Bad Girls Page 6

  Nope. I slapped him across the face with my trusty heel on a Monday morning for the whole world to see. The mark of my signature black heel was imprinted on his face for the rest of the week, and sweet glory, it was one of my best weeks.

  As I trudged through the halls looking for Ryan’s room to sabotage, I noticed someone standing just in front of me by a few feet with a bottle in his hands and his head hung low. I edged closer toward the wall to dodge him, but when I was beside him, his hand suddenly shot out and held on to my wrist tightly as if he was hanging on to his dear life. When I tried to shake his hand off, his head finally rose to meet me, and I scowled when I noticed who it was.

  Of course, how could I have missed it? His head of dirty blonde hair and signature black baseball jacket was already pretty obvious, but I was still a fool for choosing this particular corridor to search in.

  “Let go, Ryder.” I gritted my teeth and started to wildly shake my arm to break free from his grip.

  “Avery, I—” Whatever he wanted to say was cut short when his face suddenly turned green, causing mine to pale in worry as well.

  “Oh, ew. Hold it in. Don’t throw up on me.” I almost screamed at him and dragged him, with his hand still desperately holding my wrist, into the toilet just in time as he bent down and started to puke his guts out. Disgusted but not wanting to stand there just watching him, I patted his back with my free arm and reached forward to grab him a huge roll of toilet paper when he was done.

  I watched as his eyes fogged up as if he was going to cry, and his eyelids started to droop. Not wanting to leave him just there in the toilet, I dragged him toward the room just beside the toilet and hoisted him onto the bed. The instant he touched the bed, his grip started to loosen, and I pulled out my arm quickly, turning to leave.

  Unfortunately, just as I was about to slam the door shut and walk away like nothing had ever happened in the past few minutes, Blake just had to ruin the moment with his next few words.

  “Don’t leave me, please, Avery…” His voice was soft, almost a whisper. When I turned back to look at him, he was already fast asleep.

  Chapter 11

  I once mentioned that Wesley Jerald was a combination of many wonderful and horrendous things. I have yet to mention the combination that would sum up what type of person Blake Ryder is. Or was.

  Blake was my best friend. He was always there when you needed him even when he tried so hard to keep his bad boy image up. Imagine this: a ball of sunshine that has rainbow sprinkles and yet tries to hide behind a leather jacket and badass sunglasses; that would be Blake. He was always there for me, and I honestly didn’t want another best friend because no one could have ever replaced him in my heart.

  That’s all in the past now. Like I said before, people change; and in Blake’s case, it was for the worse.

  The latter Blake was a complete stuck-up. There is absolutely no need to beat around the bush about how much I absolutely despised his character. Honestly, he changed so much ever since Charlotte Brooke came into our lives. He started to get distant and hardly even went out with me, and in the end, he finally left me with a wounded ego and a broken heart. If he didn’t like me anymore, he could have just broken up with me the normal sane way. He didn’t have to cook up some twisted story about how I was a whore and cheated on him with some cocky-ass jock in school. He lost his bad boy image after getting closer to Charlotte, and let’s be real here. Charlotte was no longer a good girl. She was a real A-class bitch who mistreated kids for whatever cruel reason she had.

  I’m not even sure if she was a good girl, to begin with.

  He was distant from me and so close to Charlotte. It was as if I were in jail, watching my husband from a distance as he moved on with another girl, and I was unable to do anything about it. I knew then how it feels to be behind bars.

  Then again, my experience wasn’t exactly like Wesley’s. He was a “regular customer” of the local police jail. This would explain why on that fine Saturday morning, I was seated at the police station with a killer headache, waiting for the officers to release that annoying piece of shit out of jail. I know I said I wouldn’t drink, but after I stormed home from the party, I really just forgot about everything and downed two bottles of fine whiskey from my father’s collection. Regret isn’t even a word I would use to describe my emotions then; it was worse than that. That morning, I received a call from Winnie asking if I had heard from her dear older brother, and when I called Wesley’s phone, a police officer picked it up and requested that I go in and collect him.

  Oh, collect him alright. If he was a dog in a pound, I might have left him there to die if I weren’t so against animal cruelty. He was, however, a crucial element in my revenge plan on Charlotte and Blake, and I couldn’t have him jailed just yet.

  “Darling Ava, I told these fellas you would show up.” I was greeted by Wesley’s signature grin when he was led out by a police officer who looked about a few years older than us.

  “Thanks, officer.” I nodded my head at the man, and he grunted slightly. “So sorry for the trouble.”

  “Watch your boyfriend. It’s his third time this month,” he mumbled more to himself than me and walked away before I had a chance to tell him that Wesley was just a friend.

  “Third time, Wesley. What did you do the first and second? Rob candy from a kid and steal a grandma’s cat?” I placed my hands on my hips as Wesley scowled.

  “I won’t steal from a kid or a grandma.” His face was of pure annoyance as he rubbed his arm with his left hand. It was only then had I noticed that his knuckles were bruised and blue-black all over.

  “What happened?” I grabbed his hand, and he winced at the sudden action, hissing under his breath. Softly apologizing, I lightly pulled him down to sit beside me and took out a small bottle of medication oil I had carried with me in my bag because of my headache. I softly rubbed the liquid over his bruised knuckles.

  “No big deal. Some asshole was annoying me.” He shrugged.

  “And how exactly was he annoying you?” I asked, pouring more of the oil on his hand and gently stroking it.

  “Don’t worry about it. He was just a pain.”

  “I know you, Wesley. You may have whatever snip of bad boy blood in you, but you don’t just go around beating up people who were a small pain in your ass. What really happened, and who was the poor guy?” Wesley kept quiet and looked away when I looked up at him. I placed his hands on my lap, took out baby wipes, which I always carried with me, and began to softly wipe his dirt-filled face.

  “You know you can tell me, right?” I asked, my voice soft with concern. “Was it about your brothers? Or Winnie?” Wesley sighed and looked at me with guilt in his eyes.

  “Ryan Smith.”

  “What?”

  “I punched Ryan Smith,” he said as his face darkened with anger.

  “I hate him too, but I won’t exactly give him a black eye.”

  “I gave him a broken nose and a broken jaw, along with a beer bottle to the head. Not exactly a black eye, Ava.”

  I looked at Wesley and reached out, pushing his face gently to face me. “Why did you do it? Do you really want to go to jail that bad? ’Cause if you do, I can just ask the officers to put you back in.”

  “I told you. He was a pain.”

  “How?”

  Wesley sighed. “He called you a whore.” He spat the words quickly, and I furrowed my eyebrows.

  “What?”

  Wesley sighed again as he ran his hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. “He called you a whore.”

  My face darkened as well as I mulled over the words. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” I muttered, dumping all my belongings in my bag, and got up, leaving Wesley confused in the police station.

  Chapter 12

  Let me say this first: I would not go soft on Ryan Smith.

  When I had stomped to the hospital after leaving Wesley alone and stunned in the police station, I found out that Ryan w
as not only in the hospital, but he was in a critical condition. The blow to his head was apparently severe. The poor fellow just got out of operation, and even if that was enough punishment, I was still about to give him my revenge for calling me names.

  I never particularly liked Ryan, but I never got to the point of wanting to kill him before. Those other times he called me names, I laughed it off. It had, however, been going on for almost half a year. If that wasn’t the time for revenge, then when?

  Revenge is a dish best served cold. Like sushi.

  After leaving the hospital, I immediately drove my precious Diablo, a Harley Davidson, toward Ryan’s house. Because the party only ended around five hours before, there were still a good amount of people trashed around the huge place, even though the host was in critical condition. Some were sprawled on the lawn, and some were in the pool. I trudged up the steps of the house and resumed my search for Ryan’s room. When I passed by the room where I left Blake the previous night, I couldn’t help but stop and peek in. Still rested on the bed was a shirtless Blake, tucked under a blanket. In his arms was Charlotte with her hair in a messy bun and wearing the shirt that Blake wore last night. You don’t know how badly I wanted to scream into her ear that he puked in that shirt last night, but I had to keep my silence and only rejoice internally. I can deal with them later. Right now, I have a certain Ryan to completely and utterly destroy, I said to myself.

  I found Ryan’s room at the end of the hallway. Turning the knob, I quickly stepped in and shut it behind me. His walls had a blue to white gradient, and his floors had wine-red carpeting. A king-sized bed with black and white linens was at the back of the room, and on each side of the bed was a dressing table. Medals, trophies, and pictures were on display.

  Scanning the pictures, I noticed some of them were of Blake; others were probably taken with the rest of the football team. I walked around the room and stopped in front of his desktop, and I couldn’t resist switching on the MacBook and browsing through it. What shocked me, though, was the picture of a girl that was used as his wallpaper. Her golden blonde hair trailed down her shoulders, and her bright eyes were shining as she grinned widely. Beside her was Ryan, his arms slung over her shoulder, and his smile was also wide with glee. Both of them seemed to be having the time of their lives, and it seemed as if it was taken a few years back. Grinning at my newfound secret, I took a snap of the picture, tucked my phone back into my pocket, and switched the MacBook off.

  Shuffling through the room, I grabbed a few Sharpie markers I found lying on the desk and started to draw on his pristine walls. Just like Blake’s white Ferrari, I decorated them with symbols, words, and small drawings. At each corner of the room, I left an alphabet, and together they spelled out a certain curse word. I would let him figure that out.

  But then again, I doubt he was that smart.

  And when I reached the center of the room, I wrote a large YOU and smirked. This was definitely more creative than the white Ferrari, and since the poor fella already got some bruising and maybe needed a plastic surgery, I made this easy for him to clean off.

  You know, he only had about 362 dick drawings and two words to scrape off his wall, not that I counted. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

  ***

  “Summer!” I screamed for my best friend when I finally spotted her seated outside of Starbucks with a cup of coffee on the table. Looking up from her phone, she grinned and stood up to give me a hug.

  “Sorry, I’m late. I had to run some errands.” I huffed before sitting down opposite her.

  “It’s fine. I just got here anyways. What’s so urgent that couldn’t be talked about over the phone?” Summer shrugged, leaning in slightly with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

  “Now, you have to be completely honest with me. Did you ever had a thing with Ryan Smith?”

  Summer’s amusement disappeared in a flash and was immediately replaced with a scowl as she leaned back in the chair and folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to talk about that asshole.”

  “So you did, then?” I wiggled my eyebrows and grabbed my phone from my bag. “This picture is his desktop wallpaper. Mind explaining?” I pushed my phone across the table as if we were handling an illegal drug business. She picked it up and examined the picture carefully, her angry expression slowly melting away.

  “This was taken in sophomore year. Nothing more to be said.” She slid the phone back, and her cold expression slipped back on.

  “Oh come on, Summer. There has to be a story behind all of this. You two look like a couple in the picture.” Her scowl deepened as a realization settled in. “Oh my gosh. You guys were a couple!”

  “So what? It was two years ago, and it meant nothing. Why bring it up now?” She looked like she could kick a kitten.

  “’Cause this picture is Ryan’s desktop wallpaper! The keyword: Summer. He still has a thing for you.”

  “If he didn’t like me back then, he wouldn’t have those feelings right now. What we had was fun when it lasted, but if I had a chance, I’d rather not be affiliated with him in any way,” Summer growled, snatched my phone from my grasp, and deleted the picture.

  “Summer, you do know that Ryan is in the hospital right now, right? He might not live past today. He is in critical condition after Wesley basically trashed him up at the party last night,” I confessed, watching as her cold expression started to melt down almost instantly as she turned to face me. Okay, maybe I twisted the facts a little, but I needed to know if Summer still truly cared for that unworthy boy. I have to say it was for investigation purposes before you start pointing fingers at me.

  “Is he alright?” Her expression turned immediately into one of pure worry. “What happened? Oh my gosh, let’s go.” Summer shot up from her seat and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward her black BMW, and we tore down the street toward the local hospital. All the time in the car, though, instead of thinking about Ryan and Summer’s possible past fling, I was only thinking about one thing.

  I left Wesley in the damned police station by himself.

  He was going to murder me.

  Chapter 13

  I almost died.

  I would never, and I mean never, lie to Summer ever again. When that bitch of a best friend found out that I had lied to her, she nearly took off my head before bursting into hysterics when she noticed all the needles attached to Ryan’s battered body. Technically, I hadn’t been lying. Ryan was in a critical condition before I met up with Summer. How else was I going to get a reaction out of her?

  Okay, I felt bad for lying to her to satisfy my own curiosity even if curiosity did kill the poor innocent kitty, but I needed answers, and Ryan was obviously in no condition to tell me. Even if he were, he probably would just call me a random insult and then laugh in my face before walking off. I couldn’t have demanded an answer from Ryan when he was half dead, and one of my best friends just landed him in the hospital with a possible need for plastic surgery. Such a waste, though; I hate to admit it, but Ryan was pretty easy on the eyes.

  So when I was seated outside Ryan’s room with a crying Summer in my arms, I had absolutely no idea what to do but to awkwardly run my hand up and down her back to stop her from sobbing like her pet dog just died.

  “Summer, come on. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to lie to you,” I said apologetically, which luckily did soothe her slightly.

  “I don’t even know why I am crying. I hate Ryan Smith.” She hiccupped and rubbed her raccoon eyes. I reached into my bag and took out a baby wipe for her. She took it with a grateful smile. “Okay, maybe I don’t hate him. It’s just…Didn’t you ever wonder why I was the only one that stood beside you among the whole cheering squad when the incident with Blake happened? It was not just because I really saw you as my friend, and not an instrument to boost my popularity, but I also understood how you felt. Sort of.”

  I held my breath as I waited for her to continue her story, vaguely already knowing what happened between the two of t
hem.

  “The end of freshman year, Ryan asked me out on a date, and seeing that he was a huge major charmer, I agreed too quickly. Over the summer holidays, we spent so much time together, and he became my best friend, you know? We just knew so much about each other. So when he asked me to be his girlfriend at the start of sophomore year, I couldn’t be happier and instantly accepted his request. It was wonderful while it lasted. We were dating for almost a year when I found out something. It was gossips and rumors at first, and then I started to notice that he was getting more and more distant. We would hardly even talk over the phone, much less see each other since we had completely different classes. And in between his football practices and our cheer rehearsals, I almost never see him. So, determined to change that and save what was left of our relationship, I went to his house one night.”

  Summer took in a deep breath and wiped the tears away from her cheeks.

  “I knew his parents quite well, so they let me in immediately after seeing it was me and said that Ryan was in his room. When I got up to his room, I found a girl straddling him. I didn’t see her face, nor did he see me, because he was most likely lying down. The girl barely even turned around, and I left immediately. I cut off all ties with him the next day, and for the following month, he kept going after me asking what was wrong. I didn’t respond to his calls, his messages, the notes he would leave in my locker, and the looks he would give me in the hallways. I cut him completely from my life, and I guess he also just stopped trying. Next thing I know, he was the manwhore of the school, and I never wanted to have anything to do with him. There. That’s what happened.” She burst into another fit of tears again, and I stroked her back slowly.