhere to be found, which gave me free rein of the house and whatever was in it.

Then the three of us came to a stop in front of the high school doors.

“You guys ready for our last year?” Michael asked.

Allison nodded. “I already know where I’m applying for college. Just gotta make the grades to get me there.”

Michael looked down at me. “What about you, Rae?”

I shrugged. “Could be worse.”

Allison peeked over. “Do you know where you’re going to be applying for college?”

I didn't know how to answer her. I was a C-plus student, at best. Which meant my future included community college, a technical degree, and a prayer to somehow get the hell away from my mother for good.

Michael knocked against me. “Earth to Rae. You there?”

I shook my head. “Sorry. Allison’s question dazed me there. Because for the life of me, I don’t know how a sane person can be standing in front of school and be thinking about more school.”

And as Allison playfully stormed away from us, Michael ran after her. Like he’d always done.

Leaving me to stand there and smile at them as dread slowly filled my gut.





2





Clinton





I groaned and rolled over, burying my face into the pillow. It reeked of booze and regret, just how I liked it. My jeans rubbed against my legs and I groaned, then wiggled my toes. I felt my bike boots on my feet over the sweaty socks creating blisters against my heels. I rolled over, flopping onto my back as I sprawled out in my king-size bed.

And I lay there in the pitch black room, reliving the fantastic party the other night.

I grinned as the sun tried its hardest to stream around my blackout curtains. I cracked my neck, then toed off my boots. I needed to get these damn socks off. I needed to change my pants. I needed to get washed up for the first day of school.

Then again, I didn’t really want to.

“Fuck school,” I murmured.

I rolled back over, reaching for my cellphone. And when I clicked the harsh white light on, I chuckled. Of course it was almost lunch time. I’d slept through my first two periods. What a great way to start my senior year. The smell of alcohol followed me as I sat up. I burped, and the taste was rancid. I was damn near the puking stage, but I refused to do that.

I refused to pussy out after the best party of the summer.

I slipped to the edge of my bed, groaning. I felt like utter shit. One too many beers, and it was hard to move. Hard to think straight. Hard to even fathom getting myself cleaned up so I could get to school. I mean, if my parents figured out I was late for my first day, all hell might break loose.

They might video chat me from their safari trip and really give me a good tongue lashing.

“Idiots,” I said, snickering.

I pulled myself out of bed and stumbled into the wall. I caught myself with my hands, but the glaring rays of the sun made me cower away. Fuck, that sun was bright. Did it have a dimmer dial of some sort? I sighed as I stumbled my way around my darkened room, running my knees into furniture and jamming my pinky toe against my bed frame.

“Fuck!” I roared.

Why the hell did I need so much mahogany furniture in my fucking bedroom?

Oh, yeah. Because my parents had more money than sense.

“Fucking bullshit,” I murmured.

I stripped my clothes off, leaving a trail from the foot of my bed all the way to the shower. I turned on the hot water and got in, allowing the burps to work their way up with ease. I refused to puke, though. And as I leaned my head against the tiles of the shower wall, I drew in a deep breath.

If I got to school right at lunch time, I could fill my stomach with enough bread to get me through the rest of the day.

“Or you could just not go,” I whispered.

Nope. The last time I missed a day of school like this, my parents actually flew back from their vacation, taking the time out of their busy recreational flight schedule to be decent parents for once. And it ended up with them selling off my fucking bike. I wasn’t losing another bike over this. That thing was my peace. My solace. It made me feel powerful and on top of the world.

Plus, it got me laid more times than I cared to count.

“Nope. Get your ass to school,” I murmured.

The summer had been great, but it was time to get back to reality. I cleaned myself up, slowly sobering as my vision cleared. I sighed as I got out of the shower, feeling the steam wrap around me. It was nice waking up in an empty house, kicking around streamers and empty beer cans and wiping red Dixie cups off my bathroom counter.

Yeah. It felt nice to always fucking be alone.

“If someone fucked in my bathroom, they’re never invited back,” I said, sighing.

Getting ready for school was a pain in my ass. But it had to happen. I didn’t give a damn, though. I’d show up for lunch break and find Roy. Screw chemistry and English class. I didn’t need any of that shit in my life. I had no plans to go to college. I had no plans to continue education past high school. Despite my parents constantly nagging the fuck out of me for it, I had other plans. Other wants. Other wishes. I wanted to work on bikes and write my fucking books. I wanted people to leave me the fuck alone so I could indulge the only two things on this planet I loved.

Motorcycles and writing.

“Fuck my parents,” I growled.

And as I reached for my toothbrush, I settled into my morning routine. A lonely routine I’d crafted over the years to deal with my parents never being around.

Hell, it wasn’t my fucking fault they wanted to enjoy their money rather than their son.





The revving of my motorcycle engine was my second favorite thing about my damn bike. The first being how it vibrated underneath my ass. I pulled into the backyard parking lot of the school, where all the juniors and seniors were allowed to park their shit. I found myself a spot in back, next to the woods where I knew no one would fuck with my shit. Not that they dared do it anyway. The last person to touch my bike without permission ended up with a broken nose and blood on their shirt.

So what if I got suspended for the rest of the month for it?

Don’t fucking touch my stuff.

I turned my bike off and put the kickstand down. And after sliding my helmet off, I hung it off the handlebars. No one had even come toward my bike since that incident last year, so I knew my shit was safe. I slipped my bike keys into the pocket of my jeans, then straightened out my leather coat. People stared at me. Those who ate lunch at their cars so they could listen to music followed me with their eyes. Girls giggled off in the distance, causing me to wink at them from beyond my sunglasses. I loved it when the girls swooned. There was no bigger turn-on to high school girls than a senior who rode a bike. I licked my lips as I walked by a gaggle of cheerleaders, their eyes sweeping over my body with lust.