FAZE: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Rosewood High) Read online

  The house is in blissful silence as I make my way via the kitchen to grab some food and up the stairs to the room Dad directed me to after picking me up from the airport earlier.

  I couldn’t help smiling when I discovered that he’d put me right next to his precious Ruby. I’d spent the entire house tour having happy, smiling photos of the three of them shoved in my face. Anyone who wasn’t aware would think they’re the perfect little family. Fuck our parents’ previous lives, those who were left behind. They had been forgotten long ago and this was all they cared about.

  Pushing through into my temporary room, I kick the door shut before toeing off my shoes, opening my window and diving onto the bed.

  I pull the baggie of weed, my lighter, and cell from my pocket and get comfortable.

  After restarting my music, I set about rolling my first blunt.

  My mouth waters for a taste, for something that’s going to make this hellhole that much more bearable.

  The first drag hits exactly where I needed it to. I suck it deep and hold the smoke in my lungs until it begins to burn.

  Fucking yes!

  Slipping down the bed a little, I take hit after hit, not giving two fucks about this being his house. He didn’t give any ground rules, so I take that as there not being any.

  I’m just about to push from the bed in my need to find where that motherfucker’s liquor cabinet is when my bedroom door flies open.

  It seems tonight might have just got interesting.

  4

  Ruby

  I’m still fuming from our earlier interaction and the fact he stole my fucking car as I lie on my bed hours later, AirPods in and my music attempting to get me out of my own head as I try to focus on what I should be doing. Sadly, the only thing I’m actually doing is replaying our short interaction from earlier.

  He shouldn’t intrigue me like he does. Especially after the way he spoke to me, the way he acted. The way he totally invaded my privacy by riffling through my purse like he owned the fucking thing.

  Stephen has had nothing but good things to say about his ex-wife, so I find it hard to believe she’s brought him up to be such an arrogant, selfish prick.

  My fingers tighten on the pencil I’m holding until I’m worried it’s about to snap in half.

  It’s just a few days. Just a few days.

  No wonder he’s been suspended from school if he acts like that on a normal day. I wonder what he did.

  My inappropriate thoughts about the boy occupying the next room are thwarted when the vibration of the front door slamming hits me.

  I sit up straight, pulling one of my AirPods from my ear to listen to what he might be doing.

  After a few minutes, the sound of his footsteps pounding up the stairs has my heart beating faster than it should.

  I shouldn’t care that he’s home. I should just be glad he made it back with my car hopefully in one piece.

  Thankfully, he doesn’t make it down to my door, assuming he knows which room is mine, of course. Instead, another door slams as he locks himself away in his room.

  Good. And I hope you damn well stay in there. I sure have every intention of hiding in here until I absolutely have to leave.

  Unfortunately, his god-awful music almost immediately starts, sending my irritation levels sky-high.

  Thoughts of packing a bag and moving in with Harley for a few days flit through my mind. Her mom wouldn’t care, that’s if she’s even there. I could make up some story about Harley needing company, Mom wouldn’t even bat an eyelid.

  It’s a solid idea. It would get me away from this house, and more importantly, him. So why is it that I make no move to pack a bag and leave as fast as I can?

  It seems I’m a glutton for punishment because there’s a huge part of me that wants to find out more about my angry stepbrother. I want to know why he was the way he was earlier. I find it hard to believe it’s because he’s here. Stephen said he agreed happily after the suggestion was made.

  I think about that for a moment. That can’t be right. He refused every other time Stephen has tried to get him to visit. Why is he here now? And why was he apparently so happy to come?

  My thoughts are halted when a familiar smell hits my nose.

  Who the hell is smoking a joint outside my house? If Harley and Poppy have turned up to have an impromptu party, I’m going to be less than impressed after I specifically told them I was coming home to catch up on homework.

  Pushing from the bed, I walk over to my window and look down. I expect to find the girls sneaking around the back of the house, trying not to get caught and stifling laughs. Only, that’s not at all what I find because there’s no one to be seen.

  My fists curl as realization hits me.

  Without thinking, I storm from my bedroom and toward his closed door. There’s no way he can know I’m coming with the volume of his music. Half the freaking street probably can’t hear themselves think over it.

  Swinging his door open, I step inside as the strong scent of his blunt hits me despite the window being open, making me want to cough.

  Resting my hands on my hips, I wait just inside his room for him to open his eyes and see me.

  Long seconds pass as he continues and blows repeated rings of smoke into the room.

  I’m just about to march his way and rip the joint from his fingers when he sits up.

  My breath catches as I prepare for him to look at me. But when he does, I realize that no amount of time could have prepared me for looking in those dark, cold eyes once again.

  A smile curls at one side of his lips as he runs his eyes down the length of my body. Tingles erupt in their wake and as my nipples tighten under his stare, I remember that I’m only wearing a thin tank and a pair of sleep shorts.

  Fuck. Fuck him and his assholery.

  Folding my arms over my chest in an attempt to hide what my clothes are doing a shit job of, I cock my hip and wait for him to finish.

  “Are you about finished?” I sass when his eyes find mine once again.

  He stands, his free hand running through his dark hair and pushing it from his forehead while the other continues to hold his joint.

  “Oh, little one. I haven’t even started.”

  I swallow, square my shoulders and straighten my back, ready to go up against him again.

  “There’s no smoking in this house. Of any kind.”

  “Oh yeah?” he asks, taking a drag and blowing the smoke right in my face.

  “You’d better get rid of it before your dad gets back,” I suggest, much to his amusement if his barked laugh is anything to go by.

  “And tell me, little girl, what’s he going to do about it, huh?” He bends at the knees, lowering down to my level.

  I open my mouth to respond, but I have no words. He makes the most of my parted lips to blow a stream of smoke past them.

  “Stop it,” I spit.

  “Why? You too much of a goody-two-shoes little girl to enjoy a hit?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Hmm…” His eyes roam over me once again. “Maybe. It’s good to know you’d be up for it.”

  “Uh… what? No. That was not—” My words are cut off when he reaches over my shoulder.

  My heart pounds and my head spins as I try to figure out what he’s doing. The second the door slams. I start to panic. I don’t want to be stuck in a room with this asshole.

  He steps forward, his body heat flowing into mine.

  “Here,” he says, offering me his joint. It’s the first nice thing he’s done or said since we met earlier. Although I’m not sure offering your younger stepsister drugs is actually considered a nice thing to do. Maybe where he’s from.

  Turning my face away from him, I silently refuse the offer.

  “Ah, you too good for this? Don’t tell me, you’re also a cheerleader and on the school council campaigning for a life of abstinence and veganism.”

  My head snaps back to his in shock. He might be a douchebag, but I didn
’t have him down for a judgmental one too. “Don’t pretend that you know me. You know fuck all about me.”

  “Oh, little girl,” he says, his deep voice rumbling through me as he grasps my chin between his fingers. “I know you better than you think.”

  I want to shake him off, but he holds so hard that it actually starts to pinch.

  “That hurts,” I snap.

  “And?”

  He pushes me until my back collides with the door.

  “I’m a cheerleader, so what?”

  He smiles, it’s accomplished and evil.

  “Fucking knew it. You’ve got high school prep written all over you.”

  “Right now, all I’ve got all over me is you.”

  He growls, actually fucking growls right in my face.

  “Oh, little one, trust me when I say that when I’m all over you, you’ll feel me in more places than just your chin.”

  My eyes widen in shock at his words. I also don’t miss the fact that he says when, not if. And I fucking hate that just the image that those words conjure up in my head has my lower stomach clenching in a way I haven’t felt before.

  He stares down at me as I will my brain to work properly with him so close. He smells like sexy male and weed, it’s a heady combination. Although that could just be the weed that’s causing that effect.

  “Come on, I thought you were a good girl, Rosy.”

  “I’m pretty sure taking that.” I nod at the joint he’s still holding up for me. “Would make me anything but a good girl. And,” I add sharply. “My name is Ruby. Ruby,” I repeat, enunciating each syllable clearly so the asshole might have a chance at understanding it.

  He takes another drag, making a show of holding it deep before once again blowing it out over me.

  “Huh, look at that, it seems you’re already dirty. And do you know what?”

  I raise a brow, trying to appear totally uninterested in anything he might have to say, although I know deep down that I’m desperate to hear his voice again.

  “I like my girls dirty.”

  Every muscle below my waist clenches.

  With his blunt between his lips, he uses my moment of weakness to his advantage. His hot fingers wrap around my wrists and he lifts my arms above my head, pinning them there in one of his large hands.

  Dropping his other arm, he runs his busted-up knuckles down my cheek. Goose bumps erupt around my body and I look to the side, not wanting him to see whatever he might be able to read in my eyes. I’ve no doubt my traitorous thoughts will be clear in their hazel depths.

  I hate him. He’s an asshole. So why does his touch feel so good? Even such a simple one.

  Tucking his fingers under my chin, he forces me to face him. Only, much to his displeasure, I keep my eyes downcast.

  “Look at me,” he barks. His fingers wrap around my ponytail and my head is forced up. My eyes close, my need to defy him too strong to deny.

  I resist for a beat, but his strength has nothing on my fast crumbling restraint.

  Dragging my eyelids open, I gasp when I find his face incredibly close to mine with his dark eyes boring down into mine.

  “Ashton, what are you…” He makes the most of my parted lips and places his blunt between them.

  Anger explodes in my belly. Red hot fury racing through my veins. I shouldn’t be fazed by this asshole, but he’s getting under my skin faster than I know what to do with.

  Spitting it from my lips, I watch as it hits his shoulder before falling to the ground.

  His hold on my hair tightens as his other now free hand wraps around my exposed throat. He doesn’t squeeze, but it doesn’t stop my pulse thundering against his hold.

  “You need to stay out of my way,” he warns, his nose almost brushing mine, his breath racing over my face.

  “Or what?” I sass, not willing to give up my fight against this asshole.

  “Or… I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” My voice is all breathy and I hate it.

  His hand releases my hair, but with his other still wrapped around my throat, I can’t move. I do however let out a little shriek when he cups me between the legs.

  “It means, little one, that I’ll take whatever I like, when I like, and give zero fucks about the consequences.”

  “Y-y-you can’t. You wouldn’t.” My head spins with both his warning and his touch. His words should be a reality check, they should put me off, but with his hand on me, all I can think about is him giving me more.

  It’s wrong. So fucking wrong.

  He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

  “You want more, don’t you? Maybe I was wrong about you being a goody-two-shoes cheerleader, and the truth is that you’re just a cheer slut.”

  “No,” I cry, bucking against his hold. Only it doesn’t shake him off, it only makes his fingers press into me harder.

  Heat floods me as my temperature soars.

  He glares down at me, his dark eyes full of hate and disgust. I’ve never felt so small and vulnerable in my life, and I fucking hate it.

  He could do whatever he wants in this situation, and he knows it. It’s why he’s enjoying this power trip so much.

  Unable to physically do anything about it, I use my words instead in the hope it’ll get me kicked out of his room and away from his epic headfuck.

  “Why do you want to touch me anyway? You hate me, remember?”

  His teeth grind and his shoulders tense.

  “And why is that exactly? Because I’ve been living here with daddy while you’ve been forgotten in Seattle?” It’s a shot in the dark but one I’m confident in. But as his lips press into a thin line, I know that I hit the nail on the head.

  His fingers clench slightly around my neck, but the warning isn’t enough to make me stop.

  “He treats me like his own daughter, you know. Gives me everything I could possibly want. Buys me whatever I want. He—”

  “Enough,” he roars, getting right in my face. His breaths are ragged, his eyes blown with anger. “Stop talking, little girl, before you say something you’ll regret.”

  Before I get the chance to talk, his lips slam down on mine. Shock renders me motionless as his kiss bruises and his hold on me gets tighter.

  “Ashton, no,” I cry against him after a few brain-frazzled moments. My hands slap against his chest as I try to push him away. But it seems he has other ideas because before I even realize I’ve moved, I’m out of his room and tripping over my own feet.

  I hold my breath as I wait for my body to collide with something, and only moments later my shoulder hits the wall in the hallway, and I slide down until I’m on my ass.

  He stands above me. Anger and contempt vibrating from every inch of him.

  “You’re nothing, little girl. The only reason he puts up with you is because of your whore of a mother.”

  “No,” I cry. “She’s not.”

  “Pfft.” He waves me off before lowering down on his haunches. “It seems that there’s a lot you don’t know, little one. You should know something, though.” He looks over me as I clutch on to my smarting shoulder. “I’m going to fucking ruin you and leave them both with the broken pieces I leave behind. You know, just a little thank you for having me gift.”

  My head spins as his words register. Did he really just say those things to me, or is it the effects of the second-hand weed messing with my brain?

  When I look up, I find that I’m alone in the hallway and that the pain in my shoulder is very real.

  Fucking asshole.

  5

  Ruby

  Ashton’s music continues all freaking night.

  Mom and Stephen came home sometime after midnight, although I didn’t hear them arrive thanks to the booming bass on the other side of the wall. It wasn’t until the loud shouts rang out as Stephen tried to get his son to be respectful and turn it down that I discovered they’d returned.

>   As I lay there staring at my ceiling, desperate to go to sleep in the hope it would help me to forget everything that had happened since I came home from school this afternoon, I can’t help wondering why Stephen is bothering. It seems like a waste of energy to try to tell Ashton to do anything that might be considered thoughtful to others. I might have only spent a very limited time with him this evening, but I really doubt he’s going to turn around and agree to do anything he’s told, especially if that request comes from the mouth of his father.

  There’s some serious bad blood between the two of them I’m discovering, although I’m confident that it’s totally one-sided.

  I’ve seen the love that lights up Stephen’s eyes when he talks about his son. It might have been years since he’s spent any decent amount of time with him, but he fondly remembers the little boy he helped to bring into this world. Although after the past few hours, I wonder if that little boy no longer exists.

  I think of the stories of the Lego loving boy he’s fondly told us about and realize that there’s a very good chance that Stephen knows nothing about his now hotheaded and very angry son.

  I release a frustrated sigh as the arguing continues. One of them will win soon, and I have no doubt that when that person does, the music will continue and that none of us will be getting any sleep tonight.

  As predicted, less than five minutes later, the bedroom door slams but the music doesn’t turn off, in fact, I think it actually gets louder.

  After having to get up early to meet the squad for a morning workout session, I spend the day half asleep. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing in each class I drag my exhausted body to, my eyelids just get heavier and heavier as I desperately try to concentrate.

  “What’s up with you?” Harley, my best friend, asks when she drops down beside me with her own lunch tray at the cheerleaders’ table.

  “Ugh, don’t ask.”

  “Well, I did, so…”