From Bully To Beloved

Sera

THIRTY DAYS LEFT

The universe must have it out for me.

How else can you explain this whole situation? It’s absurd enough that I have to be married to and cohabitate with Colton Ashton for a month to secure an inheritance I had no clue about, but the kicker is there’s only one small bed!

And that infuriating smirk on his face?

His tattoos weren’t a thing the last time I saw him. Now they’re everywhere, from what I can discern. His arms are entirely covered, and I notice ink creeping up his neck beneath his snug black T-shirt. Was he always that muscular? I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered if his arms looked like that in high school.

But none of that matters. I don’t care how appealing he may seem.

He’s still a jerk.

It happened in Mrs. Rudolph’s senior year art class, a class I had been looking forward to all year. As we were about to graduate, Mrs. R had given us the freedom to work on any projects we desired. Eager to experiment with charcoal and improve my people-drawing skills, I was thrilled to have this opportunity in art class.

Mrs. R hadn’t arrived yet, so I dropped my bag on my desk and took a seat next to my best friend, Gwen. She was engrossed in her work, scribbling on a piece of red paper.

“What are you working on?” I inquired.

Without looking up, Gwen responded, “A note.”

I knew exactly what that meant. It was time for Gwen’s latest crush. Throughout high school, she’d had an array of secret crushes, and it seemed like she had a thing for every guy in our grade (which was kind of amusing).

Driven by curiosity, I asked, “Who’s it for this time?”

“ColtonAshton.”

My eyes practically popped out of my head. “Ugh, seriously? Him?”

“He’s gorgeous,” she gushed with that lovesick expression. “And he’s smart and funny-”

“He’s annoying.”

“Don’t say that! He is not.”

With a deep sigh, I allowed her to continue writing her little love note, shifting my focus back to preparing for class.

Our class seemed to be divided into three groups.

Group one comprised the popular crowd, the rich and beautiful.

Group two included the okay crowd, those who were somewhat cool and reasonably attractive.

Group three, the uncool crowd, consisted of losers, full-on geeks, and creative individuals often dismissed as dopes.

I found myself in group three, the uncool crowd. This was primarily due to Mrs. R seating me next to the “uncoolest” girl in the entire school-Gwen-right at the beginning of the year. I was running late that day because I had forgotten my sketchbook, and nobody wanted to sit next to her in the first row. Sure, I wasn’t the coolest girl either, far from it, and I certainly wasn’t rich or beautiful enough to be in group one. Still, I loathed sitting next to this super-nerd with glasses who always raised her hand like it was an Olympic sport. I hoped to at least belong to group two.

However, as the days and weeks passed, I discovered that deep down, Gwen was funny. Though mostly quiet and shy (except when crafting anonymous love notes to boys) and an overachiever in both good and bad ways, we shared a similar sense of humor.

Once she opened up to me, I had more fun with her during and after class than ever before. It turned out Gwen was more my people than the popular and okay crowd, and I embraced my new position without any regret.

Through Gwen’s secret creative writing book club, I met Kelly, who was also part of the uncool crowd despite attending a different school. She and I became best friends once Gwen moved to another state. What the cool and popular kids failed to grasp was that having “nerds” as your besties and being fully integrated into their world was extremely beneficial. When something was due, I could rely on them to remind me. I couldn’t even count how many times Gwen had saved my skin when I’d forgotten to do my homework or needed a little “inspiration” during a test.

I was a bit of a disorganized kid, prone to forgetting things at times.

However, this time, I was sure I had brought my red sketchbook, intending to transfer a couple of small sketches into larger drawings. While digging through my backpack to find the book, I heard a sarcastic voice.

“What? Can’t find your stuff? Did Miss Goody-Goody forget to clean out her backpack?” Colton asked, taking the seat next to mine.

Why did he have to sit there? Couldn’t he choose another spot? I scanned the room, hoping for an available desk to move to, only to find every seat occupied. Wonderful. Exactly what I wanted to deal with today.

“Mind your business, Colton,” I snapped.

“You got it, Nosy Sera.”

Oh, my God, I despised that name with a fiery passion. He knew it because I’d already told him to knock it off over a dozen times and to stop calling me that. Firstly, I wasn’t nosy. I simply had a high eagerness to learn. Secondly, he only called me that because it rhymed with my name. Thirdly, it wasn’t even original. Fourthly, he was an asshat with an IQ likely comparable to that of a gnat. I opened my mouth to snap at him again, but then Mrs. R strolled in and immediately headed to the whiteboard.

“All right, I have guidelines for what we’re going to focus on today,” she said, her voice firm and straightforward. “If you’ll direct your attention to the board…”

Mrs. R was strict, and when she spoke, she expected everyone else to be quiet and listen. I shot Colton a glare and continued going through my bag, half-listening to what the teacher was saying.

Reluctantly, I had to admit that my bag was kind of a mess. I found the sketchbook wedged between my math textbook and science binder, stuck to an open chocolate wrapper. With the sketchbook in hand, I put the bag down and gave the teacher my full attention. I barely had time to register what she was writing on the board when I felt Gwen tug on my arm. She knew I hated being bothered during art, just as she hated being disturbed during creative writing. Additionally, there was Mrs. R’s strict “no talking” rule.

I shrugged her off and didn’t take my eyes off the board.

“Psst, Sera,” Gwen whispered. “Can you give this to Cal?”

“No,” I muttered under my breath. “Shh, I’m trying to pay attention.”

“But he’s right next to you,” she insisted. “Just slide it over.”

If it were anyone else, I’d ignore them. However, Gwen was my best friend. I glanced over to find her giving me the most wide-eyed, pleading stare. Against my better judgment, I snatched the note from her, only to hear Mrs. R clear her throat loudly. I looked up to find the teacher standing in front of my desk, wearing that stern expression she always sported when unamused.

“Ms. Gray, you know there is no note passing in class.”

“It’s not my-”

“No excuses. Give it here!”

Sheepishly, I handed it over, and she snatched it away, making a show of crossing to her desk and putting the note in her top drawer. Fortunately, she didn’t open it and read it aloud, a practice she sometimes indulged in. That would have been so embarrassing for poor Gwen. Without another word, Mrs. R went back to the board. I glared at Gwen, only to realize all the color had drained from her face.

“We have to get it back,” she hissed.

“No! Just forget it. Write another one.”

“But that one was perfect. To the point. It even rhymes.”

“Quiet, you’re going to get me in trouble,” I whispered, turning my attention back to the whiteboard.NôvelDrama.Org content rights.

Mrs. R spun around, and we immediately fell silent. Any involvement with Colton, even indirectly through Gwenny’s love letter, seemed to lead to trouble for me. Since the day he first pulled my pigtails, I’d been doing double duty to make up for his alleged transgressions, which were entirely his fault. “You all have your assignments. You may get started. Let me know if you have questions.”

With a disappointed sigh, I reluctantly set my sketchbook aside and got up to gather the supplies she had outlined on the board. Gwen caught my hand. “I’ll distract her. You get the note back.”

“Gwenny, seriously, just let it go. I’m not going to get in trouble just to retrieve a stupid love note.”

“Please, Sera, I beg you! What if she throws it away? Or worse, what if she reads it out loud?”

She had a point. That old bat could definitely read it aloud at the end of class if there was time, just like she sometimes did in the past. Crap. I was torn between staying tough and helping out my friend. Was I really going to do this for my friend? I looked at her, and she had tears in her eyes. I knew then I couldn’t tell her no.

“Fine,” I hissed in a soft tone. “You talk to her and make sure she’s busy. I’ll go swipe the note.”

“Thank you, Sera! Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Gwen gave me a quick hug before pulling away and raising her hand. “Mrs. Rudolph? I’m not sure I understand the directions.”

Mrs. R adjusted her glasses and walked to Gwen’s desk to talk to her.

Once she was distracted, I slipped out of my seat and walked to the paper supply, which was right next to her desk. I kept glancing over my shoulder to make sure she wasn’t looking. A few times, she lifted her head to take a quick glance around, and I had to pretend like I was rifling through paper. Gwen drew her focus once more-thank God-and I knew I had to hurry before I lost my nerve.

Seizing the opportunity, I quietly stepped behind her desk and slowly opened the drawer.

The next thing I knew, I heard a book hit the floor. Loudly.

It was Colton. He was grinning, no-laughing! He’d dropped my sketchbook on purpose to distract Mrs. R from Gwen and bring attention to me.

Oh no! Please, no! Not again!

All I could hope was that Mrs. R wouldn’t notice me. I stood frozen. The only sound I heard was the whooshing in my ears.

Mrs. R half-turned to pick up the book, looked up, and our eyes met from across the room. My stomach dropped when I realized how pissed off she was. My face grew hot with embarrassment and shame, knowing there would be no talking my way out of this one.

Mrs. R stomped up front, tearing the note from my hand and opening it. Oh, my God.

“No! Mrs. R,” I tried.

She ignored me and read it aloud:

Dear Cal,

You heavenly creature.

You’re not only the cutest boy in school but under the big blue sky.

Can I be your butterfly?

With love from the one who adores you the most,

Your forever-forever girl from the loneliest coast.

The class laughed.

Hysterically.

Several even pointed fingers at me.

My cheeks heated in embarrassment, and they must have been the same color as my red shirt. Okay, Gwen hadn’t put her name on the note (she never did), so that meant everybody thought it was my love note to Colton. I wanted to protest, scream: no, I didn’t write the damn note! No way could I allow Colton Ashton to think I was confessing my never-ending love to him-but then I caught Gwen’s pleading eyes.

I couldn’t expose her.

So, I kept silent.

Just behind her, I noticed Colton’s obnoxious laughing face.

The same obnoxious face I’m now married to.

Of course, he’s the reason I got into trouble for the first time in my life. Ugh, just reminiscing about the incident makes my cheeks grow hot again and annoys me like it did back then. I try not to dwell on it.

“Ready to go to sleep, Mrs. Ashton?”

“Stop calling me that,” I snapped, turning around and entering the bedroom. I drop my bags onto the end of the bed and start unpacking.

Colton has the nerve to chuckle at me before he does the same thing. I can’t even look at him. My head starts racing with thoughts: Why me? Why him? Mrs. Bianca had always talked him up whenever she and I spent time together. I remember many times when she tried to set me up with him over the years. I never understood why she was so convinced we’d be a good match. We can’t stand each other, and right now, he’s the last person on Earth I want anywhere near me.

It doesn’t help that when I turn toward the dresser, he’s already there, and I bump right into him. Instinctively, he reaches out to grab my arms and steady me. If it weren’t for the stack of clothes I’m holding, my breasts would be pressed right against his chest.

“Easy there, Sera,” he says, a cocky grin playing on his lips.

I shrug out of his grasp, ignoring the fact I can still feel the heat of his palms on my arms. “I know it’s difficult for you, but try to pay attention.”

“Still as charming as ever.”

“Back at you.”

The drawers have already been emptied, so I pick one and shove my clothes into it. I almost bump into him-again-as he pivots toward the closet. It turns into this weird dance of us constantly getting into each other’s way while we try to unpack. This room definitely isn’t the largest. It’s clearly meant for one person, not two. It doesn’t help that I’m also not used to sharing a space with someone, and he’s obviously having the same issue navigating around another person.

Eventually, we finish without knocking each other over. By now, I’m exhausted. I’ve been on my feet for over twelve hours, and I have to do it again tomorrow. All I want to do is take a hot shower and crawl into bed.

“I’m starving,” Colton says. “I’m going to order some food. You want anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“I said I’m fine.” It comes out harsher than I mean it to. I’m so wound up by this whole arrangement. The fact that he’s not, is making me angrier. How can he be so calm about all this? How can he act like this is normal?

“I was just asking. You don’t need to bite my head off.”

I’m looking for my pajamas, only to realize I forgot my comfy T-shirt and flannel pants. Where is my brain? All I have is a nightie and-oh, thank God-my white robe. I pull them out of my drawer and shift to face him.

“How can you be so chill about all of this?” I ask. “Doesn’t it bother you? Us having to be married and living together?”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” he says. “You could’ve easily walked away. But you didn’t. You came here, signed the papers, and agreed to the terms. If it bothers you so much, why did you go through with it?”

I don’t want to tell him I need the money. I don’t want to tell him how much my life will change with $750, 000. But it’s more than that. Being a waitress is a great job I enjoy immensely, and it’s paying the bills. However, I don’t want to do it all my life. With this inheritance, I’ll be able to finally breathe and not have to work every second of my life like I’ve been doing since I was sixteen.

But I don’t tell Colton any of this because it’s none of his business.

Instead, I take a deep breath to calm myself. “No, I’m not hungry. Thanks for asking,” I say, completely ignoring his new question just to make a point, and pushing past him. “I just want to shower and go to sleep.”

I will not argue. Not now. Maybe later, though. We’ll see if the shower calms me down enough.

Colton lets me go without a word, but I can feel him watching me the whole time. It’s not until I reach the bathroom and lock the door (I double-check that it’s locked) that I sigh with relief. It’s going to be a long month. But I can do this. I can handle this. I’m not just saying it to convince myself. I can handle anything-even Colton Ashton.

This is the first time I’ve truly paid attention to Mrs. Bianca’s bathroom-other than to use the facilities-and it’s twice the size of my old bathroom, with gorgeous fixtures in pristine condition. There’s a frickin’ clawfoot tub.

Forget the shower. I’m taking a bath.