Ambushed by M.E. McAndrews
Prologue - Breaking My Billionaire Bully
Lara Dieckling - Nine Years Ago
voice echoes through the empty house. My mom is working a late shift and thinks I’m spending the night at Gary’s. I feel guilty about the lie, but Gary convinced me it will be worth it. “You ready yet?” he hollers up the stairs.
No matter how hard I try, my hair just won’t stay straight, so I spray another layer of hairspray across my scalp, trying to glue it down. My eyes water from the chemical sting. The hairspray holds for half a second and suddenly the frizzy curls explode, the fuzzy mess so great my face gets lost in its immense snarl. With my face, that might be a positive thing,
“I’m in my room!” I call out to Gary.
My mom had warned me my teenage years would be full of strife, hormones, and gossip, but even she never predicted how bad my acne would be. The pimples look more like insect bites than zits, each one topped with a white pustule. The whiteheads always poke through first, even though five layers of concealer smooth the bumps and hide the redness. They are like tiny snorkels, popping up for air.
“Hurry up, girlfriend!” Gary says.
Shit. He’ll want to leave soon, but I don’t even know if I like this outfit. The black blouse is fitting, but as I turn sideways, my boobs look weird, like they’re pouring out of the cups of my bra.
Gary throws open my bedroom door, and of course, he looks fabulous, as usual. His hair is pinned back, he’s wearing a vest with no shirt, and matching high-waisted slacks with platform boots. It could easily be an outfit for Halloween, and even though it’s only August, he makes it work. For Gary, it’s style.
He checks my outfit and raises his palms defensively, his mouth curling into a grimace. “No, No, No, No, No, Girl.”
My shoulders slump. “Come on,” I grumble. “I think I look fine.”
“This is your first high school party, and you’re not even showing any cleavage.”
“My mom says cleavage makes me look like a slut.”
Gary bobs his head. “Yeah, duh. That’s the whole point.” He spins around and strides toward my closet and begins rifling through my wardrobe.
I collapse backward on my bed, overwhelmed with the whole process. “Maybe I shouldn’t go. They didn’t even invite me.”
“Bitch, I invited you,” he counters, his head still in the closet.
“Yeah and you got a secondhand invite from Georgia, and she’s only going because her cousin is dating Mark. Like… we’re so far removed, it doesn’t even make sense.”
“It’s not like they’ll be checking names at the door. It’s a party. Random people show up all the time.”
Gary goes to parties more than I do. And that doesn’t take much. I never get invited to go. Gary rarely does either, but that never stops him from crashing. I wish I had his nerve. He isn’t afraid of anything. This is the first football party he’s gone to, and I’m nervous that I’m going with him when he didn’t even get an actual invitation.
“Yes!” he whoops from the closet. “This is superb!”
I sit up, my jaw dropping when I see the pink sequin onesie he’s holding in the air. It’s from a dance number I performed in theatre club two years ago. “There is no way that fits me.”
“What are you talking about? This material stretches.” He tugs on the leggings as if they’re one of those workout rubber band things on TV.
“I’ll have to wear a tank top underneath it, it will be too tight.”
Gary grins. “No, you’re wearing it like this.”
“Gary! It’s so low cut it will show my belly button.”
“And your cleavage will look fabulous. If you’re really feeling shy, you can wear it with jeans instead of shorts. Just try it on.”
I cross my arms.
Gary sticks his fist on his hip. “Do you want Jamie Albrecht to notice you or not? You know he’ll be there.”
My cheeks flush. Jamie Albrecht is the type of boy who dates cheerleaders, not girls like me who hide at the back of the bleachers. I run my tongue across my braces. Jamie Albrecht doesn’t even know I’m alive. And why would he? He’s so handsome that every girl in school wants to date him.
Reluctantly, I snatch the onesie from Gary and take it into the bathroom. I didn’t have boobs the last time I wore this, and I’m shocked it still fits. Not that it fits well. The underwear part of the onesie is riding up my ass like a thong. My cleavage is obnoxiously huge, and the low cut reveals the middle part of my bra.
I come out of the bathroom, and he hops into the air. “Yes, Queen!”
“C’mon. I look ridiculous. My bra is showing.”
“Well then, take it off!”
There’s no way that’s going to work, but just to prove it, I unclip my bra and weave it out from inside the outfit. To my relief, not only can I breathe more easily, but without the constraint of the bra, my boobs dip and my cleavage becomes less obnoxious. The tightness of the top offers just enough support.
“Oh. My. God,” Gary exclaims. “You look sexy, Girl.”
I can’t believe I’m considering this. “It’s good?”
“So good. This will be you later.” Gary crashes onto my bed, grabs my pillow, and wraps his arms and legs around it, thrusting his pelvis back and forth. “Oh, Jamie, oh, Jamie, I love you, Jamie!”
I roll my eyes back into my head, and I can’t suppress the smile as I stare at myself in the mirror. Gary has a point. If Jamie is ever going to notice me, tonight would be the night. Maybe I’ll even get my first kiss.