Welcome to Oceanside High: Revenge of the Bully (An Oceanside High Romance Book 1)
Welcome to Oceanside High
Revenge of the Bully #1
J.T. Jonas
Copyright 2019 Immortal Stallion Press. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send a message to publisher@immortalstallion.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes only. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Edited by Immortal Stallion Press LLC
Cover Design & Formatting by Immortalstallion.com
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Thanks for reading!
Introduction
Welcome to Oceanside High
I didn’t know bullies like Travis McDurn could have a soul.
Who knew some bullies could have a soul? Especially when they’re a part of the Devil’s Trio: a crew of guys who always know how to cause trouble whenever they want.
But when Travis McDurn wants me…it’ll be Hell to pay.
But there’s more than one bully I have to worry about at Oceanside High, and it’s not just the Trio. When Travis sets his gorgeous green eyes on me it turns out he’s got more in mind than bullying me into submission, this time it’s about turning the tables against my enemies, and figuring out that McDurn isn’t the guy I always thought him to be.
Check out the world of Oceanside High and meet your favorite new bad boy, Travis McDurn, because some bad boys have a good side.
WARNING: The Oceanside High series is a Young Adult/New Adult romance filled with love and hate relationships, laughable moments, best friends, tears, and that trouble-some lover looking for that special love.
This series is recommended for mature readers due to cursing and sexual content. If this offends you, then this bad boy romance isn’t for your eyes!
Chapter One
All day, hell, all freaking weekend I’ve been a jumble of nerves. I feel it in my feet and I can hardly keep them still as I wait for the dryer to get done tumbling dry my clothes. Dad hates it when I leave them in there, and I hate it when they get wrinkled because I left them in there. As soon as the buzzer goes off I yank them out, and carry the huge pile, double-checking behind me as I run upstairs to be sure I don’t drop anything.
Who am I kidding? I always drop something because I like to carry everything at once and I’m not lugging the tall laundry hamper from upstairs, down here. I throw my clothes on my bed and I run back down the hallway, scooping up panties and socks before I head back and do the worst part of doing laundry: folding clothes and putting them away.
I look at the time. Still not time yet for what I’ve been waiting for all summer. But it will be, and it’ll be here before I know it. I just have to keep telling myself that! Once my clothes are folded and put away, I sit back on my bed and grab my Kindle off the nightstand. I swear to myself I won’t look at the time.
Nope, not at all.
I scroll down on my Kindle and I’m only a couple paragraphs into a book on Greek Mythos when my phone starts to beep with a text message. I pick it up and see it’s my best friend Annabelle.
Annabelle - It’s so DUCKING hot out!
Brittney - Ducking? Are you duck hunting again? I haven’t stepped outside my house. I’m still enjoying the A/C! South Florida heat is a killer.
Annabelle - Uggh, damn autocorrect! You’re freakin lucky! I’m trying to get my car started.
Brittney - Does that mean we’re gonna be late to Billy Bowen’s end of summer bash?
Annabelle - yeah…please don’t kill me.
Brittney - Take your time. I just farted reading.
Annabelle - Ew.
Brittney - Started* sorry.
I lay my Kindle down on my nightstand and with a heavy sigh I sit down on my bed. I tell myself it’ll be fine even if we get there late. I just hate walking in and everyone looking at me but at least I’ll have my best friend, Annabelle Watkins, to help ease the ridicule.
Somehow she never lets shit get to her. Sometimes I think if it weren’t for her I’d have curled up into a ball in the corner and never come out. She’s helped me deal with some bad situations, and my anger.
I have a little bit of an issue with getting real upset and using my fists instead of my words, you know, like most girls.
If it weren’t for her I’d never have gotten the idea to join the Girl’s Boxing League. It really helps get the anger out, which means no more suspensions due to fighting, and my dad is thankful for that.
Most girls know better to keep their distance and not mess with me. Maybe it’s why Annabelle’s always tagged along, but not all the girls leave me alone, and there’s a small clique of guys who aren’t intimidated, in the least, of me. I think they really love to see how far they can push me. If it happens one more time then I’m done, expelled, and then that’ll be it for me at Oceanside High. But I’ll get to deal with that one day, I’m damn sure of it.
Bowen’s end of summer pool party is usually a huge bash and it is always near the end of August and the best way to the end of summer before school finally starts. As for being late, I can’t get too mad because Annabelle’s the first one to get a car between the two of us, and even though it’s a yellow 1981 Dodge Omni, it gets us around from place to place. I got my license to drive when she did but I haven’t exactly got the job to pay for a car. Annabelle is the only one of us who has a decent enough mom to give her an allowance for doing house chores. But she’s saved all of it up since she was nine and only had enough to buy a car from her next door neighbor, and he owns the local junk yard.
My phone dings and I look at the screen to see another message from Annabelle.
Annabelle - Still not farting!
Brittney - Isn’t that a good thing?
Annabelle - Starting! Uggh! I’m really beginning to think autocorrect is some sort of national conspiracy to drive teens crazy!
I huff and lay back on my bed. It looks like there is no chance of making it to the summer bash. My phone lights up and vibrates and quickly I look at the screen to see another message.
Annabelle - Got it started! Mom had the neighbor, Old Jimbo, put some kind of juice in the carburetor and it turned right on! Heading over!
Brittney - Did you at least give him something in return?
Annabelle - Now you’re just being gross.
It doesn’t take more than five seconds before Annabelle is calling me. I answer and immediately I can hear the clunk clu
nk of her car in the background, it’s idling rough.
“You know I don’t like that guy. I really didn’t want him to come fix it. He gives me the creeps. I think he wants my mom so bad he’d give her one of his rust bucket trucks which he always says are vintage and worth fifty grand.”
“Every guy wants your mom. She’s hot stuff.”
“Maybe it’s the Hot Yoga. That’s what she claims keeps her in shape anyway.”
“Remind me to do that when I’m in my forties.”
“I wish the A/C worked in this damn thing. I’m sweating my ass off.”
“I’ve got my bathing suit on already. So as soon as we get there I’m getting in the pool.”
“Uggh, you and me both! What are you wearing over it?”
“Over my suit? I’m not sure.” I look over at the doors of my closet and I’m thankful I wasn’t lazy because I’ve actually got clothes to wear. But, it’s a shame I can’t seem to find anything that fits me well. I’ve lost so much weight since I joined the boxing league, which was a surprise to mom. She had it in her head that I’d dance ballet. But she’s not really in my life these days since I live with dad. Maybe I joined the league because I wanted to kick some ass, or maybe I did it because I wanted to annoy her. Still deciding.
“You better choose something to show off that body of yours because nobody has seen you since before summer. But I gotta go. I’m driving and I’m not about to crash this piece of shit or else it’s back to sitting around the house with my mom watching Lifetime movies.”
I sigh. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.” I hang up and think about how she’s right: I’ve always worn loose baggy jeans, frumpy long-sleeve shirts when I could, and never worried with make-up. Still somehow I managed to attract a dickhead boyfriend. I mean my ex boyfriend Donny Jones. He’s one of those guys that think just because his dad is a cop that he runs this town and can do what he wants. He does seem to get out of trouble even when he’s deep in it. But it didn’t matter to me that his dad’s a cop when I caught him texting some girl from Gulfside High about how he wanted to screw her brains out…again. Needless to say I ended it. Not with violence, of course not, but I wanted to real bad.
How is it that even after I’ve done laundry I can’t find something that will make me look better than I looked last school year? I search through drawer after drawer to find something good enough to wear, and something that’ll make Billy Bowen look at me and say, “DAMN! I want that one!” Especially since some girls’ at Oceanside High have the parents who got the money to get things done. Like Alecia Princepi and how she got Lipo suction on her belly and thighs and looks almost like a super model now. Or Carmen Shultz who had her jaw fixed because it was crooked and now she’s modeling in the J.C. Penny magazine. Not that that’s much to brag about but still she uses it as a pick-up line and boys fall all over her.
It doesn’t take me long to throw on an old shirt I haven’t worn since I was in seventh grade, and a pair of jeans which I cut off at the knees. A little tight, but whatever, I’ll be taking them off as soon as I get there.
As I shove and kick the rest of the clothes back into my closet my bedroom door swings open and in walks Annabelle with a huge and excited grin on her face.
“Hey bitch!” she says. I see her through the reflection in my closet door mirror, and she pauses to look at what I’m wearing. “Damn!”
“What?” I say swinging around to face her.
“You! What made you wear something so revealing?”
Immediately I cover my tummy with my hands, beginning to rethink the two-piece bikini I got on underneath. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve never worn something tight like that before.”
“Well…” I begin to think about Billy Bowen as I slip on a pair of white flip flops. “Ever since me and Donny broke up…you know…Billy Bowen is available.”
“I do know now. Anyway, let’s hurry. I left the car running and I don’t want it to overheat.” Annabelle stops suddenly and grabs her stomach. “Ow!”
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” she takes a deep breath and regains her composure. “I shouldn’t have used dairy in my coffee. It gives me the cramps.”
“Oh, I always use almond milk.” I run a brush through my long hair and smear on some lip gloss with UV protection. There’s nothing worse than blistered chapped lips to look like you’ve been sucking on a hot curling iron.
“I’ll be sure to call you next time for your advice on nutrition.”
I smirk at her sarcasm. “Let’s go.” I grab my purse and stop when I see Annabelle looking at me like she sees that something is missing. “What?”
“No boxing gloves?”
I give her a sarcastic chuckle and reply, “Too funny Annabelle, too funny. Let’s go before we’re so late they’re tossing empty beer cans into the pool. I’m not trying to swim through litter.”
We head downstairs and try to creep past my dad but he’s got ears like an owl. “Honey where are you going?”
My shoulders drop and I turn to face him in the kitchen. I set my purse down on the counter. It doesn’t help it’s his favorite place to be in the whole house. He’s got a commercial oven which is the number one reason he wanted this house when we moved here to the Florida coast a few years ago. He’s a chef and he opened a bistro on Ocean Avenue. He runs a catering business too. He’s so busy that he’s hardly got time to be a dad, and mom left him and took me with her because he wasn’t being a great husband, or so she said. I found out differently much later. But I ended up back with him thankfully. I love him and he’s always taken care of me. Even spoiling me to the point that I think it made mom jealous. But living here means I get to go to the best school. Mom, on the other hand, lives in upstate NY and I see her during the holidays when dad’s work is a lot more demanding.
“I’m going to Billy Bowen’s end of summer bash.” I reply. “Remember? He’s had one every year since junior high.”
“Wait. What?” He asks, licking some barbecue off his fingers like he’s never heard me say that for the last five years. “Weren’t you just at one?”
“That was Annabelle’s birthday party, and there wasn’t a pool involved.” I say, looking at her as she shakes her head.
Annabelle gives dad a glaring once-over. “Mr. Bahalia, you forgot about my birthday. So I’m still upset with you.”
He stops sucking on a barbecue covered fingertip and looks at her, his index finger slipping out of his mouth, leaving a trail of barbecue sauce at the corner of his lip. He’s such a neanderthal sometimes. “I’m sorry about that.” He wipes his hands off on a paper towel and pulls out a $100 dollar bill and slaps it on the table. “Will this cover—”
Annabelle sweeps it off the counter with hardly a “that’s not necessary.” And says “Thanks.” and tucks it in her pocket. “Tootles,” she waves and grabs my arm and pulls me with her toward the front door. I snatch my purse off the counter and soon we’re flying out the front door.
“Bye!”
“I want you home at—” His voice cuts off as the door slams shut. We race down to a rumbling yellow beater with a gray hood. Annabelle looks at me across the paint-chipped top of her car as she pretends to make a beep! beep! sound like her car is fancy enough to have electronic locks.
“You’re an idiot,” I laugh.
“Do you think if your dad forgets my birthday next year he’ll get me a new car?”
“Hah! Not before he gets me one.”
“True,” she says as we both get inside and slam the car doors. The whole vehicle rattles as the metal door clangs shut. I roll my window down with an actual handle instead of a button. We back out down my driveway slowly. “But don’t you think he’ll hate how the neighbors see how out of place my car looks in your fancy driveway?”
“I don’t think he notices or cares how other people view him.”
“Too bad, I’d marry your dad in a heartbeat.”
“Eww.”
“Wha
t? He’s hot for forty.”
“Forty five.”
“Same difference.”
“Let’s just get to the party before your car dies in this heat, or one of us gets heat stroke.”
By the time we rattle and roll down Anvil drive where Billy’s party is, and we park a ways up the street so nobody sees—or hears—us coming, it’s closer to noon. The late August heat is deadly in South Florida and when I’d first moved here in junior high, it was torture. These days I’m used to it. In fact, I love it. Summer all year long is better compared to winters at mom’s in New York for the holidays.
“Finally!” I squeal. “A party!”
“Hey my birthday bash wasn’t all that bad.”
“Oh, no it was fine.” But it was just her and me and close family. Mostly her family since it’s pretty much just me and dad here.
I hear the music thumping as we wander past cars parked along the street to Billy Bowen’s house. He lives in the swankier part of Oceanside. The kind of kid who has parent’s who could pay for plastic surgery, and actually sign the papers to allow it.
“Shit!” gasps Annabelle. She grabs my arm and stands one step behind me to stop me from walking any further. “I think I just started my period.”
My mouth drops open. “You’re kidding right?”
She grabs her stomach again. “I kinda was hoping it was the dairy in my coffee…but now I realize…not so much.”