Hopeless: A High School Bully Romance (Playa Del Mar Book 1) Read online

  “Frosty the Snow Bitch,” her friend says.

  They all laugh.

  I resist the urge to yank my towel from under me and throw it over my body.

  “So do you, like, actually live here?” Charity says.

  I just stare out at the water.

  “Oh my god, she’s a mute.” Charity laughs. “She forgot how to speak, you guys. Guess that means she’ll be in the special classes.”

  Her friend, a girl with long dark hair, snickers. “Soooo special.”

  I look at Charity. “Fuck off.”

  Her eyes widen. “Oh, it looks like she can speak.” She purses her lips and stares at me. “What a foul mouth you have.”

  I actually laugh. “The irony. Coming from you.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “The word irony?” I ask. “Go buy a dictionary.”

  She looks down her nose at me. “How do you know who I am?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Oh my god, she’s been stalking you,” the dark-haired girl says. “Maybe she’s an actual stalker.”

  The other girls nod in agreement. “She looks like a total psycho,” one of them says. “An ugly ass psycho.”

  I expect their words to sting, but they just make me angry.

  Slowly, I get to my feet.

  They watch, their expressions changing from mocking to hesitation to fear as I look each of them in the eyes.

  “Fuck. Off. All of you.”

  Charity waits a beat. And then bursts out laughing. “Or what?” She steps closer to me, her painted toes at the edge of my beach towel. “What are you gonna do?”

  I clench my fists to my side.

  Her big toe touches my towel and she traces the fabric gently with her foot. Then she lifts it off and kicks sand onto it. “Oops.”

  I push her off my towel.

  She stumbles back a little. “Oh my god. Did you guys see that?” She looks at her friends. “The ugly psycho just attacked me.”

  “You should call the cops,” the shorter blonde says. “Ainsley, where’s your phone?”

  The dark-haired girl holds it out. “Assault,” she says. “Wonder if they’ll arrest you.”

  I glare at her. “Get off my property.”

  Charity’s blue eyes widen. “Oh? You own this beach? I had no idea!”

  “My towel,” I spit out.

  She looks down at her feet firmly planted in the sand. “I’m not on it.”

  “You were. I pushed you off.”

  “I did no such thing,” she says primly. “We stopped to say hi and welcome you to town and you attacked me.”

  She is intentionally trying to rile me up.

  And I’m not going to let her.

  “I pushed you off my towel,” I say. “I didn’t attack you.”

  “See?” She whirls to look at her friends. “She just confessed.”

  Ainsley nods. The others do, too.

  I feel like I’m in an alternate universe.

  “Call the cops,” Charity commands.

  I nod. “Yeah. Do that. They won’t believe you.”

  “You’ve got that all wrong,” she tells me. “You know who they won’t believe? You.”

  “Jesus, Charity,” a voice says. “Give it a rest.”

  Hayden is walking in from the water, a surfboard tucked under his arm. His tanned chest glistens with beads of water and his wet blond hair looks almost black.

  She glares at him. “Give what a rest?”

  “Hassling the new girl.”

  “I’m not hassling her.” She pushes out her chest, practically shoving her boobs skyward. “She’s the one hassling me.”

  Hayden rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right.” He looks at me before returning his gaze to her. “Just because a hot new girl shows up doesn’t give you license to be a bigger bitch than usual to her.”

  My heart jumps to my throat.

  Is this guy defending me?

  More importantly, he thinks I’m…hot?

  Charity scoffs. Apparently, she is doubting his words, too. “Hot?” She gives me a disdainful look. “I guess if you like pasty white bitches…”

  “Pasty white, stupid bitches,” Ainsley clarifies.

  Hayden runs a hand over his head. His hair is already drying, the sunlight glinting off those golden strands. “You know what I like?”

  Charity crosses her arms and gives him a haughty look. “What?”

  He looks right at me.

  “Bertha.”

  Chapter 6

  “My name isn’t Bertha.”

  Charity and her gang of mean girls flounced their way down the beach and now I am alone with Hayden.

  “No shit?” He looks at me with surprise. “So I jerked off to the wrong name?”

  I gape at him and he laughs.

  “I figured it wasn’t,” he says. “So I gave you a name.”

  “You did?”

  He nods.

  “What is it?”

  “Not telling.”

  “Come on.”

  He lays his surfboard down and sinks to the sand next to it. Drops of water hit my skin and goosebumps pucker my arms and legs. I don’t think they’re just from the cold water.

  “Fine,” he says. “I’ll tell you. But only if you agree to go out with me.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. There’s a party tonight. I want you to come.”

  “Are you asking me on…a date? I don’t even know you.”

  “Sure you do. My name’s Hayden. I almost hit you with my car when you ran into the road.”

  “I didn’t run into the—”

  He cuts me off. “And I’ve rescued you twice now from Charity and her bitch pack.”

  “You didn’t rescue me.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t?”

  “I can handle her.”

  “You sure about that? She thinks she’s hot shit around here. Always has.”

  I don’t know exactly what Charity wore to that sixth grade winter dance where she was crowned queen, but that’s the image I conjure in my mind.

  “I can take care of myself,” I tell him firmly. Maybe if I say it enough times, it will be true.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Prove it.”

  “What?”

  “Come with me tonight,” he says. “Show me how you can hold your own at a party where you don’t know anyone but me. Well, me and a bunch of bitchy girls.” He must notice my expression because he laughs. “Too scared? I thought you said you can take care of yourself.”

  He’s twisting my words.

  “Come on.” He reaches his hand out and his fingers gently skim my arm. The heat of his touch lights my body on fire. “Show me what a badass you are.”

  “What’s my name?”

  He looks at me. “What?”

  “You said you have a name for me. What is it?”

  His dimples pop in his cheeks. “Fuego.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “What?”

  “It means fire in Spanish,” he tells me.

  “So I’m…fire?” I say, thinking of how I dumped ice on Charity. I guess I did have a white-hot temper that night at Donatelli’s.

  His smile turns coy and his gaze dips to my breasts, his eyes scorching a path down my abdomen and then my legs. “Yeah.” His voice is husky. “And you set me on fire.”

  His words are just as electric as his touch was a minute earlier. I try to say something, but I can’t form words.

  Finally, I manage to find my voice. “Sydney.”

  He looks at me with half-lidded eyes. “Hmm?”

  “Sydney,” I repeat, clearing my throat. “My name is Sydney.”

  “Well, Sydney.” Hayden’s hand is on my arm again. He trails his fingers lightly down to my wrist, his touch feather soft. “What do you say?”

  My head is sounding the alarm, a five-alarm blaze with sirens and warning lights. This guy is too cocky, too gorgeous, too c
onnected to the past I thought I left behind. Stay away. Far away.

  But my heart?

  My heart focuses on the blue eyes I’m drowning in, the dimpled smile that makes my knees go weak, and the touch of his hand that is doing all kinds of weird things to my insides.

  Yeah, my heart doesn’t even think twice.

  “Fine. I’ll go.”

  Chapter 7

  “What exactly are you doing tonight?”

  My mom is cleaning up the dishes from our pasta and salad dinner.

  “Just meeting up with some kids from school,” I tell her.

  “Kids?” She glances at me. “Ben and who else?”

  I look away.

  Ben won’t be there. I texted him when I got home from the beach and he immediately answered, saying he wasn’t going. He tried to persuade me to stay home, too. I almost caved, but then I remembered Hayden.

  Typing his contact info into my phone so I could text him for the address—because I didn’t tell him I’d go with him, but that I’d meet him there.

  Getting the response from him twenty minutes later, when he was back in his car with his phone.

  The words that accompanied the address.

  Looking forward to the fire tonight.

  I tried not to read too much into it.

  The party was at the beach, and Hayden said there would be a bonfire.

  But I set him on fire.

  He said that.

  And I wondered what he was thinking might happen tonight.

  “Sydney?”

  I force my attention back to my mom. “Um, just some of his friends, I think.”

  A frown creases her forehead. “I’m not sure about a party the night before school. You have to get up early.”

  “I’m seventeen, not seven,” I remind her. “I can handle it.”

  “Will there be alcohol?”

  I tell her the truth. “I have no idea. But I’m not drinking. I’m going to go, meet a few people in the hopes that tomorrow doesn’t suck nearly as bad as I think it’s going to, and then I’ll be home.”

  She winces, and I know I’ve said just what I need for her to back off. It’s that mom guilt thing. She has it in spades.

  “When do you think you’ll be home?”

  I shrug. “Probably not too late. Ten?”

  She nods. “I might be in bed by then,” she says. “Need to hit the job search hard tomorrow.”

  It’s my turn to wince. I knew it was coming—she and I have talked about her needing to go back to work—but my mom hasn’t been in the workforce since she was pregnant with me. I have no idea what she’s qualified to do. Sure, she has a degree, but what good is that when she hasn’t had a job in almost twenty years?

  “Should I come in and say goodnight?” I ask.

  She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. “Only if you want to. I trust you.”

  “If you’re sleeping, I won’t wake you,” I tell her.

  I hurry to my room and start hunting for something to wear. It’s almost seven o’clock and Hayden said people were setting up around six. He offered to come pick me up, but the address he gave me is only a few blocks from my grandpa’s house. I’m perfectly capable of walking there and home.

  Especially since Ben isn’t going to be there for moral support.

  I frown as I scour my drawers, looking for my favorite pair of jeans. I don’t know how to feel about Ben bailing. On the one hand, I’m pissed, and even a little hurt, because it almost seems like he’s been avoiding me the last few days.

  I know he isn’t—he’s been super busy—but my mind is pretty good at playing tricks on me, especially in the friendship department. As awkward as I worried things might be with seeing Ben in real life, I didn’t think it would reveal a friendship that wasn’t really there.

  “It is there,” I mutter as I shimmy into the tight fabric. “He just couldn’t go.”

  That’s what he said, anyway. Something about needing to stay home because a repair guy was there to fix the fridge and both of his parents were working late. His mom is a nurse who works super weird hours, and his dad is a trucker and gone for long stretches of time. It was a valid excuse, but that didn’t keep me from trying to convince myself that he wanted nothing to do with me.

  There is one bright spot to Ben not tagging along or meeting me there, I remind myself. I can focus on Hayden.

  I yank a brush through my hair, coaxing out the tangles. Is that really a bright spot? Or should I be worried?

  I don’t know much about Hayden Mayfield at all. Sure, he’s super hot, and he apparently doesn’t think much of Charity Dern, but what else do I really know? He thinks I’m fuego. He might have jerked off while thinking about me. And his touch literally seems to set my skin on fire.

  I take a deep breath and try to steady my nerves.

  I’m meeting him at a party.

  That’s it.

  If things get too weird, I can leave.

  If things get too hot, I can leave.

  These are the things I tell myself.

  But there’s a question my mind is repeating over and over, a question I don’t want to answer.

  Sure, you can leave.

  But will you want to?

  Chapter 8

  I can smell the bonfire before I see it.

  The sun is sinking behind clouds on the horizon, hiding the coming sunset, as I walk the last block to my destination. The sound of music is faint, the murmur of voices even softer, but the air is thick with the scent of wood smoke.

  On the outside, I’m sure I look confident. I’m wearing my best jeans, the ones that highlight all my curves, and a V-neck black t-shirt that’s just snug enough to show off my cleavage. My hair is brushed straight, my makeup soft; I even painted my nails, a subtle pink that almost looks flesh-colored.

  So, yeah, on the outside, I’m cool and collected. On the inside? I’m a nervous wreck.

  Because what if Hayden isn’t there?

  What if I show up and the only people there to greet me are Charity and her gaggle of bitchy friends?

  I turn right on the sidewalk, sucking in air as I head toward the sand. The music and voices are louder now, and the smell of beer mingles with the smoke.

  “Sydney?”

  Someone says my name as I step onto the sand, even though I’m still a good fifteen yards from the party.

  I spin around.

  Emily from Donatelli’s is walking toward me, a girl on either side of her.

  I freeze, not knowing what to do or say.

  “I thought it was you.” Emily smiles and my body goes limp with relief. She’s friendly. She glances around. “Where’s Ben?”

  “He couldn’t make it,” I tell her. “Some repair guy is working on their fridge, I guess.”

  She nods. Her short dark hair looks spikier than it did the night I saw her at the pizza place, but her eye makeup is the same, thick black eyeliner than makes her brown eyes pop.

  “Are you gonna introduce us?” the girl on her right says. She’s a few inches shorter than me, with wavy white blonde hair that is way too light to be natural.

  “Sorry.” Emily grins. She points to the girl. “This is Willow. She moved here a few years ago so you wouldn’t remember her.”

  The blonde lifts her hand.

  “And this is Belle.”

  The other girl, a redhead with more freckles than Ben, smiles. “It’s Isabel, but my friends call me Belle.”

  I say hi to them, trying not to appear too cautious.

  “So you just decided to come without him?” Emily asks. “On your own?”

  I hesitate, not sure if I should mention Hayden. “Yes.”

  “Brave girl.” Willow steps forward and grabs my hand. “You can hang with us.”

  I’m speechless.

  “I was you a few years ago,” she says. “The new kid in ninth grade. It royally sucked. Lucky for me, Em and Belle decided I was cool—duh—and we’ve been friends ever since.”
r />   “Sydney isn’t exactly new,” Emily tells her. “She went to grade school and part of middle school with us. And then you moved to…to Australia?”

  I shake my head. “Close. New Zealand.”

  “Oh my god.” Belle looks at me with wide eyes. “How awesome was that?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it was pretty cool?”

  “All those beaches, all that gorgeous weather.” Somehow, her eyes go even wider. They are a pale blue, almost colorless. “All those gorgeous guys! And those accents!”

  It’s not like southern California doesn’t have its share of beaches, nice weather and hot guys. But I just nod politely. “Yeah. All that.”

  Willow steers me closer to the crowd of people. A sea of faces mixes with the sea of voices. At one point, I stiffen, thinking I see Charity in the crowd, but it’s another girl with long, blonde hair, someone I don’t recognize.

  Emily ducks under and around people and reappears a few minutes later, holding four plastic cups. She doles them out.

  “Cheers,” she says, holding her cup out.

  I don’t like beer but I drink it anyway and try to ignore my mom’s nagging voice asking if there will be alcohol.

  It tastes god-awful but I chug it down and let the alcohol work its magic. Because my nerves are all over the place. I’ve been at the party for fifteen minutes and Hayden is nowhere to be seen. I pull my phone out of my pocket and sneak a quick peek. No text from him, either.

  “I need more,” Belle announces.

  Willow turns her cup over. “Me, too.”

  Emily burps loudly and reaches for the empties. She looks at me. “Want a refill?”

  I shake my head. “I actually need to go to the bathroom.”

  Emily points back to the boardwalk. “Bathroom is up there and to the left.”

  I nod. I remember this from when I was a kid. “I’ll be back,” I tell them.

  I trudge through the sand, holding my sandals in my free hand and holding my other out to steady me. I’m not buzzed but the sand is lumpy and uneven, and the last thing I want to do is stumble around like an idiot with all these people around me.

  I make it to the sidewalk and start toward the small cinderblock building that houses the bathrooms. I know they are nothing more than toilets and a cold-faucet sink. The mirrors are probably still warped metal with graffiti etched into the surface, making them even less useful than they already were. But I can pee and take a breath and collect my thoughts, and not have to worry about being ‘on’ for my new friends.