All Chapters of Beauty and the Bastard : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Haylie and I stood among the rest of our small group as we waited to receive our seating arrangements for the bus. I shuffled on my feet, the feeling of two deep blue eyes burning into my back crawling through my skin and giving me shivers. "You okay?" Haylie asked, her brows furrowing as she studied my face. "Yeah," I lied. If I told Haylie about what had happened while had been putting our bags away, she would freak out. And I really didn't want to start the trip off with a bad start when we weren't even boarding the busses yet. She gave me a suspicious look but left it alone. "Okay." I forced a smile, but she was still unconvinced. I mean, of course she would know when I was lying about something. We had been best friends for the past five years. To Haylie Murrah, I was a completely open book with zero secrets. Nothing got passed her. But she left certain things alone. For a certain amount of time. Our group leader, Ms. Spencer cleared her throat to grab the attenti

*I ran through the woods, panting and gasping for air as beads of sweat formed along my forehead. I pushed my legs as hard as I could, running from something I couldn't name or see.**As I was running, my foot caught on a loose root, and I fell forward. I screamed and braced myself for the impact of my body on the ground, but it never came. I forced myself to open my eyes, confused, and saw the ground just inches below my face. When I looked up, I saw Jake holding me up by my shirt.**"Jake?" I asked, my brows plunging to the center of my forehead. My voice sounded like an echo, like I was in some sort of cave and not in the middle of the woods from the Exorcist.**His face held an expression of deep relief as he pulled me up and wrapped me in his arms. "Leia!" He whispered into my hair. "I've been looking for you everywhere. I've been so worried." His heavy breathing told me he'd been running as well. And his voice was laced with panic.**I matched his embrace, hugging him tightly. B

Zach looked up from his dufflebag, pausing his sifting for just long enough to throw me that mother-fucking grin. "My, my," he mused, standing upright and crossing his arms over his chest. "It must be kismet, how we keep bumping into each other like this." I only stood there, dumbfounded and incredulous. "You fucking planned this!"Zach raised a brow. "Oh, you think I planned this? Why the fuck would I plan for us to be in the same room?" I threw my hands up in frustration. "I don't know! How am I supposed to know how your twisted brain works?" He rolled his neck and let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning mock disappointment at not being able to rile me up a bit more. He finally managed to pry his gaze away for a few moments, glancing around at the room as he did. "So, do the councelors always put two people of the opposite gender sharing a room, or should I start feeling flattered?" He asked, turning his gaze towards me, a raised eyebrow, and that fucking grin ghosting his lips. "

I woke up the next morning with the worst headache I had ever felt pounding in my temples like a drilling machine. I groaned and sat up, holding my hand to my head. The last thing I remembered was going to the party last night, Zach talking to me and walking away, and... that was it. No snippets of anything from last night, no fragments, nothing. I looked around my surroundings to make sure I wasn't in some other guy's room. Thankfully, I was in my own room. The one that I shared with... Zach. My eyes widened, and I quickly checked myself under the covers. I was still in my skirt and blouse from last night. The only things removed from my body were my shoes. Zach hadn't touched me. Zach Turploy, who had fucked nearly half of the girls at our school and flirted with the rest, had the perfect opportunity to take me. And he hadn't. I sat up slowly, not wanting my head to literally explode from the pressure of my headache, and swung my legs over the side of my bed. I walked over to m

It was now December 18th. It had been one month and twenty days since I had broken up with Jacob. Seven weeks and one day since I'd found out he was cheating on me. Fifty days since Zach had beat him up until he was bloody and bruised. Fourteen weekends since my heart had been ripped out of my chest. For a month I had sat in my room, on my bed. It was where I had stayed most of the time. I'd skipped caroling, the baking tradition I shared with my mom, and even most of my family's Christmas shopping and gift-wrapping, my two favorite things about the holidays. I hadn't spoken to Zach since that night. I'd been too mad. Too hurt. No, not hurt. "Hurt" was too small of a word, almost cute sounding. "Aw, did that hurt?" No. It obliterated, demolished, destroyed me. Demoralized, maybe. But no, it didn't hurt me. It didn't "hurt" me at all. Zach had pretended nothing happened. He never talked about it. In fact, he hadn't talked to me at all. Not a single taunt or tease. No pulling my hai