Beautiful Hell: A Contemporary High School Bully Romance Page 9

  I unzipped my pants. Pulled my cock out and aimed it at her shoe. I’d downed at least two bottles of water before coming in here, but hell was it hard to pee, even though I had to.

  I closed my eyes.

  I counted to ten.

  And then to twenty.

  “Dude, this shouldn’t take you all day,” Gage said. He was getting impatient. “Want me to piss in her shoes for you?”

  I shook my head. This was my revenge, not his.

  “I’ve got it,” I said and focused hard. Imagined the sound of the ocean. Then the dripping of a broken faucet. I felt something. Good. Good. I was close. And then I wasn’t just close, I was filling her shoes with at least an entire water-bottle worth of piss. I had to step back. Well, jump out of the way, really. I finished peeing in the bathroom and brought some toilet paper to clean up the mess, then stuffed Kira’s shoes back into her backpack. My revenge was complete.

  When I stepped out of the room, I felt like shit. When I watched her step into the room, I felt like sunburnt shit. It became clear to me that revenge really didn’t feel as good as dad said it felt. At least not when it was being done to Kira.

  Sometimes, I was convinced adults didn’t have a clue what the hell they were going on about. But whatever. What was done was done. I couldn’t take it back. Instead, I waited in the garden, my eyes tracking her every move. The clock struck nine and she rushed into the house, making a b-line for the room she’d been assigned. When the door shut behind her, I waited outside of the room, in the same spot I’d been in when she fumbled her apology at me. Maybe seeing the look on her face would make me feel at least a little bit better…

  It didn’t.

  Ten minutes later, she was in her pissed on ballet shoes and skin tight leotards. And her eyes were as red as her father’s face in that one picture of him at the Indino Mall. Gage and Thomas laughed. I made a sound as well, but it sounded more like a croak of guilt than anything born of humor. Kira didn’t even spare me a glance as she strutted through the hall and into the main room.

  I think, maybe, it was better that way because if she had, she’d have seen that I looked like I did this whole revenge thing to myself.

  8

  Kira

  Janelle sits by my bed, watching me with genuine concern. It almost breaks my heart to see her here. I doubt I deserve this much affection from my friend, after nearly killing myself last night. Elias advised me to tell no one about what happened, but I can’t hide this stuff from my best friend. On top of that, I need a change of clothes. I certainly can’t show up at home in the party dress two days later.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  She takes a pair of slacks and a shirt from her leather bag, then drops a pair of espadrilles on the floor. “For what?” Janelle asks, and I know it’s a rhetorical question. There is anger in her voice. “For overdosing? For not talking to me about whatever it is that makes you feel so lost?”

  “Yes.”

  “For not telling me that—” she pauses, her eyes widening. “Wait, did you just agree with me?” I nod slowly, tears welling up in my eyes, making everything blurry. “Oh, honey…”

  She comes over, forgetting all about the clothes, and puts her arms around me. I revel in her embrace, feeling my heart grow a little bit bigger and the weight drop from my shoulders. I feel awful. Stupid. Foolish. Other related synonyms. But Janelle has been my rock. I should’ve talked to her. I didn’t. Instead, I bottled it all up and drowned myself in champagne and Oxy. Dammit…

  “I’m so sorry,” I sob, hiding my face in her hair.

  “Shh… It’s okay, Kira,” she whispers, tightening the hug before she pulls back and sits in the chair next to my bed. “It’s okay. You survived. That’s what matters.”

  “I lost control. I don’t know when or how that happened, but I lost control. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until my whole body became numb.”

  Janelle frowns. “I bet I know when it started. The moment Elias and Giselle walked through the door. I’m just sorry I couldn’t have been there earlier to keep an eye on you.” I pout a little at her, not liking the fact that I’m being scolded. And hating even more that she’s probably right. “When will you drop the tough chick act and admit you’ve got feelings for the guy?”

  I gawk at her as if she just slapped me. “Whoa. What? Are you crazy?”

  “No, you are, if you think I didn’t notice,” Janelle replies. “You two should at least talk about it. There’s more going on between you than just that dumbass family feud. There always has been.”

  Thinking about it for a moment, I realize I don’t want to talk about it. The thought of Elias alone is enough to make my ankle hurt again, for some weird reason. I’m starting to believe that my doctor is right. The pain might be psychological, and how the hell do I fix it, then? How do I make something go away that isn’t even there?

  “Janelle, thanks for coming over,” I say, changing the subject. “And thanks for the change of clothes. And for backing me up with dad, too. You’re fucking irreplaceable. I don’t deserve you.”

  Janelle smiles softly, shaking her head in what seems like a tinge of disappointment. “You’re welcome. And no, you don’t deserve me, but here I am, anyway.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “Has your dad called yet?”

  “Nah. He left me a couple of angry texts. I bailed on him at the party. He had to spend more time with some donors, which he thoroughly dislikes, even though it’s his job as the friggin’ host, but… anyway. Let’s not talk about him. I’m going home tomorrow evening. I’ll deal with him then.”

  “What about this place? How has he not been notified?” Janelle asks.

  “First of all, I’m well over eighteen,” I reply dryly. “Second, Elias brought me in. He made some arrangements, to my benefit.”

  Janelle knows most of what I remember from last night, including Elias’s involvement in my rescue. Maybe that’s where she’s getting this whole touchy-feely vibe about me and him. Not that it’s not true, but I’d rather chew off my own arm before admitting it.

  After all these years, I doubt there’s even the slightest chance that Elias and I might end up together. Too much poison. Too much hate. Too many missed opportunities and hurtful words between us. Besides, he’s with the very bitch who caused my ankle problems in the first place. It’s kind of hard to see past that.

  “That’s good, though,” Janelle says. “He took care of you.”

  “I expected him to dump me in a ditch somewhere,” I chuckle. My throat is dry and sensitive, so I gulp down a glass of water. I need about six liters to see clearly again. Good grief, that stomach pump really did a number on me.

  No, I did a number on me. The procedure was merely a consequence.

  “I’m telling you, Kira… This feud you two have going on… it needs to stop,” Janelle insists. “Martin Dressler is dead. William Malone is… well, he’s not going to be around forever, either.” I frown slightly, and she gives me an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, but it’s the truth. Are you two really going to live like they did? Hating one another? Letting all that poison destroy a potentially amazing relationship?”

  “I don’t know what relationship you’re talking about,” I mutter, sinking back into my pillow. Janelle smacks me over the arm. “Ouch…”

  “You two were almost friends once. You told me yourself. And, as you can see, life keeps bringing you two back together. Maybe it’s time to let that old shit go, Kira.”

  I stare at the TV. It’s turned off, mounted on a metallic arm coming down from the ceiling, and I can see my reflection on its screen.

  “What’s the point?” I ask. “Giselle is around, and I’m certainly not able to forgive or accept her in any way. Hell, I reckon he got with her just to piss me off.”

  “God, you’re both still so immature,” Janelle sighs, getting up. She slips the leather bag over her shoulder, then gives me a brief hand squeeze. “I’ll be in touch. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
>
  “Okay,” I sigh, thankful that she won’t go any further with these pro-Elias arguments. The guy might’ve saved my life, but it doesn’t mean we’ll ever truly be alright. I’d want that, sure… but there are too many bridges to mend where the both of us are concerned and I’ve already got a mountain of work to do on myself.

  I watch Janelle as she steps out of my private reserve. Voices travel through the hallway. Nurses, doctors, patients… relatives who want to know what’s going on. It’s a busy day here, it seems. For me, it’s a new beginning. A second shot at life.

  Will I do the right thing and keep fighting for what I want? I’d like that very much. But my ankle hurts again. I could use a pill.

  “Fucking hell, Kira,” I mutter, reprimanding myself for my weakness.

  There is only one way that this is going to end. And I had better give it everything I’ve got. If I fail, I will prove my dad right, and there’s no way I’m letting that happen. It’s time to make a change. Elias’s words still resonate so deeply within me, my limbs tingle, my very spirit suddenly energized.

  I think I need to check myself out. I can’t wait any longer.

  9

  Kira

  “Where were you?” My father’s actually upset that I’ve been gone. It’s actually refreshing, if not a little surprising. I’m wearing the clothes I got from Janelle, and I know I’ve got dark circles around my eyes.

  I catch a glimpse of myself in one of the lobby mirrors. By the stars, it’s even worse than I thought. My cheeks are sucked in. My skin is pale, off-white even. This is really my lowest point, and I need to pull myself up from here-on out.

  “I thought I texted you. Spent some time at Janelle’s, catching up,” I say, already headed for the stairs. If I get rid of him quickly, I can soak in the bathtub for a couple of hours before I go ahead with what I’ve already got planned for myself.

  Change might not happen overnight, but I have to do something to at least invite it in.

  “You bailed on me, Kira,” Dad replies, unwilling to let this go.

  Of course, he won’t let it go. Why would he? The wound is still fresh. I’m starting to regret not spending another night at the hospital. At least he’d have a workday tomorrow and he’d be too busy and distracted to nag me about the party.

  I stop at the bottom of the stairs and turn around to look at the man who’s partially responsible not only for my existence, but also my misery. “I got bored. You really didn’t need me here,” I say. “Stop making it into a bigger deal than it is. You’ve thrown enough of these parties already. You know how they work.”

  Dad isn’t ready to let go yet, though. “Someday, you’ll be hosting these events in my place. Will you be bailing on the guests then, too?”

  “You’re talking about a distant and only probable future,” I reply, taking deep breaths. The last thing I need is to let him ruin what is pretty much the first day of the rest of my life. I have no intention of winding down the same road as before. It’s what got me into this mess in the first place. I start climbing the stairs, waving my dad away. “Leave me alone. Enjoy what’s left of this weekend. I know I will.”

  “This isn’t how it’s going to end, you know!” he shouts after me, but I do my best to ignore him. Looking back, I become increasingly aware that this dysfunctional relationship with my dad is at least partially to blame for many bad decisions I’ve made over the years.

  I don’t want to do the same thing, over and over again, expecting different results. That’s the definition of madness, and I’m not loony bin material. I’m too well dressed to end up in a strait jacket.

  Leaving it all behind, I go into my room and lock the door. I can hear him banging pots in the kitchen, pretending he knows what he’s doing. It’s the maid’s day off, and he’ll end up ordering takeout, as usual. We haven’t had a family meal since mom died. Not for lack of trying, though. Every time I performed some miracle waffle in the kitchen, dad had to leave—for work, for golf, for whatever reason he could come up with in order to not spend time with me.

  After two hours of resting in the hot tub, my soul temporarily delighted by lotus fragranced bath oils and my skin pampered with three kinds of lotion, I slip into my workout gear and head out on the terrace. The treadmill looks lonelier than ever. It’s been months since I’ve touched it, but Margaret, our maid, has kept it clean, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I’ll get back on it.

  Well, today is the day, Margaret.

  It’s a beautiful late morning. I can hear the bay waters whispering in the distance. The wind blows through our estate, and it’s making me promises of better moments ahead. All I have to do is reach out and snatch them.

  My ankle hurts, still, but the treadmill looks so appealing right now. I get past the physical discomfort and put on an easy walking program first. My feet are giddy as I step onto the band and start walking.

  This is it. This is where it all begins again.

  One.

  Step.

  At.

  A.

  Time.

  Soon enough, I slip into a running program. Something light enough to get my leg muscles pumped again. By the third mile, my ankle is perfectly fine, though my form could do with some improvement. My breath is short, and sweat starts dripping down my face, but I am happy. I am so fucking happy I could shout it for the whole world to hear me. I keep going, pushing myself until there’s nothing left to push. Running, faster and faster – quicker than I’ve moved in a long damn time. It’s only when my lungs feel like they’re about to cave in that I stop and get off the treadmill, panting and smiling. My calves burn, but it’s a wonderful sensation and one I’ve missed thoroughly.

  Eyes closed, I swipe my towel over my forehead, removing the waterfall of sweat the cascades down my face. Finally able to catch my breath, I sit back, looking out in the distance. The thoughts that flood my mind are filled with Elias and my heart jumps, sending a nervous jolt through my entire body.

  I wouldn’t be here, if it weren’t for him. Maybe in the process of fixing myself, I need to also work on fixing us.

  WHEN WE WERE YOUNGER

  Junior high is like a fucking nightmare.

  I have to go to the same school as Kira Malone, and that just adds unpleasant tasks to my to-do list on a daily basis. I’ve actually tried to be nice to her, despite the feud between our fathers, but not only does Kira not trust me, she frequently tries to belittle me in front of the other students, which is one hell of a no-no. I may be thirteen, but I am not an idiot. I am Elias motherfuckin’ Dressler, and I take shit from no one.

  Sometimes, I do wonder where Kira gets all that spunk. Had she not been such a daddy’s little girl, maybe things would have gone down differently between us. She’s too stuck up and gullible for me to even try to reason with. Lord knows I’ve tried.

  Mom used to say that girls go through this “meanie” period between the ages of twelve and sixteen, but I’m certainly not going to cut this little bitch any slack because of hormones. Screw that. I’m a teenager, too. I’ve got my own share of stuff to deal with. I don’t need to put up with Kira’s, too.

  It’s been six months since my mom left us, and dad has been a soppy mess, since—in private, of course. In public, he’s as heartless and as driven as they come. I don’t necessarily agree with him on a lot of things, including his weirdly hateful competition against Fowler & Malone, but I have to give the man some credit. He’s one hell of a businessman. I’ve got a lot to learn from him.

  Mom calls me, once in a while, just to check up on me. She knows she’ll never get custody of me. I’d run away with her, if I could, but I know Dad would go to the ends of the world just to drag my ass back to Hampton Heights. I’m his only child. I’m the heir to the Dressler fortune… Honestly, I want it, too. But I also want my mom.

  “Hey, Elias,” Joshua calls out to me from the middle of the lacrosse field. There’s a practice game going on, and I’m all dressed up and ready to go, but the coach
has kept me on the side for the entire season as punishment for the Halloween prank I pulled on Kira. “You wanna join us?”

  “Shut up and get your ass back into defense!” Coach Harding shouts at him.

  He’s a hard-ass, but he’s a good coach. I respect him. Part of me knows I deserve to be on the sidelines for the rest of this season, but my ego won’t allow me to admit it. Not out loud, anyway. Kira is an entitled little bitch, sure… I tend to get carried away where she’s concerned, though. Carried very far away. It’s not something I can control. Whenever I see her, my senses catch fire. Anger burns through me, and I just… I just let loose.

  “Coach, come on! I can help on offense!” I say, loud enough for him to hear me.

  He points a stiff finger at me. “You’re benched for now, Dressler. And if you keep bitching about it, I might push the penalty into the next season, too!”

  I swallow back any follow-up I would’ve liked to throw at him. The last thing I need is a whole year sitting on the bleachers like this. At least I can practice after they’re all gone.

  I don’t know why I still show up with my gear and everything, hoping he’ll take me back sooner… I messed up, and Coach Harding is not the forgiving type—much like my father. Maybe that’s why this is getting to me. The punishment comes from someone I deeply admire…

  For the next half hour, I watch the practice game as it unfolds. I spot the weak spots in our defense, and I send Joshua a series of texts with pointers and advice. He’ll check them later and see what I mean. Our offense is shoddy, too, but I doubt much can be done about it until I’m back in the fold. Coach Harding would rather suffer through a mediocre season than put me in the game before I complete my “sentence.” The hardest of hard-asses, for sure.

  Mom has advised me to bury the hatchet with Kira. But mom’s not one to talk. I begged her to bury the hatchet with dad. I know they say parents aren’t supposed to stay together just for the sake of their kids. But what happens when the kid is no longer a kid and he’s the one asking? Point is, she should have stayed, no matter how much she thought being around dad was going to drive her insane. So, like I said, she doesn’t get a say in what happens with Kira. Plus, it’s not like I’ll be around her forever.