My own car-which I bought off my neighbor for about two hundred bucks-is perpendicular to his, T-boned into the side of Calix’s like I did it on purpose.Īfter all the years of suffering he and his friends have put me through, it wouldn’t surprise me. Swallowing a lump in my throat, I glance over to see that his car’s parked perfectly straight in the space, right next to the gas pump. Just past its barrier, rain pours in a seemingly endless wave, a cold chill working its way into my skin as I shiver and try to remember how I managed to crash into his absurdly expensive car. “Are you fucking insane?!” he snarls, releasing me as several concerned citizens approach us, all of them huddled under the protective awning that covers the gas pumps. Instead, he jerks me out of the seat and slams me back against the side of my car. Speaking of … my own door flies open, and Calix’s warm hand is on my upper arm, not, unfortunately, to offer assistance of any kind. My bumper is very firmly planted into his driver’s side door. Looking up, I see the shiny black surface of Calix Knight’s Aston Martin dented and streaked with yellow paint. I shake my head, and a wave of dizziness washes over me. Running late, spilling scalding coffee down my chest, finding my dress for tonight’s party missing from the clothesline out front.

The thought comes to me along with fits and spurts of memories from this morning. Reaching shaking fingers up to my head, I come away with a smear of ruby red on my hand, the perfect match to the blood on the steering wheel.

The strange thing is, I can’t remember how it got there. There’s blood all over my steering wheel.

My mantra has always been this too, shall pass. They’ve bullied me for years, and I’ve never known why.Īt least today, they have something real to be pissed about.Īll of which would be fine, if today was a normal day. I crashed my shitty yellow VW Beetle into Calix’s Aston Martin.īut Calix and his friends, Barron and Raz, they don’t see it that way. This anthology benefits one of the largest anti-bullying organizations in the world, and all proceeds will go toward helping to support victims of bullying.ĪLL PROCEEDS WILL BE DONATED TO DITCH THE LABEL!

They push us past our limits, turn us on, and break us.Įight bestselling authors are teaming up to bring you eight unique stories about the guys we love to hate. They’re the bad boys, the alpha a**holes, and the thorns in our sides. Loving your tormentor isn’t easy, especially when they collect broken hearts and parade them around like trophies.

Devils' Day Party by C.M. Stunich