Alpha Bully (Wolf Ridge High 1)

And what in the hell is wrong with all the kids in this school that they think helping the football star cheat is the right thing to do?

Assholes.

I duck my head to hide the tears blurring my vision as I spin my locker combination around. It takes me five spins before I calm down enough to even see the numbers. Three more tries to get it unlocked.

The second the door swings open, it slams shut, a big hand slapping it closed and staying there.

Of course I know exactly who that hand belongs to.

“Thanks for the help, Pink.” Cole crowds against my backside, leaning in close to speak low in my ear, like this is some private, lover’s conversation and not more bullying from the biggest dick in the school.

His voice rumbles deep, reverberating right into secret places it doesn’t belong.

“Fuck you, Cole,” I snap. I don’t usually curse, especially not at school, but this situation really calls for it.

I guess I’m still a chicken, though, because I don’t turn around, not willing to come eye to eye with my tormentor. I press myself even closer to the lockers to keep him from rubbing against me, but he just moves in tighter, and now I have smells and sensations that will haunt me along with his smirking face.

He’s going for intimidation and it’s working, but my body registers it as something altogether different.

Something foreign yet primitively familiar. Biological level, monkey brain shit that makes my downstairs unconscionably wet. Because no way do I find his muscle-brained posturing sexy.

It sucks that he’s Jacon Elordi level hot. Tingles race across the surface of my skin. I look down. Goosebumps. He’s giving me fucking goosebumps just standing too close. I don’t have to look to know my nipples are beading against my favorite polka dot skater dress. I fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest. He doesn’t need to know how he affects me.

He’s big. Strong. His voice is deep. His scent is cedarwood soap and masculine goodness. And his cocky bullshit does something squirmy to my core.

“Here.” His other hand appears in front of my face. Not the one still holding my locker closed effectively caging me in, but one on the other side of my head. He’s holding a piece of cinnamon Trident out to me.

“Really?” I snatch the gum and whirl around, too pissed now to avoid a face-to-face confrontation. “A stick of gum?” I hold it between our noses, cursing my hand for shaking. “Is this the going rate for taking someone’s quiz for them around here?”

Cole’s fiery brown gaze burns through me. I see the hatred in his eyes before he blinks and pretends he doesn’t give a shit. He shifts to lean a shoulder against my locker. “Well, you know, that’s all I can afford… seeing as how your mom stole my dad’s job and all.”

All the noise in my head quiets. My stomach drops out and I lose my breath. “What?”

“Yeah. I guess she’s a real big shot, huh? Your mom? All the way from Coors Brewery in Colorado.” He shrugs. “My dad couldn’t compete with that.”

My knees quake. Mouth opens and closes like an empty PEZ dispenser, but I can’t figure out the appropriate response.

It doesn’t matter. Cole’s already pushed off and sauntered away, the crowd parting to allow its king to pass.

He thinks my mom took his dad’s job?

That’s why Cole and Casey Muchmore hate me? That’s why I’ve been the social outcast here for the past eight weeks. Why I can smile and say “hi” to kids in the hallways, in the bathrooms, and not even a freshman will so much as give me a head nod.

I had no idea it was personal.

Understanding should bring relief, but it just brings a hollow ache to the pit of my stomach. Unless Cole and Casey Muchmore’s alcoholic, waste of space dad gets another job, I’m public enemy number one.

And it’s not my fault. It’s not even my mom’s fault.

She was hired in after Wolf Ridge Brewery had a major kerfuffle with the FDA and got shut down. And yeah, my mom said things were a total mess when she got here. Like the checks weren’t in place to prevent contamination disasters. That means Cole and Casey’s dad sucked at his job, and it’s no wonder he lost it.

I can see why us moving in next door would be like rubbing salt in a wound, but my mom didn’t steal his dad’s job. And even if she did, how in his twisted, Neanderthal brain am I to blame for his life turning shitty?

I know quite a bit about life suddenly turning shitty. You don’t see me screwing over strangers in revenge.

Fingers shaking, I work the combination on my locker once again and pull out my backpack and head to lunch, my most dreaded period of the day. The time when I try to find a place alone to sit and do my homework as I eat a sandwich.