Crushing on the Bully

Crushing On the Bully

By Sarah Adams

Copyright © 2013 Blue Ribbon Books

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

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Clarissa was standing in line at the grocery store, flipping through a tabloid magazine. She frowned and rolled her eyes at the rumors that were flying around about different celebrities. Under normal circumstances Clarissa would have never picked up the periodical, but she was caught in a long line without anything to read. The book in her purse pushed against her side and she considered beginning it again. She had finished it while she waited at the bank, but rereading a book she just finished didn’t sound appealing. It sounded rather boring so Clarissa settled for the ‘smutazine’ as she had dubbed them in high school.

The express lane was moving slower than Clarissa had ever experienced. She rose to her tiptoes trying to see over the tall man in front of her, but it was impossible. Clarissa hated being short. Sighing she braced her legs for a second and held tight to her cart before springing into the air. She didn’t stay airborne long, but it was long enough for her to discern the problem.

It wasn’t the normal middle-aged woman sporting the name tag of ‘Blanch’ standing behind the counter of the express lane, but a younger brunette, whose name tag Clarissa hadn’t had time to read. Normally, Clarissa liked to remember the names of everyone she encountered on a day to day basis, but she didn’t care if the woman at the checkout counter was a Molly or a Cynthia. She was eating away into her busy schedule and Clarissa was worried that she was going to be late for work.

“Come on,” she said impatiently under her breath, trying not to be over heard by the other customers. She didn’t want them to misinterpret her impatience as an entrance to start a conversation.

Clarissa bounced on the balls of her feet growing more impatient with each passing second. Hearing a noise behind her Clarissa looked over her shoulder and frowned at the guy standing in line behind her. She looked away quickly before he tried to engage her in conversation. Not that she looked like the sort of person he would talk to, but Clarissa knew that bored people did desperate things.

“Great,”
she thought to herself,
“It’s another punk or Goth, I can never tell the difference. They all wear too much black and have piss poor attitudes.”

Clarissa hated when they came into the coffee shop where she worked. Their piercings and clothes didn’t bother her too much. Clarissa believed in self expression through fashion (although she thought they could find other colors to express themselves), but what bothered her more than she wanted to admit were their bad attitudes and poor manners. She didn’t expect every customer to be a sweet old lady or a funny hipster, but Clarissa had gotten into more than one argument with the scene and punk kids that came into the coffee shop late at night.

Unlike the other baristas, Clarissa wouldn’t take their crap with a smile. She had better things to do besides me insulted by someone who spent most of the day putting on more eyeliner than she wore in a month. Not that Clarissa usually wore makeup, except for work.

Despite her dislike of his fashion choices Clarissa glanced over her shoulder at him again.

“Cute,”
she thought to herself.

Clarissa ran her hands through her long brown hair and sighed. She could feel the guy behind her starring at her ass and was about to turn around so she could give him a piece of her mind. He was cute, but that didn’t mean he had the right to stare so hard that she could feel it. Hadn’t the jerk ever heard of being covert? Clarissa never got the opportunity to ask him, because he spoke.

“I’ve had enough of this,” he said and began to step past her.

Clarissa jutted her hip out to prevent him from cutting in front of her. It put her ass in direct contact with his body and she felt herself blush. She hesitated for a moment, but she wasn’t about to let this loser make her even later for work. No way, no how.

“Nuh-uh,” Clarissa said, “Wait your turn.”

He tried to pass her again, but Clarissa wouldn’t budge. She hadn’t stood in line this long to let him skip ahead. Clarissa turned on her heels to face him. He stood about six inches taller than her five foot six and had spiked black hair and deep brown eyes. Having always had a weakness for brown eyes, she found herself captivated by them for a second before managing to look away.

Clarissa wasn’t sure whether his natural locks would have been that color or not. You could never tell with these punk kids. It felt strange to her to think of someone as a kid, since she hadn’t been an adult long, but she wasn’t considering his age. It was his attitude that made her brand him with the label.

Clarissa wasn’t sure how old he actually was and she wasn’t going to ask. Although, she did think about it for a second. Maybe she could distract him and he’d forget about cutting in line. He wasn’t bad looking and his deep brown eyes made her want to swoon. Maybe it could be a welcome distraction for them both. Clarissa shook herself mentally and tensed her body so he couldn’t pass.

“Why are the cute ones always assholes?”
she thought to herself before speaking.

“I’ve been standing in line for fifteen minutes,” Clarissa said. Her hands automatically went to her hips when she spoke, “and I’ll be damned if you think you’re going to cut in front of me.”

“I’ve got important places to be,” he said and pushed past her, bumping into her shoulder and then cutting in front of the old man who had been waiting in line ahead of her.

“Young man,” the gentleman said, but the guy ignored him.

“Excuse me, sir,” Clarissa said and squeezed by the elderly gentleman.

“You kids these days,” the old man wheezed, “You have no respect for your elders, and this is what I fought in the war for?”

“Sorry, sir, I’ll only be a second,” Clarissa frowned.

“Yeah, whatever, take your time,” the old man sighed, “I’ve got plenty of years left and nothing better to do that wait for you two to work things out.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Clarissa retorted and the old man chuckled.

For a moment she thought about telling the old man what was really going on, but she didn’t have time. If she paused she was only going to let the jerk win and she wasn’t about to allow that.

“You need to go to the back of the line,” Clarissa said and poked a finger into the guy’s chest.

“Vicious,” the guy laughed, “What are you the line monitor? Don’t you have anything better to do? Maybe go read a book or something. You look like one of those nerd girls. What did you have to wait too long on the next book in your sparkle series and it pissed you off?”

“Jerk,” Clarissa spat.

“Excuse me is there a problem?” the nervous cashier asked.

“Nope,” the guy shrugged, “Just trying to get through the line like everyone else.

“He’s cutting in front of people,” Clarissa said.

Clarissa watched in shock as the cashier took the guy’s basket and proceeded to ring him out.

“He wasn’t next in line,” Clarissa frowned.

“Don’t be so whiny, Bookworm,” he laughed.

Clarissa turned on her heels and headed towards the door. She couldn’t believe that the cashier had allowed that to happen. New or not, she should have enforced common courtesy. Clarissa bought a bottle of mineral water from the vending machine and headed towards her car.

There was no way Clarissa was going to hand over her hard-earned money to a business that let bullies like that get away with their tactics. The cashier had backed down just because she wanted to get the jerk out of her line. It was people like her that enabled the losers that thought the world owed them something.

Chapter Two

It was a quarter to midnight and Clarissa’s feet were killing her. She had considered closing early, but she knew that her manager would find out. Maggie had a way of knowing things even if she was on vacation in Vegas. For a moment Clarissa felt a spike of envy. She longed to be anywhere but standing behind this counter tonight. For a brief second she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like sitting in Las Vegas next to Maggie at the slots. She’d drop coin after coin in until finally the machine would light up and play music to indicate she had won the jackpot.

Clarissa laughed at her daydreams and shook her head. She couldn’t even afford the new car that she desperately needed, so a trip to Las Vegas with or without Maggie was out of the question. Tips had been great tonight and overall her time at work was an improvement over the time she had spent at the grocery store, but she was ready to go home.

Clarissa had just finished washing the last of the mugs and began to flip through the classifieds looking for a good deal on a car that might last more than a few months when she heard the bell above the door chime.

“Great, a customer. Who drinks coffee this time of night?” she thought to herself and looked up from the paper. Clarissa knew that her bad mood was merely the result of her aching muscles and being sore about the cashier at the grocery store, but it was hard to keep a handle on it this time of the night. There was something about the full moon shining through the front windows of the coffee shop that made her want to speak her mind.

To say everything that she bit back during the day. Those who claimed to know her well wouldn’t believe how much she didn’t say. Sure, she was quick to fight injustice, but she was just as miserable as the others she knew. It was just that Clarissa didn’t like to complain about her life to others. They couldn’t do anything about her dying car or sore feet. Her friends couldn’t fix the fact that a customer had sauntered into the shop at the last minute.

She didn’t even plan on telling her bestie about the incident in the grocery store. What good was talking about something if it did make a difference? That was just ranting and Clarissa had never been good at just venting her frustration through words.

“Hey, how are you tonight?” Clarissa grinned at the guy standing in front of her registered. She’d just keep faking her smile to keep the tips coming in. After all, that’s what customer service was all about. The words had no sooner left her mouth when Clarissa realized it was the guy from the grocery store. He was clad in a black leather jacket and his jeans wore torn at the knees.

“I’ll have the frozen mocha to go, Bookworm,” he said.

Clarissa didn’t notice that he hadn’t answered her question, but she did notice that he had called her Bookworm again. Why did his kind always turn reading into a bad thing? No, scratch that, those losers always turned everything into a bad thing.

“Stop calling me that,” Clarissa rolled her eyes, “I don’t even read much.”

It was a lie, but her life was none of the jerk’s business. So why had she bothered to lie at all? Usually, it didn’t matter to Clarissa what guys like him thought of her, but tonight her exhaustion made her feel more vulnerable and open to the jabs he was making.

“Whatever,” the guy rolled his eyes and Clarissa turned away to start his order.

She bit her lip and took a deep breath. Maggie was always telling her off for getting into arguments with customers, but this one deserved it. Clarissa considered dumping the frozen drink over his head as she poured it into a to-go cup, but it wasn’t worth her job. The economy sucked and Clarissa needed the money if she were going to start classes next semester or get a new car before hers broke down leaving her stranded on the side of some deserted highway. Clarissa always feared the scenario, although she wasn’t sure why. She’d never be dumb enough to drive down a deserted highway, not even at high noon.

Clarissa topped the drink with the customary whipped cream and rang him out. She talked quickly not even bothering to pause for breath in between her words. Clarissa just wanted to get him out of the shop before she said something she’d regret if Maggie ever found out about it.

“I wanted it for here,” he said narrowing his eyes.

“Too bad,” Clarissa retorted, “We close in five minutes.”

“Whatever,” he said and paid for the drink.

After he left Clarissa clocked out and left, locking the door behind her. She wasn’t worried what Maggie would say about five minutes. If she had to deal with another asshole today she was going to end up with her first assault charge and spending the night in the county jail wasn’t in Clarissa’s plans. She hadn’t been a bad teenager and had never gotten in trouble at school or with the law. Her grades had been good, but not great. If they had been great she would have qualified for a scholarship and wouldn’t have to work so hard. She shook her head and frowned.

“I’m beginning to sound like those stuck-ups,” she sighed to herself, “A little hard work never killed anyone. It’s just been a long day, that’s all.”

Clarissa slid behind the wheel of her beat up blue clunker and slid off her shoes. She knew it was against the law to drive barefoot, but her new flats were rubbing her heels raw and she couldn’t stand it another second. Clarissa sighed in relief as she settled herself into the familiar driver’s seat. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. All she needed to do was go home and sink to her nose in a jasmine bubble bath. Tomorrow was Saturday and she was going shopping with Julie. Everything would be better after a good night of sleep and a long day of shopping with her bestie. Not that she would really be buying much. She had put aside enough money for a new skirt, because her favorite was so frayed she was too embarrassed to wear it outside of her apartment.

Clarissa dug through her purse before remembering her keys were now clipped to its strap with a cute red plastic key ring she had purchased the day before from the local gas station. They must have not been too popular because they were selling them two for a buck. She smiled to herself as she slid the key into the ignition. Her ears were anxious to hear the sound of the engine rev, but it didn’t come. Only a dull growl that made Clarissa fear her starter wasn’t working.

“Damn it,” she swore and punched the wheel causing the horn to sound.

Clarissa waited a few minutes and tried it again. When it didn’t work the second time she tried it again and again, until she was constantly turning the key in its slot. Eventually even the low growl stopped. A light in the corner of her eye drew her attention. Her check engine light was on. There was no helping her car tonight.

She pulled out her cellphone and tried her bestie, Julie, but only got voice mail. Sighing, Clarissa pulled her purse over her shoulder and exited her car. She held her shoes in one hand as she locked the door. The parking lot felt rough against the soles of her feet, but the walk home was going to be even worse, so Clarissa chose to ignore the pain for now.

She made it only a few blocks before having to sit down on the curb. Her blisters were throbbing and she was considering calling a taxi. The twenty dollar fare would cut into her shopping money, but Clarissa feared that she might not make it home otherwise. She retrieved her phone from her purse and stared at the keypad as she tried to remember the number to phone for a taxi. A motorcycle sped by, blowing Clarissa’s hair into her face and mouth. She pulled the slobbery strands out of her mouth and shook her head. Tonight wasn’t going to get any better.

“If it’s not one thing, it’s another,” she sighed, exasperated.

Her heart skipped a beat and Clarissa tensed when she saw the motorcycle do a u-turn and come back down the street. She had heard horror stories about crazy bikers who had kidnapped young women. Clarissa quickly got to her feet and began to hobble away. She kept a tight grip on her phone, because if the biker did harass her, Clarissa’s only hope was to phone to the police for help.

The bike came to a stop a few feet behind her.

“Hey, you need some help?” the biker called out.

The voice sound vaguely familiar so Clarissa dared a look back over her shoulder. It was the jerk.

“From you?” Clarissa crinkled her nose, “As if!”

“Fine, if you want to hobble wherever your headed, it’s not my problem,” he said and restarted the bike’s engine.

“Fine!” Clarissa said, “But I don’t want to go for a joyride! I just want you to take me home, okay?”

The guy just shrugged and motioned for her to get on if she was coming. Clarissa climbed onto the bike behind him and tried to figure out what to hold onto. She had never ridden a motorcycle before and not having a helmet made her nervous.

“I don’t know about this,” she said.

“You’ll be fine,” he chuckled, “Don’t stress so much, Bookworm.”

“Aren’t you supposed to wear a helmet?” Clarissa asked, too nervous to worry about what he had called her yet again.

“Whatever,” he said and sped off into the night.

Clarissa’s long fingernails dug into the sides of the leather seat as the bike sped down the road. She was pretty sure that he was going over the speed limit and they were going to die before she ever saw her apartment again. He hadn’t even asked where she lived.

“I live on South Avenue,” she shouted, but she wasn’t sure whether or not he heard her because he didn’t reply.

“I said I live on South Avenue!” she shouted again, leaning closer to him this time.

Clarissa caught a whiff of his cologne and her heart skipped a beat. She had never smelt something so tantalizingly delicious. Clarissa inhaled his scent again and closed her eyes. Why did this jerk have such an effect on her?

“I heard you the first time!” he shouted back.

“Sorry,” Clarissa mumbled and pulled away from him again, “you’re still a jerk.”

Clarissa didn’t complain when he drove around the town square a couple of times before heading to her house. She figured the more she complained and protested the more of her time he’d take up. He seemed like the sort that goes out of their way to do something just because you asked them not to.

“Which part of South Avenue?” he asked, when he brought the bike to a stop at a red light.

Clarissa told him her address, but didn’t say anything else. A few minutes later he pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex and Clarissa scrambled off the bike, trying to bite back a smile.

“I’m Clarissa,” she said.

“I know,” the guy said, “You’re still wearing your name tag, Bookworm.”

“Oh yeah,” she frowned, “Well, thanks for the ride home.”

Clarissa turned and began to hobble towards the stairs to get to her apartment, but he called out.

“Skull,” he said.

“What?” Clarissa asked, not sure what he was talking about. She slowly turned back around and walked back to his bike so she could hear him over the roar of the bike’s engine.

“My name is Skull,” he said again.

“I’m sure that’s what your parents decided to call you,” Clarissa rolled her eyes.

“No, but it’s who I decided to be,” Skull laughed.

Clarissa was about to turn to go inside when Skull leaned down from his bike and pulled her to him, wrapping a strong arm around her waist. His lips hovered inches from hers for a few seconds, before claiming her mouth. Clarissa knew she shouldn’t allow this jerk to kiss her, but his warm lips felt so good against hers and he tasted of something exotic.

His tongue slid into her mouth and Clarissa let out a small gasp of surprise, but she didn’t pull away. Soon her tongue was dancing with his and her hands were resting on his shoulders. Then as suddenly as the kiss started, it broke. Skull pulled away, grinning, and sped off into the night.