Play With Me: A High School Bully Romance (Diamond In The Rough Book 1)(6)

Rae definitely had some secrets underneath those clothes.

And I want to uncover all of them.

I shot up at the thought and shook my head. I let the door bang closed as I trotted to catch up with Rae. She was striding, trying to get away from me as we made our way for the stairs. I shoved the door open, forcing it to swing back before letting go. And as I turned around, I watched Rae hold out her hands. The door slammed back into her, knocking her clear off her feet as curses left her lips.

“Fucking hell, are you serious?”

I puckered my lips. “Oh, baby. You kiss your momma with that mouth?”

She bounced down the stairs. “Get the hell away from me.”

I caught up to her, slinging my arm around her shoulders. “And here I thought we were becoming best buds.”

Then, out of nowhere, she gripped my wrist. She wrangled me away from her body, twisting my arm around my back. She bent my wrist up, causing me to growl out as she shoved me into the wall. And as we stood there on the platform between the staircases, she shoved her knee into the back of my thigh.

“If you ever touch me again, be prepared to lose your hand. Understood?”

I snickered. “Feisty little one, aren’t you?”

She shoved me one last time, then released my wrist. I turned around, rubbing at my shoulder as she made her way quickly down the steps. Well, well, well. Rae Cleaver was just full of surprises, wasn’t she?

It only spurred me on, made me want to rush to her side. I got there just in time to open the bottom stairwell door for her, then ushered her through. She glared at me, causing me to chuckle as her face scrunched up. Those insane freckles on her face always moved at the slightest twitch of her muscles, causing her eyes to ignite. She reacted more than anyone I’d ever picked on. And I enjoyed the way she attempted to defend herself.

Especially when she put her hands on me.

I like them a little spicy.

I strode after her, shouldering her as we made our way for the principal’s office. She scoffed and moved away from me, but I brushed against her again, trying to see how angry I could make her before we got to our final destination. And when she shoved me with her hands, the strength behind her push damn near knocked me off my feet.

I stumbled. “Wow. Got some power behind that push.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

I grinned. “Never thought a goody-good like you would get sent to the principal’s office. That’s usually my forte.”

And while she ignored me, I knew she couldn’t for long.

“Those shorts look good on you. Though your legs could use a fresh shave.”

“Do your bras always look this terrible on you?”

“Why the hell didn’t you just take P.E. our freshman year? You look ridiculous in that getup.”

“Whose jacket is that anyway? Let me see.”

I pulled the jacket off her shoulders and that’s when it happened. She spun around, ripped it clear from my hand, and pressed her fingertips against my chest. She backed me all the way into the wall as I held up my hands, playfully grinning at her as she glared up at me. Her brown eyes went from black tar pits of desolation to glowing amber gems. Lit up by an exploding sky and pulsating with the anger of a thousand rabid dogs.

I’d never seen this side of her before. And it was intriguing.

“Listen here, you waste of space. You’re pathetic. You get underneath people’s skin because you can’t stand your own life, so you have to make everyone else miserable just like you are. I know how you operate, because my mother’s the same way. The two of you are no different, which means I’ll treat you no different. So keep being a manwhore and keep putting out and keep trying to deflect from the sadness you feel inside. And while I’m reaching for the stars, enjoying my life, you’ll be struggling to climb out of the hell hole you’ve dug for yourself. Got it?”

Her nostrils flared. Her eyes grew wider. Her cheeks flushed with a deep red tint, accenting the freckles they backdropped. I almost couldn't take my eyes off her. I almost couldn't slip away from her grasp. But when she shoved my chest one last time, it shocked me back into reality.

“Did you just call your mother a whore?” I asked.

“Ugh!”

She stormed through the front foyer of the school, and I watched as she left. Just… left. She didn’t pass go. She didn’t collect her two hundred dollars. And she sure as hell didn’t follow me to the principal’s office. Oh, that would get her detention. The goody-good who tried her best to be as rich as her best friends would sit her ass in some lonely room for the rest of the week. Which made me salivate with excitement. I mean, there was nothing more fun than ruining someone’s day.

But when I watched those same people ruin their week just to get away from me?

I mean, it was practically a fucking Christmas gift.





5





Raelynn





I sucked air through my teeth as my pencil doodled along the edges of my notebook. After completely bailing school a couple of days ago, I’d been called into the principal’s office first thing yesterday morning. I mean, I didn’t even get through the damn front doors with Michael and Allison before the principal beckoned me with his crooked finger. It made me irate that I was having to pay a price by simply standing up to Clinton Clarke. It was sickening to me that I was being punished after saying what I knew the teacher even wanted to say to him!

And now, here I sat, doodling in my notebook and waiting for the time to pass.

The principal gave me detention after school for an hour for the rest of the week. As recompense for my outburst, for shoving him into a wall—which was wonderfully caught on camera for people to behold—and for storming out of school without a note. Great. Fucking grand. It was me, the nose picker, the born-again meth head, and the drug dealer.

The only good thing about detention was the fact that Clint hadn’t actually showed up. He wasn’t there after school yesterday, nor was he there today. And while I knew he’d pay a hefty price for it, it wasn’t like he cared. Kids like him never cared about that kind of shit. The only thing he cared about was his image, the pussy he wanted to slay, and how he looked riding his bike.

Which was pretty pathetic, if someone asked me.

I sighed as I kept sketching in the margins of my notes from class. I drew little characters to act out scenes from world history we’d already learned about. I drew a bobblehead of Clint with his tongue hanging out and his eyes crossed. I smiled as I made a little speech bubble. I giggled as I wrote out all sorts of jokes that made him look like the knuckle-dragging, drooling idiot he was.

Then the detention teacher shushed me.

I peeked up at him, watching as he went back to reading his book. I rolled my eyes and propped my chin against my hand, continuing to sketch little bobbleheads. I had one of Clint with his ripped leather jacket tossed over his face. I had one of him bent over, with his ass crack showing. I had one of him drunk, with his eyes rolled back and vomit sliding down his chin. I quickly felt the therapeutic effects taking hold, and before I knew it there were four entire blank pages filled to the brim with comedic, insulting doodles of this asshole.

Soon, the bobbleheads became extensive drawings. I created an entire character around this guy. A character that went around trying to pick on people before getting his ass beat. The pages of my notebook became comic book blocks. And soon, dialogue flowed from my fingertips. I licked my lips, focusing on the way my pencil markings flowed across the paper. And I thanked my stars I had mechanical pencils. I got them for free at the grocery store, along with the lead. Which meant never having to get up and sharpen my pencil.

So my creative flow was never interrupted.

Serves him right.

I drew him in all sorts of scenarios. Falling into a volcano after being shoved out of a helicopter by Allison. Being tossed to the alligators by Michael after he made an unsavory joke about her. Me, shoving him off a cliff and watching as he plummeted to the water, crying like the gigantic baby he was as his arms flailed around in the air.

An image from my dream bombarded my mind. My own arms flailing as I fell, deeper and deeper into the darkness.

Not even Clint deserves to know what that feels like.

I ripped the page out of my notebook and crumpled it up. Which earned me a hearty shush from the teacher at the front of the classroom. I decided to draw me putting Clint into the wall instead. Shoving him so hard into the wall his nose bled. Pulling at his wrist so much it dislocated. I let my imagination run away with me, concocting all sorts of scenarios where Clint got exactly what was coming to him.

Then I closed my notebook with a sigh.

I looked up at the clock and saw I still had thirty more minutes. Great. Thirty fucking minutes to sit here and contemplate my life. I pulled my ponytail out of its holder and re-did it. Put it up higher on my head to get it off the nape of my neck. I wasn’t sure why the room was so hot, but for some reason I kept sweating down my back. It made my shirt stick to my skin and caused the seat underneath me to grow damp.

And the only thing it made me think about was how relentlessly Clint would be teasing me right now if he were here.

Thank fuck, he isn’t.

I gazed out the window and let my mind wander. I replayed one of the many conversations Allison had already spewed over lunch about her future plans. College, and all that. It didn’t shock me that, miraculously, Michael wanted to go to the same college as her. He pretended that it was because their sports management program was the best in this part of the country. Allison, of course, was clueless about what he was doing. She was clueless about how Michael felt about her, and it was almost comedic. It was so juicy and delicious that I could’ve written an entire comic book series on their interactions. On the way Michael drooled over her and how absolutely brain dead she was to the entire thing.