Cruel

  CRUEL

  A Highschool Bully Romance

  Chloe Fischer

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  The REVENGE Series by Chloe Fischer

  Blackmail

  Follow me

  Prologue

  Two Years Ago

  She pretended not to hear what her mother was saying but it was almost impossible with Irene’s shrill tones almost directly in her ear.

  The older Halston didn’t want her daughter to listen, but she did nothing to keep her voice low, nor to detract from the attention that she insisted on calling upon herself. Not for the first time, Elyse wondered if her mother realized what a hypocrite she could be.

  Even from where Elyse was sitting, she could make out the flash of leopard print and a full, spilling bosom in a shirt that was designed for a woman half her mother’s age.

  Shame filled her as she shifted her eyes away.

  She can wear whatever she wants. This is the Age of Woman. Isn’t that what Mom always says?

  Still, she couldn’t help but wish her mother would tone it down a little bit, particularly when she made one of her visits to the school, bemoaning whatever injustice she thought had befallen her only child.

  “…and I won’t stand for it!” Irene went on. “She’s no different than any other girl and I won’t have her treated like an outcast because of it. How many times do I have to come here and have this very conversation?”

  A hot flush filled Elyse’s face as the door to the office opened. Her breath caught in her throat as she eyed the handsome newcomer through the peripheral vision of her teal eyes. He was broad shouldered, dark haired and eyed, almost an exotic appeal to him, even though Elyse knew he was at least a second-generation American boy. He cast her a curious look but as he swaggered past, a slow, cruel sneer formed on his lips.

  “What the fuck are you looking at?” he hissed, his tone so low that the secretary didn’t catch it.

  Without answering, she shifted her eyes back down to the floor, wringing her hands nervously but out of his view so that he didn’t see her.

  “Shocking. Nothing to say,” he spat at her. The senior scoffed and ambled up to the receptionist who eyed him warily.

  “Mr. Preston. To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked dryly. Elyse could hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

  “You tell me,” Marcus retorted. “Isn’t that your job? Keeping appointments?”

  The secretary, an older woman named Mrs. Reeve, lost the wry expression on her face and scowled.

  “Sit down, Mr. Preston. Principal Carter will be with you when he’s finished with his meeting.”

  As if on cue, Irene’s words grew louder and the inner door flew open, her curvaceous figure appearing in a huff of anger. Immediately, her gaze fell on her daughter as if there was no one else in the room.

  “Come on, Ellie. Clearly there’s no reasoning with idiots,” she cried, storming forward. She didn’t bother to see if her daughter was following suit but Elyse was hot on her heels, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. She was careful to avoid looking at Marcus or anyone else, even as Principal Carter appeared in Irene’s wake.

  “Ellie,” Marcus muttered. “Isn’t that a cow’s name?”

  Humiliation burned through Elyse but she was grateful her mother hadn’t heard the jock’s words. The last thing she wanted was for Irene to come to her defense again.

  Instead, she turned and glowered at Marcus.

  “You should really get new material,” she shot back under her breath. “You’ve been using the same line for thirteen years. She didn’t give Marcus a chance to respond, squaring her shoulders proudly and hurrying out after her mother. She followed the irritating click of her too-high heels over the tile of the school halls but out of the corner of her eye, she caught Marcus Preston’s look and for an odd moment, she thought she saw a twinge of wistfulness.

  You’re insane. There is not an ounce of humility in that boy. He’s a dick and he has been since the first grade.

  If she thought about it, she could almost envision him the first time he’d ever started to harass her, standing over her in the hallway at a different school but under very similar circumstances.

  And we all go full circle, don’t we? La plus ca change, as they say.

  She burst through the side doors, rushing to catch up with her mother who had already found her way to the mustard yellow Mustang. Elyse wondered if there was ever a way to blend in with the crowd when Irene was around.

  “So…what did he say?” Elyse asked as she slid into the passenger side. Irene’s mouth tightened into a deep scowl.

  “He’s an idiot. This entire school is filled with idiots. I knew that years ago and I still sent you here against my better judgement. I’m moving you.”

  Elyse blinked at the announcement, the words sinking in unsettlingly. She shook her head vehemently.

  “Mom, I’m halfway through Junior year. You can’t move me now.”

  Irene cast her a reproving look.

  “So you’d rather everyone look at you like an object of pity? Like you’re less than they are?” Irene cried. Elyse stifled a groan. There was no point in trying to explain to her mother that no one looked at her like that. She knew the problem had more to do with Irene than the actual issue at hand.

  “Mom, I don’t want to change schools,” she protested but even as she said it, she wondered why she was fighting it so much. Yes, she had grown up with most of the kids in her classes but could she really call any of them friends? For as long as she could remember, Elyse had been on the outside looking in.

  And whose fault is that? A mocking little voice in her head jeered. You have no one but yourself to blame.

  And maybe her mother too.

  “You’re changing schools and that’s final,” Irene went on, starting the car to back out of the spot. As she slid the vehicle back, a loud cry yelled out and a boy appeared behind the car.

  “Watch where the fuck you’re going!” he roared at them. Irene, true to form, raised her middle finger without bothering to turn around.

  “Don’t walk in the parking lot, you little prick!” she shrieked back. Against her inherent sixth sense, Elyse turned around, her eyes locking on the furious brown of Marcus Preston’s irises. He scoffed and flipped her off before storming past the now stopped car, muttering something she couldn’t hear but she could easily guess what he had to say.

  “You see?” Irene hissed, finally backing the Mustang from her spot. “This is the kind of trash you go to school with now.”

  “Kids are the same everywhere, Mom,” Elyse sighed but she knew her mother had a point.

  Would it be so bad to change it up for a year? I’ll be going to college soon. What difference will it make if I leave Valley Heights and go somewhere else? I’m not going to be missing out on much.

  “Elyse,” Irene sighed as they made their way back toward their house in the East end of Sacramento. “I have enough to worry about with school shootings and bad drugs. I shouldn’t have to be concerned about my daughter’s social life too.”

  Elyse tried not to bristle at her mother’s egocentric comments.

  As if she’s the one enduring all the horrors of high school, she thought bitterly.

  “It’s not like I’m unpopular by choice, Mom,” she retorted before
she could stop herself. She knew there was no point in arguing with Irene Halston. Three of her ex-husbands could attest to that, after all.

  “There are things you can do to make yourself more popular,” Irene growled back. “Like keeping your mouth shut and biting the bullet once in a while.”

  Tears of anger burned behind Elyse’s lids but she turned her head to look out the window.

  She’s acting like I have a choice in this. It’s not my fault.

  “Ellie…”

  “Don’t call me that!” she snapped, Marcus’ words still ringing in her ears from the office.

  “Isn’t that a cow’s name?”

  It wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever said to her, not by far but it had been a couple years since he’d addressed her at all. Of course, Elyse had learned to avoid Marcus and the rest of the football players long ago.

  Hell, I’ve learned to avoid almost everyone by now. It’s just easier that way.

  “Fine, Elyse,” Irene hissed back, giving her daughter a scathing look as she drove in her usual reckless fashion through the streets. “We can move your schools but if you keep showing everyone your weaknesses, they’re going to prey on them.”

  A combination of embarrassment and ire made Elyse’s stomach churn. It was no secret that her mother was disappointed to have such a meek daughter. Everything about Irene Halston screamed “LOOK AT ME!” while Elyse preferred to watch.

  It’s not that I prefer it—I don’t have a choice, no matter what Mom wants for me.

  “Do you even understand what I’m saying?” Irene snapped when Elyse didn’t respond. “There’s no point in moving you if you’re going to end up in the same place as you are now. I’m not going to go through all the paperwork and make the arrangements if you’re not going to do anything to change who you are, Ellie.”

  She means being a loser, Elyse thought grimly, trying desperately to ignore the fact that her mother continued to call her Ellie.

  “Mom,” she said through gritted teeth. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you at least try!” Irene cried, the exasperation in her voice clear. “I want you to make an effort!”

  Irene guided the car up to the Tudor style house and parked, turning her attention fully toward her daughter.

  “I only want what’s best for you,” she moaned. “Can’t you see that?”

  Elyse’s grimace deepened but she refused to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew what Irene was doing, the guilting her specialty.

  “When I was your age, I had men lining up down the block. You haven’t even been on a date. You don’t go to school dances, you don’t go to pep rallies. You have to do better. You’re a beautiful girl and smart. There’s no reason for you to be so…”

  She trailed off, not saying the words that Elyse knew she desperately wanted to say.

  So pathetic?

  “All right, Mom,” she relented, knowing the only way she was going to escape the diatribe was by agreeing. “I’ll try to do better.”

  She made no comment to the idea that her mother had mentioned men and not boys lining up for her. It wouldn’t have surprised Elyse in the least to know that her mother had probably dated college boys in high school.

  A happy smile claimed Irene’s features and she patted the jean of Elyse’s knee.

  “Good,” she chirped, puling the keys from the ignition. “That’s all I ask.”

  Elyse didn’t move as Irene bounced from the driver’s seat, the resentment bubbling up in her chest as she watched her cougar mother sashay up the front walk.

  Yeah, Mom. I’ll do better, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. Even if it literally kills me.

  As she slowly opened the door, she idly wondered if that was what her mother wanted all along—to see her dead. If she followed Irene’s advice, if she threw herself into those social activities, there was a good chance that was exactly what was going to happen; she wouldn’t live to see her twentieth birthday.

  On the other hand, she mused. If I die, I won’t have to deal with the likes of Marcus Preston again either.

  The thought made her smile.

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  The football flew up over his head but he lunged forward, catching air to seize it before it could land. His wide shoulder caught one of the opposing team member’s jaw and the man went down, groaning in pain.

  He didn’t bother to see if the man was all right, his feet already bolting toward the one-yard line as half a dozen others chased after him.

  “TOUCHDOWN!” he yelled, slamming the ball onto the field and turning to smirk at his teammates.

  “Jesus Christ, Preston,” Cody moaned, ambling toward him. “It’s a friendly game. Why are you always so aggressive?”

  Marcus eyed him, a stab of guilt flashing through his gut as he realized he’d hurt his opponent, but just as quickly as it had come on, he dismissed it.

  “It’s football,” he replied, half-shrugging despite his desire to apologize. “If you’re so worried about getting hurt, you should wear a helmet.”

  He grinned mockingly at Cody who didn’t return his smile. His eyes darkened in annoyance.

  “Fuck, you can be a dick when you’re in a bad mood, man,” Cody growled back, spinning away to leave the field.

  “These college kids can’t handle an intense game,” Steve joked. “They all shoulda stayed in high school a couple more years.”

  Marcus didn’t smile at the jest. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in a similar situation and it didn’t make him feel good. In his mind, he wasn’t playing any harder than he’d always played. High school hadn’t prepared him for the sensitivities of college.

  “They’re acting like I did it on purpose,” he grumbled. “I mean, half of them are here on fucking sports’ scholarships.”

  Steve shrugged in agreement.

  “Whatever, man. I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat at the Crow.”

  Marcus shook off the heavy feeling and nodded, following after the huge, black linebacker.

  Him and Steve hadn’t been that close in high school, but in college, they were the only two from their “home ground”. The top athletes had all taken scholarships to different colleges. Marcus had chosen to accept a scholarship close to home at Cal State, but some of his friends had tried to go as far away as they could.

  Steve had been what Marcus had considered a rival in some respects. They didn’t attend the same school but they had played against each other at games and Marcus hadn’t particularly cared for the guy. If he’d been told three years ago that Steve would be his closest friend now, he would have laughed.

  Oh, how things can change, he mused as they headed off the field. His second year at Cal State wasn’t shaping up to be much more enlightening than his first, and Marcus was beginning to wonder if he had made the right decision in pursuing higher education at all. His first year had been rocky, his grades barely holding water with everything else that was going on in his life. Second year was already proving to be more trying.

  “Trades,” Jayden Wheeler had told him before they graduated. “That’s where all the money is now. All the Boomers are retired. There’s not enough people to cover all the trades.”

  But of course Marcus knew that he needed to go to college. No Preston had ever not gone to college and he wasn’t about to be the first. It was bad enough that he hadn’t applied to Stanford or Berkley but that just hadn’t been an option and not just because of the money he didn’t have to pursue it.

  How could it be? I’m stuck here in Sacramento forever.

  It wasn’t a melodramatic thought, only a deep, melancholic certainty.

  “I love September,” Steve cooed, his head turning as a pair of coeds walked past him in short skirts. “Still warm enough for dresses but the nights are all made for hunkering down beneath the sheets, know what I mean?”

  Their smiles were huge and infectious, their winks unmistakable when they caught the f
ootball players’ eyes.

  “Hello, ladies,” Steve purred. They giggled as they continued past.

  “Can we buy you a drink?” Steve yelled out after them. The blonde turned and laughed.

  “You aren’t old enough to drink, are you?” she shot back.

  “I am. He’s not,” Steve lied without skipping a beat and Marcus snorted. In fact, despite Steve’s towering form, the opposite was true. Marcus had just had his twenty-first birthday, despite only being in his second year of college.

  That’s what happens when you’re held back two years in grade school, he thought darkly, memories of a turbulent childhood resurfacing unbidden.

  “I also have a nice dorm room,” Steve called out but the girls were gone, leaving Marcus to leer at him.

  “That didn’t work? I’m shocked,” he mocked Steve.

  “I didn’t see you doing any better,” Steve retorted, spinning back to catch up with Marcus. “When was the last time you got laid?”

  “I wasn’t even trying,” he replied shortly, pulling open the door to the Crow. It was one of the less popular hangouts on campus but Marcus liked that about it. There was never too many people in at the off times, unlike some of the other joints around which were always overflowing.

  Funny how a couple years ago, I would have wanted to be in a busy place, he mused to himself. Now, he was content hanging back and blending in with the horde, almost like he didn’t want to be seen.

  Maybe this is what growing up is—becoming boring and worrying about hurting people on the football field. Soon I’ll be carrying around a bottle of Motrin and complaining that I have to get up early in the morning at 9 pm.

  “Booth?” a pert server asked when they entered. “Or bar?”