Page 394 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

I grab her backpack from the grass. She tries to stop me, but I shove her aside with my elbow and she steps back, wrapping her arms around herself as she watches me go through her stuff. When I finally get to the water bottle, she blanches.

Jackpot.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” I tell her as I unscrew the lid. Her mouth tightens, and the hands shoved under her arms bundle into fists. But she says nothing as I tip the bottle to my mouth.

Pure vodka hits my tongue. I grimace, gather up the saliva in my mouth, and spit it on the grass.

“I didn’t have any yet. It was for tonight, at home.”

Liar.We have more than enough free booze at home. Wasthiswhat she still owes Talia money for? Talia’s another senior, and if the rumors are true, her older brother turned twenty-one about a month ago. Guess they’re making a quick buck buying alcohol for friends of the cheerleading squad.

Which I never knew included Harper.

“It’s your first week and you’re drinking in school?” I growl, tossing her backpack to the floor. Some of her things tumble out,and she ducks to gather them up, but I catch the base of her ponytail and drag her up again.

She gasps, grabs my wrist, and bites her nails into my flesh. “Let go!”

“Do you have any idea how muchshitI’ll get into if Dad finds out about this?” I’m so fucking angry I don’t even care if I’ve acknowledged that we’re siblings. None of us like it, but the sad fact is that WayneisHarper’s father.And I’m in no mood to get a taste of his belt again after all these years. He told me to look after Harper, and that’sexactlywhat I’m going to do.

“Is that everything?” I pull at her hair until she’s forced to go onto her tiptoes. She winces, hanging from my arm like she stands a chance to break free. “Or do you have some nips on you too?”

“What the fuck?” she mutters angrily, her eyes blazing. “Do you think I’m an alcoholic or something? I told you?—”

“Oh, Iknowyou’re a drunk.” I shove my hand into her blazer, rummaging in her pocket. I find only gum and a Chapstick in there, and toss both to the ground. “What you should be asking is what I’m going to do about it.”

“I’m not your problem,” she spits.

“That’s where you’re wrong, princess.” Her other pocket has a pack of tissues in it. Where the fuck is the booze? Cigarettes? Weed? I know she’s holding out on me.

She stiffens when my hand accidentally brushes her tit, her lashes fluttering. So I grab her breast through her shirt and squeeze.

Surprise snuffs out her anger, but it’s back a second later and twice as fierce. She yells, “Psycho!” and tries to knee me in the groin.

I rush into her, grabbing her shirt in my fists and ramming her against the crumbling brick wall of the public restroom that supports one side of the bleachers. Bits of brick rub off onto herblazer, the fabric snagging as I drag her up another inch. Now she’s almost at eye level with me. She immediately tries kicking me, but she’s too close to do damage.

She slaps my arms, claws me, and must realize that she’s not making any progress because she opens her mouth to scream.Driving my hips forward, I keep her pinned with my waist and clamp a hand around her throat, the other still fisted in her shirt.

“One more sound, and I’ll choke you out.”

Incredulity creases the skin between her eyebrows. “You’re fucked in the head. You know that, right?”

“Don’t push me, Sis.”

Finally she realizes I’m not bluffing because she stops resisting me. “That’s everything,” she says quietly, trying to sound calm even though the tremble in her voice gives her away. “Please, Jude. Let’s just...let’s forget about this and go home.”

Her lips push into a brave smile, and my eyes latch onto her mouth as she adds, “We could go swimming.”

For a second—a tiny, almost insignificant beat—I want to say yes. I imagine us back in that pool, our bodies sliding against each other in the water, curiosity and desire burning in Harper’s eyes as she gazed at me, as she waited for me to?—

The moment bursts like a rotten fruit when I realize she’s waiting for my reaction. Waiting to see if her trick is going to work, or if she has to try something else.

“You filthy little slut,” I growl, tightening the hand around her throat as I grind my suddenly hard dick against her. “You thinkfuckingme is going to get you out of this?”

Her lashes flutter like she can’t believe what I’m accusing her of. I let out a bitter chuckle and smooth my hand over her shirt where I’d been gripping her. Then I squeeze her tit again, so hard that she gasps and tries to move away from my grip.

“Then what do you want?” she demands, fury blazing in her eyes. “I fucked up, okay? So tell me how to make it right.”

It could have ended there. I’d have told her to quit drinking—which is the only thing I want from her—and we’d have gone home.

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