Fall: A High School Bully Romance (Sunset Beach High Book 1) Read online

  “That's a good move,” he says. “Seems like you're a good decision maker. I like that in my future ex-girlfriends.”

  Brett and Jake laugh again, their momentary embarrassment having faded.

  “What do you like in your future non ex-girlfriends?” I ask. “Because that's how you should think of me.”

  Trevor shakes his head slowly. “You're wrong, New Girl. You can deny it all you want, but I've already decided I want you. And I always get what I want.”

  He says it with such a certainty that I almost believe him.

  “There's a first for everything,” I tell him. “I have a feeling this might be rough for you.”

  He grins some more and hangs out the window a little further. The engine roars for a moment, then dies down.

  “Do you like it rough, New Girl?” he asks. “I feel like maybe you do.”

  I look away because I don't have an answer and I hate that I'm losing what feels like a battle of words. I see Bridget walking my way. She gestures at the truck, then holds her arms out, like she wants to know what's going on.

  I look at Trevor. “I'm not interested.”

  “Yes, you are,” he says. “You sure as shit aren't interested in Derek. You aren't that dumb. And I have a sixth sense about these things.” He taps an index finger to his temple. “I already see our future, New Girl.”

  His use of that phrase finally gets the better of me. “My name is Presley, asshole.”

  He pushes the shades up above his eyes for just a moment and steps on the gas, the engine reaching a deafening level. I can feel myself wince even though I don't want to.

  Trevor smiles and the roar dies again. “I know it is, New Girl. I know a whole lot about you already.” He laughs, leans back into the cab, slams the car into drive, and tears out of the lot away from me, a trail of heat and smoke behind him.

  SEVEN

  “I don't want to sound like your mom, but you really need to be careful,” Bridget says.

  We are driving home from school and after I give her a brief recap of Trevor rolling up on me in the parking lot, she's side-eyeing me as we drive.

  “In order to sound like my mom, you'd have to be a total bitch who left my dad,” I say. “So no worries there.”

  “Yikes. Sorry.”

  “It's fine,” I say. “Why do I need to be careful?”

  She glances in the rearview mirror, then at me. “Trevor Robinson is bad news.”

  “So everyone keeps telling me.”

  “No, legit,” she says, cutting her eyes in my direction. “He's the real deal, the kind that will turn your life into a serious shit show.”

  “What if my life is already a shit show?”

  She glances at me again. “I'm not kidding, Presley.”

  I feel bad because she doesn't think I'm taking her seriously. “Okay. Tell me how he'll do that.”

  She flexes her fingers on the steering wheel, like she's been holding onto to it too tightly. “I mean, he doesn't think rules apply to him. And guess what? They really don't.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they just don't,” she says. “His dad has more money than anyone else in this town. Anytime he gets in trouble, he just takes care of it. And it's been like that since he was a little kid. He knows he's untouchable. And he gets off on it.” She pauses. “And he runs through girls like socks. Wears them once and then tosses them to the side.”

  I look out the window. “I can handle myself.”

  Bridget laughs. “Maybe you can handle yourself, but I'm not sure you can handle Trevor Robinson. Because no one has so far. And, no offense, but I'm not sure why you think you're going to be any different. He'll push you further than you want to be pushed and when he gets you over that line?” She shakes her head. “Then he's out and onto the next pair of socks.” She glances at me again. “And, sometimes, it's two girls at a time. He doesn't care.”

  I'm not sure if I should be offended that she doesn't think I can handle some jackass surfer boy or if I need to listen closer to her warnings.

  “So why do girls keep flocking to him?” I ask.

  She rolls her eyes. “Come on. You saw him. He's incredible looking. Those eyes, that hair, that tan. The surfer boy six pack and arms.” She shakes her head. “He's straight out of a magazine. So when he's interested in you, he's kind of fucking hard to ignore. Every girl starts to think she's going to be the one that he stays with, that can tame his hot little ass.” She laughs. “And every single girl has been dead wrong so far.”

  I look at her. “You sound like you know from experience.”

  She smiles and hits her blinker. “Sort of. I had a crush on him in middle school. To be clear, half of the school had a crush on him. But I just watched from afar. He passed me right on by.”

  “Then he can't be too smart.”

  Her smile grows. “I think I love you already.”

  We laugh.

  “And to be honest, I absolutely would've gone out with him,” Bridget says, pulling up to my house. “I would've ignored my own advice. Just to see what it was like.”

  “To see what what was like?”

  She throws the car into park. “To see what it was like to have those eyes look at me. To feel those abs. To see what else is there.” She snorts. “And, yeah. I've heard the rumors about the rest of the package and it lines up with everything else about him. The boy has it all.” She shrugs. “So it's not like I would've even followed my own advice.” She touches my forearm. “I just don't wanna see you get burned the second you move her.”

  Her kindness is shocking. I'd never had a girlfriend who seemed to really care about me. I didn't have many friends, period. So to have this girl who I've just met already looking out for me? I want to give her a giant hug.

  “Thanks,” I say. “Seriously. Thanks. I'll stay away.”

  Bridget raises an eyebrow. “We'll see.”

  I gather my things at my feet and push the door open. “What does that mean?”

  “Trevor Robinson has put you in his crosshairs,” she says. “We'll see if you can stay away when he starts trying to pull you in.”

  EIGHT

  I busy myself over the next few hours with things to try and take my mind off of going to my first real party at Sunset Beach High: signing the dumb forms teachers gave us that supposedly prove we read the class rules, setting up a planner for the school year because I am a nerd, and making myself a quesadilla for dinner because my dad texts me and tells me he'll be working late.

  Shocker.

  I take a shower because even though drying my hair is a pain in the ass, I know it'll look better if I do it and I care about how I look for this party. As much as the first day of school was a kind of test, I know enough that the party will be where I'm really judged. I know that I shouldn't care what people think, but the reality is that I do. There are times that I hate myself for thinking this way and try to convince myself that I don't care what people think, but more often than not, I realize that I'm lying to myself. I want friends, I want to belong, and I don't want to be looked at like I'm a freak.

  Because I don't want it to be like it was in Virginia.

  I take way too long to decide what to wear and to make sure my makeup looks right. I've chosen a tight, linen black top that makes my boobs look bigger than they are and white denim shorts that make my legs look tanner than they actually are. I pause for a moment, wondering if all I'm doing is creating a false impression of who I am, then tell myself to stop second guessing everything I'm doing.

  Plus, I look pretty good.

  I find the white, strappy sandals I want, check my makeup for the fifteenth time and finally decide my eye liner looks the way it should, and head to the living room to wait for Bridget and hopefully calm my nerves.

  She's in my driveway five minutes later and she looks and smells amazing.

  “It's this orange blossom shampoo,” she says when I tell her it smells like an orange grove in the car. “My mom bought it for
herself, then I snagged it and put it in my bathroom.”

  I make a mental note to look for it because the aroma is mind-boggling.

  “And you look hot,” she says, smiling at me as she backs out of the driveway. “Not that you didn't at school, but you're, like, smoking now.”

  “Thanks,” I say, thrilled with the compliment. “I didn't know what to wear.”

  “Don't worry,” she says. “An hour into it, most people will be too drunk to know what you're wearing.”

  I laugh. “So where is this place anyway? And why is it called The Hump?”

  “It's down on the bay,” Bridget explains, barely stopping at the stop sign, then gunning it through the intersection. “There's this sort of island that is between the bay and the ocean and it's kind of secluded if you know where you're going. You can see the cops coming if they roll in.”

  Something spikes in my stomach. “The cops?”

  She pats my arm. “Don't worry. We usually get a free pass on the first week of school and after that, I'll show you how to spot them.”

  “My dad would kill me.”

  “There will be no homicides,” she assures me. “I mean, unless some of the boys kill each other trying to get to you.”

  “Stop.”

  She winks. “You'll see.”

  “Okay, but why the name?” I ask.

  She giggles. “You'll see.”

  Ten minutes later, I do see.

  She's described the area perfectly. It's a fat finger of land that juts out into the water, a mass of parking lot, grass, and sand. The ocean is out to our right, across a road and the long stretch of sand, glimmering as the sun is dipping below it. To the left is the bay, a round body of water that smells just like the ocean and has it's own stretch of sand separating it from the grass and parking lot. On the far side of the bay, the hillside is dotted with homes built onto the side of the land, each one fighting for a better view of the bay and the Pacific than the next. Cars move on the roads in between them like ants.

  And at the end of the parking lot I see The Hump, a massive, grassy hill that people are already gathering on and around. It's the point where the bay meets the ocean and it's like someone pushed all of the land upward to give everyone a view of their surroundings.

  “The Hump,” I say, shaking my head.

  Bridget screeches to a halt in a parking slot and laughs. “Right? Looks just like a giant, oversized camel hump, doesn't it?”

  I nod. “It really does.”

  “Plus, people will end up fucking on it, so, you know, there's that whole double meaning thing.”

  I laugh. “Seriously?”

  Bridget cackles. “Oh, you'll see. You'll see.”

  We get out and the music is drifting across the parking lot, heavy bass beats thumping against the asphalt. The voices in the distance are muddled, mixed with laughter, and it looks like at least half of the school is already there. The parking lot is nearly full and The Hump and it's surroundings are dotted with people, most with some sort of cup or bottle in their hands.

  Bridget pops the trunk. “What do you like?”

  I look inside. It's a traveling liquor store. She has beer and a bottle of wine and a bottle of vodka and soda mixers and a whole lot of other stuff.

  “Jesus,” I say.

  “My parents like their booze,” she explains. “And they never notice when it's missing.” She grabs the bottle of vodka. “I'm a vodka and soda girl.”

  I have no idea what any of it tastes like. “Sounds good to me.”

  She uncaps the bottle and grabs a stack of red plastic cups, which she hands to me. I pluck two off the mini-tower, set the tower back in her trunk, and hold the cups out. She fills the bottom half with vodka, then tops each of them off with Sprite. “I don't have any ice, sorry.”

  “I'm sort of surprised you don't.”

  “Right? I need to get a cooler or something so I'm a full service bar on wheels.”

  We both laugh and touch our cups together before drinking. The vodka burns it's way down my throat, settling into a hot puddle in my stomach. I like it. I remind myself not to charge through it, unsure if my dad will be awake when I get home and because it's the first time I've ever had alcohol.

  Gina and Maddie come scurrying across the parking lot toward us. Gina gives me a quick hug before peering into the trunk. “Oh, thank god. I was worried I was going to have give someone a hand job to get a drink.”

  We all laugh. Maddie grabs the bottle of vodka and Gina is twisting off the cap on a bottle of beer. She flips it back into the trunk and takes a long drink from the bottle.

  “You are in for an interesting evening,” Maddie says, looking at me.

  “Why?”

  “Apparently, Derek and Shanna exploded on one another after school,” she says. “And you were the spark.”

  My stomach twists into a small knot. “She totally came after me in class today.”

  Gina makes a face over her beer. “All bitch and no bite. Don't worry about her.”

  But I am worried about her. I don't want to be the cause of anyone's break up, even if I did find both of them to be jerks. And I don't want to start off at a new school with a reputation for being caught in the middle of all the drama.

  Maddie throws an arm around me. “Don't worry. We've got your back.”

  “Oh god, I would love to punch Shanna in the face,” Gina says, looking around. “I don't even need a reason.”

  “Gina's the combative one,” Bridget informs me.

  Gina smiles. “Thank you for the compliment. I will also punch Derek right in the dick if he comes near Presley.” She looks at me and holds her hand up. “That's a promise, girlfriend.”

  I high five her and am grateful that I've managed to make friends on the very first day of school. I thought I'd be sitting at home in my room, worrying about who to eat with the second day. Instead, I was at the beach, drinking with my new best friends who were vowing to protect me.

  Hadn't planned on that.

  Maddie pulls her arm from around my shoulders and links it with my arm. “Come on. Let's go see what kind of trouble we can get into.”

  The sun is gone and the beach is lit up by two massive bonfires, huge wooden pallets providing fuel in the fire pits. People are scattered everywhere in groups and couples, sitting and standing and laying. There's music thumping from someone's blue tooth speakers and the smell of the ocean is strong in the cool, smoky air.

  We've been there for an hour or so before I catch my first glimpse of Derek. He's down on the sand near one of the fires, his face lite up by the flames. He may be an asshole, but he truly is drop dead gorgeous. He's wearing a long-sleeved blue Sunset Beach football T-shirt, the words stretched out across his chest. Khaki shorts hang to his knees and he's barefoot, a red cup clutched in his hand. He's with four other guys and they are laughing.

  I don't see Shanna.

  The girls are introducing me to people and I know there's no way I'll ever remember anyone's name, a combination of too many to recall and the vodka. I've already finished the first drink and Bridget replaced the empty with another full one at some point. It's going down too easy and I again remind myself to slow down and take it easy. But people are mostly nice and friendly and all of my worries about being the new girl are starting to fade.

  And I have to pee.

  “Are there bathrooms here?” I ask Maddie.

  She points to a concrete building on the other side of the grassy hill, next to the parking lot. “Over there. You want me to come with?”

  I shake my head. “Nah, I'll be fine. Be right back.”

  I leave them and the others and head toward the bathroom. I breathe in the ocean air, trying to steady myself and to settle the alcohol inside me. The bathroom itself isn't terribly clean, but it's not the worst I've ever seen at the beach. I take care of my business and check my hair and makeup in the dimly lit mirror. I giggle at myself, shake my head, and pour out the rest of my drink in the sink. I'm
not getting drunk my first night out.

  When I walk out, Derek is standing there near the entrance.

  “Hello there,” he says, smiling. “What a coincidence this is.”

  I know better.

  “Hey,” I say, trying to get past him.

  He slides in the same direction, blocking my path. “I was hoping I'd see you tonight.”

  “Really? I thought you'd be hoping to see Shanna instead.”

  He makes a face like I've spit in his drink. “Please. Shanna's old news.” He smiles. “You're the new news.”

  It's so dumb that I have to laugh. He does, too.

  “I need to get back to my friends,” I say.

  “They'll be there,” he says, closing the distance between us. “Spend some time with me.”

  I take a step backward. “No thanks. I'm good.”

  “I'm hoping you are,” he says, grinning.

  I realize that we are the only two near the bathrooms and that he's blocking my only path back to the girls and beach. The hair on my neck stands up on end.

  “I'm not interested, Derek,” I say. “I'm really not.”

  “How can you not be interested when you don't even know me?” he says, taking another step toward me.

  I shuffle my feet to the side and my back bumps into the concrete building. My heart thumps against my chest for all the wrong reasons.

  He puts his hand above my shoulder, resting it against the wall. “Just give me a chance. Get to know me first before you decide I'm a dick.”

  “You aren't helping your case by getting me up against a wall,” I say.

  He smiles. “I sort of had a dream about you, me, and a wall.”

  His words are slurred and I know he's drunk.

  Which makes him even scarier.

  He's bigger, stronger, and faster than I am. If he wants to keep me there, he can, and I'm not sure there's anything I can do about it.

  He leans in closer. “I swear I'm not as bad as they say I am, Presley.”

  “Yeah you are,” a voice behind him says. “Back the fuck off, jockstrap.”

  We both look to the voice.