Don't Try Me: A High School Bully Romance (Broke & Bullied Book 1) Read online

  Don’t Try Me

  Kai Juniper

  Contents

  Books By Kai Juniper

  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

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Note from Kai

  Also from Waltham Publishing

  Books By Kai Juniper

  TWISTED PINE ACADEMY SERIES

  Twisted Lies

  Twisted Sins

  Twisted Secrets

  Twisted Truths

  BROKE & BULLIED SERIES

  Don’t Try Me

  Don’t Tempt Me

  Don't Try Me

  By Kai Juniper

  Copyright © 2020 Kai Juniper

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Waltham Publishing, LLC

  Cover designed by Marisa Wesley of Cover Me Darling

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, things, and events are fictitious, and any similarities to real persons (live or dead), things, or events are coincidental and not intended by the author. Brand names of products mentioned in this book are used for reference only and the author acknowledges that any trademarks and product names are the property of their respective owners.

  The author holds exclusive rights to this work and unauthorized duplication is prohibited. No part of this book is to be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

  Chapter One

  Brook

  "Welcome," a woman says as I walk in the school office. She hurries up to me, a big smile on her face. "Here's your student ID." She hands it to me. "Keep it with you at all times."

  I look at the ID, specifically the photo. My hair's in my eyes, I'm not smiling, and I'm looking to the side. The photo was taken last week, when my mom and I came in to fill out the admission paperwork. The guy who took the photo didn't tell me when he was taking it, which explains the hair in my eyes and the angry look on my face. Actually, the look was because of my dad, who called me that morning in yet another attempt to get me to forgive him. I didn't answer his call and deleted his message.

  "Any way I can get a new photo?" I ask, holding up the ID.

  "I'm afraid not," the woman says, returning to her desk. "Can you find your way to class or do you need me to show you?"

  "I'll figure it out.” I hoist my backpack over my shoulder and stuff the ID in my pocket.

  Wearing jeans was a mistake. It's hot and humid today and the school isn't air conditioned. I'm already sweating through my shirt and my skinny jeans feel like they're melting into my legs.

  "Watch it!" a guy says, bumping my arm as I exit the office. He's tall and thin with a mohawk and a ring in his nose.

  Looking down the hall, I notice it's a lot less crowded than it was just a few minutes ago. I check my phone. Shit. Class is about to start.

  I run down the hall and turn right, down another hall. Some girls see me running and laugh. I ignore them, slowing my run to a fast walk, making it to the classroom just as the bell goes off.

  Opening the door, I see a full classroom but no teacher. Guess I'm not late after all. Every seat is taken except for a spot in the very back. As I'm heading there, I hear a guy mutter 'rich bitch' as I pass.

  He thinks I'm rich? If he only knew. Why would he think that? I'm not wearing anything that would even hint that I had money.

  Those days are over. If that guy had called me that a year ago, he would've been right—about me being rich, not a bitch. I had the fancy clothes. Designer purse. Attended a private prep school. And now? A year later? I'm at a public high school in a not-so-great area of Chicago. And to make matters worse, I have to ride the bus because my mom had to sell my car after my asshole father took off, taking his money with him.

  "Don't even think about it," a deep voice grunts as I head to the one and only seat left. It's in the very last row, which only has two desks, one occupied by the guy who grunted at me and the other that's empty and wedged up against the window.

  "I need a seat," I tell the guy. He has a baseball cap on, pulled down so far it almost covers his eyes. He's leaned back, his head down, arms crossed over his massive chest. The guy is huge, way bigger than any guy I've ever seen in high school. Maybe he's repeating a grade. Or maybe he works here. Maybe he's the janitor, or a security guy, although if that were true, I'm not sure why he'd be in class.

  "You need to move," I say, standing by his legs. He's got them extended in front of him so I can't pass. They're so huge they look like tree trunks.

  "He likes to sit alone," a girl says from the seat in front of me. She's facing forward, looking at her phone.

  The guy lifts his head just enough to glare at me from under his baseball cap. "You heard her. Now get the fuck out of here."

  I stare at him, momentarily in awe of his eyes. They're the bluest eyes I've ever seen. They don't even look real.

  "You deaf?" he barks, his desk scraping the floor as he adjusts his cap. Just that slight movement was enough to move his entire desk. He's so big he barely fits in it. The guy is pure muscle, from his thick neck to his wide shoulders to his tree trunk legs.

  "Where am I supposed to sit?" I ask, standing up tall to let him know he doesn't intimidate me. He does, but I'm not letting him know that.

  He points to the front of the room. My eyes follow where he's pointing and I see an open seat a few rows up.

  Sighing, I make my way to the open desk. Dropping my backpack, I take a seat but as soon as my butt hits the chair, it collapses on one side and I fall to the floor. The people around me laugh and a few start clapping.

  "Sucker," someone yells.

  "It's broken," the girl next to me says.

  "Yeah, I got that," I say, picking myself off the floor. What a great first impression. First class of the first day and I'm already being laughed at. I'm going to kill that asshole who told me to sit here. He did it on purpose. He knew it was broken.

  Grabbing my backpack, I hold my head high as I return to the back row, stopping when I reach the asshole. This time I don't bother to ask him to move. I raise my leg to step over him.

  "I said no," he snaps, lifting his leg to block me.

  "What the hell?" I say, trying to push past his legs. It's no use. Under those dark denim jeans is a wall of solid muscle. There's no way I could push past him. I'm putting all my weight into it and he's not even moving.

  He's laughing—not a loud laugh but an under-the-breath chuckle.

  "You think this is funny?" I drop my backpack on the floor. "Where am I supposed to sit?"

  He ignores me, his eyes on the front of the room. I stare at him in disbelief. He seriously thinks he owns the row? That no one else can sit here?

  "Fine," I say. "Then I'll guess I'll just sit here."

  I hop up on his desk, planting my ass right in front of him as I turn toward the class.

  "What the fuck?" I hear him say.

  People turn back to look, a few of them snickering.

  "Get off," the guy says under his breath.

  "I can't.
I have nowhere else to go."

  "Get off or I'll move you myself."

  "Go ahead and try."

  I grab hold of the desk, pressing my butt down on it and curling my legs under the top. I'm basically attached to it. There's no way he's getting me off.

  Large hands wrap around my hips.

  No freaking way. Is he seriously trying to physically move me from his desk? Let him try. I'm not letting go.

  Looking down, I see his long thick fingers spread out on each side of my pelvis, pressing in to grip me before lifting me up.

  Using all my strength, I try to hold myself down but it's no use. He's too damn strong. My butt's no longer on the desk. He's holding me up. How is he doing that while still sitting down? How the hell strong is this guy?

  "Sorry I'm late," a man says as he hurries into the room. I'm guessing he's the teacher. "What's everyone looking at?" he asks, noticing all the eyes turned to the back of the room.

  "Let me go," I say through gritted teeth to the asshole. I'm still gripping the desk but barely, my fingers being pulled from it as the guy holds me up.

  "Is there a problem back there?" the teacher asks, directing the question at me.

  "I need a seat," I say, sounding annoyed.

  The asshole suddenly lets me go, my butt hitting the desk and sliding to the side. I jump up before I fall to the floor.

  "What's wrong with that one?" the teacher asks, pointing to the desk next to me.

  I'm about to tell him the asshole won't let me sit there, but instead I just smile and say, "Guess I didn't notice it."

  Turning back to the asshole, I see a slight upturn of his lips as he slowly brings his legs in enough for me to pass. I grab my backpack from the floor and hurry to my seat before he tries to trip me.

  "Now that everyone's settled," the teacher says, "let's start by reviewing what we'll be covering in class this quarter."

  Hurrying to open my backpack, a pen slips out, sliding across the floor to the asshole, right next to his foot.

  "Could you kick it back?" I ask in a hushed tone.

  He doesn't respond and his foot doesn't move. He leans back farther in his seat and pulls his cap over his eyes.

  What the hell is his problem?

  Forgetting the pen, I grab another one, along with a notebook and quickly scribble down the words the teacher's writing on the board.

  As the class continues, I glance over at the asshole and see he's not even taking notes. I don't even think he's awake. His head is down, his cap's covering most of his face, and his arms are crossed.

  When the bell rings, I stuff everything in my backpack and notice my pen sitting there. Did the asshole kick it back when I wasn't looking? Or did it just roll back this way? There's no way that guy would've given it back. He must've accidentally bumped it when he moved.

  I toss it in my backpack and stand up, then squeeze between the desks in front of me, realizing I should've just done that instead of trying to pass the asshole. When I'm almost at the door, I look back and see the guy still in his seat but he's sitting up more as he talks to someone on the phone.

  He glances up and catches me staring at him. I quickly look away and go out to the hall. It's so crowded I can't even walk without bumping into people. It's a huge change from my private school. There the halls were big and open, and since admission was capped at a small number of students, it never seemed crowded. Class sizes were small and teachers knew your name. I doubt any of the teachers here will know my name. The last teacher didn't even acknowledge I was new.

  Stopping at my locker, my brain freezes as I try to remember the combination. It's the same one I used at my old school. How could I forget?

  A girl comes up to me, shoving my arm. "What the hell, bitch?"

  My hands immediately ball into fists and rise to protect my face. Knowing I'd be going here, a school known for having more than the usual number of juvenile delinquents, I took a self defense class to protect myself. I didn't think I'd actually need to use it, especially on the first day.

  The girl is my height, but probably thirty pounds heavier. She's not fat but has a thicker build than me. I have what my mom calls a delicate build, which basically means I'm small and thin. Last year I tried working out, trying to get some muscle, but it didn't happen. I had no idea what I was doing.

  The girl laughs. "What's this?" She points to my fists. "We gonna fight?"

  I look at her, confused. "I don't know. Are we?"

  My fists remain by my face, my eyes darting to her arm which has a scar on it. Was it from a fight? Is this her thing? She starts fights with people for no reason? I look up at her short blond hair. It's more yellow than blond, like it's been dyed. It matches her yellow eye shadow, a stark contrast to her dark eyes which are outlined in a greenish-blue liner.

  The girl laughs. "Relax. I was just messing around."

  "Why?" I ask, suspiciously, glancing down at her black t-shirt and ripped faded jeans. "What do you want?"

  She leans against the locker. "What's up with you and Dean?"

  "Who?"

  "Dean. The guy you planted your ass in front of." She smiles. "You got a death wish, or was that some kind of flirting technique?"

  "Dean? That's his name?"

  She shrugs. "Dean. The Defender. The Destroyer. He goes by different names. So what exactly were you trying to do, sitting on his desk like that?"

  "He wouldn't move. He wouldn't let me go by to get to the other desk."

  "Dean doesn't like people sitting next to him."

  "He needs to get over it," I say, suddenly remembering my locker code. I try it and the locker opens.

  "You might want to go to a different school," the girl says. "You piss off the Destroyer, he'll make your life hell."

  I grab my physics book from my locker. "The Destroyer? People seriously call him that?"

  "Mostly the girls. The guys call him the Defender. He's our best defensive end. Actually he's one of the best in the region. He's got scouts already looking at him."

  "Football player," I say, rolling my eyes as I shut my locker. "I should've known."

  "You don't like football players?"

  "Are you serious?" I roll my eyes. "They're assholes."

  "My boyfriend's one."

  "Oh. Sorry."

  She shoves my arm. "I'm kidding. I'm not dating anyone."

  "I should go," I say, looking past her at the crowded hallway. "I need to find my next class."

  "What room?"

  "Two seventeen."

  "AP Physics?"

  "Yeah? Are you taking it?"

  "Hell, no. I don't do physics. But my brother's in that class. Follow me. I'll show you where to go."

  I already know where to go. I memorized the school map last night so I wouldn't be lost today. But I follow her anyway since she's the first person who's talked to me since I got here, other than the asshole, but he doesn't count.

  "Why all the names?" I ask as we go up the stairs. "For that guy."

  "Dean?" She smiles at me like my question implies I'm interested in him. Is she insane? Did she not see how he treated me? "He's popular. Popular people get nicknames."

  I don't know how he could be popular being that mean. Or maybe he's only mean to people like me. People who aren't popular.

  "Why the Destroyer?" I ask. "Because he destroys guys on the football field?"

  "It isn't about football. The girls here named him that."

  "Why?"

  "Because he destroys hearts." She stops at a classroom that has the door open. "This is it. Welcome to the land of the geeks."

  I look in the classroom and see it's mostly guys. Scrawny guys with glasses, all staring down at their phones.

  "Thanks," I tell her. "Hey, what's your name?"

  "Eve, but I go by Spike."

  "Really?"

  She bursts out laughing. "You're so fucking easy. Do you believe everything people tell you?"

  "No," I say, sounding offended, but unfortunat
ely she's right. I believe people way too much. It's something I resolve to do less of this year.

  "Hey, shithead," she says, nodding at someone behind me.

  I turn and see a tall thin guy with glasses looking at Eve. "Mom said the car is ready."

  "Finally," Eve says. "I'm taking it tonight."

  "Whatever," he says, going past me.

  She grabs his arm and yanks him back. "Say hi to the new girl."

  "Brook," I say, my eyes bouncing between them, noticing how similar they look. "Are you guys twins?"

  "Unfortunately," Eve says, rolling her eyes. "This is Evan."

  "Hey," he says, shaking my hand. His hands are thin and bony, a sharp contrast from the hands that wrapped around me in class earlier. Why am I even thinking about that? I told myself to never give that guy another thought. I don't waste precious brain space on assholes.

  "Evan, you won't believe what New Girl did to Dean today."

  "It's Brook," I mutter.

  The bell rings.

  "Shit! I'm late." Eve runs off.

  "What'd you do?" Evan asks as we go in the classroom. Over half the seats are open. Apparently there isn't much demand for AP Physics. At my old school, people were on a wait list to take it.

  "I took his desk," I say, taking a seat in the second row.

  Evan sits beside me. "What does that mean?"

  "He wouldn't let me get to the desk next to him. The only one left. So I sat on his desk."

  "Shit." Evan blows out a breath, shaking his head. "Bad move."

  "Why? What's the big deal?"

  "Everyone take out the class schedule," the teacher says. "I need a minute to reboot my computer."

  "You might want to change schools," Evan says, taking out his laptop.