Play With Me: A High School Bully Romance (Diamond In The Rough Book 1)(15)

And just as I felt his hands on the back of my leather jacket, I tore off.

Cecilia’s cries faded into the background. My father’s cursing fell away from my ears. The engine of my bike roared underneath me, vibrating as it carried me away from that fucking hellhole. The wind rushed through my hair. I sped out of the neighborhood, making my way for the high school. I didn’t know where the fuck I was going, but I sure as hell wasn’t going home.

Ever, if I could swing it.

I hope you rot in hell, Dad.

I drove around town, feeling my wallet burning a hole against my ass cheek. I stopped off at a diner, where my stomach started growling at the smells of food. I walked inside and slid my helmet off, watching as people gave me strange looks. I made my way for the bathroom and scoffed when I saw myself, finally realizing why people kept giving me awkward glances.

One of my father’s slaps had actually bruised my face.

“Just great.”

I sighed as I splashed some water on it. I ran some through my hair, watching as it glistened. The bruise was faint. But with the pale skin I’d inherited from the fucker himself, it was easy to see. I licked my lips and dried off my hands, then ran the paper towel over my face. I winced at the pain. My neck felt stiff. My cheeks were on fire. My ears were ringing from how loud my father had been yelling at me.

Then my stomach kicked in again.

“I need some food.”

I tossed the paper towel away and slammed out of the bathroom. I took a seat in a corner booth, where the biggest waiter in the diner came up to me. I peeked over at the girls, watching as they cowered away. Fucking figured. I’d gone from the man every woman wanted to flock around, to the man people feared. And all because of some fucking bruise that wasn’t even my damn fault.

Note to self, girlfriends and bruises from my father ruin my mojo.

The waiter sighed. “Can I get you anything?”

I leaned back. “Got anything on special?”

“Ten percent off our chicken and waffles.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Odd combination.”

“Drench it all in syrup and it’s fantastic.”

I sighed. “Sure. That’s fine, then. An order of that, a slice of German chocolate cake, and coffee.”

“Cream and sugar?”

“Yep.”

He paused. “It might not be my place, but you need to talk to someone?”

I snickered. “Nah, I’m good.”

“You sure? That’s a pretty decent shiner.”

“It only looks bad because I’m pale as fuck in the middle of California.”

And even though the two of us shared a small moment of laughter, I still saw the nervousness in his eyes.

“That’s all. Thanks,” I said.

He left to place my order while everyone continued to stare at me. The freak in the leather jacket with the blackened cheek.





13





Raelynn





I stared off into the darkness as I sat on the park bench. A ratty park, on the outskirts of the suburb where our small little area was stashed. The metal monkey bars were rusted through. Half of the swings were broken. The plastic of the slides had been cracked for years. Even the sandbox had been infested with bugs and fleas and all sorts of things, driving the families around here to abandon it. But I found solace in this place. In the crispy grass that had been fried by the sun. In the dead trees that surrounded this little patch of land. I sipped my green tea, reveling in its taste. Just another thing that separated me from the coffee-guzzling masses of those that surrounded me.

I sighed as I dwelled in my moment of turmoil.

I’d never been good at brushing things off. I had to pick through it. Tear it apart before piecing it back together. If I didn’t, I’d be stuck in a never-ending cycle of untapped emotion and swirling memories. I had to delve deep into it so I understood how to talk about it intelligently. Or, at the very least, build a fucking bridge and get over it.

I needed to pick through the chaos of my home. The insanity of my mother. The decrepit state of her good-for-nothing boyfriend. I closed my eyes, listening as her shrieks filled my mind. Sipping on my tea as the sound of D.J.’s hand cracking against her jaw made me wince. Grimace.

Wish I was anywhere other than here.

“Deep breaths,” I whispered to myself.

I continued sipping my tea until there was nothing left. I felt my mind slowing down. And, for once, I relaxed. A cool summer breeze kicked up, pulling the last of my hair out of its ponytail. I reached for the band before it fell to the ground. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to work out the knots. I smoothed it over my shoulders, fluffing it in the wind. My dress kicked up around my shins, cooling off my thighs as I sat on the wooden park bench that still held the heat of the day within its bones.

Then I heard it.

The rumble of a motorcycle.

I can’t be that unlucky. Please tell me I’m not that unlucky.

I sighed as I opened my eyes and set my empty tea container on the ground. I drew in a deep breath, listening as the bike crept closer, rumbling up the road behind me and finally turning off.

And moments later, I found myself staring at Clint Clarke’s torso.

I sighed. “What do you want?”

“Is anyone sitting here?”

I snickered. “Nope. And neither are you.”

I glared up at him, but all I saw was that snarky little grin of his. That stupid smirk I wanted to slap right off his fucking face. Only it didn’t reach his eyes like it normally did in school. There was a sadness to his features that I knew all too well. I watched him carefully as he moved off to the side. Despite what I’d told him, he sat down beside me, hissing as the heat of the bench came into contact with his ass. I stared at him, watching as his eyes connected with something off in the distance. And as his guard came down, so did his grin.

It sank into a frown that had become the physical mantra of my life. A frown that constantly looked back at me in the mirror every morning.

Clint cleared his throat. “Sorry I kicked your friend’s ass.”

I shook my head. “He got in a few punches, too.”

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t get his ass beat.”

“And you deserved every punch he landed.”

He shrugged. “Maybe so.”

“Really? You’re trying to be the good guy now?”

“I’ll never be the good guy. Not my thing.”

I turned my eyes out toward the playground. “Why are you such a dick all the time? Isn’t it enough that we can’t stand you?”

I saw Clint turn his head as he stared at me. And even though I felt him burning a hole in the side of my face, I refused to look over at him. I refused to give him the satisfaction of gazing into my eyes. He stared at me for a long time, and I wondered what he was thinking. I found myself wanting to have a peek inside his mind, just to know why the hell he was staring for so long.

Then his voice filled the space around us.

“I don’t know. I guess ‘cause it’s easy. And it’s something I’m actually good at.”

I rolled my eyes. “The pity card won’t get you far with me.”

“Not looking for any.”

“Good.”

He shrugged. “It’s true. I’m good at making people hate me. I’m good at being a dick. That’s what I do.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Wow. Deep motivations, bro.”

“Hey, you’re the one that asked a dumb question.”

“Just didn’t expect the answer to be dumber.”

“Why do you always do that?”

I snickered. “Do what?”

“Fire back with such animosity?”

I whipped my eyes over to him. “You’re asking me—the boy who’s bullied me on and off for years—why I address you with a burning hatred? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

He shrugged. “Maybe if you were nicer, like your friend Allison, people wouldn't be so standoffish to you.”

“Is that before or after you made overt sexual jokes about her to Michael?”

“I mean, at least they weren’t directed at her.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Because that makes it all better.”

I scoffed and shook my head. I leaned back against the park bench, wishing and praying and hoping he’d go away. I just wanted some peace. Some quiet. Some fucking clarity. I didn’t want to deal with his bullshit.

I didn’t want to deal with Clint.

“So what are you doing out on a night like this?”

I closed my eyes. “You aren’t going to leave me alone, are you?”

He scoffed. “I mean, I figured you’d be with goody two shoes Allison or some shit like that.”

“I was, until our plans got canceled.”

“Ah, she busy kissing Michael’s booboos?”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. “If you don't leave, I’m leaving.”

“Have a safe trip home.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, irate at his ability to completely spoil whatever moment of happiness I found for myself. But I wasn’t leaving. I had been here first, and he was the one that wasn’t wanted in this scenario. If he wanted to be rid of me, then he could leave the same way he came. And if he didn’t want to leave, then I’d annoy the hell out of him until he did.

Clint chuckled. “Stubborn, I see.”

I shrugged. “You’re the one making this more difficult than it needs to be.”