All the Little Lies: A High School Bully Romance Read online

  Christian Powell. My old best friend. Our eyes caught, and hope blossomed through my chest like a sunflower finding the sun. His eyes were the same shade of gray: stormy, grounding, always pinning me to my spot with comfort. But then his eyes narrowed, and his razor-sharp jaw became even sharper. The gray of his eyes turned to stone the very second the teacher introduced me.

  “Class, this is Hayley Smith. She’s new here; please welcome her and offer help when needed.”

  The entire classroom was silent. No one muttered a single syllable. I didn’t even think a breath was let out. Except for Christian. He was fuming in his seat. His fists clenched tightly. I wanted to turn around on my heel and go right back to Oakland High.

  But I wasn't that girl anymore. I didn’t bow down to anyone.

  Welcome to English Prep, Hayley.

  Chapter Two

  Christian

  Today was destined to be a good fucking day. I knew that because when I’d woken up this morning and took my somnolent ass downstairs to snag leftover coffee from the day before, there was a fresh pot waiting for me. I could smell it from the stairwell. It dragged me from the top stair to the kitchen in record time. I was so blinded by the need for it that I almost didn’t notice my father who was sitting at the large kitchen table—one that was rarely ever used—with his laptop propped open in front of him.

  “Mornin’, son,” he said as I kept my bare back to him, pouring my coffee in a freshly washed mug, courtesy of—oh, that’s right...me. The only person who did anything around here.

  I grunted in acknowledgment, but really, I was fucking jumping around on the inside. My father being home meant one thing: I didn’t have to parent today. I didn’t have to walk back upstairs to drag Ollie out of his bed only to wait on his slow, hungover ass while he moseyed around in the shower, probably beating his dick, making us late for school. In fact, I may just leave without him this morning. I’d give my father the lovely duty of being an actual parent today. He could take Ollie to school himself.

  “What brings you to this neck of the woods?” I asked, still keeping my back to him.

  Silence encased the room. I was certain my father was feeling one of two things: anger or guilt. Maybe even both.

  I was used to the never-ending letdowns when it came to him. He was never a present father, always buying us off—Mom included—and letting us fend for ourselves. Which wasn’t much of a big deal a few years ago, but now that he was our only parent, it was pretty much just shitty parenting.

  He gave zero fucks about Ollie and me.

  He said he trusted us, and by us, he meant me. He shouldn’t, though. He was misled. He mistook my silence and quiet, brooding nature as maturity, but the trust between us was nonexistent. He just couldn’t quite see that.

  Ollie and I were Irish twins: born within the same year. I was eleven months older. Yet, I held all the responsibility when it came to him.

  But if I didn’t, I had no idea where the hell he’d be.

  Probably still facedown in Clementine’s chest from last night’s banger.

  “Christian, I’m sorry. You know I wish I could be here more.”

  Lie.

  I turned around and glared, but it was like looking into a fucking mirror. An ugly, warped mirror at that. We both had rich, dark-chestnut hair; our fair skin tone had a twinge of natural tan mixed in. Our jawlines were sharp and pointed, with our brow line heavy and defined. I used to hate that characteristic about him; I always felt like he was angry, even when his face was resting, but now I enjoyed seeing him aggravated. I all but salivated at the thought of pissing him off, though he never showed his cards. He simmered inside, raging and boiling so hot that his face would turn a heated shade of red, but he never lashed back out. He knew he was stuck. The guilt of having me raise myself and my brother outweighed any anger that I caused him to have.

  “When are you leaving again?” I put my cup down on the counter, the clank a welcome break to the constant typing of computer keys.

  He barely looked up from the screen. “This afternoon. How’s Ollie doing?”

  Sighing, I answered truthfully. “He’s the same as he always is. Late for school, drowning in pussy and beer, still kicking ass on the team, in line to take my captain’s spot next year. Oh, that’s right…” I said, walking closer to him. I peered down, and he finally took his eyes off his computer. “What exactly are you going to do next year when I’m away at college and Ollie is here to fend for himself?”

  My father scoffed. “I hardly think your brother being 17, almost 18, qualifies needing a babysitter, Christian.”

  “No, but he does qualify as needing a parent, Dad.” And with that, I turned my back and began walking toward the stairwell. When I reached the bottom stair, I called out from behind, “He’s all yours today. School starts at 8:05.”

  He mumbled something, but I chose not to listen, because today was a good fucking day.

  As soon as I pulled my Charger into the parking lot, Eric pulled in beside me. Eric and I had been best friends since freshman year when we went head to head in the English Prep popularity contest. I won but wanted to lose. He lost but wanted to win. English Prep was one of the most prestigious schools in the United States. We were competitive in everything: academics, sports, extra-curriculars. But popularity goes by whoever’s parents have the most money (ludicrous, I know, but I didn’t make the rules), and Eric’s father and mine have right around the same amount, plus their pull in the community. It wasn’t long before girls started to take notice of us—even the upperclassmen. Then, the faculty and staff began treating us differently, too, mainly due to hefty donations to the school. It was only a matter of time before a new “king” was established.

  After everything happened with my mom, it seemed I gained even more unwanted attention. First, I pushed everyone away, which only made things worse. Girls loved a jaded challenge, and jaded I was. I was angry all the time, which still lingered if I was being truthful, and pair that with picking fights with everyone—and winning—and I had girls fawning over the untouchable Christian, and the guys were afraid I’d break their neck. The teachers pitied me and let things slide, and mixing it all together with a smidge of my father’s reputation and hefty donations, I all but ruled the school.

  I loathed it at first, but it became the norm for me.

  “What up, King?” Eric stepped out of his Range Rover with his Oakleys pulled over his eyes.

  I grinned, walking over to him. “Rough night? Not even those sunglasses can hide the bags.”

  Eric and I began walking to the school entrance, him fixing his tie as he tucked a wrinkled shirt into his pants. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked alongside him. If Headmaster Walton saw the sloppiness of Eric’s attire, he’d be pissed. But that was Eric. Ever since he came back from his father’s the summer before last, he didn’t care much about anything except partying. “You missed one hell of a party, dude. Missy did this thing with her ton—" Eric’s sentence was cut off by the sight of Missy herself.

  Missy was about a six on the hot scale. I, personally, thought her hair had too many different colors of blonde running through it (I didn’t even know there were that many different shades), and her orange, tawny fake tan made me gag. She looked like she got into a fight with a spoiled can of orange spray paint that didn’t quite get the job done.

  “Hey, Eric. Christian.” Missy walked past us after winking at Eric, which I assumed was meant to be seductive, and headed for the lockers.

  “You were saying?” I prodded, watching Eric lust after Missy’s swaying hips in her uniformed skirt.

  Once I got to my locker and pulled on my navy blazer, a few other guys sauntered up to hear Eric’s story.

  “God, she took her tongue and licked every drop of cum my dick spit out. Then, she went back for more. She was a wild animal in the bedroom. I’ve never been so into it before.”

  Slamming my locker shut, I turned and looked at Eric. His eyes might as w
ell have been glossed over while talking about Missy. Which was why I was going to say what I was about to say. “I’ve been sucked off by Missy before. It’s nothing to write home about.”

  And just like that, Eric snapped out of it. He pulled his broad chest back and flexed his jaw. “Why do you always have to ruin it for me?”

  The other guys chuckled and looked around at one another, most likely agreeing that I did, in fact, always ruin it for someone. There was a reason for my madness.

  “Because while we’re throwing the football, trying to win a championship, your head will be in the clouds as Missy’s lips are around your dick. Love ‘em and leave ‘em, Eric. Focus on the game, not the player.” That wasn’t necessarily the reason I tried pulling him back from Missy. Eric got caught up in certain girls and was completely swallowed by them. He buried himself so deep in pussy and partying that I had a sense he was trying to escape something. I knew the feeling all too well.

  He rolled his eyes as a few other people walked up to meet us at my locker, one of them being Madeline. If there were an actual hierarchy at English Prep, me being the king, then Madeline would have been the queen. That didn’t necessarily mean we were “together”, but everyone assumed, since she ruled the girls, that we were an item. We weren’t. I was very clear in the beginning with her: I didn’t have girlfriends. Madeline, however, was all about appearances and the queen should be with the king, Christian. Yeah, okay. What the fuck ever.

  So, we were together for all intents and purposes: homecoming dances, prom, occasional keggers at Eric’s cabin.

  “Did you hear?” Madeline interrupted Eric’s riveting story revolving around Missy’s pussy.

  She cozied up to me and grabbed my arm, placing it on her shoulders. Her nails scraped along my skin as all eyes were on her, ready to eat up her gossip.

  “Did we hear what?” one of Madeline's follower’s eyes grew wide, ready to hear whatever Madeline had to dish.

  I stood back, my arm still stuck to her bony frame, and looked down the hall. My eyes scanned the shiny, silver lockers, glossing over the chess-club nerds standing awkwardly in their gray sweater vests. I passed by the smart girls who stared at our group like we were bullies on a playground (which we were). I was looking for Ollie, wondering if my father decided to wake him this morning or not.

  Coming back to the present, I took my arm from Madeline.

  That’s enough of a show today, don’t ya think? I said with my eyes as she gave me a glare. She quickly fixed her face and smiled, running her hands down her skirt and facing the group again. “Yep, that’s what I heard.”

  Jace’s grin etched upward. “Good. I hope she’s a fuckin’ babe who has a talented mouth. She’ll be all over this.” He ran his hands down his body slowly, looking like a fucking idiot. What girls saw in him, I had no idea. He was a wannabe. His parents weren’t filthy rich like the rest of us; they were just wealthy enough for him to attend English Prep, which was why he tried so hard to fit in. The only reason he was in our group was because he played football. But nonetheless, a few of the girls started making catcalls and fanning themselves at his show.

  Jace turned to Madeline. “What’s her name?”

  I glanced down the hall again; still no sign of Ollie. Fucker better not be skipping school. He had a test in Chemistry today, and if he didn’t pass it, he’d be ineligible, and we fucking needed him on the team. He was fast as hell, and pairing that with my arm, we were likely to go to state. Coach would be so goddamn pissed if he skipped, and then I’d be the one who got chewed out.

  The bell rang, drowning out Madeline’s answer to Jace, and we all were on our way to class. My pulse quickened as each second passed that Ollie wasn’t there. I pulled out my phone to text him when I took my seat in lit class, and that was when he walked in. The bags under his eyes were way worse than Eric’s, but that was what happened when you drank half a bottle of Fireball and ended up with Clementine.

  If I was my father’s spitting image, Ollie was our mother’s. We looked nothing alike. I got my father's dark features, and he got my mother’s looks and personality. As a child, I was said to be shy. Then, when I grew older, I was often called out for appearing bored and uninterested. And now that I was only a few months from being an adult, people labeled me as brooding and a silent giant. Some even went as far as to say I had a dark and troubling soul, and who knew, that may have been correct after what happened with Mom. But Ollie? He was my mother, through and through. Sunny, radiant, the life of the party. Always. Even in his worst mood, he was still a bundle of fucking joy. It got to be annoying at times, but it was a nice reminder of her, and I didn’t get those very often.

  Ollie’s blond hair looked darker as it was still damp from his shower, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top with his tie hanging loosely around his neck. When he slammed into his desk, he whirled around and fixed me with a glare. “Fucker.”

  I barked out a laugh. “You’re the fucker who made me pull your ass out of Eric’s parents’ room with your pants down to your ankles last night.”

  A smile broke out along his face. “I’m so fucking pissed I got that drunk. I can’t even remember hooking up with Clem, but dammnnnn, the texts she already sent this morning.” He looked up to the ceiling and mouthed a silent prayer, his hands coming together in the typical prayer hand manner.

  “You need to be careful drinking that much, Ol.” I bent my head down, keeping my voice low.

  “Relax, brother. I’m fine,” he muttered, pulling out his books. “You’re not gonna believe who I saw in the office this morning.”

  I leaned back in my seat, fiddling with my pencil. “Who?”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, the classroom door opened. My head turned in the direction of Ms. Boyd.

  And just like that…

  My blood boiled.

  My fists clenched.

  My jaw locked.

  What the fuck is she doing here?

  Ollie turned back to me and raised an eyebrow.

  “Hayley Smith. That’s who.”

  The organ in my chest thumped harder as my eyes passed over every inch of her body. It had been years since I’d seen her, but I’d recognize her anywhere. She had those eyes. Those piercing, suck-your-soul, icy-blue eyes. But just because her eyes were their normal color, that didn’t mean she was the same girl. The same girl I used to trade my cookies with at lunch. The same girl that poured glue on Rebecca Lahey’s hair for telling her that she was a tomboy. She wasn’t the same girl. Not by a longshot.

  There was something broken about her. I recognized it almost immediately. Broken recognizes broken.

  Her dark hair was tangled at the bottom, and her uniform didn’t fit like it should have. Her once rosy cheeks, tinted with color from laughing too much, were pure white. She reminded me of a porcelain china doll. Breakable. And by the looks of the bruises and cut on her face, someone already tried to test that out.

  It didn’t take long for her gaze to wander over to me. We always were drawn to one another, like moths to a flame. The hope in her eyes crawled over my skin like razor blades, cutting my very flesh, only for the hope to diminish and soothe those cuts when I shot her a glare. Know your place. You don’t belong here.

  If Hayley thought she had an ally here at English Prep, she was sorely mistaken. I’d break her just like she broke me. She was the start of a destructive avalanche that ruined my family.

  Game on, China Doll.

  Chapter Three

  Hayley

  I’d been at English Prep for approximately one and a half hours, and those one and a half hours felt like seven thousand years. I’d already learned so much, none of which was valuable or of any importance to furthering my education. I’d learned right off the bat that I was more alone in this school than I had been at Oakland High. At least at Oakland High I had Stacey and Matt. We were outcasts, but at least we were outcasts together.

  At English Prep, I was the only outcast. It seemed eve
ryone already had their “group”, which made sense. I mean, these kids had been going to school together since the silver spoon was plopped in their mouths at age three, but not one of these wealthy kids had a friendly bone in their body. Noses had been upturned in my direction; wary glances were sent my way in the hallway; and let’s not forget the moment I caught Christian’s eye.

  Chills broke out along my arms just thinking about it. I felt queasy, and I hated that. I didn’t expect us to pick up right where we left off, but I also didn’t expect him to hate me. And that was exactly what it was. Christian looked at me like I’d ripped his heart out and fed it to the wolves. His glare was steely, cold, and hit me right in the chest.

  I blew out a breath and tried to think of anything else but him and his cold demeanor toward me. I lazily glanced around the lunchroom as I stood with my back against the wall. It was a quaint lunchroom; no more than fifty students were eating their fresh salads and grilled chicken that smelled heavenly. My mouth watered at the decadent scent. I was trying to come up with a plan to steal an apple or banana from the lunch line without being seen when something caught my eye from across the lunchroom.

  Christian.

  My head began to turn away, but I held my ground instead. You’re not that girl anymore, Hayley. Chin up. I leveled my shoulders but kept my face neutral. I wasn’t going to glare at him. I had no reason to. My heart moved in my chest as his gaze stayed in line with mine. There was plenty of chatter in the lunchroom, but it was muted as I locked onto those stormy eyes. His group of friends were in conversation, not noticing our little stare-off. It’d been years since I’d seen or heard from him, and yet, he still had some strange hold over me. I’d always felt tethered to him, even when he’d be halfway across the auditorium each morning before we’d depart to our classes in seventh grade. I felt my lips rising at the corners with the thought, but they stopped climbing when I felt a presence beside me. It took everything I had to tear my eyes away from my old friend, but whoever was beside me was standing entirely too close for comfort.