My Sweet Bully Read online

  “Okay, I get it.” Cringing, I look over at her, then back at Max. “He could have a sweet side, couldn't he? I mean no one is bad all the time.”

  Tilting her head, she arches a brow. “You can cover a jalapeño in sugar, but that don't make it sweet.”

  “He helped me this morning. That's got to say something.” There's confidence in my tone, like I know a secret that she doesn't.

  “Max Ramon helped you this morning?” Giggling, her eyes grow wider. “Yeah, I don't believe it. The only thing he'll help anyone with is getting a fake I.D for the right price. His prices aren't cheap either. It took me all summer last year to make enough to get one from him, and it doesn't even look like me.”

  “I'm serious, he really did help me. Some asshole named James—”

  Shaking her head yes, she says, “Galligan. I'm not surprised. Those two hate each other, they have since fifth grade. Max helped you because it gave him a chance to hurt James. Don't take his kindness as anything other than selfishness.” Ticking her head toward the track, she asks, “You want to run a lap or two?”

  “Sure.”

  We both start jogging around the track, but I'm still watching Max. There's something about him that's taking hold of me. I'm not sure what it is, I don't know why I'm so infatuated by him, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the way it feels.

  I like the tingles running up and down my body. I like the twists in my stomach, and the way my hair prickles when I think of how his hands felt as the caught me.

  Strong.

  Secure.

  Protective.

  I can hear Amy talking. She's pointing out people around the field, giving me a little snippet of who they are, and who I can trust and not trust. I'm half listening, nodding at the right times, and pretending like I'm tucking away all this information.

  Except, I'm really not. I'm watching Max as he plays basketball, my stare frozen on his every move. He's captivating, even if he is dark and dangerous. I'm intrigued by this boy with jet black hair, and a chiseled jaw. With his stone cut muscles and thick cut thighs, he is the definition of tall, dark, and handsome.

  “I know what you're thinking,” she says, her breathing slightly labored as we run. “You think he's one of those misunderstood guys, the ones who need to be fixed, right?”

  Shaking my head no, I look into her eyes. “I hardly know him.”

  “Take my advice then, and just stay away from Max Ramon. If you don't listen to anything else I've said, just listen to that.”

  “It's just that I didn't really get the chance to thank him for this morning, and I feel like I should.”

  I lie. I can't admit to this girl I just met the true level of excitement I feel looking at him, and how my body ignited when he touched me this morning. I can't tell her how I actually met him, or that all I can think about is kissing his lips and feeling his muscles.

  The thoughts are so new, they're so foreign and displaced, I'm not sure how to fit them together. Because they shouldn't be there.

  He hates me because of that night. And I should hate Max for the way he and his brother made me feel. They ruined my summer. They destroyed my mind.

  But I don't. I hate what happened, but I don't hate him.

  “No, you shouldn't,” Amy says, her words come out hard on forced breaths. Reaching up, she grabs my shoulder and slows us to a stop. “You should just leave it alone. He did you a favor, just take it and move on.” She looks over at me, tipping her head into her shoulder. “Don't go out of your way for him.”

  “No offense, but I think I can decide that for myself.” Grimacing, my eyes thin and my brows arch high. Crinkling my nose, I purse my lips. She can see it in my face, she isn't winning this argument.

  “Screw it, what do I know.” Throwing her hands up in defeat, she flips a finger in his direction. “I've just lived here my whole life, known Max since grade school, and know what he's like. He isn't going to give a shit about your thank you. But, go ahead, go thank one jerk for saving you from another.”

  “You're probably right, maybe he is just some jerk. But, I still want him to know I'm grateful for what he did. He didn't have to help me. He could have just turned and walked the other way, but he didn't. I'm going to thank him for me, it doesn't have to be for him.”

  Kicking out her leg, she nudges me with her head. “Good luck, but don't say I didn't warn you. Not many people in this school will tell you how it is, but I will.” Amy nods her head toward the basketball court. “Go for it.”

  Stepping off the track, I walk through the grass and head for the court. Max is playing a game with five other boys, split into two teams of three. Each boy is grunting and barking at their teammate as the ball's tossed from one person to the next like a live grenade.

  Sneakers squeak in high pitched chirps as they move in sharp turns from one end of the court to the other. Stopping on the sideline, I rest my hands behind my back, and rock on my heels, waiting for him to notice me standing there.

  Calm down, slow breaths. No need to be nervous.

  Letting out a slow breath, I keep a smile on my face.

  One of the guys taps Max's shoulder, getting his attention, and points over at me. Max looks back at me with a frown on his face. Giving him a little wave, he stands with his hand on his hip and the ball tucked against his ribs.

  Lifting his shoulders, he shakes his head no as he raises his brows, basically asking me what I want without any words.

  Giving him a head nod to come over next me, I mouth, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Shaking his head no, he turns back to his game. They start to play again, but I'm not leaving without making sure he knows I really do appreciate what he did.

  “Max!” I call out, waving him over. “Just for a second! Give me one second!”

  “No!” he shouts back without looking, bouncing the ball, and running toward the basket.

  “Hey, Max, what's wrong, your girlfriend won't leave?”

  “She ain't my girlfriend, dickhead.” He looks at me with anger in his eyes, then throws the ball hard to the other guy. “Your shot, Glenn.”

  Glenn smirks as he bites his lip. “Not your girlfriend? So, does that mean she's fair game? Because I'll gladly tap it if you won't.”

  “Dude, shut the fuck up and play ball. You couldn't pay a hooker to fuck you.”

  “We'll see. I bet she knows how to play ball pretty well.” Glenn chuckles as he flicks his tongue against the inside of his cheek, motioning a blowjob.

  Fucking pervert.

  Max's eyes lower, his brows dropping down hard as he's about to lunge forward.

  Glenn goes to throw the ball back at Max, but I jump in, and snag it. Dribbling it down the court, I take a shot from the free throw line, and sink it.

  Both guys stare at me, jaws dropping wide.

  “Can I now have a minute of your time, Max?”

  The other guys all belt out a loud, “Ohhh!” Covering their mouths and laughing like he just got called to the principal’s office.

  Embarrassment floods his expression, his lips thin as paper. I think I just pissed him off even more. With long strides, he's at my side in two steps, and snags my wrist. Dragging me around the side of the school, he pushes me against the wall.

  His mouth is folded down at the corners, his eyes hard as his nostrils flare. “You need to cut this shit out, understand me?” Holding his finger up, he points it in my face. “Stop acting like you have any right to talk to me, because you don't.”

  “I just wanted to thank you for this morning, that's all. I owe you that much.”

  “You owe me that much?” Scoffing, he rolls his eyes as he shakes his head. “Do you have any fucking clue what you owe me? A fucking thank you doesn't do shit. Your apology means nothing to me, and I don't fucking want it. You're a god damn fucking rat, an entitled princess, who thinks she can waltz into someone's life and fuck it all up. You think you're above me but guess what—” he says between clenched teeth. “You're not.”

  Veering my stare, I furrow my brows. He has no right to cast judgment on me. He doesn't know shit about me. For him to even suggest that I think I'm better than anyone, is bullshit.

  I didn't put him in that position that night, he did it to himself. I only walked up on it. For him to hate me because I did the right thing, it shows me how small he really is inside. I can't make him see what he doesn't want to, but I can make sure he knows who I am.

  “You don't know me. You have no idea what I think. I did the right thing, period. You did that shit to yourself, don't make me out to be the asshole. I didn't come to fight with you, I came to thank you. If you see that as some type of threat, that's on you.”

  Attempting to take a step away from the brick building behind me, Max boxes me in by slamming his hands against the wall on either side of my head. I can smell his cologne. It's strong, lathered on thick, and smells incredible.

  My nose lifts, drawn to the subtle notes of sandalwood and mint. I'm leaning in, I can feel my body react as I inhale more of him. Max glares at me, his eyes piercing, holding me in place. I'm torn. I want to move and get away from him, but my body wants to stay and get closer.

  Max smirks, biting his bottom lip as his eyes drift knowingly around my face. “I know exactly the type of person you are. People like you lack what it takes to survive. You can't do shit without mommy and daddy holding your hand. You walk on the steps placed before you, while people like me have to struggle to get one foot ahead of the other, but we do it on our own. No fucking handouts. You're so used to shit being handed to you on a silver platter, born with a silver fucking spoon in your mouth, that you just can't see it. You think you did the right thing? You think you had the right to stick your nose in where it didn't belong? But,
you didn't. Do you have any idea what you did to me?” he asks, his head tipping to the side. He doesn't wait for me to answer, he keeps speaking. “You destroyed everything; you ruined my fucking life. Do you really not see that? And you think I give a shit about a thank you from you? How naive are you?”

  Right then, I can see the pain in his eyes. The hurt. The sadness. It's there for a single breath until he blinks it all away, forcing it back under the surface.

  Any fear I feel melts away as I question everything I did that night. I never took the time to see it from his point of view. I never thought about what my words would mean for him.

  Did I really ruin his life?

  It was never my intention to screw up his life. I just answered the questions honestly. That's what anyone else would have done, right?

  “You mean nothing to me, do you understand that? You're the fucking mouse and I'm the big bad cat, and I'm going to make you—”

  “Max!” Amy yells as she grabs his shoulder and pulls him out of my face. “Back the fuck up off her!” Getting between us, Amy blocks him from me. “What the hell is wrong with you? Can't get pleasure from torturing guys anymore, so you moved on to women?”

  “This doesn't involve you, Amy, mind your own business.”

  “It involves me now, Ramon. Go pick on someone else, not this poor girl.” Shoving his shoulders, Amy grabs my forearm and pulls me back toward the field. “Come on, Prairie. I told you he was a dick.” She gives him one last angry look over her shoulder, then softens her eyes as we walk back to the track. Her voice is more tender and comforting as she says, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have encouraged you. Max is damaged, Prairie, he's no good. My advice to you is just steer clear of him. You said your piece, and he'll either accept it or he won't, but don't let him get to you.”

  “Yeah, that's probably a good idea.” Nodding in agreement, I cross my arms over my chest as we climb up the hill.

  It isn't his reaction that's bothering me. I'm upset over his words. He's blaming me for everything. I'm a martyr for his hate, the one he can point to when he needs to feel better.

  But is he right? Did I destroy his life?

  It's hard to think that my statement was the deciding factor in anything. I don't want to be the reason his life is miserable.

  How could I be the cause? Could that really be the truth?

  I'll have to talk to my uncle to see if I can get some more answers. I need to know who this boy is, and why he seems to hate everything around him.

  If I am the reason, then I'll apologize for that too.

  Because I never meant to cause any harm, I only meant to help.

  4

  Prairie

  “Prairie, I didn't expect to see you here.” My uncle holds the door open for me, then closes it, and walks to his desk.

  “Hey, Uncle Greg, I don't mean to interrupt you. If you're busy, I can come back.” Twisting the sleeve of my jacket, I lean back against the door.

  His office is small, covered in awards he's won over the years, and pictures of him with the mayor and other politicians. My uncle has been a part of this force for years, starting out as a beat cop, and working his way up.

  “No, it's fine, you're always welcome here.” He smiles and holds out his hand toward the chair at the front of his desk. “Come on in, have a seat. How was school? Today was the first day, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, my eyes checking out a few of the pictures. “It was about as good as I could expect.”

  “That's not a bad thing.” Taking his seat behind the desk, he fixes a stack of papers, and pushes them to the side. Leaning back in his chair, he holds out his arms. “So, what brings you here? Your dad didn't mention anything about you popping over.”

  Darting my eyes around the room, I'm nervous to bring it up. I'm not sure what he can tell me or what I'll get out of this. But I need to try.

  “He doesn't know I'm here.”

  “Is everything alright? Are you okay?”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just have some questions that I'm hoping you might be able to answer for me.” Adjusting a crooked picture, I turn to face him.

  “About?” he asks, his voice curious but on high alert.

  “Max Ramon and his brother.” My eyes squint a little as I force a toothy, awkward grin.

  My uncle's mouth drops into a frown. “The Ramon boys. . .” Pausing, he lets out a slow breath. “Did something else happen? Did one of them—”

  “No, they didn't do anything. I'm just curious, that's all. I thought maybe getting more information would help me move past it is all.”

  “The only thing you need to know is that they're bad news. That's it.” He tilts his head, eyes studying my face.

  He doesn't believe me.

  Tapping my fingers against the arm of the chair, I just come right out and ask him. There's no point in beating around the bush or trying to trick him into giving me what I want. “What happened to them after I—”

  Cutting me off, my uncle's voice is frank. “It's simple, Prairie, they got what they deserved. That's what happens when you break the law, there are consequences.”

  “No, I mean, what actually happened? Max goes to my school, and he just—”

  Clearing his throat, he presses his chest against the edge of his desk. “Look, those boys are trouble, and trouble only stays on one side of the law. Trust me, it ain't the side you want to be on either. Max got a second chance, and I really hope he takes it. There won't be any other second chances for him in the future. But as far as you're concerned, you just need to stay away from that boy, Prairie. He's no good. Max is a bad apple, and he fell from a rotting tree. His brother wasn't as lucky. Harlow's doing time for what he did. Max got off easy, the judge gave him community service down at Clovis Beach. Hopefully he uses this experience and does something good with his life. Because bad doesn't work in the real world, and both those boys have had their share of bad. That car fire wasn't their first run in with the law, I can tell you that. So when I tell you to stay away from Max, I have reason to.”

  Bad? How bad could two boys really be?

  Maybe I am naive. Maybe it's hard for me to see anyone as being all bad. People aren't meant to be all of one thing. There is no such thing as just good or just bad. We're all made of a little of both.

  Even me.

  “What do you mean? What else have they done? They're kids, just like me, how much trouble could they really get in?”

  Reaching across the desk, my uncle takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Look, I know it was hard for you to stand up to them in court, but all I can tell you is, don't get involved with that boy, you hear me?”

  I don't answer, I just stare at him.

  “I'm serious, Prairie. I know I'm your uncle, but right now, I'm talking to you as a police officer. Don't get involved with the Ramons, I mean it.”

  Pinching my bottom lip between my fingers, I nod.

  “The Ramons aren't good people. I can't stress it enough that you want to stay far away. If you see him in the hall, go the other way. If you see him on the street, cross it. You already dealt with them once, that's more than enough for anyone, let alone a good girl like you.”

  I want to believe him, but it's hard when Max actually stepped up and saved me from James. I saw something else in him. I saw a side that isn't supposed to exist. He came to my rescue, that means there has to be some good in him. I can feel it.

  They're all wrong. Everyone is wrong.

  Truly bad people don't go out of their way to help someone. Truly bad people go out of their way to hurt others. And Max hadn't tried to hurt me, he could have, he could have easily tossed me to those assholes, but instead, he chose to help.

  Even if he does hate James as much as Amy says, he should hate me more. That's obvious.

  “I get it, Uncle Greg, thank you.” Popping up from the chair, I rush out of his office.

  Everyone is telling me to avoid this boy, to stay as far away as possible. But all I feel is myself being drawn to him.

  Stopping at the gas station, I grab a couple of waters and a few snacks. Pulling into the beach parking lot, there are a handful of vehicles spread between the spaces. Parking my car, I dig my heels into the sand, and walk to the top of the sand dune.