The Bully Switch Read online

  Words and money were cut-throat enough without the need for barbaric violence.

  Liam’s locker still had the wad of gum I had stuck at the bottom of the door to mark it earlier today when I followed him to find it. This trick only worked if I got the right locker. I pulled out the piles of monopoly money I had brought along in my big cargo bag and started shoving it one-by-one into the top of his locker. It took a bit, but the effort would be worth it when he opened his locker and they all floated out around him.

  Surrounded by old money flying out, a kind of rich dude’s skeletons in the closet.

  In case it wasn’t enough for the simpler minds in our school, I had bought some cheap monocles and stuck them with tape to the locker door. Then I fastened the piece de resistance, a picture of a monopoly board with the properties taped over with labels I had printed with the various surnames of the richest kids in this school. Liam’s family were bankers and they had their hands in a lot of pockets, lenders to the rich.

  It was rubbing everyone’s face in the mud and leaving Liam with only monopoly money to mop at the muck.

  Things were so much harder when I got to the barn. It was dark already and apparently, they didn’t bother with lights in the barn at night. I could barely see, even with the bit of light that made its way in through the barred windows in the walls.

  The bars did let in some much-needed fresh air and a gentle breeze as I got to work making a Rainbow Bright pony out of the horse with Jordan’s name on the plaque. Just to find that bronze plate, I had to use my phone’s light—noting that Jen hadn’t texted me back yet, so she probably wasn’t going to tonight, for whatever reason—and cupped my hand over the light it produced until I got close to each stall I wanted to check.

  I didn’t need somebody wondering why a light was bouncing around in the barn. Dead giveaway.

  All the horses the students used for school events were housed on campus. Mostly, this was because the students were predominantly boarded but the students that went home like me would be disadvantaged potentially if they didn’t have access to their horses at school. An athlete needed facilities, equipment, and in case of the horses, their teammates, all within easy reach.

  I cooed to the horse I could only identify by his plaque in the dark and inhaled that barn smell. I think only those of us that like horses learn to associate it with our favourite companions and enjoy the pleasant stink.

  Jordan’s horse was dark, likely a Bay, although I couldn’t rule out entirely black. He was a gelding, I guessed. Definitely not a mare. A bit high stepped and spirited as I entered the stall, but I knew oats were the secret to a horsey heart.

  Oh, and that feel of a velvety muzzle as it nuzzles your palms and snorts for more oats? Love it and missed being this close to a horse for so long. I gave Jordan’s horse a pat on the neck and settled to work.

  It took hours. I ended up grooming with the curry brush and then polishing him with the smooth coat brush, unable to leave it just at my colourful vandalism. The mane and tail were braided with interwoven rainbow hair pieces I had stolen from some cheap clip hair extensions I brought and repurposed. It now looked like I had dyed the hair, something that Jordan wouldn’t be able to undo in time for his early morning competition.

  I couldn’t commit myself to try to dye a horse's hair, worried about harming the horse somehow. This was still meant to be a prank. Nobody actually hurt. Jordan would lose points for his horse’s unregulated grooming. English style competitions were really particular about appearance, even deducting points for natural ‘flaws’ like an Appaloosa spot on a bay, such as Jen’s Sin.

  Gathering up my supplies and checking one last time for Jen’s response—nothing, maybe mom had grounded her off her phone already—I headed home, deciding at the last minute, I would go check on my dad’s barn to see my own horse before I headed inside the house. I felt bad setting up a horse and rider for failure when I had seen Juni being lovingly ridden by whoever my dad hired to make up for my absenteeism.

  No, it was worse. I had only seen Juni a few times since I came home and I hadn’t done any jumping. Jen had me so busy during break preparing to take her spot on the diving team when I was clearly out of practice, I had ignored my favourite horse.

  “Juni,” I whispered. There was a lot of nickering back. Dad must have filled the stables on his last business trip. I would have to explore tomorrow, maybe ask around to find out who was riding Juni for me, so I could thank him personally.

  A hand clapped over my mouth, muffling my scream before I could take a step closer to my horse. Another rough arm went around my body and yanked me against a hard chest.

  “Horse thief? Or just a liar?” whispered a dark, sultry voice into my ear.

  That was what a cowboy sounded like after sitting around the fire and drinking some whiskey to wet his throat after a long day’s ride. It was the kind of voice I imagined my fantasy boyfriend would have before he tumbled me into bed and showed me exactly the kind of rough-hewn loving I couldn’t get from the preppy academy boys. The kind of guy I admired on the track but knew better than to approach under my dad’s watchful eye.

  And he had me in his clutches.

  I was on my dad’s property, in his million-dollar barn full of thoroughbreds worth more than my entire four years of pre-med tuition at the top medical school in the country. The prep school might not believe they needed security, but my dad was a tightass about his horse babies, and I had no doubt, he was just as protective about me and my sister. There were cameras at the doors and we had a guarded driveway as well as dogs, although they were mainly meant to stir up a ruckus, not attack intruders.

  That also meant this guy, whoever he was, had to be an employee. One that didn't know me.

  I was scared but not really afraid. This just needed a simple explanation of who I was and then this guy would apologize, and I would let him keep me company while I visited with Juni.

  I shook my head gently in the stranger’s grip, not trying to get free but to tell him he was wrong about his accusations.

  “Genevieve Taylor, my mother said you were sleeping in your room with a headache,” the cowboy said.

  Oh, shit.

  “I’m gonna take my hand off your mouth, but you keep real quiet if you don’t want to get caught by your dad,” Merry’s son said.

  He immediately let go and I started talking. “Are you a rat or a momma’s boy?” I retorted to him, trying to get an elbow between us so I could be free to turn around and face him.

  He tightened his grip on my body. “Genevieve, I’m gonna be your boyfriend,” he said. “Decided it just a couple hours ago.”

  I scoffed, although I was confused, and there was this tiny voice in my head that was in total agreement with that plan if the rough-hewn voice matched the hard body I felt behind me. I would be willing to date Merry’s scoundrel of a son for the thrill of matching my will to his for a few rounds, at least.

  “You’ve been naughty, coming home past your curfew and I know you’re a brat in need of taming, slipping your daddy’s fence like a sly fox,” he said, brushing the fingers of his free hand along my shoulder and letting me feel the calloused tips down my bared upper arm.

  I shivered, fighting a surge of lust as my tough boyfriend started telling me that I wasn’t going to get away with my misadventure.

  “You are not my boyfriend,” I pointed out, voice rising a bit in volume as nibbled my earlobe.

  “You’re not keeping quiet, Genevieve. What did I tell you before I took my hand off your mouth?” he said, voice strict with the discipline he seemed to think I lacked.

  Why was this turning me on so much?

  “Let me go, please,” I begged, a bit desperate to lock myself away in my room. Fantasizing was very different than facing Merry’s son across the breakfast table in the morning if we took this further, where I think he was hinting about going.

  “Why did you lie about the headache? Don’t lie to me, Genevieve. You get one chan
ce, and if you lie, I’m gonna bend you over a hay bale and swat your ass for every lie.”

  “Spanking? Wouldn’t you rather kiss me?” I dared before I could stop my mouth.

  He laughed. “You don’t know who I am, do you, Genevieve?”

  I shook my head slowly. Maybe he was too old for me? I was almost college-aged though, so I can’t imagine he was much older if he was still living with his mom.

  “Are you too old?” I asked with a sigh. Fantasies might have to stay just that, although I told myself it would be safer.

  “We’re the same age, you and I,” he said. “We go to the same school.”

  I was kind of embarrassed that I hadn’t realized that or recognized him. Of course, he wasn’t giving me a look yet. “I’ve only been there one day,” I excused. I thought about the only other guy I had seen around the property that could have been my age. “Are you Juni’s rider?” I asked.

  “Juniper Snow? Yeah, that’s me,” he said. “I thought I saw you peeking out of Jen’s—er, your—window.”

  I wasn’t the only one having trouble adjusting to all the changes. “Thanks,” I said. “Look, I’m sorry I lied to your mom, but I had some stuff to do at the school. My sister was bullied there, did you know?”

  “Yeah,” that rough baritone said, and he sounded a bit regretful. Maybe that was what Merry had meant about him being a scoundrel. He hadn’t helped my sister, nobody had helped her.

  “Well, I took her place so I could get those bullies back for what they did to her,” I admitted.

  “You went out late at night without telling anyone where you were going in order to put some school bullies in their places?” he said, not sounding that sympathetic anymore. “What if you were injured, Genevieve? Is your sister’s revenge worth risking yourself?”

  “Nothing happened. I wasn’t caught,” I bragged.

  “Oh, yes, you were,” he breathed back into my ear.

  “By you,” I said, trying to ballsy this out. “You’re safe. Your mom made me porridge and told me you were a nice boy,” I said, hoping he didn’t know the last bit was a lie. “Juni likes you,” I added.

  “Do you like me, Genevieve? You wanted me to kiss you instead of giving you the smack on the bottom you deserve. If you want to get away with a kiss for me to keep quiet about you breaking curfew on the first school night, I better get the best kiss those lips have to give, sugar.”

  I leaned back into him and thought about it. He was asking permission, kind of, and he waited for my response, not pressing back on me, although he didn’t let me turn around to see him, either.

  “I would like to kiss you,” I admitted.

  “And you promise you won’t go out at night again alone?” he added, slipping in more conditions.

  I scoffed. “You can’t tell me what to do, even if you were my real boyfriend.”

  “Oh, Genevieve, I’d make up rules just so you could break them and I could catch you if you were my real girlfriend. I think you would like it, sugar,” he whispered. “You ever play any games with your boyfriends?”

  Not ever. Most boys our age were worried about getting through the bases, not taking their time or being creative. Honestly, I had been worked up just trying to figure out what lipstick to wear before I went on my first date a couple of years ago. I worried it would taste weird if we frenched. Games were for college boys.

  And scoundrels, apparently.

  “What game do you want to play?” I asked instead of admitting my naivety.

  “Gonna blindfold you before I kiss you, keep the mystery of my identity a little longer. Make you figure out who I am with your lips and mouth first, the touch of our hands, then see if you can find me at school tomorrow.”

  That seemed pretty tame and I liked the idea of a puzzle to figure out later. “Okay,” I agreed.

  “Hands up, eyes closed.”

  I obeyed. His calloused fingers dropped to the hem of my shirt, playing with the soft skin of my waist hidden underneath.

  “Can I use your shirt for the blindfold? It is dark in here but I won’t lie, Genevieve. I’m not gonna be the one blindfolded and I’m definitely gonna look.”

  I loved the sound of my full name on his tongue. It was getting wilder with my shirt off, but I had a certain level of trust here, in my father’s barn. This was Merry’s son and I had told him the truth earlier about feeling safer with him because of his connection to her.

  I nodded. My shirt went up and was folded and tied around my eyes blocking out what little light there had been.

  “I think I’ll keep you on top if you’re like this,” he said, walking around me now that I was blindfolded. He grabbed my hand and slowly tugged me across the barn, mindful that I couldn’t see.

  He let go of me and I heard him lying down with a soft crunching of hay. “Crawl on top of me,” he ordered.

  I fumbled, sliding my feet forward and bending over to feel for a landmark, getting his jeans and then a handful of hard thigh. He groaned and told me not to knee him unless I wanted to be on the bottom. I slid my hand up higher, passing over a bulge I didn’t think about until I hit his belt. Swallowing dryly, I grabbed for his shirt and yanked it free of his jeans.

  “Be fair,” I said.

  I heard buttons popping and suddenly there was a whole lot of smooth abdomen and chest for me to explore. He was chiselled and silky strength, curling up against me as he did a crunch and snagged his hand in the hair behind my head, finding my short ponytail and holding on to guide me down.

  His mouth met me halfway. I had my hands on his chest and my knees straddling one of his thighs, barely holding myself up as his mouth touched mine. He had a shadow of growth on his upper lip that pricked at my lips. I licked where his lip met the prickle and felt like it awakened all my nerve endings, making me moan when he suddenly crushed my mouth against his and sucked my wandering tongue.

  I had never kissed a boy where I stuck my tongue into his mouth first. It was a bold move and it made me feel sexier, encouraged me to explore and tangle with him. I pushed down with more of my weight onto his chest, angled my head to get deeper. If I could swallow this moment, I could live on the taste of it.

  He made me feel alive, passionate.

  We kissed a good, long while. He had that part of cowboy down pact, drawing out life’s pleasures, no rush and a sure hand that was currently exploring my curves. He hadn’t felt up my breasts yet, which I appreciated. I liked his leisurely approach, letting me take enough control to feel comfortable when he kissed me back harder.

  It was almost a shock when I shifted to get closer and felt the undeniable length and hardness of his jeans bound erection. This wasn’t some boy I was kissing. It was the scoundrel that rode my Juni like he was born in the saddle. His devil-may-care attitude got him labelled a scoundrel by his own mother for what he had done to Jen.

  The last was why I couldn’t keep kissing him, take this further.

  I had to talk to Jen first.

  Pulling back, I stood up. He let me, hands on my hips until I had my feet sturdy on the ground again. “You have thirty seconds to disappear before I’m putting my shirt back where it belongs,” I warned him.

  “Are you sure you got enough of a taste to remember me?” he asked, straightening up in front of me. He was taller, by far. I think I was mid-chest as I stood my ground.

  “Don’t think I’m likely to forget,” I said.

  He chuckled and was gone by the time I untied my makeshift blindfold. All I was left with was the comforting nickers of the horses and the slight whisker burn of a cowboy on my lips.

  7

  Jen’s text was the first thing I read when I woke up early in the morning. She must have her phone back or snuck downstairs in the middle of the night to steal it from mom’s drawer. Thank god, because what she wrote back saved me from making a foolish mistake.

  Scratch that, compounding my mistake.

  I had texted her last night after kissing Merry’s son. More of that tru
th part, almost kind of wondering what my sister thought of the idea of me dating him, possibly. Actually, I really wanted it. My interest had been piqued.

  Jordan Walsh is a player. He already traded his friendship with me to satisfy his bitch of a girlfriend, Rebecca. Don’t play kissing games with him.

  Did you really kiss Chris?

  Be honest. Was it hot? He’s like a prince at the school.

  If you kiss Liam, it’ll be a hat trick.

  That’s not encouragement.

  Unless you share the deets.

  I like it with mom. And James is helpful.

  I kissed James.

  He kissed me, really.

  You guys were just friends, right?

  I miss you.

  Don’t trust coach.

  I quickly texted her back to reassure her that she could kiss James all she wanted. He and I truly were friends and I was glad he liked my sister. She could use some loving after her bullying here. Build up her trust in a good guy like James.

  The rest though, I took a shower to let percolate, almost slipping on the soap I dropped as I figured out why Jen thought I kissed Jordon Walsh, her last bully that I had seen at the swimming pool with his ex-girlfriend, Rebecca Lane, yesterday.

  Merry’s son. My cowboy. Jordan Walsh.

  The same boy I was supposed to meet downstairs in front of his mom while I helped her make supper was the scoundrel that caught me in the barn and kissed me thoroughly last night knowing I had been at the school trying to make the bullies that included him pay for what they did to Jen.

  The blindfold took a darker turn. Game?

  I wanted to dress and run out of the house before I was forced to face his smirky face over coffee and orange juice, but I hadn’t taken on my sister’s bullies thinking it would be easy.

  Fuck that.

  I dressed with care, deciding to put on thigh-highs under my uniform skirt, complete with a garter-belt and lacy panties. I’d give Jordon a glimpse of leg when his mom wasn’t watching and then make it clear that was all he was going to get.