Wicked Devil: A Standalone Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Boys of Sun Valley Book 1)
Wicked Devil: Chapter 3

Kemp did me a favor saving me from detention. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. That girl is going to be a pain in my ass, I can already tell. She has fire. She’ll buck against being put in line. And for some strange reason, just the idea of going to battle with her brings eager anticipation and a cruel smile to my face.

I almost feel sorry for the girl. Almost. It’s her first day here and I don’t plan on making it easy for her. Like every other student here at Sun Valley High, she’ll need to learn her place. At the bottom.

I rule this school. Me and the other Devils—Dominique Price and Emilio Chavez. Which is how I know that despite his words, Kemp couldn’t care less if I’m friendly to the girl. It works in my favor because when she decides she’s had enough and goes crying to his office, he’ll offer her words of comfort and little else. All he cares about—all any of the teachers at this school care about—is whether or not my friends and I will win the next game and what they need to do to keep us happy so we don’t throw the next one to get back at them.

I like to think I’m above such petty bullshit. I have a full-ride scholarship lined up to attend Suncrest U and my performance on the field determines whether I’ll keep it. Football is all that matters. I’d never jeopardize my future. But I’m not above holding that threat over the Sun Valley faculty. They need me on the field and they need me to win. It’s how the school continues to rake in funding for all the shit they want to do.

I made varsity my freshman year and ever since then, we’ve gone on undefeated. Football might not seem like a big deal to some, but it opens doors, and not just for the players. It’s why the Devils get preferential treatment and why, most of the time, teachers turn a blind eye when we mouth off or start a fight.

But Mrs. Jennings is the one and only teacher who doesn’t seem to give a fuck about football. I don’t know why she hasn’t been fired yet. She’s the only one to ever try and call me on my shit. I don’t see her lasting long if I or Coach Samson have anything to say about it.

Allie’s steps are nearly silent as she follows me down the hallway to first period English. She looks so fucking innocent as she hugs a textbook to her chest, looking around the hallway with wide doe eyes, and all I want to do is dirty her perfect image.

Underneath her first-class exterior is a spitfire just waiting to come out—and that’s my job.

She’s pretty, if you look past the preppy shit she’s wearing. Long, dark hair. Brown eyes. Her white jeans hug her ass and highlight her hips. I wish she was walking in front of me instead of behind so I could watch that ass bounce with every step.

She’s most definitely Latina but on the fairer side. Kemp called her Ms. Ulrich and there is only one Ulrich in these parts and he’s an old white dude. Bet she’s half on her mom’s side.

I can already feel that familiar spark of interest. I want to play with her. Make her my shiny new toy. I don’t usually bother with the chicks here. Most look at me as a status piece, a way to climb the social ladder. Or they see dollar signs because I’m a beast on the field and they think if they hook me early, they’ll live the easy life when I finally go pro.

Allie doesn’t seem like those girls. No. Those girls will do damn near anything for my attention. If I ask Allie to get on her knees and suck my dick in the janitor’s closet, she’ll blush and run the opposite direction. Or maybe I’ll see some more of that fire of hers and she’ll tell me off? No. Allie isn’t the easy lay type. I wonder if I can change that…

My pulse quickens, morphing from a slow and steady thrum to a fast and hard clip just thinking about all the things I want to do to her. I don’t care who she’s related too. My pops would be pissed if he knew I plan on messing around with this girl. Gerald Ulrich is a big deal in this town. It might make some things difficult for my pops if word made it back to him that I’d sullied the man’s daughter.

Good thing I don’t care.

We reach the door to first period. The bell’s already rung, and the door is closed. I make a big show of swinging it open, letting it slam against the wall so all heads turn in our direction. “After you, vanilla.” I wave her in with a flourish.

She scowls and then freezes when she realizes we’ve grabbed the entire classes’ attention.

I smirk. “You going to keep everyone waiting?”

Her cheeks turn an impressive shade of pink as she steps forward. I don’t get out of her way, forcing her to brush against me as she passes. The room is quiet, all eyes on us.

She tries to slip into the first available seat. It’s in the back row and closest to the door but the girl sitting beside it shakes her head. “You don’t want to sit there,” she says in a loud whisper.

“Why?”

I snort and the girl flicks her gaze toward me. “It’s his seat.”

Allie turns to look over her shoulder, giving me another frown.

I offer her a bored expression, wondering if she’ll fight back on the seat or do the smart thing and move along. I’m almost disappointed when she huffs and walks toward the front of the class. She has to go around the entire room to reach the last remaining open seat clear on the other side, three rows from the front. By the time she sits, the class still dead silent, her cheeks are a brilliant scarlet. Like a rose. Can’t wait to see her thorns.

“Alright class,” our teacher begins. She makes Allie introduce herself, doing the whole bit of having her stand up. Asking her where she moved from, does she have any siblings? All the boring basic stuff.

I discover she moved from Richland. No siblings. No pets. She lives with her dad. Interesting. I never knew Gerald Ulrich had a daughter. I wonder where he’s been hiding her all these years?

When she finally completes her interrogation, Mrs. Beck leaves her alone the rest of the period. I have the advantage of being able to watch her without her being able to watch me in return. She takes notes and actually pays attention. She’s a goody-goody for sure which will make it all the more fun when I ruin her. This is just what I needed. Senior year was looking boring but now things are about to get interesting. I can hardly wait.

I get lost in my fantasies; my gaze glued to the back of her head as I imagine all the ways I want to hurt her. Fuck her. Ruin her. It’s a sport, and one I just so happen to excel at. If she plays her part well, I might soothe some of the hurt I inflict. We’ll see.

When the bell rings, I wait for her just outside the door. Her eyes are downcast as she stares at a piece of paper in her hands, not seeing me until she ends up crushing the paper between our bodies. Contact. That’s what I’m talking about.

“Watch it, vanilla.” I snatch the paper from her fingertips, scanning my eyes over her class schedule. I could have just asked what her next class was, but where’s the fun in that?

“Hey!” She tries to grab for it but I lift my hand high above her head, tilting my gaze up to scan over the text. There’s no way she can take it back unless I want her to. Or unless she decides to climb me like a tree. I would be okay with that.

She’s five-two. Maybe five-three. Tiny in comparison to all six feet of me towering over her. Her hands clench into tiny fists at her sides. Her lips press together in a firm line. My dick twitches in the face of her anger but beyond that initial outburst, she stays silent.

Hmmm… I wonder what it would take for her to really get angry. To break out of this little mold of manners and contained ire?

English, Calculus, Spanish 4 … hmmm. I eye her. Spanish 4 is for native speakers. I was right in my assumptions about her. “Mexican or Puerto Rican?” I ask, giving her another once-over. I’m betting Mexican but I’ve been wrong once or twice in my life.

“Mexican.”

Right again.

I tuck her schedule into my back pocket and move down the hallway.

“Hey, I need that.” She rushes to keep pace with me, her shorter legs having to work double time just to keep up. Students eye her with open interest and I decide to make things interesting.

Without missing a step, I toss an arm over her shoulder and pull her close to my body as I lead her through the halls. She stiffens. “Chill. I’m walking you to class. Just helping out the new girl.”

Her mouth tightens but she nods, and I decide not to be a complete ass and slow my steps just a little. Not really for her benefit, but because I want to delay this little stroll and make sure as many students see the two of together as possible.

The guys in the hall eye her with a mix of fascination and confusion. The girls though, they’re looking at her with open disdain. Perfect.

I spot one of my best friends—Emilio—further up the hallway waiting for me outside our next class. He lifts a single brow in question. The corner of my mouth lifts and I give him a knowing look. He doesn’t bother to hide his annoyance. Emilio isn’t one for games. He’s one of those you’ll get more bees with honey types, but he won’t interfere. It’s not his style to go against me.

I stop when we reach Allie’s next class and once again I make a show of opening the door for her, only this time I shove her inside. “Yo, Silvia?” I holler.

Silvia Parish whips her head toward me. Her light brown eyes widen in surprise and the beginning of a smile curls her lips — until she spots Allie.

“Take care of my girl.” I wink in Allie’s direction and close the door.

Let the chips fall where they may. Silvia is going to have a field day with this one. The girl’s been trying to get with me for as long as I can remember. She’ll make Allie’s life hell if she thinks she’s a threat to her shot at the prize, and I just put a bright red bullseye on Allie’s forehead.

A small group of students have formed behind me but as soon as I turn, they scatter, even though they’d been waiting to get into the class I just walked away from. I smirk. I’ll never tire of being the reigning Devil here.

Emilio is waiting for me outside Economics and he doesn’t look pleased. “That the new girl everyone’s talking about?”

I shrug. “Might be.”

His eyes darken.

“Why? You trying to call dibs or some shit?”

He shakes his head. “Do you always have to be a dick?”

Another shrug. “Don’t act like you care.”

He punches me in the shoulder. “We had a deal, remember? Football. That was what the three of us are supposed to be focusing on. No chicks. No more head games. We had an agreement, cabrón.”

“My head is in the game. Stop stressing out over nothing. Kemp asked me to help her out this week as a way to avoid detention. I’m only doing what I was told.”

Emilio doesn’t look convinced but lets it drop with a shake of his head. “You don’t ever do what you’re told. Not unless you’re getting something out of it. If this game of yours fucks up what we have going on the field, I’m coming for your ass and you know Dom will back me up.”

Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.