At my old school, I saw the effects of bullying firsthand; I felt them. I felt them in ways I can never forget, never erase. My heart begins to thunder in my chest, and my palms grow so sweaty I have to put down my fork.

Heat rushes through my body, and it feels suddenly hot, like I should take off my jacket and loosen my tie. Tristan’s fixing the buttons on his white first year shirt as he makes his way over to me with long, confident strides, his hair glossy and raven-black, his mouth too dangerous to be tempting. My fingers curl tight around the side of my book bag and my heart races, sweat beading at my temples.

Bullies don’t quit until circumstances force them to. It’s the nature of the beast, and humans are the worst animal of all. 

For the moment, I’m drawing a blank, but give me time, and I’ll work it out.
There’s a reason I got chosen for this scholarship, and it wasn’t my ability to roll over and take it.
No, I’m a fighter, always have been.
I just think I’m going to have to fight harder than I ever have before. Then revenge, I can’t wait for a taste. 

Obsessed with four sexy bullies

Lunch with Andrew the next day is pleasant, easy, no hidden threads of intent in his voice. We talk about his family’s beach home in Hawaii, about the winter formal next month, and I briefly tell him about my home in the old train car. There’s no judgement in his face, and when he asks me if we can ...

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