Cruel Intentions : A High School Bully Romance (Eastern High Series Book 1)

Iwas already fucking seething when I walked out the door this morning. My dad’s endless bullshit about seeing my mom had me on edge, but seeing Jace with Aubrey last night… That shoved me right over the fucking line. Then this morning happened—catching Jace smirking at me like he had the upper hand, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

People think Jace and I are tight, like we’ve always got each other’s backs. Most of the time, that’s true. But we’ve had our share of problems—more than anyone would guess. We’ve always managed to work through them, but if he even considers going near Aubrey again, that’s it. No forgiveness. Not this time. Not for her.

I lean against my locker, phone in hand, tuning out the hum of voices around me. Then I hear it—whispers cutting through the noise, spreading fast like wildfire.

Aubrey.

Her name’s everywhere. Something about an Instagram account, some kind of leak. I can’t catch every word, but the way people are talking, it’s bad. Really fucking bad.

I open the app, my jaw tightening. The rumors swirl in my head, each one worse than the last.

And then I find it.

The account.

The grid fills my screen, and what I see twists my gut: photos of Aubrey—or at least, photos meant to look like her.

It doesn’t take long to figure out the fucked-up truth. Her face is pasted onto other bodies, clumsily edited but clear enough to cause damage. It’s sloppy, obvious if you know what to look for, but most people won’t care. They’ll just see what they want to see.

A wave of disgust slams into me, so strong it makes me want to throw my phone against the wall, to break something.

This isn’t just gossip; this is calculated, vile, and downright humiliating.

I keep scrolling, each post worse than the last. Explicit captions, degrading comments, offers for “services” with prices attached. Blowjobs for eight bucks. Anal for twenty. The words are so vile they make my skin crawl, each one designed to tear her down completely.

My jaw tightens, and a bitter taste rises in my throat as I stare at the captions, every word dripping with cruelty and degradation. It’s a goddamn trainwreck, and I can’t look away.

I don’t need to think hard about who’s behind this. I fucking know. This isn’t random. Someone went out of their way to humiliate her, to destroy her. And there’s only one person petty and twisted enough to do something this fucked up.

I tap on one of the posts, hating myself for feeding into it but unable to stop. The comments are vile, degrading, a cesspool of strangers reveling in cruelty.

“I’ll take two for that price.”

“How much for a threesome?”

“Bet she’s good with two at once.”

My fingers tighten around my phone, and I force myself to breathe, to stay in control. But it’s so fucking hard.

I don’t know how Aubrey’s even holding herself together. How she’s breathing under the weight of this storm. But one thing’s certain—I can’t just stand by. These fuckers with their comments need to learn some goddamn respect, and that bitch behind this is going to pay.

I dim my screen and shove my phone into my pocket, but the images linger, seared into my mind. An urgency clawing, primal and unstoppable.

I need to find Aubrey.

Now.

Pushing off the locker, I stride down the hallway, ignoring the noise around me. People calling my name, hands reaching out for attention—it’s all meaningless. Right now, there’s only Aubrey.

The crowd parts as I move, their stares trailing me, but I barely register it. Up ahead, I catch sight of Sam, her arm around Aubrey, steering her toward the girls’ bathroom.

Aubrey looks fucking gutted—her shoulders slumped, her face hollow. She’s like a shadow of herself, broken under the weight of it all. And seeing her like that. It fucking rips me apart.

I don’t even hesitate. Girls’ bathroom or not, I push forward. This isn’t uncharted territory for me. I’ve been in plenty of them before, sneaking in for a quick fuck with girls who gave me that look. Fast, rough, meaningless—a way to kill the emptiness for a while.

Afterward, I’d leave without a second thought, unless they were up for more. So walking in now? It doesn’t faze me. Not even a little.

I shove the door open, boots echoing against the tile. The sharp scent of cheap perfume hangs in the air. Heads whip around, eyes wide with surprise and curiosity. I know what they’re thinking—I always do. My presence alone is enough to have some of them imagining what it’d be like to drop to their knees, eager to have my cock in their mouth. It’s a look I’ve seen a thousand times, a perk of being who I am, looking the way I do.

But right now, I don’t give a fuck about any of them. My attention is Aubrey, and nothing else exists.

I barely acknowledge the starry-eyed stares lingering as I push forward, scanning the room with a single focus—finding Aubrey. My gaze lands on Sam, leaning against the sink at the far end of the bathroom.

I make a beeline straight for her, my strides quick and purposeful, but there’s no sign of Aubrey. My chest tightens, frustration clawing at the edges of my control.

Sam glances up, meeting my gaze briefly before going back to inspect her nails. Calm, detached—completely unbothered. That’s Sam for you. A sharp contrast to the other girls, who practically lose their shit the moment I enter a room.

“Where the fuck is she?” I demand, my voice low but cutting, sharp enough to get straight to the point.

Sam straightens, her shoulders squaring, her usual air of indifference hardening into something colder. “I’m not telling you shit,” she snaps, her tone firm, her glare unwavering. “You’re probably in on it with that sick bitch.”

Her words cut deep, but I shove the anger down. Now’s not the time to lose my cool—not when Aubrey’s probably crumbling under the weight of this shit.

Behind me, I feel the stares boring into my back, the room buzzing with silent curiosity. Normally, I’d bask in it, feed off their attention like the cocky bastard they think I am. But not today. Not now.

I spin on my heels, my jaw tight, and sweep my gaze over the room. “Get the fuck out,” I bark, my voice cold and unrelenting. It’s not a suggestion—it’s a command. The edge in my tone leaves no room for argument.

The girls scramble, grabbing their bags and rushing for the door like their lives depend on it. A few linger, hesitating, their curiosity outweighing their sense of self-preservation. They’re desperate to stay, to soak up the drama and turn it into more gossip. But my glare cuts through, my unspoken message clear: leave.

Most take the hint, shuffling out quickly.

But Naomi doesn’t budge. Of course not. Tia’s lapdog stands her ground, arms crossed and chin tilted in defiance. Her smirk is a challenge, daring me to make her leave.

Fine.

I stride toward her, my movements sharp and deliberate, the tension radiating off me like heat. If she wants a confrontation, I’ll gladly escort her ass out myself.

As I close the gap between us, Naomi finally relents, grabbing her bag off the floor. She saunters toward the door, pausing with her hand on the handle. Turning back, she throws me one last smirk, dripping with disdain, a calculated insult that does nothing but pisses me off.

Finally, she huffs, pulls the door open, and saunters out like she owns the damn place.

Good fucking riddance.

Turning back to Sam, I jerk my head toward the door.

She doesn’t move. The locked stall tells me everything I need to know—Aubrey’s not okay. She’s hiding, shutting the world out. And fuck, I don’t blame her.

Sam’s eyes narrow, meeting mine with a sharp, unyielding glare. “I’m not going anywhere,” she snaps. “So deal with it, dipshit. Aubrey’s my friend. I’m the one who’s been here for her, who’s had her back since day one. Not you.” She steps away from the sink, her voice laced with fury. “You’re the asshole who tore her down the second she walked into this school. Don’t stand there now and act like you suddenly give a shit.”

I flinch—not outwardly, not enough for her to see—but inside, her words gut me. Because she’s right. I’ve been a complete asshole to Aubrey. I made her life hell, tore her apart for no reason other than my own messed-up shit. And worse? I let everyone else do the same, standing on the sidelines like a fucking coward.

But I’m done standing by.

Twisting the lock on the bathroom door, I shut out the world. Let the rumors fly. Let them twist the truth into whatever shit they want. None of it matters. The only thing that matters is Aubrey, behind that locked stall door.

I push past Sam, her glare locked on me but I ignore it. My footsteps echo against the tile as I stop in front of the stall. I stare at the door, willing it to open.

“Aubrey,” I call out, my voice sharp and firm. “Open the door and talk to me.”

Silence.

Memories claw their way to the surface—her parents’ screaming matches, their voices ripping through the walls of her house like they wanted to destroy each other. She’d lock herself away in her room, trying to drown it out. And me… I’d climb through her bedroom window, desperate to pull her the fuck out of that hell.

“Aubrey.” This time her name is a plea, raw and broken. “Open the fucking door.” I press my palm against the stall, leaning my weight into it. “Don’t make me talk to a goddamn door.”

Sam shifts beside me, her arms crossed, disapproval still etched across her face. Her glare burns when I glance at her, a silent condemnation for daring to show up. But then she moves closer, standing next to me.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence is thick, stretching between us.

Finally, Sam exhales, her voice quieter but no less sharp. “You don’t deserve her forgiveness, you know.”

“I know,” I admit, my voice low. “But I’m not leaving.”

“Aubrey, are you okay?” Sam’s voice is soft, careful, like she’s trying not to spook her.

“I’m fine,” Aubrey says, her voice muffled behind the stall door.

It stings. Fuck, it burns. She ignored me—but she answers Sam like it’s effortless. The words hang in the air, but the tremor in her voice betrays her. She’s not fine. Not even close.

“Aubrey, come out already,” I plead, my voice softer now, fighting to rein in the storm brewing inside me.

Nothing.

The silence is harder than any words she could throw at me. My chest tightens, and I rub the ache near my heart, but it doesn’t help. The frustration boils over, seeping into my tone.

“Damn it, Aubrey, open this fucking door or I’ll do it myself,” I snap, my voice sharp, angry, laced with the raw hurt I can’t push down.

“Just go away, Noah,” she says, her voice brittle and cracking. “Leave me alone. You’ve made it crystal fucking clear that I mean jack shit to you, so just… go.”

My hands curl into fists, nails biting into my palms as I try to stay grounded. I want to yell, to fight back, to tell her how fucking wrong she is—but the truth is? I made her feel like this. Like she doesn’t matter.

I glance at Sam, desperate for something—anything. But all I get is her impatient stare, followed by an eye roll that screams get the fuck out of here.

Dragging in a deep breath, I force my voice steady. “Aubrey, I’m not leaving. I know you’re hurting.”

The faint sound of her shifting on the other side of the door gives me a surge of hope. For a split second, I think—no, I need—her to let me in. But then her voice cuts through, soft and broken, and it fucking wrecks me.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough, Noah. Just go back to your cheer squad.”

My shoulders slump, the weight of defeat pressing down on me like a ton of bricks. I look at Sam, expecting her usual anger, but for once, she just looks… tired. Like she’s done with this whole fucking mess.

I hesitate, clinging to a stupid, desperate hope that Aubrey might open the door, might say anything to stop me from leaving. But the silence drags on, suffocating.

With a deep breath that feels like it might shatter me, I turn away. My steps are slow, deliberate, as I unlock the door. I don’t look back. I can’t. Because if I do, it’ll break me.

I pushed her too far. I know that now.

And the worst part? There’s no fixing this. No going back.