Cruel Intentions: Chapter 24

Sleep was a fucking joke last night. My mind wouldn’t shut up, replaying every worst-case scenario on an endless loop. Going back to school after my suspension? Yeah, that’s the kind of shit that keeps you staring at the ceiling, chest tight, wondering what fresh hell’s waiting on the other side of those doors.

Halfway through the night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I snuck into Noah’s room—the guy with a PhD in destruction, who can wreck me in every way imaginable and put me back together with a mind-blowing orgasm. He didn’t disappoint.

Now, I’m lying in his bed, his arm locked around my waist like I’m some possession he refuses to let go of. His face is buried in the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. And for a moment, I let myself sink into it. Into him. Because, fuck, being here feels like everything I’ve ever wanted. Safe. Wanted. Loved.

It takes everything in me to pull away, to slide out from under his arm as his fingers twitch like they want to pull me back.

My feet hit the floor, the cold seeping through, but I keep moving. Every step away from him feels like I’m ripping a part of myself off and leaving it behind.

But I can’t stay.

Not when Ken’s just down the hall. If he catches me sneaking out of Noah’s room, it’s game over. Ken’s been too good to me—giving me a place to stay, a chance to finish school, and maybe even a shot at getting out of this fucking mess. I can’t risk screwing any of that up.

Last night, after we fucked and collapsed into each other, Noah opened up about his mum.

The pain in his face, the way it still lingers after all this time, cut deeper than I expected. I want to help him, which is why I suggested he meet up with her. I get it—I know what it’s like to be abandoned.

Watching him wrestle with his own demons drags my own to the surface, especially the mess with my mother. I’m so fucking angry at her and that pathetic excuse for a boyfriend she clings to. They deserve each other.

When he inevitably dumps her for someone else—because he will, given his track record of his womanizing bullshit—maybe she’ll finally realize the mistake she made.

But I’m done.

If she ever tries to crawl back into my life, she’ll get the same treatment she gave me. I’ll treat her like someone I used to know. Noah feels the same way about his mother, and honestly, I can’t blame him. You can only take so much before you stop letting people in.

Dressed and ready to face the day, my bag slung heavily over my shoulder, I step into the hallway. The aroma of cooking hits me instantly, a punch of nostalgia I wasn’t prepared for.

It pulls me back to those nights I spent crashing at Noah’s house as a kid. Back then, waking up to the smell of breakfast felt like magic—like the world wasn’t such a shitty place after all. Now, living here, that familiar scent has taken on a bittersweet edge, a reminder of the safety I once felt under this roof.

I make my way into the kitchen and spot Noah perched on a stool by the island bench, deep in conversation with his dad. Ken’s busy at the stove, spatula in hand.

Their heads turn toward me as soon as I step through the doorway.

“Good morning, Aubrey,” Ken says, his voice warm and caring, the way it always is.

“Good morning,” I reply, heading toward the stool beside Noah.

But before I can sit, he’s already on his feet, crossing the space between us. His fingers thread through mine, his touch grounding me as he leans down to press a soft kiss to my lips. It’s not the usual fiery, desperate kind of kiss we share, but something quieter. Gentler. Because Ken’s just a few feet away.

Without a word, Noah slides the bag off my shoulder like it’s his job to carry the weight for me. He guides me to the counter and settles back into his seat, pulling me into the space beside him. It’s such a small thing, but it feels massive—like he’s telling me, in his own way, that I belong here. Even if part of me still struggles to believe it.

“You nervous about going back to school today, Aubrey?” Ken asks, glancing over his shoulder after he flips something on the stove.

“Yeah, a bit,” I admit, fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve. “I just hope everything goes smoothly.”

“It will,” he says, his voice steady, reassuring. “You’ll be fine. I just know it.” He flashes me one of those warm, unwavering smiles that only Ken can pull off, the kind that makes you believe everything will be okay.

He plates the last pancake and carries the food over to us—pancakes, eggs, bacon, the works. “Hope you’re hungry. I might’ve gone a little overboard this morning.”

Noah snorts, a grin tugging at his lips. “He’s a little nervous. Simone asked him to stay at her place this weekend and he thinks we’ll starve to death while he’s gone.” His tone is teasing, but there’s a glint of affection in his eyes when he looks at Ken.

Ken chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that betrays his unease. “You know, I am a little nervous,” he admits, trying to brush it off, though the worry is written all over him.

“You’ll be fine, Dad,” Noah says, piling an ungodly amount of bacon and eggs onto his plate like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. “It’s Simone. You two have practically been glued together lately. What’s there to worry about?”

Simone. She’s been here nearly every afternoon when Noah and I walk through the door, her warmth and easy smile filling the space like she’s always belonged.

She’s kind, but it’s more than that. There’s a steadiness to her, something that feels right. And then there’s the way Ken looks at her—like she’s the missing piece he never knew he needed. Like this could be it for him.

Ken lets out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Yeah, you’re right. Everything will be fine.” He grabs a pancake from the stack, rolls it up, and bites into it like he’s trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

I watch their exchange quietly, a strange warmth blooming in my chest. Moments like this—simple, easy—make it feel like maybe, just maybe, things don’t always have to be so hard. Even if it’s just for a little while.

I help myself to a couple of pancakes, drizzling them with maple syrup before taking a bite.

Ken mentions a few places he and Simone want to visit, and Noah nods along, tossing in a few comments to keep the conversation flowing.

What surprises me is what Noah doesn’t say—there’s no mention of his mom reaching out yesterday. Not even a passing reference. I can’t tell if he’s avoiding it or if the words are stuck somewhere he can’t reach.

When Ken finishes his coffee and loads the last plate into the dishwasher, he claps Noah on the shoulder. “You two have a good day,” he says, flashing me a kind smile before heading out.

Noah pockets his keys, and we follow suit.

In the car, the silence stretches thin and taut. I sit stiffly in the passenger seat, my fingers digging into my thighs to keep them from trembling.

My mind is a chaotic mess, spinning through every worst-case scenario. Tia’s not going to let last week slide—there’s no way. She’ll retaliate, humiliate me, make sure I know exactly where I stand.

But I can’t let her drag me down again. I can’t afford to lose control like that, not with everything riding on me keeping my shit together. If I screw up again, it won’t just be my reputation on the line—it’ll be my future. My scholarship. My one shot at getting out of this mess. And losing that tuition would ruin me.

Noah pulls into the parking lot, and my stomach twists as I take in the scene. Students are scattered across the courtyard, laughing, chatting, moving toward the gates like it’s just another day. For them, it probably is.

For me, it’s a battlefield.

The engine cuts off, and the silence in the car is deafening. Noah doesn’t move. Neither do I.

He knows. I can feel it in the way he glances at me, his hand lingering on the gearshift. He can probably sense the tension radiating off me, the way my anxiety hums like static in the air.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice low, careful. He opens his door but stays put, waiting for my answer.

I take a deep breath, forcing my hands to relax. ‘Fuck no,’ I mutter, my voice low but steady. ‘But when has that ever stopped me?’

Noah raises a brow but doesn’t say anything, his hand brushing mine briefly before he steps out of the car.

I nod to myself, swallowing the lump in my throat that feels like a goddamn rock. Stalling isn’t going to make this any easier.

Sam texted me earlier this morning—buzzing with excitement about me coming back. She’s been texting every day, just like the other girls in the group. This morning, she said things were “different” now. Whatever the hell that means. She wouldn’t elaborate, just promised to explain when I return.

Does “different” mean Tia’s gone nuclear? Has she been out for blood while I’ve been gone? I wish Sam had just told me outright so I’d know what kind of shitstorm I’m walking into.

Noah grabs his bag from the backseat and circles around to my side. By the time he opens my door, I’m already fumbling with my own bag.

Get your shit together, Aubrey. If Tia sees you cracking, she’ll smell the blood in the water. Noah slides his hand into mine, his grip firm and steady.

We step into the school grounds, and immediately, I feel it—the weight of their stares. It’s suffocating, pressing down on me from every direction. People always watch Noah, especially the girls, but this? This is different. It’s like I’ve got a bullseye painted on my back, and everyone’s taking aim. Even the groups lounging on the grass freeze mid-laugh to gawk, their whispers chasing us up the front steps.

I keep my eyes forward, jaw locked so tight it might crack. Fuck them. Fuck their stares, their gossip, their bullshit.

I focus on the sound of my boots against the floor as we enter the building. One step at a time. Keep moving. Keep it together.

The corridor is alive with noise—clusters of students gossiping, laughing, slamming locker doors. Others linger by their lockers, casually rummaging through their stuff like they don’t have a care in the world.

My gaze flicks ahead, and then I see her. Tia.

She’s standing near the lockers, something white plastered to her face—probably trying to cover the bruise I gave her last week. Her little clique is gathered around her, orbiting like she’s the sun in this twisted solar system.

The second Noah and I come into view, all their eyes lock onto us, their stares sharp enough to cut.

As we approach, the air grows heavier, the tension thick enough to choke on. I brace myself to walk right past her, to ignore whatever venom she’s about to spit. But Noah has other plans.

He stops dead in the middle of the hallway, yanking me toward him so abruptly I let out a startled gasp. Before I can ask what the hell he’s doing, his arm loops around my waist, pulling me flush against him. And then his lips collide with mine.

The kiss isn’t sweet or gentle. It’s raw, possessive. My head spins as his tongue claims my mouth, the faint sounds of whistles and murmurs around us barely register over the blood roaring in my ears. My fingers clutch his shirt, desperate to steady myself as my knees threaten to give out.

When he finally pulls away, I’m left breathless, my lips buzzing, heart thundering. His forehead rests against mine, and his voice drops to a low, dangerous whisper.

‘No one will fuck with you now that I’ve marked you as mine.’

Those words send my pulse into overdrive. My heart slams against my ribs, the echo of his declaration still ringing in my head. I try to speak, but my throat tightens. All I can do is nod, my body betraying me as I stand there, caught in his gaze.

“Breathe,” Noah murmurs, his lips brushing mine in a softer kiss, a quiet reassurance before he pulls back. “Fuck them.” His hand slips into mine, tugging me toward my locker. He doesn’t look around, doesn’t care about the stares. He owns this fucking school, and now, somehow, I’m part of that.

As the haze from the kiss fades, I catch Tia’s glare, cold and relentless. Her posse mirrors the venom on her face, but I don’t care. Suck it up, bitches. He’s mine. He just made that crystal fucking clear. Their scowls can’t touch me—they fuel me. They can keep their judgment to themselves because they aren’t winning this.

The sound of hurried footsteps draws my attention, and I turn to see Sam and Lola rushing toward me. Sam’s eyes are wide, practically glowing with curiosity, while Lola watches with a faint, teasing smirk.

Before either of them can speak, Noah leans in for another quick kiss—this one light but deliberate, like a promise.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” he says, his voice warm, that tone that makes my knees weak all over again. He gives me a quick smile before turning and heading off, leaving me standing there, Sam and Lola staring at me like I’ve just dropped the juiciest secret of the century.

Sam grabs my arm the second he’s out of earshot. “Okay, spill. Since when are you and Noah a thing?”

I open my mouth to explain, the words right there, on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell her it’s new. How I haven’t had the chance to mention it yet, or bring up the fact that my dad kicked me out.

But before I can speak, Reece’s voice cuts through the moment.

“Hey, Red.”

I catch the embarrassed flush coloring Sam’s face, and my gaze shifts to see Reece walking by, his dark hair messy in a way that looks intentional, his piercing blue eyes locked on Sam.

She immediately drops her gaze, refusing to look at him. No response. No acknowledgment. Just silence.

What the fuck? Sam doesn’t back down from anyone. It’s clear something happened between them.

“Yeah, you need to tell me about that,” I say, watching Reece as he continues down the hall.

“Come on, just tell us about Noah,” Sam says, her voice rushed, clearly trying to redirect the spotlight.

I narrow my eyes at her, noticing how she waves my question off too easily. Her posture is stiff, and she avoids my gaze—obvious signs that I’ve hit a nerve.

Bullshit. I smirk, watching her attempt to dodge. “Really? That’s your move?” I challenge, but she stays silent, her lips pressed together, resolute.

Fine. If she’s not going to spill, I know who will. I turn to Lola, my instincts telling me she’s not the type to let a juicy detail slip by without adding something. “Lola,” I ask, “what’s the story?”

Lola doesn’t hesitate, blurting out the answer like it’s no big deal. “Sam and Reece had a thing once.”

“Lola!” Sam snaps, spinning toward her, panic flashing in her eyes. “Shut up!”

“What? She was going to find out eventually,” Lola replies nonchalantly, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, as if it’s just another fact.

Before I can respond, Lola adds with a grin, “So tell me…you’re hitting that, right?” She gestures toward where Noah disappeared. “Because, honestly, I’d be hitting that every second of every day and night if I had the chance.”

“Oh my god, Lola,” Sam groans, rolling her eyes. “You seriously don’t know when to shut up.”

“What?” Lola shrugs, completely unbothered. “I’m just stating facts. You ask any girl here and they all wish they were Aubrey right now.”

The bell rings, loud and sharp.

Lola bolts, muttering something about not wanting another tardy slip.

Sam stays behind, leaning against the lockers, shaking her head. “I’m telling you, that girl doesn’t know when to shut up.”

As I grab my books, I feel it—the stares. The eyes boring into my back, like daggers. I glance over my shoulder, and there she is—Tia, standing with a few of her loyal followers. Not as many as before, though, and that’s when it clicks. I remember Sam mentioned earlier that things had changed.

I slam my locker shut and turn to Sam, the question already on my lips. “So, what’s been going on while I’ve been gone? What did you need to tell me?”

Sam gives me a sly glance, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Oh, you’re going to love this,” she says, practically grinning from ear to ear. “Since you practically shut Tia the fuck up, Nicole’s decided it’s her time to shine. Half of Tia’s bitches have jumped ship and gone with Nicole. It’s turned into a full-on bitch battle for the crown.”

I blink, caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little,” Sam replies, her grin widening. “It’s like Mean Girls on steroids out here. And the best part? You’re the one who kicked it all off. Tia’s been scrambling to hold onto her power ever since you knocked her on her ass.”

A small, wicked grin spreads across my face. Maybe this day isn’t going to suck after all.