Cruel Boy Read online

  She licks her lips but remains quiet for a while.

  I don’t know what drives me, but I grab her hand. We stay like this for a few minutes, holding hands and gazing at the ocean like two teens too drunk to talk. Or maybe that’s my fucked-up brain trying to persuade me to see her as the same as me.

  Because she’s anything but the same.

  Something about her is different from before.

  Something … that’s marked her forever.

  “Do you have that cocaine?” she suddenly asks, and I raise my brows at her. “I saw Kevin give it to you.”

  I take the bag from my pocket and dangle it in front of her. She immediately snatches it from my hands. “Whoa. You’re eager.”

  She doesn’t say another word. Instead, she pours the whole bag out onto her hand and snorts it all up in one go. I stare in amazement, wondering if that’s not too much for a single person to take, especially after drinking as much alcohol as we have.

  And it is … but it doesn’t register with me until it’s too late.

  Her eyes roll to the back of her head.

  Her body slowly slumps down onto the beach.

  She mutters some words. “Robby … Robby … Fucking Robby …”

  And I don’t know what she wants—if she wants me to get him or if she wants me to go mess him up.

  Her mouth drops open, and vomit comes out. I lean back and watch her convulse. I don’t know what to do. I can’t think straight. Can’t fucking breathe.

  She’s dying.

  I give her CPR, but I don’t know what I’m doing, and nothing works.

  By the time I’m done pushing onto her chest, she’s long gone.

  I’m alone in the night with a girl who died … in my hands … by my doing.

  I shouldn’t have given her the cocaine. Shouldn’t have shown her the baggie. Shouldn’t have said yes.

  Fuck. What have I done?

  If anyone finds her here with me, I’m dead. My father will kill me. If my mom only knew what I was doing right now, she’d disown me.

  Fuck!

  I almost yell out loud but then slap my own mouth with my hand to prevent the noise from spilling out.

  I can’t let anyone find out.

  Even if it’s not my fault—she did this—they’ll still assume it was me.

  I’ll be the killer. The one who pulled the trigger.

  I gave her everything she needed. And if I go down for this, my life is over.

  No more school, no more football, no scholarship.

  Jail.

  I can’t let it happen.

  My body gets up before I realize it. An unexplainable energy rushes through my veins as I prop her body up against my legs. Foam comes from her mouth as I pull her up into my arms. Her lifeless body swings as I carry her toward the ocean. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know where I’m headed.

  All I know is that I have to stop this.

  Bury the evidence.

  Bury the girl.

  So I walk into the ocean with her in my arms until the water rises against my feet and the waves take me in.

  Until I see a pair of eyes … staring straight back at me from the abyss.

  A flash of light follows. It blinds me to the point of letting go, and I drop the body in the ocean.

  I peer ahead, but the girl is gone; disappeared into the waves, just like my pride.

  Was she really there, or was it a figment of my imagination?

  The cold water slaps me against the chest, forcing the air from my lungs, and I force myself to continue. Back toward the surface … back to my life.

  My fingers are entangled with Nina’s red hair. I glance back. Nina drifts peacefully in the water while my heart screams out in pain. But I won’t let go of this hurt; I’ll carry it with me for as long as I live.

  Shame on the sinner.

  The sinner who buried a body in the ocean knowing it would mean the end.

  The end of everything he knew.

  Chapter 29

  Sam

  Nate tells me how it happened like a string of pictures, an event playing over and over in my head. Everything he says feels so unreal; I question its reality, but it must be true. It’s the only explanation for everything I saw that night at the party. But it still shocks me to my core and makes me shake in my seat.

  That girl … Nina … she took a lethal dose of cocaine, and that’s probably what killed her before she even ended up in the ocean. Which means …

  “You’re innocent,” I mutter.

  “Not exactly.” Nate sighs. “In my drunken stupidity, I still threw her in the ocean to try to bury the evidence.” He rubs his forehead. “I can’t believe I was so goddamn stupid.”

  “Stop.” I grab his hand. “Don’t punish yourself over this.”

  “Why not? I should. I’m the one she got the coke from. I’m the one who killed her.”

  “She made the choice.” I look deep into his eyes. “She pulled her own trigger by snorting that shit. You didn’t choose for her.”

  “I should’ve called the cops. Should’ve called an ambulance …” he says.

  I lick my lips. “Well … yeah, you’re right about that part. But you were drunk and high.”

  “That’s no excuse,” he says.

  “But you don’t know that the police won’t see it that way,” I say. “If you tell them the full story, maybe they’ll understand.”

  “No, they won’t understand, Sam!” His voice is suddenly loud and overbearing, and it makes me jolt back in my seat. “I threw her fucking body in the ocean when she could’ve been saved! That alone will put me in jail.”

  He gets up and starts pacing.

  “But they have to understand you weren’t capable of making rational decisions,” I say.

  “They don’t because I’m just a drunken jock who made a dumb decision, and now he has to pay for it with his life.”

  “Don’t say that,” I mutter, as his demeanor gets increasingly worse.

  “The police are pinning this on me. My dad even had to get a lawyer for me,” he says. “Your dad.”

  My eyes widen. “What?”

  “Todd Cook.”

  “He’s your lawyer?”

  He nods, and my stomach turns into knots.

  “Fuck,” I mutter.

  I can’t believe he’s back in town … and that he didn’t even bother to say hi to Mom or me. Goes to show he only cares about his work. Fucker.

  “The point is, I don’t know the guy, and I don’t trust him,” Nate says. “I haven’t told him anything yet.”

  “You shouldn’t. He can’t be trusted,” I say. Everything he touches turns to shit.

  “But you don’t know what it’s been like keeping this secret for so long,” he says.

  “Why didn’t you tell someone else sooner?” I ask. “Don’t you trust your dad?”

  “No, I can’t. Who the fuck could talk about something like this?” he yells.

  “Shh … not so loud.” I put a finger over my lips. “My mom could hear us.”

  “Who cares? You already know what I’ve done. You could go to the cops anytime you wanted.”

  Does he have that little faith in me? I cross my arms. “Don’t you think I would’ve gone by now if I wanted to?”

  “Well, then why didn’t you?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “You had the pictures.”

  “Because I guess I never believed you were guilty,” I say after a while, and I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  He pauses for a moment and glances at me, the look in his eyes briefly hopeful. But then that same hope dissipates as though it never even existed. “No. I am guilty.”

  “Stop telling yourself that,” I say.

  “It’s the goddamn truth, and you know it.” He turns toward me. “What I did was unforgivable.”

  “But—”

  “No. Stop making excuses for me.”

  “Those pictures can exonerate you,” I say, trying
to talk sense into him.

  “They can’t. Don’t you see? All they do is confirm my crime,” he shouts. “It was all for nothing. Every-goddamn-thing.”

  “What?” I gasp.

  “It was all useless …” With slumped shoulders, he stands near the door, his fingers touching the wood. The words he spoke sink in slowly.

  Our time together.

  Us.

  Useless?

  No. Fuck him.

  “Get out,” I say.

  He glances at me over his shoulder, his face marred with pain and shame. But I don’t feel empathy anymore. He wasted it all.

  “I’m sorry. Coming here was a mistake,” he says, and he opens the door and leaves, slamming it shut behind him.

  Tears well up in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

  Instead, I blink them away, grab a pillow, and throw it at the door.

  “Fuck you, Nate Wilson!”

  I clench my legs together and force myself to stop crying over a stupid boy.

  Right then, my mom comes in with a plate of sandwiches, and she immediately places it down on my dresser, sits down beside me, and holds me tight.

  * * *

  Nate

  For the entire day, I practice football by myself on an empty field. The more I run, the better I feel. With every breath my lungs take, I feel more and more alive even though I know I’m approaching the point of no return.

  My dad reluctantly gave me back my car keys so I could go to school. But then after a few hours, he called to tell me the police department still has me as the main suspect. Apparently, the lawyer told him to tell me to lay low and provide him with more details. But nothing I share is relevant. They won’t believe me, even if I tried to tell them the truth. Not even I would believe it if I were them.

  What happened was a fluke … a giant mistake I wish I could erase, but I can’t.

  All I can do is move forward and hope for the best.

  That, and distract myself from the impending criminal process if they actually do indict me. My mind is going haywire right now, and the only way to destress is by having a good time.

  Robby invited me to come to his home for a party. I can’t stop staring at the text he sent me, with the picture of him and Layla almost kissing, but I know Layla, and it’s all just a farce to get me to come.

  Still, I could use the distraction, so I put on my good outfit, jump into my car, and head there. The beachfront used to make me so goddamn happy, but now when the waves crash against the sand, my body becomes rigid and icy cold.

  I quickly park the car and make my way inside so I don’t have to hear the sound anymore. I’m immediately bombarded by music and people hanging around my neck, pushing beer into my hand.

  “Nate! Finally, you’re here,” Robby says, and he pulls me in for a quick bro hug. “Drink. Drink,” he urges, pushing a glass up to my lips.

  I take a sip, and the boys cheer, and they finally get off my back.

  “What a welcome,” I mutter.

  “Nice, right? We miss you, bro. It’s not the same without you,” Robby says, winking. “Too many girls for me alone, you know.”

  I frown, and the smile that was on my face dissipates. “Yeah, I get it.”

  “Talking about girls …” He spins around, aiming for a girl with coppery brown hair standing near the pool. “I gotta go do my thing. I’ll see you later, okay? Have fun!”

  I swallow away the lump in my throat as I watch him disappear in the crowd. I contemplate following him to see what he’ll do.

  However, before I can act, someone swings their arms around my neck again. “I missed you.”

  It’s Layla.

  And her lips are on my mouth before I realize it.

  She kisses me hard and fast, but I shove her away.

  “What the fuck, Layla?” I shout.

  “What? Can’t a girl say hi?” she muses, shrugging.

  “No, I’m done with you. Stop kissing me,” I say, swiping my lips. “Just stop hanging around me altogether. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

  “Geez, I was only having fun,” Layla huffs. “You don’t have to be so mean about it.”

  “Just get out of my way,” I say, pushing past her so I can breathe.

  She rolls her eyes but luckily doesn’t follow me as I go into the kitchen and stare out the window at the ocean beyond, wondering what in the hell I’m even doing here.

  * * *

  Sam

  I stack the boxes on top of each other and wipe the sweat off my brows. Working in the stockroom is one of the worst parts of this part-time job. They’re heavy as fuck, and for a small girl like me to lug the boxes off the top of the stands is a little hard, but I manage.

  At least I don’t have to face customers today. They wouldn’t wanna buy a sandwich looking at this face of mine anyway. I think I’d even scare myself if I looked in the mirror. That’s how much of a sourpuss I am right now. All because of that goddamn Nate Wilson and his stories. I shouldn’t have ever gone with him. I shouldn’t have let him into my home or into my heart.

  He’s stomped on it as if it meant nothing.

  All this time, he was only after those pictures, and I was dumb to believe it was anything more than that. Stupid little girl.

  I shake my head and force myself to stop thinking about it and focus on my work.

  But my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I can’t help but check it.

  It’s Kevin from school, a friend of Robby’s … but he’s never contacted me before. What could he possibly want with me, and how did he get my number? I open the message. It’s a video … of Layla kissing Nate on the lips. Just a few seconds, but it’s enough to fill me with rage.

  Fuck him and fuck that girl who ever fell for him.

  Why did Kevin send me this? Is this all a joke to them? Fucking jocks, always playing with girls’ hearts.

  I chuck my phone in the corner and groan out loud.

  My boss walks in. “Sam? I heard something fall. You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you done sorting? It’s almost closing time.”

  I nod. “I’ll finish up quickly.”

  “Good. If you need more time, I can give you the keys,” he says. “Just like last time.”

  I smile. I’m glad at least someone trusts me. “Thanks.”

  He places them on the shelf, and says, “I’m gonna go home, ’kay?”

  “See you next week,” I reply, and he closes the door behind me.

  I sigh out loud, looking at the boxes I still have left. Just a few more and then it’s done.

  However, my phone buzzes again, and my eyes can’t help but hone in on it even though it’s lying in a far corner of the room. I should ignore it. It’s probably another photo or video of Nate and Layla making out, and I really don’t need to see that shit right now.

  Time to pull my big girl panties up and do what I came here to do. Work.

  * * *

  Nate

  I walk around the house, bouncing to the music, sipping my drink. It’s nice to drown myself in the noise. It blocks the voices in my head from screaming at me. And best of all, my dad won’t be able to bother me with calls. I’ve put my phone on mute so I can enjoy the time I have left. Sniff the freedom while it’s still mine.

  Will it be as noisy in jail or as quiet as death?

  When is the last day I’ll be able to bang a girl?

  And how long will it take for the other inmates to murder me?

  Fuck. I know the day is coming, but I’m not prepared.

  I don’t want to be locked away … And especially not after ruining things with the only person who ever believed I was innocent.

  Shit. I shouldn’t have ruined things with her. Shouldn’t have said those things to her face. It was hurtful, and I know it. I didn’t mean it when I said it, but I was overcome with emotions, and I lashed out at her, and that was wrong. I wish I could take it back. Wish she
was here right now so I could kiss the pain away and beg for forgiveness.

  Fuck.

  “Hey, want a smoke?” Kevin’s suddenly up in my face, breaking into my chain of thought.

  “No, thanks.” I clear my throat. “I’m done with that shit.”

  “What? You sure?” he asks as I pass him. “You’re missing out, man.”

  “Nah, I’m good,” I say, waving it off, and I place my drink on a table somewhere.

  I don’t wanna get smashed or high anymore.

  There’s only one thing I want, and it’s not here, goddammit.

  I shouldn’t be such a goddamn pussy. I should face her and own up to my mistakes. It’s the least I could do, so I march toward the door.

  However, a girl with mascara running down her face makes me stop in my tracks. Memories of that night flood back into my mind like a tsunami of torment. But it’s not Nina standing near the staircase this time.

  It’s Monica, Sam’s best friend.

  Chapter 30

  Nate

  Monica stumbles away from the stairs, and my eyes settle on hers. They scream with the same pain I once saw in Nina.

  Monica grabs her phone, furiously texting something. She walks past a few people and into a hallway, disappearing from my sight.

  This can’t happen again.

  I push past all the people standing in my way, wading through the crowd until I’ve caught up with her. She’s on her way outside, one foot out the door, when I grab her arm, and say, “Hey.”

  She jerks free and pulls her hand close to her chest, glaring at me as though I’m a viper trying to bite her.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  With big eyes, she stares at me without saying a word.

  I try to touch her, but she leans away again. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Okay, I won’t.” I hold up my hands. “See? No touching.”

  She still glares at me, but the look in her eyes softens a little.

  “I just wanna know if you’re okay.”

  “Fine,” she says.

  “You don’t look it,” I reply, lowering my head so I can talk without trying to scream over the music. “If you need help, just say it.”