- Home
- Smeltzer, Micalea
Bad Boys Break Hearts
Bad Boys Break Hearts Read online
Bad Boys Break Hearts
Micalea Smeltzer
© Copyright 2020 Micalea Smeltzer
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design © Emily Wittig Designs
Photo © Regina Wamba
Editing: KBM Editing
Formatting: Micalea Smeltzer
Contents
Blurb
Prologue
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
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
What to read next
The Game That Breaks Us
Prologue
Chapter One
Check out my other books!
Follow Micalea on Social Media
Acknowledgments
Blurb
Mascen Wade, star pitcher of the Aldridge University baseball team, is a lot of things.
Rich.
Hotter than sin.
The campus’s reigning bad boy.
We knew each other once upon a time, but even if I’m named after a princess, it doesn’t mean my life is a fairytale.
My plan is to keep my head down, get my degree, and leave this town.
But the moment Mascen Wade recognizes me all my carefully laid plans come crumbling down. He’s decided he wants to make my life a living hell. But I’m not so easy to push around and won’t put up with his bully playground antics. Too bad for me I’ve never been able to resist him.
Prologue
10 years ago…
Rory
The sun heats my skin, burning my neck. It prickles and I reach up to scratch it. I should’ve put on sunscreen like Mommy told me to, but I didn’t listen. She says I never listen.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” my older sister giggles, her eyes darting between me and my best friend Mascen.
“Uh…” I blink. “What’s that mean?” I hiss at Mascen.
He cuts his eyes to Hazel. “I think we’re supposed to kiss,” he whispers back, looking at the grass wrapped around my finger for a ring. Mommy wouldn’t let me borrow hers.
“Kiss?”
He nods, puckering his lips.
I’m eight, though, and shouldn’t be kissing. Daddy would hurt Mascen if he saw.
But before I can push him away he kisses me. It’s so fast I wouldn’t think it happened but static burns my lips.
“Ow!” I touch my mouth. “That hurt.”
“Kisses don’t hurt,” he argues.
Hazel runs toward the swing set, bored with this game, and I take off the itchy dress she made me put on over my clothes so that it’d be a real wedding.
“You shocked me.” Hands on my hips I stare defiantly up at the boy who’s only ten but is so big he could pass as twelve. It’s annoying.
“You knew I was going to kiss you.”
“That’s not what I meant.” My lips turn down in a pout.
Mascen looks at the blade of grass I put around his finger. “What do we do now?”
“Hazel’s gone, so whatever we want.” I’m already heading toward the jungle gym.
“We’re married. We should do married people things. Like … kiss again.”
I shoot Mascen a confused look. “My parents never kiss anymore. All they do is fight.”
Mascen stops walking. “Really? Mine kiss all the time. It’s gross, but kissing you isn’t.”
I feel my cheeks get hot. “No more kisses. We’re not actually married.”
“What if I want to be?” He tilts his head, hands on his hips.
“We’re too young,” I scoff.
Mascen’s eyes get bigger. “Fine, when we’re older you’re going to be my real wife.”
“Whatever you say. Can we go play now?”
“Sure, Rory.”
He grabs my hand and we run the rest of the way to the jungle gym.
That was the last day where my life was simple.
The next, everything went to hell.
Chapter One
Rory
Staring up at the big brick monstrosity, green ivy climbing up the sides and along the front, I can’t help but smile.
I made it here, all on my own. For so long I didn’t think college was a possibility for me, especially not one as prestigious as Aldridge tucked into the vast green hills forty-five minutes from Nashville. I worked my butt off to get chosen for a scholarship and I hadn’t celebrated that feat until now. I don’t think it felt real until I pulled onto campus.
I’m free.
The sun burns bright in the cloudless blue sky. It’s a picture-perfect day to welcome me to my new home.
Closing the door on my rickety old Ford pickup truck I inherited from my grandpa when he passed, I go to cross the street to the main building to pick up some things I need, like my schedule and room assignments. Somehow they didn’t turn up. No doubt my mother spotted them in the mail and in the trash they went—anything to try to keep me trapped and as miserable as her.
I’ve barely made it to the middle of the crosswalk when tires screech so loudly my hands threaten to fly up and cover my ears. Turning to my left I come face to face with a bumper.
The massive bronze colored SUV brakes to a stop inches from my body.
My breath is gone, my heart is beating too fast to be healthy, and now I’m frozen staring at the bumper with DEFENDER written across it in all capital letters. I have no idea what kind of vehicle it is, but it nearly had my blood splattered all across that too shiny hood. Red and bronze would not look good together.
Trying to compose myself, I stare at the tinted windows, too dark to make out the driver who nearly ran me over.
Before I can catch my breath the bastard behind the wheel honks his horn—or hers, I guess it could be—as if I’m the one doing something wrong.
Anger flares inside my small body and before I know what I’m doing my left hand shoots into the air, middle finger pointed and waving at whatever jackass thinks it’s appropriate to honk at someone they almost ran over.
They honk again, and I slam my hand against the hood. It doesn’t even dent or scratch but it makes me feel better. With that parting gesture I make it to
the other side of the crosswalk unscathed except for my still out of control heart.
The asshole slams on the gas, leaving behind the scent of burnt rubber in his wake.
“Calm down, Rory.” I hold my hand to my chest, shaking my head back and forth in an effort to get rid of some of the jitters. “You’re fine. You’re safe.”
But maybe you can slash that prick’s tires later. Surely there aren’t many of those vehicles driving around here even at this exclusive university.
Entering the massive wooden double doors, my mouth gapes in awe. The ceilings are high, higher than I’ve ever seen, and dark wood floors extend through the foyer. The walls are comprised of large round stones with sconces inlaid, giving it a medieval castle flare.
Still not recovered from the incident outside, I spot a bench against the wall and sit down. The last thing I want to do is speak to a secretary or anyone in a professional capacity while looking like … well, like I just got run over. I came close to being road kill. The ironic part is that’s exactly what I’d be. No one would care about the poor girl who got hit on campus, and my mother certainly wouldn’t bat an eye. I think my sister might be hurt, but even that I can’t be sure of with our sporadic contact.
Smoothing my hair back, I take steadying breaths.
Once I feel calm enough and my hands are no longer shaking I stand, walking down the hall like I know exactly where I’m going. After I spot someone I get directions for where I need to go so I don’t end up wandering in circles. A few minutes later I find myself in the main office.
After explaining the situation the kind lady working there quickly prints off the information and passes it to me. Thank God she doesn’t ask why I couldn’t access it from my computer. I don’t have one, and if I had I’m sure my mom would’ve stolen and sold it for a quick buck. I was forced to use one in the old library a few miles from our house, which for the longest time I had to walk to until I got Grandpa’s truck. Speaking of computer, I’m going to have to buy a laptop to take notes on and for papers. I spent the whole summer working non-stop at the diner a few blocks from the trailer, stashing every dollar I made to cover the costs of necessities since thankfully I don’t have to worry about tuition or even my costs of food as long as I eat on campus.
“Thanks so much.” I flash her a smile, folding up the papers.
This time I manage to make it across to the parking lot without getting run over—or nearly in this case, but close enough.
Behind the wheel of my truck, I drive around in search of the dorm listed on the forms. Islebrook sounds like the name of a university in its own right, not a dorm, but I guess everything around here has to sound fancy. More than likely it’s named after a donor, one of the rich stuffy families that no doubt have a long-standing legacy here.
Pulling up to the building I park, killing the engine. The exhaust pops and a few students turn, glaring at my clunker. My cheeks flare, because none of the other vehicles are nearly as old as mine. They shake their heads and keep walking.
Adjusting my glasses, I get out, pulling my duffle from the bed.
Everything I own, everything I am, fits into this one small bag. I don’t know whether to pat myself on my back for that fact or feel sad that I could never collect anything personal that would be worth keeping.
With one last look at the slip of paper in my hand, I make my way into the building and up to the third floor suite I’ll be sharing with two other female students.
It would’ve been nice to have my own room, I’m a loner, but maybe the forced socialization will be good for me.
Using the card the sweet office lady gave me, I let myself into the room.
My mouth parts with pleasant surprise. The common area is fairly spacious with room for a couch, chair, TV, bookcase, and even a kitchenette. Across from the living area is the open bathroom door and the three bedrooms branching off. Only one door is left open so I head to that one, placing my bag down on the mattress.
There are no sheets or comforter, not even a pillow to speak of. I should’ve assumed, but in my haste to leave my mother’s trailer behind I hadn’t bothered to bring those with me.
I blow out a breath, knowing I’m going to have to make a trip to Walmart before bedtime tonight. At least it’s not quite noon yet, so I have time.
The murmur of voices carries from the room directly beside mine. I assume my roommates are getting to know each other, or maybe the already do and I’m the odd one out.
Taking a moment to gather myself, I rub my hands on my ripped jean shorts and decide to introduce myself instead of hiding in my room.
Knocking on the closed door, I wait for it to open, revealing a gorgeous Asian girl with the most flawless skin I’ve ever seen. She smiles upon seeing me.
“You must be our other roomie. I’m Li.”
“Hi.” I wave awkwardly. “I’m Aurora.”
“That’s a cool name.”
“Thanks, you can call me Rory. Most people do.” I learned at a young age Aurora was a mouthful for most people, besides I felt the nickname suited my personality better than the flowery princess name.
She opens the door wider, revealing the room to be in a state of disaster as things sit in piles waiting to be put away, but already I can see the personal touches, photo frames, stacks of books, and hints of pink from the bedspread to the twinkle lights already hanging above the bed.
Stepping aside, she nods at the other girl in the room. “This is Kenna.”
I smile at the pretty girl with light brown hair and freckles galore.
“Do you guys know each other?” I ask.
Li shakes her head. “Nope, we just met. We’re all newbies.”
Relief floods me at not being the odd one out.
“This is my room,” Li continues, “Kenna’s is across the way and I assume you found yours.”
“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you guys.”
Kenna smiles at me. “You don’t look like you get out a lot.”
Her question takes me off guard. I look down at my loose crop top, high-waisted shorts, and secondhand off-brand sneakers. “Uh…”
“Not your clothes. It’s your face.” She swirls one of her hands at her own face. “You have this fresh look about you. Don’t worry I’ll fix that.”
I blink at my new roomie. “W-What do you mean?” I lean against the doorway, suddenly wary.
“Nothing bad, but let’s go out tonight. I heard there’s a bar close to campus that serves minors. You in?” She directs her gaze first to Li then me. Her green eyes twinkle with excitement.
“I need to get out, so I’m game.” Li gives a dainty shrug.
I nibble my lip, hesitating. I didn’t have time for partying before. When I wasn’t at school I was studying and when I wasn’t studying I was working.
What the hell are you waiting for? This is why you wanted to move far away from Mom—education and an actual social life.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Sweet,” Kenna grins, “do you have anything to wear?”
I think of the bare necessities I packed and shake my head. “I need to run to Walmart and get a few things.” More than a few actually.
She wrinkles her nose. “Um … no. You can borrow something from me.”
“Oh, um okay. I still need to go out for a bit, but I’ll be back later. You guys need anything?”
They both shake their heads, a sweater needing to be hung dangling loosely from Li’s fingertips, and I let out a breath.
“See you later, Rory,” Kenna calls as I head back into my room.
Swiping up my phone, wallet, and keys I wave at the girls as I head out.
I can do this, I tell myself. I can be a normal college student. I can make friends. Go out. Live my life. I’m not trapped anymore.
Then why do I feel like a bird with an open cage who’s forgotten how to fly?
Chapter Two
Mascen
Pulling my Land Rover into the garage of my townhouse, I put it
in park and find myself sitting there. Despite spending the last few hours on the practice field by myself, working on my pitch, I don’t feel any better. My body is drenched in sweat and I need to head inside and shower, but can’t seem to make myself move.
It doesn’t help I nearly ran over some chick crossing the street on campus as I was leaving. I was in a pissy mood, still am, and wasn’t paying enough attention. I could’ve hit her, which is scary as fuck, but then me being me I honked at her like it was her fault. I can be a real fucking prick. I don’t even mean to … most of the time. There are other times where I get enjoyment out of it. I don’t know what that says about me, but it’s true.
Being an asshole comes in handy at times, though, especially when you don’t want people to get too close. And growing up in a famous family I’m sick and fucking tired of people always in my business. That shit gets old fast. I’m only twenty and I’m jaded by the whole thing. Just because my dad plays drums in one of the most loved bands doesn’t mean I want my whole life to be front-page news. But magazines don’t care about that shit, they just want a story, and their latest is what sent me to the field. It was some bullshit with a picture of me at a dive bar. The headline?