Cruel Intentions : A High School Bully Romance (Eastern High Series Book 1)

My body feels heavy, weighed down by the haze of last night—too much booze, too many regrets, and the fading warmth of a girl whose name escapes me. The memories stab through the fog in sharp, fragmented flashes: her on her knees, eager, desperate, and the way I took what she offered without feeling. It was rough—too rough—but that’s the only way I seem to know how to touch anymore. Every girl is just another body to lose myself in, another face I’ll forget by morning.

With two major schools in town, the possibilities are limitless—girls eager to offer whatever I want, no strings attached.

It’s not just for me but for my boys, Jace and Reece, though they always follow the unspoken rule: I get first pick. I decide who’s off-limits and who’s worth the risk.

No one dare challenges me, not even the football team. They know better. Crossing me is a mistake you only make once.

But it’s all starting to blur. The faces blend together, the bodies merge, and the emptiness creeps in after every conquest.

Eastern High’s been played out for a while—every girl just another notch, another meaningless fuck. Last night was supposed to be different—new blood, a fresh distraction—but even that’s already slipping into nothing. The thrill doesn’t last anymore, and the satisfaction never sticks.

All that’s left is this gnawing ache, this crushing weight of wanting something more—something real. Something like I used to have.

But now, I don’t know how to stop.

The hot water cuts through the numbness, washing away the dull ache in my body but doing nothing for the deeper wounds. I linger too long, hoping the heat will drown the thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking.

Twenty minutes later, I emerge with a towel slung low on my hips, the haze in my chest as heavy as the steam clinging to the mirror.

I snatch last night’s shirt from the floor and toss it into the overflowing laundry basket, my movements mechanical, thoughtless. But, as always, my eyes wander—drawn toward the house next door.

It’s instinct, a pull I can’t resist, no matter how pointless. No one’s there anymore. I know that. But I look anyway.

Aubrey.

Her name is a ghost that clings to the jagged shards of a past I can’t escape. She didn’t just leave behind an empty house—she left me with a bitterness that poisons every memory and regret that festers like an open wound.

I once believed she was everything, that what we had was unbreakable. But she shattered that illusion, walking away as if it all meant nothing—as if I meant nothing.

And now here I am, standing in my room, towel wrapped around my waist, getting ready to drown it all in another night of reckless indulgence. Another night where my dick finds solace in strangers, but my heart remains trapped in the wreckage of what we had.

The bitter irony is almost laughable. I’ve spent years trying to forget her, trying to bury the pain, but it never fully fades. It just lingers—like a shadow—waiting for the moment I’m alone again.

Aubrey’s rejection didn’t just break me—it rebuilt me into someone unrecognizable. A man who demands attention, takes control, and never lets anyone close enough to hurt him again. It’s armor, a defense mechanism so solid I’ve almost fooled myself into thinking it’s who I’ve always been.

But the truth? I owe it all to her—the girl who shattered my heart and unwittingly gave me the blueprint for survival. She carved the man I’ve become, forged in the fire of her absence.

Sometimes, late at night, when the silence cuts deeper than I want to admit, I wonder if she ever thinks about the boy she left behind. The one who would have done anything—everything—to make her happy. I would’ve moved mountains, rearranged the stars, if it meant seeing her smile just once more. But to her, I was just a passing memory. Something easy to let go of, something not worth holding onto.

The thought stings, the bitter irony twisting the knife deeper. She’s the reason I’ve built this fortress of dominance and detachment. Yet she’ll never know the power she gave me to change when she walked away. Or maybe, if she did, she wouldn’t care.

As I glance out the window, a familiar sight freezes me in place.

Aubrey.

Sitting on her bed, her head bowed, hands covering her face as her shoulders shake with silent sobs. The world tilts, disbelief crashing over me like a tidal wave.

What the fuck is she doing back here? And why now, after all this time?

My chest tightens, old instincts roaring to life before I can stop them. That unshakable need to protect her, to shield her from the chaos that’s always loomed next door, claws its way to the surface. For a fleeting moment, I feel it again—the boy who would’ve done anything to keep her safe. But then reality hits, hard and unforgiving.

She left.

She made her choice. I’ve spent years trying to bury the wreckage she left behind, building walls so high not even the memory of her could climb over them. And now, out of nowhere, she’s back.

Crying.

Alone.

Whatever’s broken her, she’ll have to fucking deal with it on her own. I’m not that guy anymore, and I’ll be damned if I let her undo everything I’ve worked to become. Let her live with the consequences of the choices she made—because God knows, I’ve been living with them.

I force myself to turn away, to walk back to the life I’ve created without her—but my feet refuse to obey, frozen in place as if they’ve forgotten how to move. It’s pathetic, honestly. After everything, after all the walls I’ve put up and the bitterness I’ve buried myself in, just seeing her is enough to break me.

She lifts her head, her eyes drifting to something in her room, and for a moment, it feels like no time has passed. She’s still as beautiful as I remember—long black hair falling around her face, soft and wild all at once.

My chest tightens with the memories of how I used to run my fingers through her hair, not because she asked, but because I needed to. Just to touch her, to feel close to her in a way words never could. It was the kind of closeness I thought would last forever.

But forever wasn’t in the cards for us.

And now, standing here like some ghost haunting her shadow, I’m reminded of everything I’ve lost—the girl, the touch, those quiet moments that once felt so damn perfect. And yet, despite it all, I can’t make myself move. She doesn’t even know I’m here, and still, she holds me the way she always did.

I drag a hand over my chest, trying to ease the ache that’s been there since the moment I saw her. Memories I thought I’d buried claw their way back—her smile, her laugh, the way she made me believe in something I never thought I deserved.

But those memories don’t belong here anymore.

She’s just like my mother—walking away without a second thought, without giving a single fuck about what they left behind. I was seven when my mom disappeared, and it felt like the world shattered. I swore I’d never let anyone do that to me again. But Aubrey? She slipped through all my defenses, made me believe I might actually be worth staying for. And then she left, proving I was a goddamn fool for thinking any differently.

I clench my fists, forcing the anger to drown out the ache. Fuck them both. Neither of them is worth my time, my pain, or the pieces of myself they took when they walked away. I’ve survived without them, and I sure as hell don’t need her back now to remind me of all the ways she broke me.

But then I see it—the way she wipes the tears from her face, her shoulders shaking like she’s trying to hold herself together. And just like that, something inside me cracks.

It doesn’t make sense.

The Aubrey I knew would never have cried. Not even with all the shit that went on in that house. Not even when the world was crumbling around her. She was steel and fire. But seeing her now—broken and vulnerable—it feels wrong, unnatural, like the universe is trying to turn her into someone I don’t recognize.

A surge of tenderness floods my chest, uninvited and unwanted. And fuck my weak heart for still clinging to a past that almost destroyed me.

I’ve spent too long trying to forget her, trying to outrun the person I used to be. Now, I’m the king of Eastern High—untouchable, ruthless, ready to take whatever I want. If she came back looking for the boy she left behind, she’s about to find out he doesn’t exist anymore.

She turns her head, and for one brutal, soul-crushing moment, time fucking stops.

Our gazes meet, and all the things I’ve been running from, all the truths I’ve been too scared to face, come crashing down. The pain in her eyes—so raw, so undeniable—it cuts through me. I can’t breathe, can’t think, because seeing her like this—so shattered, so empty—makes something inside me coil tightly, impossible to unwind.

She rises from the bed, hesitant, as if she wants to reach for me but knows better than to try. Her eyes stay locked on mine, her face caught somewhere between hope and despair. God, I want to make it right. I want to run to her, hold her close, tell her everything will be okay, like I’ve done so many times before. But I can’t.

The vulnerability in her eyes is so raw it cuts through me. Every inch of her body seems to scream for something—something I can’t give her. I move across the room, each step heavier than the last. That old, hopeful smile tugging at her lips, the kind that used to make everything feel right between us.

She walks toward the window, the place that used to feel like our safe haven, where we’d whisper our secrets into the night, finding solace in each other’s company when sleep wouldn’t come.

But as I get closer, I don’t want to remember how we were—how we’d sit by our bedroom windows, talking for hours.

Instead of opening it like I used to, I reach up and pull the curtains closed—sharp, cold, and final. It’s as if I’m shutting the door on everything we were, on everything I can never be for her. A move to push her away, to lock away the last remnants of us that still remain. And I can’t tell if I’m doing it to protect her… or to protect myself.

I throw on some clothes in a hurry, not bothering if they match, and head downstairs. I push thoughts of her to the back of my mind, focusing on the one thing that matters now—partying, the booze, finding some distraction to drown out the memory of her.

Walking into the kitchen, I find my dad sitting at the table, eyes glued to his phone. The second I step in, he flips it face down, like he’s hiding something.

“Hey, Dad,” I mutter, grabbing a piece of fruit from the bowl and biting into it, barely tasting it.

“Hey, son,” he says. “Heading out?”

My dad has always been my anchor—the one thing that kept me grounded when everything else fell apart. Not in some clichéd ‘he’s a great guy’ way, but in the kind that makes you believe in something unshakable, even when your world is falling to pieces. When my mom left, she didn’t just walk out on me; she walked out on him too. He carried it all—her absence, my anger, the heaviness of a home that felt too quiet without her. I could see it in the way his shoulders slumped when he thought I wasn’t watching. But he never let me see him crack. Not once. He turned himself inside out trying to keep me safe, trying to keep me whole. And for a long time, I thought he was invincible.

“Yeah, the guys and I are meeting up, then there’s a party across town,” I say, my words muffled by a mouthful of food. I toss the half-eaten apple into the bin without a second thought, then head to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

His phone rings, and I expect him to pick it up, but he silences it quickly. He’s been doing that a lot lately. The buzzing and ringing have been constant these past few months.

“See ya later, Dad,” I say, heading for the door.

“Yeah, be safe, son,” he says, like always.

As I yank open the front door, my thoughts spiral to Aubrey.

We were two halves of a whole, spending endless hours together, roaming each other’s backyards, finding peace in the secret refuge of my treehouse. I can still feel the echo of that kiss I pressed against her lips on her thirteenth birthday—soft and innocent, but somehow it haunts me now. I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember—from the sweet, naïve days of childhood to the tangled mess we became. I swore I’d love her forever, whispering promises into her ear like time was on our side. And she—she promised the same, vowing no one would ever take my place in her heart.

We were each other’s firsts in everything, growing up side by side. But then… I watched her change, blossom into something so beautiful it terrified me.

Every day, my love for her grew, pushing against the walls I’d built around it, afraid that even a whisper of what I truly felt would shatter the fragile thing we had—our friendship. I thought I could protect it. Protect her from the life in that house.

But now?

Now that same friendship I tried so hard to preserve is twisted beyond recognition, morphing into a cruel reminder of what we once were.

I slide into my car, the engine rumbling to life, desperate to get the hell away from here—away from her, away from everything that threatens to tear me apart. My hands are already gripping the wheel, my mind racing, counting down the seconds but as I press my foot down on the brake, ready to shift into reverse, something stops me.

It’s not fear.

It’s something far worse.

A pull I can’t name, an invisible force holding me in place. My hand hovers over the gear shift, trembling, as though it knows, deep down, I can’t drive away. It’s her. I can feel her presence next door, a shadow that clings to me, refusing to be ignored. It tugs at my heart and and I fucking hate it.

I should just leave. Put her behind me, lock her away in that box where I don’t care. But for some reason, I can’t. And the longer I stay there, the clearer it becomes—I can’t drive out of this driveway, not yet. Not until I figure out why the hell she’s back here.

Why does she still have this hold on me? And why can’t I shake her, no matter how hard I try?

‘Fuck!’ I mutter, slamming my fist against the steering wheel, pissed off at myself for being so goddamn weak. I should’ve left by now, should’ve gotten the hell out of here. But instead, I’m still sitting here, stuck in her orbit.

Irritation claws at me as I kill the engine—Reece is waiting, and I’m already late. But I can’t ignore this. I need to get her out of my head before it drives me crazy. Without thinking, I push open the car door, my feet already moving, dragging me toward her house like I don’t have a choice anymore.

I step into her yard, walking along the side of the house, my pulse pounding in my ears, drowning out the sound of my footsteps as I reach her window.

I glance inside, and there she is, sitting on the bed, her face empty, eyes hollow. No tears, but a silence that screams louder than anything.

This isn’t her. Not the Aubrey I remember—the one who’d laugh in your face and tell you to go fuck yourself if you even looked at her the wrong way.

Part of me wants to turn around, walk away, let her deal with whatever shitty mess she’s got going on. I don’t owe her a thing. It should be easy to leave.

Hell, she did it without a second thought, without looking back. But something claws, a darkness that tells me if I don’t figure this shit out now, it’ll eat me up for the rest of the night—maybe longer.

I ball my fist, ready to knock on that glass, ready to tell her exactly how it is. I’m done playing the game. I’m ready to tell her she means nothing to me. That whatever this is—whatever we were—is nothing more than a mistake.

As I knock, she jumps at the sound, her eyes wide as she scrambles to get off the bed. What the hell does she have to cry about, anyway? Wasn’t she the one, chasing some ‘better life,’ acting like I wasn’t enough to keep her here? Like none of this—us—meant a damn thing?

I can’t stop looking at her as she moves closer, my eyes drinking in every detail. My cock stirs at the sight of her, and I hate myself for it. Her tits are bigger now, fuller, and those long legs in denim cutoffs—damn. I shouldn’t even be looking at her like this, but I can’t stop. She’s always been beautiful, but now… Now she’s mesmerizing—too perfect, too real. Every inch of her is a siren’s call, dragging me under.

I hate that my body reacts to her. I don’t want to feel anything anymore, especially not this.

I try to tear my eyes away, but every curve, every detail pulls me in harder. It’s like she’s taunting me, reminding me of all the things I tried to forget. I remember the way she moaned and how she felt beneath me, so perfect. The memory hits like a goddamn drug, and I’m fighting it, fighting her, but fuck, it’s useless. She still has this hold on me—this pull I can’t shake, even if I hate myself for it.

She reaches the window and slides it open like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

‘Hey, Noah,’ she says, her voice smooth, almost too calm.

Hearing my name on her lips again… it stirs something deep, something raw and ugly. I used to love the way she said it, the way it felt when she screamed it loud in the heat of the moment—when I buried myself deep inside her, when she begged for more.

But now? Now, it hits like a goddamn punch to the gut.

‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I snap, my voice sharp, the words coming out like a warning.

My irritation flares hot and fast, a reflex more than anything else. Nothing but silence since she left and now she just pops back into my life like it’s nothing.

Her casual ‘hey’ feels like a slap in the face, and it makes my skin burn with rage.

Her demeanor shifts instantly at the irritation in my voice. There she is—the Aubrey I know—the one who doesn’t take shit from anyone, who’s never afraid to call you out. Her eyes go serious, intense, as she crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her tits up, like she’s taunting me on purpose. It’s a goddamn trap, and I walk right into it.

I can’t stop my gaze from dropping to them, and the memories flood back—vivid and overpowering. How I used to suck on those tits, kiss them, touch them. I shove the thoughts down, locking them away, pushing against the craving that’s rising in my gut.

‘Just so we’re fucking clear, you don’t belong here anymore,’ I spit, the words coming out like venom, thick with emotion I’m too pissed to hide. “I’m not your goddamn friend anymore. So go back to where you belong. You mean nothing to me.’

I turn away before she can speak, knowing if I don’t, I’ll fall apart. I keep my back to her, walking to the car without once looking back. She needs to see it—that I’ve changed so much that the guy I used to be is now a complete stranger every time I look in the mirror. Now I’m just someone who’s closed off, chasing any warm pussy or willing mouth to fill the emptiness, drowning out the need for anything real.

I slide behind the wheel, firing up the engine, its growl matching the storm ripping through my chest. I slam the accelerator, reversing out onto the street, trying to outrun the shit inside me.

As I drive, my grip tightens on the wheel, a desperate attempt to hold myself together.