Page 19 of Her Bully

There’s nothing special or great about living with Kyson.

Someone said that I must be the luckiest girl in the world.

If that were true, my father would have survived the accident that claimed his life and I wouldn’t even be here in the first place.

I dip into the library to escape Kyson. I’m starving, but hunger pains are a price I’m willing to pay to avoid him and his ludicrous demands. As soon as I step into the library, a peaceful silence surrounds me, creating a sense of tranquility. The creaking floors, turning pages, and humming voices create a comforting symphony. As I inhale, the aroma of old books and worn leather fills my senses, bringing me a soothing comfort, reminding me of one of my favorite bookstores back home.

Books have always been my favorite escape.

In search of solitude, I locate a secluded corner and settle into a luxurious armchair, immersing myself in the pages of my one of my favorite books, Wuthering Heights. The words blur together as I read, but I force myself to focus, letting the world around me fade away. Forgetting Kyson and his torturous lips. Pretending that I didn’t cheat on my boyfriend.

“Missed you at lunch. Have you been hiding here the whole period?” A soft voice startles me out of my concentration. I glance up from the tumultuous relationship between Catherine and Heathcliff to be greeted by Lauren’s friendly smile.

“I wasn’t that hungry.”

“Well, I got you a brownie and a frappe from the vending machine just in case you need a sugar boost.”

“That’s very thoughtful. Thank you.”

“Do you have to go straight home after school?”

“No. Why?”

“Because Thursdays are the best day to watch football practices.”

“And why is that?”

“Shirtless, sweaty, hot guys. Duh.”

I roll my eyes, but watching one practice can’t hurt.

Chapter Seven

Sprinting to catch the ball, my breath comes fast and ragged as my cleats dig into the grass. Coach’s gruff voice cuts through the sound of my heavy breaths, his words harsh and demanding. “Get with it, Kyson. Faster. Move your ass, boy. Damn it. You’re slacking.”

Gritting my teeth, I push myself harder. All the shit I’ve been doing is catching up with me. The smoking. The drinking. Late nights. Sweat trickles down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I don’t care. All that matters is proving Coach wrong and showing him I’m not just Kipling’s fuckup stepson. I’m more than that. Better than he thinks.

“Hey, dipshit,” Remy calls out, smirking as he runs alongside me. “Guess who’d make the perfect cheerleader for tomorrow night’s game? Your pretty little cousin, Dahlia.”

My heart clenches at the mention of her name. “We aren’t related.” I correct him automatically.

“Are you sure it’s not stepsister,” Gauge says with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You gotta admit she’s a hot fucking piece. You tapping that yet?” He slaps a palm across my chest.

“Shut up, asshole,” I growl, doing my damnedest to focus on the ball soaring toward me. It’s hard to concentrate with the image of Dahlia, along with her pale blonde hair and those piercing blue eyes, filling my mind. She’s the last person I want to think about right now, especially with the way she haunted my dreams all night, giving me the worst case of blue balls.

“My one legged grandma runs faster than you,” Coach continues to hurl insults.

Every time Coach yells at me, his grandmother loses an extra body part.

“Come on, bro,” Remy says, rejoining our conversation. “You can’t deny that she’s got a bad body. I bet half the team is gearing up to ask her out.”

“Enough,” I bark, glaring at them. The ball sails past me, and I curse under my breath. So much for keeping my focus.

“Wake up, Kyson,” Coach bellows, all red in the face. “Run it again.”

“See what you did?” I accuse the pair of them, my anger boiling over the edge.

They chuckle, enjoying my irritation far too much.

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