CW Boys: The Beginning (CW Boys #1) Read online

  CW BOYS

  The Beginning Book One

  C. Shell

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Also by C. Shell

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Review Request

  Copyright

  CW Boys (The Beginning: Book one)

  C. Shell

  Copyright C. Shell 2016

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. IF you are reading this book and didn't purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance between persons living and dead, establishments, events, or location is entirely coincidental.

  Cover image copyright

  © Jasmin Merdan

  About the Author

  C. Shell lives in the hot state of Texas with her husband and two beautiful girls Romance books are her obsession. One that includes a bad boy or an alpha male who knows what he wants is her own personal version of heaven. She finds the happy endings and endless possibilities of books alluring and addictive. When she is not thinking up her next kick-ass character, she is working in the community rescuing dogs.

  For more information:

  Twitter: @Cshellauthor

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/cshellauthor

  Website: http://www.cshellauthor.com

  Also by C. Shell

  Harlow Series:

  Beneath Him book 1

  Embracing Him book 2

  Karma Series:

  Chasing Karma book 1

  The Associates Series:

  Unholy Creations book 1

  Chapter One

  Addison – Age ten

  “Jimmie, Dex, Nate, where are you? You filthy jerks better come out now, or I’m telling Mom!”

  Stomping through the house I continue to search room after room, each one as empty as the last and all far too quiet to be housing my brother and his rowdy friends. Mom told them they had to include me today in whatever they did, so we decided to play hide-n-go-seek. Well, to be honest, they chose this game and as always, I went along with it. Being the only girl in the group and the only other kid they allow to tag along on their excursions, I am always outnumbered.

  Hide-n-go-seek is one of my favorite games, or, at least, it used to be. The boys have once again managed to take something I like and ruin it by making me always be “it” and hiding in places that are too hard for me to find. Last time we played they snuck up into the attic knowing I am too scared to go up there and look around. That place creeps me out. They are always doing mean things like that to me. Mom says not to take it personally, that that is how boys of their age act. She says someday they will grow out of it and instead of seeing me as a nuisance they will see me differently. I don’t understand what that means, but if all ten-year-old boys act this way then I can’t wait until summer is over, and I can make some new friends at school.

  My brother Jimmie and I used to be the best of friends. We are twins, and although we don’t look alike, we have always been inseparable. That was before my parents divorced, and my mom moved us from Texas all the way to Florida. Things changed forever the day my brother met the CW Boys, the two stinkiest, rudest, and annoying boys around. Dexter Lohmann and Nate Gilmore, both live in the small beach community we now call home. From the brazen way they act, you would think they owned the place and everyone in it. People around here call them the Collingswood boys- CW Boys for short- because they both live on Collingswood Avenue and have been attached at the hip since they were born. We now live on that same street, and since they seem to have included my dumb brother into their private group, he is now a CW Boy too. They are always up to something and trust me when I say it is never good. I don’t know why, but most of the other kids around here are afraid of them. They try and scare me, but it doesn’t work.

  I have searched every room in the house which only leaves two places left to check. Despite wanting to find the idiots, and prove to them that I am not the dweeb girl they claim me to be, I don’t know if I can make myself go into the attic or the storage shed. I take a defeated breath and consider my options thoroughly. There are three ways this can play out. I could just give up and suffer the consequences of them making fun of me for being a scaredy cat; I could run and tell my mom and watch them all get into trouble for excluding me, which will only make them tease me more. Or I can suck it up and finish out the game.

  I hate big decisions.

  Leaning against my mom’s bedside table, I bite the edge of my fingernail as unshed tears blur my surroundings. I hate that Jimmie put me in this predicament. A year ago he would be the first to stand up for me and protect me from bullies, but now he calls them his friends and I am the outcast. It’s not my fault I’m smaller and prefer to play with Barbie dolls over sneaking a glance at dirty magazines.

  Steeling my spine, I push back my tears as I force myself to keep to my search. Out of the two spots left I prefer the storage shed to the attic. So, that is where I head first. Passing through the living room towards the back screened-in sliding door, I can faintly hear the soft chimes of my mom’s voice in the air as she sings an old country song, while finishing up our lunch of grilled cheese and tomato soup.

  The salty sea breeze sweeps my honey colored hair across my face as I take hesitant steps across the back yard towards the sickly brown looking large shed. The building wouldn’t be so scary if were lit properly. With only two small windows in the front and one interior light that isn’t bright enough to reach every nook and cranny, the place gives off a creepy vibe.

  Touching the cool metal of the handle I bite my bottom lip to stop it from trembling as I press down on the lever and using my weight as a countermeasure, I pull. The loud scrapping noise of the wooden door catching on some rocks beneath it only amps up my racing heart. Peeking my head through the opening, I survey the interior for any signs of the boys, not that I would expect for them to be standing out in the open. The Collingswood boys would never make anything that easy for me.

  I swear they wake every morning with visions of ways to torture me. Ok, maybe I'm a bit dramatic, but with three boys always making me the butt of their jokes, can you blame me for feeling this way?

  I think not.

  Gazing around the room, I reach up on my tiptoes and blindly slide my hand along the wall until my fingers connect with the light switch and give it a flip. A soft yellow haze pierces the dark making everything look like it’s muted and washed-out. Along one side of the building are rows of Mom’s gardening tools and bags of soil and across from there is a giant push mower and other lawn equipment.
Those are not the things that bother me. It’s the back of the shed that gives me the creeps.

  Tucked away in neat rows of four are boxes upon boxes of old things Mom has stored away from our former home in Texas. Walking through them is like being stuck in a dark, dusty maze surrounded by fragile things that with the right push will all come crashing down on you.

  Gulping down the stagnant air, I take a few steps into the room. Each step sounds louder than it should as the noise of my feet shuffling against the concrete floor bounces off the thick brick partitions. If the boys are in here hiding than any chance, I had at sneaking up on them is long gone. A large part of me wants to turn around, run back into the house, and give this game up for good. I just wanted to play with them, but as always they had to be mean and make me regret trying to fit in.

  As my eyes adjust to the dim interior, I begin to feel less scared and find my voice. “If you boys are hiding in here then I will find you.”

  Not wanting to hand out here longer than needed I begin my search. Of course, I start with the readily visible sides of the room first and look around all the big equipment. Once all the nooks and crannies have been cleared, and no boys are found, I decide to take on the back areas of the room. The dark places that my overactive imagination has deemed to house mutated, child eating rats and hordes of roaches that don’t scare away when you find them is my first stop.

  “Ready or not, here I come,” I taunt. I’m proud when my voice doesn’t quiver despite my shaking hands and trembling lips.

  I weave through row after row of junk, searching in and around the stacks of boxes, making sure not to stumble over my feet or knock anything down. The last thing I need is mom mad at me for breaking something of importance. I am halfway through the room when I hear it. It’s not a loud sound, but it doesn’t have to be for me to know that I’m going to win this time.

  I smile big as I make my way toward the tinkering of Nate’s key chain, the same one with the small black shark’s teeth hanging from it that Jimmie gave him for his birthday last May. I am almost to the end of the aisle when I stop and check my surroundings. Straining my ears for the smallest of noises, I wait for a full minute before I hear it again.

  I readjust my direction, and head toward the back left corner of the shed. This is where mom keeps all her old coats and clothes stored in big plastic bags hung on hooks attached to the wall. I feel like a cat after a mouse as I tiptoe my way there. The adrenaline coursing through my body has me wired and ready for anything.

  Standing within inches of the wall, I try and see through the twenty or so storage bags hanging in a neat row, but everything is much darker back here, and the bags are bulky and tightly pushed together. I can’t tell which section of clothing the boys are hiding behind.

  Taking a guess, I choose to attack from the middle. If anything maybe I can, at least, flush them out and grab onto one or two of them before they make it back to the tree in the back yard and call “base.”

  Moving fast with arms outstretched I attack. The loud “Gottcha” I bellow would have been funny if there had been anyone hiding behind the clothes. Instead, my ears are met with loud jeers and snickers from three boys standing a few feet behind me with their hands wrapped around their stomachs as they laugh and point at me.

  Like a loon, I stand amidst the heavy bags of clothing confused and embarrassed. It isn’t until Jimmie points up to one of the hangers that all the pieces fall into place, and I understand what they did. Dangling from one of the thin metal wires is Nate’s key chain. The stupid boys tricked me. I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, they are always playing pranks on me. For whatever reason this time, it sinks in deep, and before I can stop them, tears are pooling in my lids.

  Jimmie laughs as he speaks. “We got you good Addy Bear. You should have seen your face. You were all scared and thought you found us. It was priceless.” He continues laughing, not bothering to take the time to notice that I’m upset and giggling along with him.

  I flinch as Dexter reaches above me and relinquishes Nate’s keys from the hanger. His eyes meet mine and for a second, I see guilt flashing back at me. I blink in surprise, and when I look back at him, the emotion is gone as quick as it appeared.

  “Good try Addison,” Nate says, giving me a small smile. “You surprised us by having the guts to come in here. Not bad for a girl.”

  Pushing off the wall, I right myself and face them all head-on. They might have pulled one over me, but that does not mean I have to like it or let them get the last laugh. I take the few steps needed to stand in front of them. My eyes travel from each boy, letting them all see my inner strength and determination. They won this round, and I have no doubt their tally will continue to grow, but I am stronger than they think, and I won’t allow them to win them all.

  With a speed I only reserve for racing against my brother, I dash right through the group of them, earning a few surprised grunts and gasps as they stumble and fall about. While they are still sorting out what just happened, I dart out the shed door, spin around, flick the lock, and slam the rickety door shut.

  Sucking in large quantities of air, I collapse to the ground as a wave of giggles bubble up. With a few sharp kicks and pushes, the old rusted out lock on the shed door won’t hold them for long, but that’s okay. I‘m not trying to hurt them or anything. This is me standing up for myself. The boys always act like me being a girl is a bad thing, that it makes me weaker than them and gives them the permission they need to harass me and leave me behind. They are wrong, and I will take every chance I get to teach them just how wrong they are.

  Today was their first lesson.

  Chapter Two

  Addison- Age thirteen

  "Jimmie Jameson Lewis if you don’t let me up right this second I’m going to tell Mom about the stash of fireworks hidden in your closet.”

  I twist and turn in his tight grasp knowing it’s no use. I might be faster than my brother, but he has me beat in strength. Pinned to the ground with twigs and rocks digging into my back, coating my new dress with stains and God knows what else, I won’t be getting up until he decides he is done being a colossal jerk.

  “Addy Bear, if you tell Mom about my fireworks than I will tell her about you sneaking out of the house last week to go swimming at Katy’s house after she told you not to.”

  I would stomp my foot if I could, but the blob of meat sitting on me is making that motion impossible. Instead, I settle for pouting, not that it helps me one darn bit. My brother has become immune to my tricks over the last year. I’m not sure if I overuse them or if he truly no longer cares when I am upset.

  “You finished with fighting me yet?” Jimmie asks his voice sounding harsh for a boy of only eleven years old.

  I blow out a breath of frustration before giving in and nodding my head up and down. Instead of letting me up, Jimmie glares down at me. “I’m not falling for that nod, sis. I’ve fallen for that before, and I’m not doing it again. Give me your word.”

  “Seriously?” I ask in disbelief.

  Jimmie has a habit of holding long grudges. One he asked me to lie for him and tell mom he wasn’t sick and should be allowed to go to Dex’s birthday party. In my defense, I had planned on doing just that, but then I heard Jimmie in the bathroom having a coughing fit, and I couldn’t go through with it. My meathead of a brother was truly sick and no matter how badly he wanted to attend Dex’s party, I knew in my heart that he shouldn’t.

  In the end, he would have felt worse or gotten other kids sick. So, I told mom the truth, and when Jimmie yelled at me for lying to him, I told him it wasn’t a real lie because I never voiced my consent, I only nodded. The look of betrayal Jimmie gave me as Mom tucked him into bed before driving me to the party is one that stayed with me.

  “I need to hear you say it, sis.”

  My eyes roll in annoyance. “Fine. Jimmie, my annoying, evil twin brother, I promise to keep my lips shut. I won’t tell anyone about the private clubhouse you and your hoodlum fri
ends have made.” I lift my head and give him a pleading look. “Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?”

  I earn a grunt in response before Jimmie lifts off me. Of course, my brother is not the only one in attendance to my little wrestle in the grass. Leaning against the tree to my right, with his arms crossed over his chest while looking bored is Dex. The boy with the petulant frown and pulling my brother to his feet is the other Collingswood brat, Nate.

  With how much time they spend together, you would think they were related. It’s uncommon to see one boy without the others nearby, so much so that I miss my brother. My sidekick twin is never around to play with me anymore, and when he is, he has two other shadows not far behind. Mom says he is just growing up, and it is healthy for us to have some separation from each other. I disagree. I think it’s stupid for him to choose his friends over me. I’m his sister, his other half, and it should be me he wants to spend his time with, not them.

  Instead of accepting this change happening between us, I have chosen another route. I’m retaliating by becoming my brother’s constant tag along. Jimmie says I'm childish. Lucky for me, my mom finds it cute and doesn’t intervene. Dex and Nate try repeatedly to brush me off. I refuse to budge. Dex plain out ignores me while Nate takes the most direct approach and outright tells me that I’m unwanted and a bothersome pest. With my head held high, I refuse to give into their petulant bossiness, and I stick to my brother like glue.

  It’s not that I don’t have friends of my own to play with. Casey and Dawn live a few streets away, and they’ve been nice to me, but the girls here are different from the ones in our old town. When they come over to my house, they only want to talk about the CW boys, and now that my brother is one of them, he is included in their avid gossip. Talk about gross.