FIERCE: A High School Enemies to Lovers Romance (Rosewood High Book 4) Page 4

  No one can look at me like they hate me.

  And most importantly, while I’m alone, no one can learn my secret.

  I don’t get much sleep. I spend most of the night tossing and turning, trying to get used to my new bed. It’s too soft, too comfortable, and nothing like what I’ve spent the last eight weeks sleeping on. That was like lying on a fucking rock compared to this.

  The sun’s only just risen when I give up and go in search of something to drink.

  I make myself a cup of coffee and put a Pop-Tart into the toaster that my parents left for me. I do it all with a smile on my face because despite everything that’s going on outside my little sanctuary, I’m overjoyed with this little bit of independence my parents have granted me.

  I need this breathing space to come to terms with everything.

  My life has been turned upside down, by my own doing of course. But that’s only the beginning of the changes that are on the horizon.

  Dragging on a pair of yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, I pull my curtains open and head out for a morning walk along the beach. I’ve missed the sea while I’ve been away. I’d usually run, but I’m not sure I’ve got it in me this morning.

  Finding my favorite playlist, I drop my cell into my pocket and pop my earbuds in to block out the world around me and I take off.

  Being so early on a Saturday morning, I have little concern about running into anyone from school who might be tempted to drown me in the ocean.

  I feel like I breathe for the first time in weeks when I step down onto the sand. I tug my sneakers off and pull my yoga pants up a little so they don’t get wet, and then I walk down to where the waves are crashing onto the beach.

  The warm water surrounds my feet and I sigh in relief.

  I feel at home here and I can forget all the bullshit and just be me. I can pretend for just a little while that everything is okay. That I still have friends and a life here and that I’m not the biggest fuckup that Rosewood High has ever seen.

  I don’t keep track of the time or how far I’ve walked, I just keep going as the sun begins to rise higher and higher. It’s late in the year but with the sun beating down, I soon end up shedding my hoodie and tying it around my waist as I continue walking.

  I’m lost in my own head, staring at my feet as they splash through the shallow water so I don’t see anyone approaching until it’s too late.

  “I’m going to start assuming that you’re stalking me.” His familiar voice sends a shudder down my already heated body, but that’s nothing compared to when I look up and find him shirtless and in only a pair of low-slung shorts. His golden skin glistens in the sun and his hair is dripping with sweat. I’m fairly sure I’ve never seen him looking better.

  “Oh yeah, I slept outside your house last night and followed you here. Guilty,” I say sarcastically, holding my hands up in defeat.

  He silently stares at me and I hate that I can’t get a read on him.

  He shocked me last night with those vicious words he whispered in my ear. It was so unlike him. But then again, I’ve never really made the effort to get to know him better.

  He has every right to hate me. To say the things he did. They were true. I didn’t start things with him that night because I wanted him. I was lonely. Bored. Jealous of Tasha finding that connection with someone that I was so desperate for. Even if it was with a nerd like Noah.

  Their relationship just showed that we don’t have to fall for a football player to find love. Maybe I’d had it wrong all this time.

  I remember looking at him on the other end of the sofa after Tasha and Noah stumbled out of the room to find a little privacy, and I wondered if maybe I should try something a little different.

  One thing’s for sure, he blew me away that night.

  It was nothing like the night I lost my V-card with Jake. We’d been drinking but we weren’t wasted, and it didn’t feel like the only thing he wanted was the release. There was more to his touch, more to the words he whispered to me. He made me think I’d been focusing all my efforts on the wrong guys this whole time.

  But there’s a good chance that just like everything else in my life, I’m wrong about that too.

  “Are—” He stops himself and looks out to the water. His hand comes up and he wraps his fingers around the back of his neck and tugs.

  “Are…” I encourage, not wanting this weird exchange to be over quite yet.

  “Fucking hell,” he mutters to himself. “Are you okay? You know, after yesterday.” And there he is, the sweet guy I remember from that night.

  “I’ll survive. You know me, stone face, hardened heart.” I roll my eyes. I’m not naïve to what the rest of the school thinks of me. They think I’m some heartless bitch who only cares about herself. The reality is far from that.

  “Chels, you don’t need to do that.”

  “Do what?” I shrug, looking down at my feet.

  “Pretend that everything’s fine when it’s very much not.”

  “Yeah well. What’s the alternative? Everyone hates me. No one wants me here. And I can’t see it changing anytime soon.”

  “Can you blame anyone?”

  “I never said they were wrong.”

  “Me either.”

  “Ouch.”

  “What do you want me to say, Chelsea? Everything about what you did was wrong.”

  “I know.”

  “And you let me take the fall for it. Because I wasn’t already enough of an outcast with the team, you allowed them to think I was capable of that.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, but it’s too quiet for him to hear it.

  “What was that?” he asks, reaching out so I have no choice but to look at him. The second his fingers connect with my chin, tingles erupt.

  I have no idea if he feels it too. I can only hope this isn’t a one-sided thing. Even if he never forgives me, I’d like to think that maybe that kind of connection does really exist.

  “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I did it. I was in a bad place. I shouldn’t have let you take the fall, that wasn’t fair.”

  He steps closer and my heart rate picks up.

  His eyes leave mine for the briefest second and when they come back, they’re colder, angrier.

  “Prove it.”

  “W-what?”

  “Prove. It.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. Use your imagination. But I know for a fact you have some skills that can make guys do whatever it is you want. Maybe try that.” There’s no emotion in his voice. The change in him confuses the hell out of me.

  “Y-you want me to get on my knees?” I stutter, not quite believing what he’s suggesting. I’d expect it from some of the other members of the team, but not Shane.

  He quirks an eyebrow impatiently.

  “Here? Now?”

  “Why not? It’s what you deserve.”

  My chin drops as we engage in a silent battle of wills. Where’s the sweet guy from a few moments ago?

  It’s another second when I hear it. The booming voice that can only be from another member of the team.

  “Chelsea, what a fucking surprise to see you here.” Zayn’s arm wraps around my shoulder and he pulls me into his body.

  Shane’s eyes narrow at him, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “I’m surprised you wanted to show your face this morning after the way you left the party last night. Everyone really fucking hates you, girl.”

  It’s only when I turn to look into his eyes that I remember the drink he forced me to have last night. I guess it’s safe to assume that there was nothing in it.

  “I know,” I mutter. “Shane was just suggesting a way I could make it up to the team.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s that then?”

  Ripping my eyes from Shane’s, I turn to Zayn. He’s clearly out on his morning run too, but he’s still wearing a shirt.

  My eyes hold his for a second before I make a show of running them down his body.

/>   “You know me, Zayn. I’ve got certain skills that can make up for things.” I use similar words to what Shane just said to me to prove a point before licking my lips enticingly.

  I take a step toward him and run my fingertips down his chest before slipping them under his shirt to find his abs. They tense as I flatten my palm against them ready to slide it under the waistband of his shorts.

  His eyes widen, but I don’t miss the heat that fills them. Zayn’s never been one to say no to a good offer.

  Just as I’m about to push my hand lower and into his boxers, a low growl comes from beside me. Fingers dig into my upper arm and I’m pulled away from Zayn and into a hard, heaving chest.

  “I’ll catch up with you,” he says over my shoulder.

  Zayn immediately nods and jogs off down the beach.

  “Don’t fucking touch him.” His large hand lands on my stomach and my breath catches in my throat.

  “You jealous, Shane?”

  He growls again as something tickles around the shell of my ear. His nose? Lips? I’m not sure, but fuck if my knees don’t want to buckle.

  “Nah. I just don’t want anyone else to get you on your knees before I’m finished with you.”

  He might be threatening me, but his words send a wave of heat between my legs.

  “Is that right? If the first time was so good that you need a repeat, all you need to do is say the words.”

  “Nah. It’s not that easy, Chelsea. This isn’t about pleasure. It’s about revenge.”

  “R-revenge?” I stutter, totally thrown for a loop.

  “I’m glad you’re confused because so am I. My head’s a fucking mess and it’s all because of you.”

  Something crackles between us as his hand snakes up my body. My nipples pebble as it brushes over my left breast, but he doesn’t stop like I need him to, instead his hand wraps around my neck.

  “Oh god,” I moan. I don’t mean for it to come out loud, but fuck, he’s turning me on right now with his dominance. I had no idea that he had it in him, but I am all in with this side of Shane Dunn.

  “You might want to lock your door because I’ll strike when you least expect it. Things are on my terms now. Not yours.”

  I shudder in his hold, but instead of giving me more, he releases me with a shove. If I had my wits about me, then I’d be able to catch myself, but he’s just rendered me useless and I tumble to the soft sand at his feet.

  “You look right at home on your knees.”

  6

  Shane

  I turn away from Chelsea before I do something else I’ll regret. I’m not sure what it is about her, but she brings out a different side of me. One that I’m not sure I like. Although if the way her body shuddered against my hold told me anything, I’m pretty sure she liked it.

  My lungs burn by the time I catch up with Zayn.

  “Hey, man,” I pant as he comes to a stop beside me.

  “What the fuck was that about?”

  “What, Chelsea? Fuck knows. Trying to apologize or some shit,” I lie.

  His brows draw together. “And what exactly did you have against her grabbing a handful of the goods?” He thrusts his hips forward in a way I never need to see any other guy do.

  “We’re on the beach. There are kids around.”

  “Riiight. Is there something you need to tell me?”

  “Uh… nope, don’t think so.”

  Since I started hanging out with the team more in my pathetic attempt to find out where she’d gone, Zayn and I struck up an unlikely friendship. We’re polar opposites in every way, other than our love of the game, but we just kinda clicked in a way I never have with any of my teammates. I’m not complaining because it’s not like I ever got Noah or Wyatt out to train with me. It’s kinda nice having some company.

  “Okay. Just watch your back, if you’re playing games with Chelsea, you’re more than likely going to lose.”

  “I can handle Chelsea.”

  “Bro, I’m pretty sure there’s not a man on this earth who can handle Chelsea Fierce.”

  I laugh at his comment in a lame-ass attempt to cover up how it really makes me feel.

  We workout together on the beach for a little over an hour before I head home to shower.

  The house was a disaster when I left first thing this morning, but as I walked down the street, the cleaning company my dad hires were all arriving, so I have no doubt that it will be like a show home again once I get there.

  “It was a great night last night, eh son?” Dad says when he strolls into the kitchen as I’m grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

  “Yeah. Great.”

  Clearly it passed him by that after I disappeared from the press, I only emerged from hiding when I needed more alcohol, something that I seriously regretted when I first woke up this morning knowing that I was meeting Zayn.

  He’d wanted to cancel seeing as it was the morning after our big night, but I refused to hear it. Just because the season is over, it doesn’t mean I’m letting up. I might not want the football career my father has planned for me, but I still want to play. Plus, it’s not like Coach is going to let up on us just because we’re state champions. He’ll want to send us all off to college in prime condition. My muscles ache just thinking about it.

  Leaving him behind, I take my bottle up to my bedroom. I don’t have the patience for his self-centered bullshit this morning.

  Closing the door behind me, I pull my discarded shirt from the waistband of my shorts and throw it toward the laundry basket. I take a step forward, my eyes land on the bed in the center of the room.

  Suddenly it’s that night again…

  I was so fucking angry having just watched my best friend disappear off upstairs with a girl who wasn’t his girlfriend. I’d been suspicious for a while as he just wasn’t himself, but until that point, I’d had no evidence to accuse him of anything.

  The second she turned up at my house with Chelsea in tow while Noah and I were shooting the shit over an old NFL game, I knew exactly what was going on.

  I let them in because, well, I’m not a douchebag, and the second Tasha was in the room she climbed on Noah’s lap and started kissing him. There was so much familiarity between the two of them that this wasn’t some one-off, random hook-up. They’d been bumping uglies for a while.

  My fists curled as he pulled her out of the room, telling me that they were going to make use of one of our many guestrooms. In one respect, I was grateful. It meant I no longer had to watch them, but on the other, I was devastated for Camila.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d been accused. Mason took him to the ground at Noah’s own birthday party, but Camila waved it off as her ex-childhood best friend throwing his weight around. Turned out, Mason was right.

  I had no idea that while I was still sitting there with my head spinning that Chelsea was anonymously messaging Camila to make sure she walked in on them.

  Had I known that was the reason Camila randomly turned up not long later, the evening might have gone very differently.

  Images of our time together play out in my mind like it only happened days ago, not weeks. I rub at my stubbled jaw, it’s not even weeks, it’s months since that night. I’ve watched Camila and Mason reunite, Ethan find Rae, and I’m still here harboring some weird feelings for a girl I should hate for all the shit she’s caused. Yet I can’t get her out of my fucking head.

  I tell myself that it’s just because I’m angry with her. She framed me as the one who drugged Amalie, she viciously went after Camila, one of my oldest friends. Yet all I can think about is that night.

  Maybe it was just because it was a long time coming. Maybe I’ve just latched on to her even more than usual because she was my first, not that I have any intention of telling her that.

  Chelsea’s been in my life for years, she’s followed Luca around like a lost puppy for most of that time waiting for him to throw her a bone, but while she was clearly after him, I was in the backgroun
d wishing she’d give me a chance. I’d have given anything back then for her to look at me like she did him.

  That night she did just that and I was powerless but to fall for her charms.

  I shouldn’t have done it, I knew that. Allowing myself to go there made me no better than the guys on the team that I spend my days moaning about and trying not to be like. It made me like my father. I shudder at the thought.

  But the way she touched me, the way she kissed me. It meant something. It wasn’t just a meaningless night, a way to pass the time. Of that I was sure, until she was gone anyway.

  “Fucking hell.” I slam my head back against the solid door, wishing that I could forget all about her and that night. She doesn’t deserve my time or my attention. But she calls to me like no one else ever has. She always fucking has.

  She’s like a fucking drug that I know I shouldn’t want, yet I’m powerless to resist even knowing that it’ll make me more desperate after another taste.

  I push from the door and drop my shorts and boxers as I make my way to my bathroom to wash this morning’s sweat and sand from my body.

  My semi-hard cock taunts me. The memories of that night threatening to make it go full mast in its need for another round. My cock doesn’t care that we should hate her. That she doesn’t deserve another chance. It just wants her. The same as the organ beating in my chest, but I manage to ignore that a little easier.

  I stand under the hot spray and allow it to soothe my tense muscles, but it does little to help. My head and heart seem to be in a constant battle for how I should handle Chelsea. I spent weeks trying to find where she was, wanting to know she was okay after everything that happened. But one look at her and the anger I should have felt when she disappeared hit me like a truck.

  Attempting to push her out of my head, I get dressed and make my way back to the kitchen for some food.

  Mom sits at the counter in her yoga outfit and sips on a cup of coffee.

  “Morning.”

  “Morning, baby. How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Great, why?”

  “Last night was… intense,” she says with a wince.