“Yes, sir,” Moore responds stiffly, turning on a booted heel and stalking toward the house. Behind his back, my father reaches over and digs his thumb into my bicep until I double over, releasing a silent scream. He lets go a moment before Moore glances back over his shoulder, eyes hooded, and my expression is serene. Because I know better. I know better than to let anyone see the pain.
As soon as we’re in the house, I run up the stairs to my room and lock the door, leaning back against it. Listening to Moore’s boots creak back and forth in the attic. More than anything, I want to go up there. Feel his hands on me again. Cherishing hands, instead of hateful ones. I ache for that. For him.
But an hour later, Moore leaves and that’s when I face the reckoning.
My father kicks in my door, splintering the lock, and I know it’s going to be worse than usual. “If I ever see you talking to that boy again, so help me God, I will strangle you unconscious.” His face is mottled red, spittle bursting from his lips. “I will whip you until you can’t stand up and then I’ll ruin him, too. I’ll make his life even harder in this town. You know I can do it. I can have him cast off that filthy land and no one will ever hire him again. Is that what you want?”
“No,” I whisper.
“No,” he sneers, mocking me. “Never look at him again. Do you hear me? My daughter does not associate with penniless dirt.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“See that you keep that promise. Or you’ll both pay the price.”
And I pay a good deal of it that night, for those stolen hours under the storm.
The next day at school, I don’t look at Moore in the hallway. I don’t pause in the doorway of our classes, absorbing the sight of him waiting in the desk behind me. I simply keep my head down and try not to show the bruises. On my body and my heart. I never could have predicted he would hate me for it.
Chapter One
Moore
Two years later
I walk past Allie in the hallway and slam my fist against the locker to her left, making her jump. I hate the way it makes me feel. Shame and frustration and resentment have been like acid inside of me, eroding my bones every second of the last two years. Ever since that night in the field when she tricked me into thinking she felt the same. Maybe she did. Until her father reminded her that I’m nothing but a poor handyman.
Yeah, she remembered pretty quickly that she’s better than me.
Better than everyone, the rich, stuck-up brat.
What’s worse is that she fucking ruined me in those dreamlike moments in the field behind her house. She brought me to my knees. Made me reveal myself in ways I never imagined doing for anyone. And now? Now she’s left me lonely and sick to my stomach and fuck-starved for two years. Obsessed with her, unable to let her go and loathing her for it. Because she won’t even look at me anymore. I’m nothing but the dirt beneath her pink Mary Janes.
Two years ago, I decided that if she was going to make my life hell by ignoring me after what we shared, then I could return the favor. So I do. I demand she acknowledge me by bullying her. That’s the only term for it. I’m her bully and I hate that—I fucking hate it—but so be it. It’s true what they say about misery loving company. Because I’m miserable without her and she’s coming with me.
My jaw is thisclose to shattering as I watch Allie calmly collect the books from her locker and hurry toward our next class. On top of being a bully, I’m also a glutton for punishment, because I still maneuver us into having the same six classes every year. My aunt works in the front office and she feels bad for me, on account of my parents abandoning me when I was still in middle school, leaving me in the trailer alone. Not bad enough to invite me to live with her family, but bad enough that she slips me Allie’s schedule every semester so I can match it to mine.
Before I follow her, I stop at her locker, sliding something in between the slatted opening, and continue on my way. When I walk into class behind her a moment later, I slow to a stop in the doorway at the sight of one of the basketball players kneeling down to speak with Allie where she sits at her desk. Coaxing a smile out of her. I don’t know the kid well, but he lives on the rich side of town. Close to Allie, although no one has as much money as her father. If this kid is asking her out, she’d probably say yes.