Home > Bully King(2)

Bully King(2)
Author: Andi Jaxon

His tone has dropped, and he’s in my face, his hands gripping my shirt. I force myself to think past the anxiety threatening to shut down my brain. I’m turned on by him, but afraid of him. What if he’s a test, sent by God, to prove my devotion? He’s terrifying in a way that has nothing to do with the physical threat of violence he’s going for. Yet, somehow, my entire world revolves around the boy snarling in my face. I can’t look away, even though I’m sure I’m about to get pummeled.

Wait.

Faggot?

How does he know?

My eyes snap to his, looking for any sign that he knows my secret. I take in every line of his face, every shadow, desperate to know my perversion is still safe.

The longer I stare at him, the harder I have to try to stop the blood from flooding my groin even as panic sets my heart running away at full speed. Ice runs through my veins as fear overwhelms my system.

Stop. No, no, no. Crap.

“Answer me!” he yells as the echo of his hand against the locker door next to my head makes me jump.

His buddies behind him chuckle, but they are the least of my worries right now.

“N-n-nothing.” I stumble over the word.

How did I end up here? Confusion and fear grip me. I’ve never been in a fight. I don’t know what to do!

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks as he releases his grip, brushing away the wrinkles he has created and claps his hands on my arms once.

His hands sweeping down my chest almost force a moan from me. He turns his back and walks away. A group of football players surrounded him, watching what happened, but did nothing. What just happened?

It’s going to be a long year.

Grabbing my papers that have once again fallen to the floor, I try to make sense of this damn map. The bell rings overhead and my gut tightens. Nothing like being late on your first day.

“You lost?” a sweet voice speaks from behind me.

Adrenaline has me spinning around, hastily pushing my hair out of my face. A brunette with long straight hair, jeans, and a sleeveless purple shirt stands there, looking at me.

“Uh, yeah. I am.” My shoulders drop with defeat.

She smiles, trying to hide her amusement. “What’s your first class?”

Her accent isn’t as thick as the secretary’s; hers is sweeter.

Looking at my schedule, I read, “Parker, American Politics.”

“Oh, room three hundred one. It’s my first class too. Come on.” She steps around me, and I quickly fall into step with her.

“Thank you so much.” That didn’t sound desperate, did it?

“You’re welcome. I’m Anna.” She offers her hand to shake.

“Jonah.” I return her smile and handshake.

“Where’re you from, Jonah?”

I laugh. “That obvious?”

“Well, this is a small town, and everyone knows everyone. Literally.” She finishes with a roll of her eyes.

“Washington state, about an hour from Seattle. Oh, can you tell me where locker eight thirty-six would be?” I ask, remembering I don’t know where that is.

“Lucky! You got a good’en. Mine is way out the way. I can only go to it during lunch.”

“There isn’t enough time between classes?” At my last school, we had eight minutes between classes. There was plenty of time.

“I prolly could, but I’d have ta rush, and it’s just easier this way.”

I follow her as she turns down a different hallway.

“What’re your other classes? I can point ya in the right direction.”

“Oh, thanks.” I find my schedule and read it off to her.

Anna nods her head. “Well, Woodman and Booth will both be back down that hallway.”

I look back to where she points and make a note on my map.

“Farley and Spenser will be down that way.” She points toward an upcoming hallway. “Your locker is in that next bank of ‘em.” She points straight ahead. “And this is our first period.”

I sag with relief. “Thank you so much.”

She smiles up at me. “You’re welcome.”

I pull open the door, letting her step through first, then following her inside. Everyone turns to stare at me. I swallow past the thick knot in my throat.

We are doing God’s work. He has led us here for a reason.

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

Jonah

 

 

Anna walks me to my next class and points out the following one on our way. The same thing happens in both classes: roll call, handing out and reading of the syllabus, discussion of what materials we will need, and getting our books.

After third period, I drop my books off in my locker and head to the cafeteria for lunch. I haven’t seen Mary at all in between classes; I hope she’s doing all right.

A group of football players walks past me as I’m looking for somewhere to sit. My gut tightens, waiting for one of them to say something to me. A few of them chuckle when they see me standing there alone, but they move on and claim a table in the back.

Forcing out an unsettling breath, I look around and finally see Anna waving at me. Relief courses through me as I make my way over and sit down.

“Hey, Jonah. These’re my friends.” Anna makes the introductions around the table and I smile and nod at the girls.

I’m uncomfortable with the interest I see in a few of their faces. I’ve tried to fake it and date girls, but they always want me to kiss and touch them. That is the last thing I want.

Choking down a bite of my burger, I set it down when I hear my sister’s voice. Finally, someone I don’t have to worry about. I’m sure she’s figured out that I’m not into girls, but she’s never said anything.

The smile on my face quickly fades when I see who she’s with: him. The boy that threw me into the lockers. The boy whose lips have been haunting me since they were within kissing distance this morning. Full, pouty, soft.

“Oh, hey,” I say to Mary, but don’t look at her.

He makes eye contact with me and gives me a questioning look as he swaggers closer. As quickly as I can, I put a wall around me, and a mask falls over my face to protect myself. I don’t know what kind of damage this guy can do to me, but I have a feeling it would be earth-shattering.

“Jonah, this is Roman. Roman, this is my brother Jonah.” She’s excited to introduce us, but I don’t offer my hand to shake or say anything to him.

He looks at me for a moment, and I turn back around.

“I guess they don’t have much in the way of manners where you’re from.”

I still at the words, but refuse to respond. His Southern is accent giving him a good ol’ boy vibe that I already know is utter bull. I can’t let him see how he gets to me or it’ll be all over. He likes to mess with people; it’s obvious to anyone with eyes and half a brain. This guy rules and enjoys the power.

I look around the table quickly and notice almost every pair of female eyes staring in absolute admiration.

“Jonah!” my sister hisses at me. “You’re being rude!” Her voice is lowered, but she’s close enough that I can hear her just fine. “Mama raised you better than that!”

“I’m glad you made a friend, Mary,” I say over my shoulder.

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