Her Shame: A Dark Bully Romance (The Forgotten Elites Book 1) Page 11

  “That’s not what the girl from Aaron House said to me last night,” Sterling says with a smirk.

  “Is that what you call your left hand?” Bridget strikes back. “Please, save your bragging for someone who cares.”

  “Oh, feisty today,” Sterling replies. “What’s with the extra spice over the nice Bridget?”

  “Besides you idiots? I’m just trying to make sense out of this stupid assignment.” She says. She stands up from the table. “Aubrey and I are gonna go study, you do … whatever it is you three like to do.”

  I’ve never jumped up out a seat so quickly in my life.

  I follow her out of the cafeteria and back toward Mason House. She looks over at me.

  “So … if you had to choose, which one would you pick?”

  I stumble over my own feet for a second. “Which one what?”

  “Which one of the boys? You know, if you HAD to kiss one of them, which one would you kiss?” she asks with a sly smile.

  Now I stop entirely and fix her with a withering look. She might be trying to keep her voice light and airy, but I know better.

  Nothing with Bridget is light and airy. Everything has a purpose.

  And lately, that purpose has been trying to ruin me.

  “Why are you asking that? First, they all hate me, and second, why do you care?” I ask, finally.

  “Because they’re all too full of themselves, acting like they’re hot shit that can get any girl they want,” she says. She stops and studies me a moment now herself, something about her expression making me gird myself for the worst. “I have another thing I want you to do for me, much better than letting me copy your notes.”

  “And that is?” I ask.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “What do you think, dumbass?” she snaps. “I want you to get Sterling into you. Like, really into you.”

  “What? No!” I exclaim, a little too quickly.

  And she knows it.

  “Oh, come on, it’ll be easy, show him even the slightest bit of interest and he’ll be crawling all over you like an ant at a picnic. Then, once you’ve got him right where we want him, cut him loose,” Bridget says with an evil grin. “Bet that ego of his will shrink three sizes after that.”

  This time I stare at her with newfound disgust I don’t even try to disguise.

  “That’s just … mean,” I say. Even if he kind of deserves it.

  “And the way they act around you isn’t? Come on, I’m literally handing you some much deserved revenge on a silver platter here. I’ll even help you, loan you some clothes and help fix that sad hair of yours,” she says. “And besides, you want to keep your little secret between us? Then you’ll do this, otherwise, it’s goodbye nice girl, hello scarlet letter.”

  If Bridget was born a rich man like a hundred years ago, she’d definitely be the kind that ruled an empire or something. But is all this worth it, how bad would it be to have the truth come out?

  You know, aside from having my parents yank me right out of Ridgecrest and losing my spot in Brown for sure.

  Even if I got to stay, Brown would be off the table. The Sisters of Virtue would make sure of that.

  And then I’d have to stay here, a target for everyone’s slut shaming for the next nine pointless months, and somehow that prospect is even worse.

  I take a deep, steadying breath. In my mind, I picture Sterling … and I suppose there could be worse targets.

  I just have to keep remembering that stupid, enraging smile of his when I caught him looking at my ass. If I keep that memory firmly in mind, then I might actually be able to do this.

  Not that that I really have a choice.

  “What’s the point?”

  Bridget just blinks at me some more. “Does there have to be one?”

  “I suppose not,” I say, slowly. I know there has to be a reason. Even with a girl like Bridget, there has to be … right?

  But I also know I’m not very likely to get that reason out of her. Not here. Not now.

  So, I just let out one last sigh, and Bridget’s eyes immediately brighten.

  “Okay, then …” I say, reluctantly. “What did you have in mind?”

  If I thought her eyes were bright before, now they positively shine. She clutches her hands together at her middle, wringing them together out of excitement.

  “The boys and I are headed to the beach this weekend. You’ll come along now. First, it’ll be gorgeous, and second, what better way to get Sterling’s attention than showing a little skin, instead of this sad, plaid ensemble we’re all trapped in.”

  She gives me a slow once-over. “You heard what Warren said. They’re tired of the whole uniform kink. Gotta give them what they want.”

  I let out a grumble.

  I’ve never enjoyed the beach. The hot sun, the tight bathing suits, the indescribable pressure to both look good and have fun. It’s all just so … ugh.

  But if this is what I have to do to keep her mouth shut, so be it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Saturday morning comes and Bridget knocks on the door of my room. Even though I’m expecting it, it doesn’t stop the pit from tightening in my stomach.

  “Oh good, her highness is here,” Alaska snarks.

  “Please just be nice, I don’t want to deal with any drama,” I say, straightening up from where I’ve been stuffing a few things into a duffle bag to take with me. It feels more like I’m preparing to be hauled off the prison than to a beach day with some supposed new friends.

  Alaska just shoots me a look. “I never would have gone to lunch with my parents on Friday if I’d known it would mean you’d go running straight into Bridget’s clutches,” she says, not even trying to keep her voice quiet enough that she won’t be overheard. “Seriously, how did that happen?”

  I grit my teeth and say, “She’s not all that bad once you get past all the glitter.”

  Just like I practiced.

  It doesn’t stop Alaska from rolling her eyes, but it does keep her from asking any more prying questions. Which right now is all I can hope for.

  I open the door and Bridget walks in with her distinctive sway. “You ready?”

  “Yep,” I reply, shouldering my bag and nodding toward the door. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible, before either Bridget or Alaska unsheathes their respective claws.

  “Alright, let’s go.” She says with a hurried wave.

  “Stay away from the water! I hear girls like you may melt!” Alaska calls after us.

  Bridget either doesn’t hear or pretends not to hear.

  “This is a spectacular little spot, a private patch of beach in front of Daddy’s summer home. Just the relaxation we all need after these brutal classes,” she gushes as we step out of Mason House and into sunshine and unusually warm weather for this time of year.

  We arrive at the front of the school where a white convertible is parked—probably driven up here by one of their butlers. They seem like the type to have butlers. Or drivers. Though I see no sign of either lingering around the grounds. Warren is in the driver’s seat and Chase and Sterling are sitting in the back. Bridget hops in the front passenger seat, and as she does so, I swear I see a look pass between the three boys.

  It’s a look I’ve come to know well.

  I’m not welcome.

  But though I’m sure Bridget sees that look too, she makes no move to acknowledge it.

  “You can squeeze back in the middle, right Aubrey? You’re the smallest,” she says, jabbing her thumb back to the only seat left in the car.

  I slide into the backseat between Chase and Sterling, which is so tight that we’re all pressing hips and arms together.

  “Didn’t know you were tagging along, Stoner Girl,” Chase says. “Bridget need someone to count her calories for her?”

  “Zip it, Chase,” Bridget yells back, but I see the way her eyes flicker between me and Sterling pressed up against my other side.

  So the game begins.

&nbs
p; With that, Warren presses the pedal down and we speed off away from Ridgecrest. The top is down and the wind blows through my hair, making everything feel like it’s moving ten times faster than normal.

  And yet, still not fast enough to blow away this pit in my stomach.

  We arrive at the beach and pile out of the car. The boys grab towels and an umbrella and we all head down to the sand. We stake our claim in a spot just a few dozen yards from the water.

  “Fuck, its hot,” Warren says with a groan as he pulls off his shirt, revealing his tall, toned frame. The other two boys follow suit, stripping off their shirts to reveal surprisingly broad shoulders and lean stomachs, the kind of bodies you see plastered on billboards for famous underwear commercials.

  As dumb and mean as they can be, there’s no denying that they’re each gorgeous. The three of them head straight for the water, plunging into the waves to cool off. Bridget pulls off her breezy sundress to reveal a tiny pink bikini that clings to her thin but curvy frame.

  I pull my t-shirt off and strip off my jeans, only for Bridget’s gaze to immediately snap to me.

  “Um, what is that?” she asks, her lips curling up in obvious disgust.

  “What, it’s my bathing suit?”

  The only suit I owned was my black racing suit, a conservative one-piece that I wore for the brief moment I was on the swim team. And if I’m being totally honest, I’d never really enjoyed wearing bikinis. They make me feel so … exposed.

  She chews on the inside of her cheek, her gaze flickering from where I stand to where Sterling is pretending—or at least I hope, pretending—to drown Chase in the waves.

  “It’s just so … bland. The whole point was to try to get Sterling’s attention, unless you forgot. You look like a sad lifeguard,” Bridget exclaims. “Here, I think I have an extra suit, go put it on before the boys get back.”

  She digs through her bag and pulls out a tiny yellow bikini, which looks like more string than fabric.

  I hold it out at arm’s length pinched between two fingers like it’s a dead animal, not what’s sure to be a very pricy piece of designer swimwear.

  “Seriously, I don’t want to wear this,” I say, after a moment of watching it dangle threateningly in front of my eyes.

  “And seriously, I don’t care. If this plan is going to work, I have to get you out of your old damn ways,” Bridget snaps back, visibly frustrated. She waves toward the changing tents further up the beach. Begrudgingly, I make my way over to one and step inside.

  It’s hot and dark as I peel off my tight suit. I pull on the tiny bikini pieces and even in the hot tent, a nervous chill runs down my spine.

  Ugh, how do girls wear these without feeling totally naked? My underwear would cover more of me than this …

  Here I am trying to keep my past from catching up with me, and Bridget seems determined to make a new—just as messy—present for me.

  Hesitantly, I step out of the changing tent and walk back toward the group. As I get closer, I see Sterling laughing with Bridget. He looks up lazily in my direction, but the moment he sees me his eyes widen a bit and stay fixed on me. He motions to Warren and Chase, who both look away from Bridget and straight at me.

  As I arrive back at the towels, I can feel every one of their eyes boring into my skin. I’ve never had this much of this kind of attention all at once before. The first to break the silence is Chase.

  “Damn Stoner Girl, where have you been hiding that body?” he says, his eyes moving over my form with a brazen admiration.

  “Yeah, seriously, I can usually hawk a girl even with the uniform on but you keep secrets well,” Warren chimes in.

  This comment catches me off guard more than the others. I find myself glancing at Warren and then quickly away.

  I thought he hated me.

  But that look on his face … it’s far from hate.

  Maybe this little game Bridget is having me play might work out in my favor after all, if it means getting Warren off my back.

  Sterling doesn’t say anything, instead he looks at me with that look. Bemused and confident, but this time there’s a little something extra. Just a hint of, could it be … desire?

  “Does anyone want some water? Feels awfully thirsty around here right now,” Bridget chimes in, her voice flat and annoyed—despite the fact that this is her doing, after all. “You’re acting like a bunch of middle schoolers.”

  “I’m sorry, can you not appreciate the fact that little Aubrey here is an actual babe in hiding, twin?” Warren shoots back at her.

  “You’re too easily swayed, twin,” Bridget quips, her emphasis on the last word far less friendly than Warren’s. “Anyways, I’m baking, who’s going to take a dip in the waves with me?”

  “I’m gonna chill a bit,” Sterling says.

  “Same, it’s freezing in there, I’m gonna hang up here with Aubrey,” Chase says. “Unless of course she wants to swim with you … then I’m sure we’ll all admire the view even more.”

  Bridget bites her bottom lip and her eyes narrow; she locks eyes with me and my stomach turns as she looks me up and down.

  “Just goes to show, you never know what some girls are hiding underneath that good girl catholic disguise,” she says in a sickly sweet tone before she turns and walks down toward the water, swinging her hips with a little extra zeal.

  “Brrr, suddenly it’s not so hot out. I think you may have wound up my sister a bit there,” Warren says with a grin.

  “It was her idea that I wear this suit,” I say, biting my lip.

  “Oh, we never had any doubt of that. And we’re all very thankful for it,” Chase says with a smile as he hands me a cold water from the cooler.

  Sterling is still quiet, leaning back in a beach chair and sipping from a soda. Salt water drips off the dark hair hanging over his eyes. As we sit and chat, I notice him glance over from time to time, an inquisitive look on his face.

  Bridget returns, her body dripping wet from the water but her hair and makeup still somehow intact.

  “I’m baking, let’s head to the house,” she says.

  “Not a bad idea,” Warren agrees, his eyes cutting over to the way Chase and Sterling’s eyes have moved to linger on his sister now—if only for a moment.

  Men.

  “Aubrey, be a doll and grab my towel and bag, I don’t want them to get wet,” Bridget says.

  We gather up all the beach supplies and walk over to the small beach house. Chase, Warren, and Bridget all slip inside, with me and Sterling lagging behind. As I try to hang on to my bag and Bridget’s, plus the towels, I can feel them starting to slip. I try to hold on but the one bag gets loose and begins to slip off my arm.

  “Shit!” I snap, jerking my arm to catch it, only to knock it even further out of reach.

  Before it can hit the ground, Sterling reaches out and grabs onto it, which stops it from hitting the ground, but since it’s still attached to my arm, the force pulls me right into his chest.

  I feel all the air leave my lungs as I’m inches from those intense eyes, pressed against his bare chest with my own nearly as naked. It feels like time freezes as he looks at me with a startled expression in his eyes. Then suddenly, time resumes and I collect myself.

  “Sorry, I’m such a klutz,” I mutter.

  He smiles, not that bemused, confident smile this time though. This one is much warmer.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he says, and with that he disappears inside the house.

  I’m left alone for a moment, a moment sorely needed to collect my racing thoughts.

  From inside the glass, I think I see a flicker of movement and wonder if Bridget just saw.

  Hopefully that makes her happy. I couldn’t have planned a little exchange like that better if I’d tried.

  I know this is a game, but it doesn’t change the way my heart is thumping in my ears—or the way my eyes lingered on Sterling’s frame just a moment too long as he walked away.

  This might be a game, s
ure, but it’s starting to feel a little too real.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The rest of the time we spend at the beach, Bridget doubles down on me—demanding coffee in the morning, making me carry her towels, cooking lunch for everyone—those sorts of things. It no longer feels like we were “in” on this little plan of hers. She’s controlling me and I don’t have much choice but to go along with it.

  Not now that I’m in this deep.

  When we finally get back to Ridgecrest, her mood only worsens.

  “I need you to write my English paper for me, I’ve got too much else going on,” she barks as soon as we walk through the admin building on the way back to our rooms.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I ask. “Because I thought for a second that we were actually working together …”

  Bridget laughs. “Why would you think that?”

  “Your whole plan with Sterling?”

  “You’re an important part of my plan to keep those boys in line, but that does not mean we’re ‘working together,’” she snips. “Just keep doing as your told and leave the thinking and secret-keeping to me.”

  I’ve just about had it, and am about to tell Bridget just exactly where she can shove her ‘thinking and secret-keeping’ when our counselor Mr. Peters emerges suddenly from around a corner, and stops me from speaking my mind.

  His eyes light up when he sees us, even as my own face drops—if only for a second.

  “Well, good afternoon ladies! Enjoying your weekend?”

  “Oh yes, very much so. How about you? What are you doing hanging around Ridgecrest on the weekend?” Bridget asks in a lilting, seductive tone.

  I cut my eyes over to her, my brows shooting up. This is bold, even for her.

  “Oh, just catching up on some work, wanted to get a jump start on the week!” he says, maintaining his upbeat tone. “Oh, speaking of which, there’s a new ethics class that I’m teaching next term, keep an eye out for it during registration, should be a fun, easy A for anyone that manages to snag it,” he says with a wink.

  “Oh, how enticing,” Bridget coos.

  “Well, I’m off, you two ladies have a lovely afternoon,” he says with a nod and a wink.