Break Me, Baby: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Silver Creek High Book 1) Read online

  Through the years, having me was enough.

  Until it wasn’t enough. Until he could no longer handle her daily nagging and pushiness. Her temperamental attitude and ugly crying to get what she wanted.

  Even I could tell my father wasn’t happy, and I don’t fault him for leaving. I just hate he left me behind to deal with the mess.

  When that happened, the fairytale—or should I say nightmare?—came to an end. It was the final piece of straw that broke the camel’s back.

  His absence unleashed an anger inside her I never saw before. Everything grew worse after that. And I’d like to say it was all Debra’s fault, but that would be a lie. Partly, if not most, is mine.

  All because I wanted to go to a stupid party.

  A party like the one I’m going to now, which is the messed-up if you think about it.

  Who knew the thing that inherently caused my downfall would be my salvation? Sure as shit wasn’t me.

  Since the end of freshman year, our family went from being the second most powerful family in Silver Creek, to being barely a blip on the radar.

  It didn’t matter that we were part of the Savoy family any longer.

  It didn’t matter my father was set to inherit all my grandparents fortune upon his forty-fifth birthday. Which, if my calculations are correct (and they are), should be September twenty-seventh. Exactly two months before my birthday.

  You’re welcome, dad.

  Anyway, none of it mattered because of what happened.

  Which, I guess saved my father in the long run. He was able to get out of the marriage to my bitch of a mother with little backlash.

  It’s perfect, really.

  A real fuck you to the old woman that makes both our lives a living Hell.

  Instead of focusing on my parents, everyone in the town was fixated on me. Been the same way for two years now, and most, if not all, the residents didn’t fault him for leaving if his “wife” allowed her daughter to go around town like she does.

  He played Debra’s card in order to leave. Mainstreaming that she “tarnished” the family name by allowing me to act the way I do in public.

  Idiotic reasoning, but if it got my father out of here, then I’d walk through Hell to make it happen.

  So, while they were champing at the bit to know why, my father’s PR company “slipped” a tip to the SC Outlook about me. How, one minute I was this proper, prim princess, but the next, I turned into a trashy, slutty vixen.

  Oh, the skeleton’s in my closet, I tell you. But it was worth it, because I inherently saved my father from living miserably.

  Heavy breathing coats the back of my neck in saturation. I can practically feel the anger rolling off her in waves as she tries to come to terms. If she thinks I’m playing, she’s sorely mistaken. I may not take it as far as fucking as hitting her, but I will give people something to talk about. All she has to do is try me, then it’s game on.

  Damn, I wish she would.

  “You wouldn’t,” she whisper-yells, disbelief clear in her tone.

  “Try me, Debra, I dare you.”

  One of these days, I know my threats will fall on deaf ears. She will tire of me throwing everything up in her face, and she won’t care what she looks like to anyone. She’ll beat me like a red-headed stepchild, or more than what she does now.

  Man, I’m waiting for that day. For the moment—no, the second—the blinders fall off everyone’s eyes. So that people in this town can see her for what she really is. It will be epic, and not a show I will miss.

  I did allow my father to hang me out to dry, so I at least expect something out of it.

  When her fingers begrudgingly leave my hair, I jerk away from her as if she burned me. My abrupt action causes her to tumble backward in surprise. With narrowed eyes, I rub the back of my head where my scalps smarts. I step into her, forcing her to back up into the decorative, piece of crap table lying behind the couch. My eyes spit fire, hopefully singing her to the bone.

  Fear and trepidation are the only emotions living within her.

  Unless …

  Looking closer, I see a sliver of it shining through before she startles at my penetrating gaze and schools her expression.

  Goddammit. She’s drunk. I should have seen it before, but with everything going on, I didn’t catch it in time. With her glassy eyes, flushed cheeks, and the scent of liquor wafting off her—she’s drunk as a skunk.

  I shouldn’t hold a hint of surprise, though. Basically, it’s a typical night in the Savoy house, because every day that ends in “y,” Debra is blitzed out of her mind.

  “If you ever, and I mean, ever, touch me like that again, there will be hell to pay. I don’t give a shit if I am only seventeen. Nor do I care that you have the pull to get me shipped off. You touch another part of my body, and I will lay you out flat.”

  “Fucking trailer trash bitch,” she spews her hatred all over me, swaying to the side. She rights herself before face planting against the table.

  Without sparing another look, I’m out of the house in three strides and on my way toward my car. After that, I can’t wait to drown myself in the bottom of a bottle.

  Living with Debra Savoy is akin to someone dousing you with gas, then promising not to strike the match.

  It’s nothing but a sweet, beautiful lie.

  CHAPTER 2

  The smell of sweat, beer, and weed, filter through the humid night air. It’s dark everywhere you look, with the only light being from the roaring fire pit in the midst of a circle of vehicles. It’s beautiful in its glow as it rages higher and higher toward the stars.

  For most of the party, I’ve danced, drank, and smoked pot with my bestie, Karma Jade. She’s usually chill, but just as soon as you get some bud in her, she goes flipping wild. It’s hilarious, and just what I need. She’s the exact opposite, and my nearest and dearest friend.

  Since she transferred to Silver Creek district our sophomore year, we’ve been inseparable. Even with all my fuck-ups, she still knew to look on the inside. We may have even traded some knuckles before either of us could see that, but that’s beside the point.

  She got a busted lip. I received a black eye. We’ve been homegirls ever since.

  She’s the jam to my peanut butter.

  My ride or die bitch.

  Her quirky matches mine, and we just fit together like two pieces of a jig-saw puzzle. When I go balls to the wall, she’s the voice of reason. When she’s about to turn it up, I dial that notch way down.

  We hate each other for it. For about five minutes, then we’re back to being best friends.

  We’re harmonic in our friendship.

  But don’t let her dainty appearance fool you. Karma may look like a little pixie—long blonde, curly hair, petite build, and a whimsical voice only an angel should have—but that doesn’t mean she can’t flip that bitch switch in two point five and let it rip. I can’t tell you how many times I had to pull her off someone in the middle of the hallway for spouting idiotic trash.

  Yes, Karma can be a real bitch—no pun intended.

  Tonight, seems to be one of those nights. I don’t know if it’s the knowledge we have to return to school on Monday, or that she just isn’t drunk or stoned enough, but something is definitely up with her. I catch her eyeballing everyone passing. It actually seems like she’s waiting for something. Only, I don’t know what that is.

  She has a resting bitch face most of the time anyway, but tonight, it’s on full throttle. I wonder what’s up with her. Normally, she’s not this dodgy.

  Every so often I find her restlessly casting her eyes, and that’s when I know it’s not something she’s look for, but someone. But who it could be? She’s never mentioned anyone to me before.

  Maybe I should ask her. I know she’ll relent in her silence if I pester her enough. Just like I’ll open up to her if she gets it in her head I’m keeping something from her. She’s a gem like that, even when sometimes I don’t want her to know how shitty my
life is. Just how far from grace I’ve fallen within the last two years.

  I know she wouldn’t judge me, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t have something to say about it.

  I love her it, anyway, though. Being next to her allows me to forget about everything except this moment. The laughter, music. The trucks, some old and new, all lined up around the huge fire. Bodies, writhing and grinding in the flickering glow of the flames.

  It’s become of a ritual of sorts. One last hoorah before school picks up again in mid-August. We do this every year so a bunch of the kids from our class can let loose and just … be.

  It’s hypnotic and bittersweet in its own right, giving us all the facade that life isn’t as shitty as what it really is. We’re able to focus on the here and now, pushing all other stuff to the back burner.

  Taking a drink of my beer, I sway my hips to the beat. When the song changes to Sweet but A Psycho by Ava Max, my heart gives a little pitter patter in my chest as adrenaline spikes my blood. Jumping up and down, I couldn’t care less when beer sloshes over the rim of my cup. I let it all go, every heartache and gut-wrenching pain I feel, and just dance my little heart out.

  Karma is right next to me, toking on the joint passing around our group. With glazy eyes and a belly full of beer, she allows herself to unglue and let the music take her away.

  It’s always a treat seeing her like this; seeing us like this. I know before too long there won’t be any more nights of cutting loose, gyrating to the music as it fills our blood. Yes, there will be parties, but none that can ever replace the raging bonfire before me.

  Instead, we will have to lock ourselves in our rooms, studying so we can get the Hell out of this place when it comes time to graduate. I’ll have to play my ass off in sports, hoping I’m good enough for a scholarship to some university that gets me far away from here.

  Karma is in the same boat as I am. Except, my situation is by my own choosing, unlike hers. Her family does not have the means to send her to college, so she has to pave her own way. I’m sure I could ask my father to foot the bill—him with his family money once he inherits it—but I will not do that. If I can’t make it on my own, then I don’t want to make it at all.

  If it’s one thing my father taught me, it’s not needing anyone to lean on but myself.

  Also, if it’s one thing myself from two years ago taught me, it’s that any goddamn person can be a snake in sheep’s clothing. I only wish I could tap into my memories and see something other than the pictures that haunt me. Maybe then I would be able to piece it all together rationally.

  The only person I trust is the one passing the J to me. She’s my homegirl, my rock—the only person who will go to blows to protect me.

  Laughing loudly, I take it from her, pressing it against my lips. Sucking deeply, I inhale the sweet smoke, sighing as it hits my lungs. I hold it there until they burn before releasing it, reveling in the cloud that forms around my face.

  Closing my eyes, I allow the music to guide my movements. Twisting my hips, I get lost to the beat as I take one last drag off the J before handing it off to someone else.

  Never once opening my eyes, I reach out, knowing she’ll be right in front of me. She never strays too far during a rager. It’s one of our rules. However, my hands meet nothing but air, and it instantly pulls me from my blissful state as my eyes snap open to see she’s gone.

  “K?” I completely stop moving. My body instantly strings tight in wariness as I glance around the party. “Yo, Karm, where did you go, girl?!”

  With a knot steadily rising in my throat, I make my way toward Maddox’s truck. He’s the go-to guy, the “parental” figure at parties like this. If you want to know something, you go to him.

  Disregarding the girl on his lap, sucking his face off and rubbing against his dick like a cat in heat, I tug on his elbow to gain his attention. He grumbles something, and I force myself to laugh before tugging again when another, non-intelligent, grunt slash groan rumbles in his throat.

  “What d'you want, Savoy?” he growls, finally jerking his face away from … holy shit! My eyes round. Is that Bree St. Clair? Rich bitch, queen bee numero tres? I glance between the both of them.

  He will definitely get shit about this tomorrow. There’s no way I will pass this opportunity up. If only her friends knew she was slumming it with the farmer’s son … damn, there would be hell to pay for lowering herself for someone like Maddox Fischer.

  Shaking out of my thoughts, I ask, “Have you seen Karm? She just did a Houdini on me.”

  “Go try by the cooler,” he replies, already grabbing Bree’s ass and hauling her closer. “I saw her walk that way a few minutes ago.”

  “Cool.”

  “Beat it, bitch. You need to take your skanky, trailer park trash ass somewhere else,” Bree seethes, eyes spitting fire at me.

  The only thing I do is toss her a wink and blow a kiss before making my way over to the coolers next to Vaughn’s Jeep Wrangler. I’m not even going to pretend I didn’t see the horror on her face. Or the fact her face bleached of color completely. She knows I have her, so she best simmer down that bitchiness before I’m a lot less understanding.

  When I come to a stop by a tricked-out Wrangler, I’m even more stumped. Karma is still nowhere in sight. Usually, she isn’t the type to run off during a party. Especially one as vast as this one. She’s not too good with crowds, unless someone she knows is by her side. Plus, there’s that rule I was talking about earlier.

  Party rule one: A goddamn, motherfucking buddy system.

  Sighing, I peer all around me, silently pondering, where are you?

  It’s then I get this gut clenching feeling something is wrong. I know it’s crazy, because all these shit heads have just as much to lose as us—some if not more—but that doesn’t stop me. I don’t believe anyone in this crowd would try anything. Maybe. However, just the thought of not knowing is bringing those pesky, blurry flashbacks raging to the forefront of my mind.

  “Karm!” I yell out. But to my utter dismay, all I get is scathing looks from the people closest to me.

  I don’t give a fuck if I’m harshing their mellow. My friend is more important than anything they stick in their mouths.

  Downing the rest of my beer, I throw the cup onto the ground. It crushes under my combat boot as I step forward. The ground, fresh from a late summer rain, squelches under my feet as I take off around the base of the bonfire to find her. I almost walk full tilt, heart climbing in my throat, before I hear her calling out to me from behind. That voice causes the breath I didn’t realize I was holding to whoosh out of my mouth.

  Turning around, I lock eyes with her. Seething ones to innocent, little droplets of caramel. She knows something’s up the moment she spies the storm brewing in my irises.

  She’s heard stories—or I should say, rumors—of that night. Mostly what’s trickled down the grapevine. She knows the reason I hate people running off alone.

  I thought we had an agreement. A stern declaration we would not run off, subjecting ourselves to the idiots that surround us during these ragers.

  “What happened to not running off?” I try to temper my anger, but it’s no use. I’m livid.

  She has the audacity to look like a scolded child. Except, she doesn’t know how these people are. Not really. I’ve been around them my whole life. I know the ins and outs of all the drinking, fucking, smoking, and sniffing up. There may be some good people in the flock, but not all of them stay that way when under the influence. She’s barely dipped her toe into the lake of fuckedupness.

  “I just went over to check out Davis’ new ride.” She giggles. My girl fucking giggles. “You should see it, Jess, it’s amazing.”

  Tilting my head, I scan her up and down. It’s then I notice her untucked shirt. The untucked, flannel button down shit, that did not look like that to begin with. When I picked her up, it was very much “unbuttoned” against her slight frame.

  An idea forms. A spark of
rationality tantalizes my taste buds.

  Then, if that wasn’t enough, her lips say it all. They’re swollen, like she’s been kissing a bee’s stinger one too many times.

  Oh, and let’s not forget about the blush creeping across her cheeks.

  “If you were hooking up all you had to do was let me know,” I say, laughing as her mouth drops open in shock.

  “I wasn’t …” Liar.

  “Check yourself before you wreck yourself.” We will throw down if she even thinks about lying to me. That’s now how we are; we don’t lie or keep secrets from each other.

  You dirty lying whore, you, I chastise myself. I do have a secret, but technically, it’s not really a secret. Does that count? Does it even make any sense? Yeah, I thought not.

  All at once her shoulder slump forward. “How did you know?”

  Pushing those thoughts from my mind, I cock a hip, deadpanning, “Besides the shirt and swollen lips? It was your use of the word 'amazing,’ and the fact you giggled. Since when does Karma Jade, my best friend, giggle?”

  She blushes, smiling.

  “Caught that, did you?” I nod. “I didn’t want to tell you because I know how you are with Davis. You two don’t exactly get along.”

  Rolling my eyes, I force myself to relax and laugh at her expense. “Just because he fingered me behind the bleachers at the beginning of last year doesn’t mean we don’t get along. It just means I got off, then we went our separate ways.”

  “So, you’re not mad?”

  She’s adorable when she gets like this, I swear.

  “No. Why would I be?”

  “Um, I don’t know …” she trails off, leaving me to fill in the blank.

  She knows the score with me. Ever since “the party that shall not be named,” I don’t do commitments. Don’t think about them, touch them, or even caress the thought of being with someone for the long haul. I learned my lesson and burned for it. No fucking thanks for a repeat performance.