Forsaken: A bully romance (An Academy Twin Rivalry Series Book 1) Read online

  Forsaken

  A Twin Rivalry Academy Series

  Book 1

  Taylor Blaine

  Forsaken

  Kicked out of West Shores High, I’m now the Rich Bitch of the East on the other side of town. The scandal around my dead dad and now-bankrupt mom has left me with more questions and problems then I thought possible.

  Everyone in Shores knows about the feud between the two high schools. The leaders despise each other with an unrivaled passion. Their hate is strong enough to destroy a town.

  A family.

  Jaxon won’t let me forget where I came from, who I hung with, or who I am. He torments me in ways I can’t explain.

  I’m caught in the middle since my ex runs WSA while his twin – Jaxon! – runs ESA.

  Twins. Both decadently delicious. Both fighting for a piece of me. I had no idea I’d crave one more than the other until the other made my knees weak.

  I’m screwed… and not necessarily in a good way. But I’m not scared. I can fight back.

  So, bring it on, Jax O’Donnell, I can take your abuse and your hate, and I’ll smile through it.

  Rich bitches have more to lose than you think.

  Chapter 1

  Olivia

  What would happen if I got expelled from my new school on my first day?

  Would they take me back at my old school? Did I want to go back with the stigma of going from rich to poor almost overnight?

  I smiled tightly at the dark blonde hag sitting in front of me in the office of East Shores Academy. They only called it Academy because they were trying to be so much more than they actually were.

  Weren’t we all?

  The receptionist pressed her lips together, unaware that spider lines leaked maroon lipstick out of her carefully drawn borders and onto her faded skin. She tapped her pencil on the desk and shook her head. “You aren’t getting into any AP classes here, Ms. Ramirez.”

  “I was in all honors classes at West Shores. You’re saying I can’t get into them over here… because why?” I refused to believe that East Shores Academy – the hub of poverty in the small town of Shores, Oregon – had higher requirements for their Advanced Placement courses than the highly vetted, extremely expensive private school of West Shores Academy. The implausibility of it was something I wouldn’t even try to argue in debate class. Did they have that at ESA either?

  She blinked at me. The color of her eyes had faded sometime in her vast years – I wasn’t even going to attempt to guess at a number – and their pale color blended with her pale skin and pale hair. All of her was pale except for her horribly applied makeup.

  The woman was a case begging for help.

  She lifted her chin and finally decided to answer me. “Ms. Ramirez, you can’t attend our advanced placement courses because we don’t have any. If you want honor classes, you need to attend West Shores which…” She smirked and cleared her throat. “You can’t afford anymore, so that option is obviously out.”

  I stared at her as if daring her to say one more word. We’d locked ourselves in some kind of weird standoff and I refused to be the first to look away.

  They didn’t have any AP classes. Was that even a thing or was I facing some kind of bias because I came from money? You’d think she’d have some kind of sympathy for my fall from grace. Instead, she looked at me like I was the reason she was stuck in the East Shores’ reception area for eons.

  Someone joined us to my right, but neither of us averted our eyes. We were locked in the battle of wills. I could stand there all day long. She had no idea how much I didn’t want to go to class.

  “Mrs. Newberry? Can I get a band aid? My cut won’t stop bleeding.” A girl’s soft voice jerked the receptionist’s gaze from mine.

  The old woman leaned forward, concern altering the stony façade of her features. “Janelle, what in heaven’s name happened to your arm?” Newberry stood to get a better glimpse, her long dress hanging in discouraged pleats to her calves.

  I leaned to the side, keeping distance between me and the girl with the cuts on her wrist. A cutter. Lovely. The only reason she’d come down the office was because she couldn’t get it to stop. Amateur. Not that I’d cut. I didn’t have the stomach for that kind of thing. A good friend of my, Cynthia, had been Olympic gold at cutting. Because of that she was spending the next six months in a psychiatric ward of a private hospital in Bend.

  Janelle glanced at me and chewed on her lower lip. If she knew what she was doing, she’d bite through that skin as well. She didn’t because she dropped the habit and jerked her chin my direction as the receptionist bustled out of sight to retrieve some bandages. “You new?”

  I arched an eyebrow, nodding curtly. “Yeah.” Like it wasn’t obvious. How many people were at that school in our small town? There couldn’t be that many that a new student would blend into the woodwork.

  “You better lose the tags. You’re bound to get your ass kicked dressed like that.” She didn’t like my clothes? Maybe she was jealous. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  What wasn’t to like about my rags? The only thing I was excited about going to East Shores for was the lack of uniform.

  I glanced down at my off-the-shoulder blue sweatshirt that showed the coral peach of a spaghetti strap tank top over my tan skin. Tight jeans clung to my curves and I knew the tears in the faded denim were both in-style and extremely expensive. I’d been on the waiting list just to get them six months ago.

  My Saint Laurent Joe sneakers had a worn look but they were barely five months old. They were also more of a backdrop for the bright tie-dye coloring of a backpack I’d gotten offline before everything had crashed around me.

  I lifted my chin, daring her to say something specific about my clothing or the way I looked. One comment was all it would take to tip me over my edge of control. I wasn’t known for having an even temper. My fuse was short and I had no problem owning it. Let’s be clear, though. I was only a douche to those who deserved it. Calling me out on my clothing was definitely an action that deserved it.

  Janelle looked me over, head to toe, and shrugged, reaching for the band aid Newberry handed over. “Thank you, Ms. Newberry. I don’t know what happened.” She smiled, and for all intents and purposes, it seemed genuine.

  But who was I? I didn’t even know her. I didn’t care enough to change that.

  I turned back to the receptionist who took her seat again with a sigh. “What classes can I get then?” Just give me something that could go on my stupid transcript and I could get into the college of my choice. I wanted to kick the old lady, but that wasn’t going to do anyone any favors. I was smart enough to know that.

  “Ms. Ramirez, you’re a senior. You’ll get the same rotation of classes as all of the other seniors.” She pulled out a small card with a printout of a grid and slid it across the counter to me. Tapping the paper, she shook her head. “We don’t have a lot of students, hence, the lower availability of classes offered. You’re on track B since we just had someone leave.” She glanced at Janelle to my right and flashed a sincere smile. “Off you go. Janelle, can you show our new student to her next class?”

  Janelle nodded, not even looking at me as she turned to the door, smoothing a bandage in place with her bitten-nail fingertips. I grabbed the schedule and followed behind her, if only to escape Newberry’s sour-ass attitude.

  The door shut behind me with a muted snap. I stared at Janelle who watched through the window until the receptionist moved somewhere else.

  After a minute, the dreadlocked redhead turned back to face me. Her nos
e-ring moved when she talked and I wanted to rip it out for her. “I’m not showing you anything. Here’s a tip, though. Keep your head down. There’s nothing like East Shores when there’s a rich bitch in the halls.” She turned like she’d delivered some epic mic drop.

  I laughed, which made her stop as if I’d gone insane and she turned back with a furrowed brow.

  Stepping as if to pass her, I paused and reached out, tapping her wrist with my well-manicured index fingernail. “Oh, girl. If you want your cuts to make a difference, you need to stop going so deep.” I ignored her outraged gasp and turned from her, hiking my bag higher on my shoulder.

  Glancing down at my schedule card, I rolled my eyes. Great. Geometry. A basic math I’d taken my freshman year when I’d combined it with precalculus. I wanted trigonometry and applied theory, but they didn’t offer that in the backwards, broke-ass high school I’d had to accept as my fate.

  The thought of why I was there and the disappearance of my gilded future at the hands of my father left me breathless and outraged. I couldn’t go to class. Not right then, if even that day.

  I would just meet more of the obstinance in Janelle but in varying degrees from other students and teachers. My clothes were too nice and I had no way to change that. Where did you buy trash when you only bought class?

  My sneakers didn’t even squeak on the cheap linoleum as I strode confidently toward the exit at the end of the hall. I tucked the class schedule into my back pocket. I didn’t need it for a few minutes as I gathered myself together. The last thing I felt like doing was the one thing I should be doing.

  The school layout was like a large L with the courtyard protected on two sides by the building and the other sides with the perimeter of a thick forest that led into national land. East Shores Academy was on one side of town while West Shores Academy claimed the other.

  I stormed from the double glass doors and breathed in the clean spring air. On the coast, we always had rain. Always. But days like today were welcome with the spotty clouds and the blue sky and the rarely seen sun making an appearance.

  My shoes whispered through the not-well-maintained grass of the courtyard as I made my way through various picnic benches set up at odds to each other.

  The one I had my eye on sat at the furthest distance from the school, close to the perimeter of the treeline.

  Tables and seats were made from splitting, dried out wood. The trashed outdoor furniture seemed nothing like the ones at West Shore. WSA had spent the money to make sure the metal was galvanized and protected from the weather. The weather I had to add seemed friendlier on the west side of town as everything was protected with large umbrellas and vinyl cushions.

  A person could sit out in the rain and still be covered in the middle of the courtyard.

  I placed my feet on the bench-style seat, setting my butt on the table. Ignoring the splitting and marked up surfaces, I sighed and let my bag fall to the side. I shrugged the straps off my shoulders and braced my hands behind me as I leaned back. Soaking up the sunlight, I ignored any inner desire to go inside and try to get through my immature classes.

  No one could blame me for swallowing the lump in my throat. I refused to cry. Again. My life was not going to be made up of tears and blame.

  So what, if my father left us with nothing? So what, if my father had died four months before and my mom had found out he’d thrown away her inheritance and sold the company, leaving us destitute? So what? There was nothing I could do about it. So what, if my father had taken my plans to go to one of the most prestigious medical schools in the world and stomped all over it? Tuition was high and with no money, I wasn’t going.

  My mom and I had gone from one of the richest families on the western side of the states to a couple of cliché people with nothing but the expensive things they’d bought once upon a time. We had to sell a lot and my mom had finally given up trying to stay in the large house on the hill. She couldn’t even afford to pay my tuition to West Shores.

  Everything in my entire future had disappeared with my dad’s death. I couldn’t get into a college for pre-med classes, if I couldn’t finish the advanced courses my counselor had recommended to make my application look that much better.

  He’d taken everything and we had no idea until we’d found out he’d died in his helicopter somewhere over Denver. Denver for crying out loud. He couldn’t even die somewhere worth mentioning.

  Why was he going to Denver when the company’s headquarters were in San Antonio and that’s where he was supposed to be that weekend?

  My anger was all-consuming sometimes and I didn’t want to let myself get taken over by it. I bit my lip, staring at the cedar tree branches moving softly in the ocean breeze.

  Shores was close enough to the ocean I could smell the salt and brine, but far enough, we didn’t have to worry about the tide washing us away. A short path down from West Shores Academy took the students to the beaches that spanned the length of the town.

  That’s where I would be right about now, enjoying my break from my classes with Braddox’s hand in mine and maybe some making out going on. Kissing Braddox O’Donnell had been a favorite past time of mine. He did things to my insides that I’d never experienced before.

  Ugh, one more casualty in the wake of my father’s death. I’d had to walk away from Braddox and all the history we’d put in while dating over the last couple years. Having him dump me because I didn’t have money had been the last thing I wanted to add to my issues, so I’d dumped him first.

  Honestly, I probably should have told him I was breaking up with him rather than ghosting him like I had.

  I sighed, the sun on my cheeks warming away my irritation from the inside out. Crying over Braddox wasn’t an option anymore. I had to move on. I could do that. Plus, what was the saying? Out of sight, out of mind? As long as I didn’t see Braddox, I could handle the break up.

  “You’re making yourself comfortable in an area that isn’t yours.” The tone was off, but it was as if my very thoughts had conjured him.

  I snapped my eyes open and inhaled sharply, pushing myself forward to jump from the table. “Oh, Brax. Holy shit. I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?” I glanced around us and stared up into deep dark eyes that I’d always felt I could drown in. Surrounded by thick lashes, his eyes could easily hypnotize anyone – male or female.

  For some reason, he’d chosen me. That either made him very foolish or very smart. I was going with the latter. I launched myself into his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck and molding my lips to his surprisingly firm mouth.

  Three months was a long time to ghost someone and still feel that type of heat around him. I hadn’t realized how much I’d really missed him.

  An unfamiliar heat simmered in my chest and boiled over, burning along my nerves out from my core. I couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen, but that wasn’t enough to pull my mouth from his. I angled my head, deepening the kiss with a hunger I hadn’t felt… ever. He usually did things to my insides but this was… off the charts hot.

  Maybe absence really did make the heart grow fonder. Maybe those last few months were what I needed to lower my reservations against sleeping with Braddox. Wasn’t that the last step in our relationship? He’d been willing, but I’d always held out. Maybe life without him had sharpened my need for all things him.

  As his hands slid up my back, pressing me closer to him. I could feel the collection of my resistance slipping away from me. If he wanted to screw me right there on the table, in the middle of the courtyard, I’m not sure I’d say no.

  The soft cotton of his t-shirt allowed me access to the lines of his muscles and I sighed against his mouth. Yeah, I was ready. I broke our connection and pulled back, glancing up at him with all the longing I’d been suppressing.

  I lifted my hand at the back of his neck and threaded my fingers through the longer-than-normal hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m sorry, I haven’t called you back. My mom… I have to go to this shit
hole until my mom figures out what’s going on with money. She got that job with your dad, but…” I didn’t go any further. Brax was my boyfriend, or he had been until we’d broken up three months ago and I’d stopped taking his calls. We didn’t talk about the types of things that were everyday life.

  He was bathed in money, literally richer than most men on the continent. He wouldn’t understand what it meant to not have a job or enough for… anything. He probably would try to empathize with me – ha! – but my pride kept me from opening up too much about our situation. He knew Mom was working for his dad. If that wasn’t enough of a blow to my pride, I didn’t know what was.

  Brax ran his hands roughly down my back, my hips and back up my waist. His touch sent shivers of fire all over my skin and I stared at him with not-so-hidden longing.

  “You think my school is a shithole?” He reached up and brushed his fingers down the side of my cheek, his words giving me chills where his touch wasn’t. His tone was a little rougher. Not so much that it was immediately noticeable, but in close quarters, I could hear a difference in the husky quality.

  I blinked, confused. “Your school? No, Brax, this one. East Shores.” I tilted my head to the side in question. What was he thinking? For that matter, why was he there?

  I stepped back, taking in the way he was dressed with dark blue jeans and a dark gray t-shirt that left little to the imagination of where the angles of his muscles were.

  “You let your hair grow. It looks good.” I was lying. It looked hella hot. The last time I’d seen him, his hair had been carefully cut short on the sides with hair on top he could style or leave to flop endearingly in his eyes. With the shaggier look, he had a rakish air about him that tugged at parts of me I didn’t want awakened – not in the schoolyard and not while I was so confused.

  I wanted to be a doctor and screwing my high school boyfriend wasn’t going to get me there. Rich or not, I still had dreams.

  A slow smile spread across his delicious lips and I caught my breath. He inclined his head, folding his arms across his chest. “Ah, you know Braddox. Judging by that kiss, you know him… well.” He arched an eyebrow and closed the six feet between us with a slow stalking stride.