Page 2 of Wicked Dreams

I couldn’t even guess how many times I’d stared at myself in the mirror, in nothing but my underwear, wondering why people called me names. I was thin, had a decent sized chest, and my body was toned from running all the time. It was my stress reliever. Running, making my body ache—making it scream in agony at me as I pushed it to the limits with the wind in my hair—was the only way I could handle life. Why people at school tormented me to the point that I wanted to fade away into nothing was beyond me. People were just dicks.

My thoughts did nothing to improve my mood. Picking Anita up in the middle of the night after she’d hung out with my tormentors made my stomach twist into angry knots.

When I pulled into Brent Caldwell’s driveway—King Dipshit himself, head of my tormentors and jock extreme—I was already anxious to be back home in my bed. Staring up at his brightly lit house apprehensively, my heart hammered uncomfortably in my chest. I pulled in a few deep breaths, hoping to calm myself. They did nothing but remind me that I had to get my shit together, so I could walk into his place, try to remain unseen, and collect Anita without her announcing my presence or barfing on me.

When I got out of my car, I dialed Anita’s number, praying she’d answer. Knowing I was fighting a losing battle there, and sighing in resignation when she didn’t answer, I stuffed the phone back into my pocket and slunk as best I could through the crowded living room. I quickly scanned the room and didn’t see her so I made my way to the kitchen, making sure to keep my head down like a damn toddler—if I couldn’t see them then they couldn’t see mementality in full, hopeful force.

After I’d made it through the entire downstairs and back patio, I still hadn’t found her. I turned to go back into the kitchen from the patio and crashed into a brick wall.

“Shit. Sorry,” I muttered, trying to go around whoever I’d smashed into.

“Well, look who it is!” Brent Caldwell yowled, stepping so I couldn’t go around him. “If it ain’t little Miss Perfect!”

“Excuse me, Brent,” my voice cracked beneath the restraint. He grinned down stupidly at me.

“No excuse for you,” he retorted back like the goon he was. I rolled my eyes and tried to push past him, but he moved again so I couldn’t leave.

“What are you doing here,Butt Whore?” he asked, smiling at me like he’d made the joke of the year.

“My last name isButler. Your joke isn’t funny.” I scowled at him, knowing my words were falling on deaf ears. Being called Butt Whore was definitely something that happened more than once a week in my world.

“That wasn’t my question,” he continued, tipping his red cup to his lips and drinking, his brown eyes locked on mine.

I knew I wasn't going to get by him without answering.

“I’m here looking for Anita. I’m her ride.”

“I bet you are.” He licked his lips, his eyes darkening as they swept over me, lingering a little too long on my chest. I gave a shiver and looked away making sure to wrap my sweater even tighter around myself.

“I heard that when your nose isn’t stuck in a book, it’s stuck up a snatch.” He let out a low chuckle. “Heard you were a lesbo.” He grinned with wicked amusement.

“Get out of my face,” I snapped at him and really shoved him. His drink sloshed down the front of his dark polo as I moved passed. He sputtered an angry protest at my retreating back. I’d pay for that on Monday, but I didn’t care.

I went back to the living room and still didn’t see Anita. I glanced back to see Brent talking to Eddie and Wes, two of his football buddies. All three were looking in my direction.

Shit. I had to get out of here.

I made my way to the bathroom where I pulled my phone out and dialed Anita two more times. Still nothing.

“Fucking goddamnit,” I snarled at my phone. I typed out a text to her and hit send.

I’m leaving. Find another way home.

I pulled open the bathroom door to find myself face-to-face with Wes Mason, Brent’s friend.

“Hey there,” he smiled at me, his blue eyes sweeping over me quickly. “I was just looking for you.”

“Well, you found me,” I answered dully, wondering how in the hell I kept finding myself blocked in by these jocks. I was really going to have to start paying better attention to my surroundings.

“I did.” His lips quirked up into a bigger smile. “Brent was telling me that you’re looking for Anita. I know where she is.”

‘“You do?” I asked, suddenly interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah, she’s upstairs. Come on. I’ll take you to her.” He nodded in the direction of the stairs behind him. The voice in my head screamed at me to run in the opposite direction, but I just wanted to get Anita and get the hell out of there, so I could get back to my bed and forget this night ever happened. So, against my better judgement, I followed along as he led the way upstairs. A few people on the stairs let out soft chuckles, whispering behind their hands as I followed Wes up.

It’s not what you think!I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but I clamped my lips shut and continued my voyage.

“She’s in there.” Wes nodded to a closed door. “Don’t knock. Just go in.”

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