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

I knew I had to drag Aubrey out today, shake her loose from the shitstorm running through her head. But fuck me, having her pressed up against my back is doing things I can’t even begin to handle. Every curve of her molds to me, and all I can think about is pulling over and replaying every filthy, desperate moment we had this morning.

She’s been gone for over a year and still it hasn’t dulled my need for her—not even close. It’s sharper now, rawer, clawing at my chest every night.

And yeah, I know she’s got a shit-ton of decisions to make about where she’s gonna stay. But let’s be honest: she’s staying with me. She just doesn’t know it yet.

My dad’s not about to let her end up on the streets—he’s not wired that way. Always ready to help someone in need. But before I lay it all out for her, I need to talk to him, lock things down.

This morning, though—fuck. Hearing the shit her father spewed almost pushed me over the edge. Christ. I hope she didn’t hear all the vile shit he said.

I stood there; fists clenched so tight it felt like my bones would crack. When he looked me dead in the eye and told me to take her off his hands, like she didn’t mean a goddamn fucking thing to him, I saw red. I wanted to hit him so bad it hurt, but I didn’t. Not for him—for her. She wouldn’t want that, wouldn’t want me stooping to his level.

But it took everything I had not to put him in the dirt for the way he talked about her.

I veer off the road and onto a rough dirt path, the tires crunching over broken branches and debris from last night’s storm. The whole place looks ripped apart and forgotten, and maybe that’s why I brought her here—because it feels like us. This route’s so far off the grid, nobody comes out this way.

The water comes into view, sunlight bouncing off the surface in sharp, dazzling patterns. It’s like the universe is trying to remind me that something can still be beautiful, even though it’s been through hell.

I roll the bike closer to the bank and kill the engine. The sudden quiet wraps around us, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves. I unclip my helmet and hook it onto the handlebars, but Aubrey doesn’t move right away. She’s still pressed against me, her arms wrapped tight around my waist, her chest flush against my back. Both of us stealing a moment, holding onto the calm.

“What is this place?” she asks finally, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

Her arms slip away, and the loss is immediate, sharp, like she’s taken a piece of me with her.

She climbs off the bike, fumbling with the helmet strap, and I can already tell she’s screwed. My dad’s safety latch might be practical, but it’s a pain in the ass if you don’t know the trick. She’s not figuring it out on her own.

Without a word, I grab the hem of her shirt and tug her toward me. She stumbles closer, her body brushing against mine, and my fingers move to the latch under her chin. Her eyes flit across my face, lingering in a way that makes my pulse hammer.

I toss a glance up, catching her staring at my lips. She doesn’t look away. It’s like she’s daring me—begging me—to make a move.

Fuck. If she keeps looking at me like that, I won’t be able to stop myself.

Finally, the latch gives, and I lift the helmet off her head. Her hair spills out, a wild, beautiful mess, cascading around her face. My hand twitches, the urge to touch her overwhelming, but before I can, she brushes the strands aside herself.

That doesn’t stop me.

I hook my arm around her waist and pull her flush against me. My nose grazes the curve of her neck, and she smells so fucking good—like innocence tangled with sin, like she was made to ruin me. My chest tightens with the need to taste her, claim her, wreck her in every possible way.

She gasps softly as my fingers slide up to the nape of her neck. It’s all the invitation I need. I crush my lips to hers, tasting her like she’s the only thing keeping me alive. It’s raw, unrelenting, the kind of kiss that makes the world fall away, leaving nothing but her.

Every thought blurs into a single, unrelenting need. I crave her—every inch of her. My cock throbs, hard and aching, pulsing with the heat of everything I want to do to her.

I break the kiss, pressing my forehead to hers, my breathing ragged. My grip tightens, holding her close enough to feel exactly what she’s doing to me. My voice drops, rough and low, brushing against her lips.

“You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now. How much I want to watch you take my cock like the dirty girl I know you are.”

“Noah,” she whispers, so soft it’s barely there, but it’s enough. Enough to shatter the haze of desire clouding my mind.

I press a softer kiss to her lips, lingering just long enough to let her know she’s everything I want before I let go.

The heel of my boot kicks the bike’s stand into place with a metallic click that echoes in the stillness. When I look up, she’s already walking toward the water’s edge, her steps slow, hesitant.

I stay on the bike, watching her.

The breeze catches her hair, sending it rippling like silk in the sunlight. Even with the sadness etched onto her face, she’s breathtaking—the kind of beauty that feels too fragile for a world like this.

The sunlight dances off the water, casting a soft, golden glow around her that feels almost otherworldly—like she’s something I’ll never quite deserve. She kneels at the shoreline, her fingers brushing sand from a small pebble with delicate fingers.

When she flicks it outward, the stone skips once before vanishing beneath the surface, leaving only a faint ripple behind.

Her gaze lingers on the water, strands of dark hair slipping across her face as she searches for another pebble. The slight furrow in her brows says it all—she’s lost in her thoughts, the weight of them pulling her further away. She stands, tossing the next stone with a sharp, decisive movement. The quiet is broken by the muted splash as it sinks without a trace.

I ease off the bike, my boots crunching against the sand as I walk toward her. The shoreline is littered with small stones, and my eyes catch on one half-buried in the sand.

I pick it up, rolling it between my fingers as I close the distance between us.

I stop beside her without saying a word—words feel too insignificant for the silence stretching between us.

Instead, I let the pebble fly. It arcs through the air and skips across the surface, each bounce leaving shimmering ripples in its wake.

Her head turns sharply toward me. “How did you do that?” Aubrey’s voice is tinged with awe, her wide eyes meeting mine. A smirk tugs at my lips.

“It’s all in the wrist,” I say, teasing as I slip the bag off her shoulders and swing it onto mine before she can protest. It’s instinct—lightening her load, even in small ways.

Her attention shifts back to the ground, her focus sharpening as she hunts for another pebble. When she finds one, she weighs it in her palm, studying it like it holds some untold secret. Then she throws it with everything she’s got.

The stone hits the water with a heavy plop, sinking instantly. Not even a single skip.

Disappointment flickers across her face, sharp and unmistakable, and I feel it too, like it’s my own failure. I stoop to grab another stone, turning it over in my hand before sending it flying. This one skips effortlessly, bouncing across the water in perfect arcs until it disappears.

Her eyes track the ripples, and she mutters, “Show-off,” nudging my shoulder in a playful jab.

The laugh that escapes me is sudden and unguarded—loud and real in a way that surprises even me.

She looks over, her gaze locking on mine, and for a brief moment, everything falls away. There’s a light in her eyes, a spark of something warm and fleeting, something that doesn’t hurt.

The moment feels small, like a whisper in the storm of everything happening around us, but it hits me like the ground shifting beneath my feet. For the first time in what feels like forever, I can actually breathe.

I let myself soak in her smile—a fleeting, rare thing I somehow managed to coax out of her. In the chaos of everything, giving her even the briefest sliver of happiness feels like a fucking victory.

“Let’s go,” I murmur, turning toward the flat, grassy area that became my haven just weeks ago. It’s my place—the one spot where I’ve managed to untangle my thoughts and figure out how the fuck to survive each day since Aubrey came crashing back into my life.

Her footsteps crunch softly behind me, a reminder that she’s close—close enough to touch, though it still feels like she’s a world away.

When we reach the spot, I drop my bag and pull out the blanket. A quick shake, and I spread it across the grass before sinking down onto it. I leave enough room for her, hoping she’ll sit, and when she does, the air shifts again.

I lie back, staring up at the endless blue of the sky. My hands lace together on my chest—a restraint more than comfort. She’s so close I can feel her presence, like every nerve in my body is tuned to her frequency, humming with a need I can’t give in to. Not now.

I close my eyes, willing myself to breathe through it, to ignore the thoughts clawing at the edges of my mind. Thoughts of her, of wanting her, of pulling her close and making her forget everything else. But she doesn’t need that—not right now. She needs the quiet, the space to figure out her own head. I can’t be the one to make it harder for her.

“How’d you find this spot?” she asks, breaking the silence.

I open my eyes, and there she is, leaning back on her elbows, completely oblivious to the way her posture gives me the perfect view of her tits. Damn fine tits, too. No use denying it. The kind that makes it impossible to think straight.

“I just went riding and stumbled across it,” I say, shrugging like it’s nothing. The truth is a hell of a lot messier—there’s no fucking way I’m telling her that seeing her again ripped me apart and left me needing a place to get my shit together before I could even face her.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Noah,” she says, her voice raw and heavy. “If I don’t finish the school year, I’ll lose my scholarship to Mayfair.”

Mayfair. Just the name alone brings a smirk to my lips.

That school’s been on my radar for a while. Tech has always been my thing, and with offers rolling in for my ideas, Mayfair feels like the right fit. Dad and I have talked it over a hundred times, and out of all the options, it’s the one that clicks—for both of us.

But hearing Aubrey say it now, knowing she’s fighting to keep her future within reach, it hits differently. Like the universe is playing some cosmic joke, twisting our paths closer together in ways neither of us saw coming.

“It won’t come to that,” I say, my voice firm as I stretch out on the blanket, my gaze tracking a bird cutting lazy arcs across the sky.

“How do you know that, Noah?” she asks, her voice quieter now, edged with something raw and uncertain. She lowers herself onto her back beside me, her words a thread pulling tight between us. “I never thought I’d be here—on the edge of losing everything.”

Her vulnerability digs into me, and before I can think it through, I roll onto my side, closing the distance between us until our faces are only inches apart. “Because I know,” I say, my voice low but steady. “You’re not losing anything, Aubrey. Not your scholarship, not your future—none of it. Because I won’t let that happen.”

She turns her head, her eyes locking onto mine, searching for something solid to hold on to. She swallows, the movement drawing my gaze to the curve of her neck, and for a second, it takes every fucking ounce of restraint not to lean in and kiss her.

I let out a rough breath and roll onto my back, putting a sliver of space between us. “This morning, I texted Dad,” I say, my voice softer now. “Told him you might need a place to stay.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her shift to face me, her brows furrowed. “And what did he say?”

“He said he’d talk to me about it tomorrow when he gets home.”

“Noah, you don’t have to do that.”

I turn my head, letting a small smirk tug at the corner of my lips. “Got a better offer?”

She lets out a quiet laugh, but it doesn’t linger. “No, it’s just… things have been a little tense between us. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice rough, the words jagged like they’re cutting their way out. “For the way I treated you those first few days. I fucked up.”

The admission sits heavy in the air between us, the weight of everything I can’t bring myself to say pressing down. Like how I’ve always loved Aubrey more than she’ll ever love me. The truth claws at the edges of my resolve, too raw, too real to let out. So instead, I leave it there, unspoken, hoping she doesn’t hear it in the silence.

She looks at me, her eyes filled with confusion and hurt. “I don’t understand why you did it though. I know I hurt you by moving away, but you just ghosted me. I thought we were friends.”

Friends. The word hits like a gut punch. It’s almost laughable, how far off that word feels from what we had—what I thought we had. We weren’t just friends. Friends don’t steal moments like they’re the only two people in the world. Friends don’t leave you feeling like the fucking ground has been ripped out from under you.

I swallow hard, her words dragging me back to the mess I became after she left. Back to the hollow hookups, the aimless nights, chasing some warped shadow of what I lost.

She didn’t just walk back into my life; she brought every shattered piece of me with her. And now she’s sitting here, calling it friendship, like it wasn’t the most real thing I’ve ever felt in my fucking life.

I push off the blanket, my chest tight and my head a fucking storm.

Moving to the water’s edge, I crouch and grab a pebble, gripping it like it might anchor me. With a sharp flick, I hurl it across the water.

It skips hard and fast, cutting into the surface, the ripples spreading wide and messy.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I yank it out, the screen lighting up with a message from Reece. The usual. He’s asking if I’m still on for tonight—game, rally, and the party, where we scope out the next girl to try and fuck.

I stare at the message for too long, Aubrey’s words still burning in my chest. If this is where we stand—just friends—fine. At least now I know.

I type out a quick reply before I can second-guess it.

I’ll deal with it the only way I know how.

Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I stare out over the water.

Do I confront her? Do I tell her how she shattered me when she left, how she made me question every fucking thing about myself? Or do I let it go? Would it even matter? Would it change a goddamn thing?

I grit my teeth, the words biting at the edge of my tongue. I know the answer. It wouldn’t change a damn thing. She’s already decided what we were. What we are. And it’s not what I thought. Not even close.

I stare out at the water, as if it’s got all the fucking answers. She doesn’t see me the way I see her—she never has. That truth, raw and unforgiving, cuts deeper than anything I could ever say.

When I return back to the blanket, Aubrey’s sitting up, hunched over her phone. Her fingers move fast, punching out words like she’s racing against her own breath. I catch a glimpse of the screen, just enough to see who it’s for. Her mom.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what’s happening—message after message, left unanswered. She’s trying so fucking hard, pouring herself out into the void, and it’s like her mom can’t even be bothered to reply. That kind of silence isn’t just an absence; it’s a wound that never stops bleeding.

Her fingers hover over the screen before typing out one last desperate plea: Mom, call me. It’s urgent.

She locks the phone and shoves it into her pocket. When her eyes finally meet mine, the weight of all the unspoken shit between us slams into me, thick and suffocating.

I force a deep breath, steadying myself. This tension, this unresolved mess between us—it’s not going to fix itself. And I’m done pretending it doesn’t matter.

‘Pretty sure Dad will let you crash at the house,’ I say, keeping my voice even but letting the weight of my words hang between us. ‘But before that, we need to talk. We need to clear the air.’

She doesn’t respond, just curls into herself, wrapping her arms around her knees like she’s bracing for impact. The sight of her like this—small, vulnerable, guarded—it fucks with my head. But I don’t back off. I can’t.

I exhale shakily, the pressure in my chest building until it breaks free. ‘You didn’t just leave, Aubrey. You fucking left like we didn’t mean a damn thing.’ My jaw tightens as I look away, my hands digging into the blanket beneath me. ‘Do you even know what that did to me? How it felt? Like I was some fucking disposable thing you could walk away from without a second thought?’

Her silence hits harder than any words could. My laugh comes out bitter and sharp, cutting through the stillness between us. ‘And now you’re here, and we’re just supposed to act like it’s fine? Like you didn’t fucking wreck me? Like we’re just friends or something? It doesn’t work that way, Aubrey. Not after everything.’

The words are out now, raw and jagged, bleeding between us. There’s no taking them back, and maybe that’s for the best. No more pretending. No more tiptoeing around the wreckage. Just the truth, ugly and brutal as it is.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers, her voice barely audible. Her gaze drops to the ground, and when she speaks again, her words tremble under the weight of everything unsaid. ‘I fucked myself up too.’

She lifts her eyes to mine, and for the first time, I see it—the pain she’s been carrying, the regret carved into every word. ‘If I’d known then what I know now, I would never have left, Noah.’ Her voice cracks, and she looks toward the water, like the memories are too heavy to face me head-on.

‘I thought we were chasing a better life,’ she continues, her voice soft but weighted with a year’s worth of disappointment. ‘Away from my father and all his bullshit. But it didn’t turn out the way I thought. My mom found work at a bar, and I’d be alone at night. Then she started bringing home these guys—one after another. Nothing was stable. Nothing felt right.’ Her voice wavers, and when her eyes lock onto mine, they’re filled with quiet accusation. ‘I missed you. And you ghosted me.’

Her words hit. But I can’t let her think I didn’t care—not for a fucking second. ‘You said earlier that I was your best friend, Aub,’ I start, my voice rough, the emotions clawing at my throat. ‘But you were so much more than that to me.’ I hesitate, the weight of the unspoken truth pressing down hard. “You still are.”

She has no idea how much she still owns every shattered piece of me, and I can’t fucking say it—not when I’m not sure I hold the same weight in her world.

Her gaze softens, tears glinting in her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Noah,’ she whispers, her voice trembling. ‘You were so much more to me too.’

The word were echoes in my head, sharp and unforgiving. ‘Were,’ I repeat, the past tense cutting deeper than I want to admit. My chest tightens, and for a second, I want to demand more. To ask if that’s all I’ll ever be—some part of her past. But I bite it back, swallowing the frustration burning in my throat.

‘We should head back,’ I mutter, forcing myself to move.

I stand, grabbing the edge of the blanket, waiting for her to shift so I can pack it away.

The silence between us is deafening, every second stretching longer than it should.

Just as she moves to stand, her phone buzzes. She pulls it from her pocket, her sigh heavy with disappointment, frustration, and something else she won’t name. I glance at the screen, catching the name: Sam. Not her mom. Not the person she’s been so desperate to hear from.

Her fingers move quickly, typing out a reply.

She slips the phone back into her pocket with a deliberate calm, her movements too measured, like she’s trying to keep the cracks from showing. But I see them. I always fucking see them.

I grab the blanket and shove it into my bag, the motion rougher than it needs to be. My jaw clenches as I zip it shut, every small action grinding against the frustration bubbling under my skin.

I glance at her one last time, the words I want to say sitting heavy on my tongue. But they stay there, unsaid, as we both settle into the silence we can’t seem to escape.