Never His Girl: Dark High School Bully Romance (Kings of Cypress Prep Book 2)

by Rachel Jonas

  But then, shit just got weird.

  Like, how on our last night with them, she claimed to have “accidentally” walked in on Sterling after he showered. According to him, though, she didn’t leave his room all that quickly and she sure as hell checked out his junk.

  Since then, she’s gotten much bolder, shamelessly flirting with him when our folks and her husband aren’t within earshot. It’s sick, really, but the one time Sterling mentioned it to Vin, the advice he gave was that Sterling should ‘lean into her fascination’. With Mrs. Harrison being provost at North Cypress U, he thought it might come in handy down the road to have a ‘deeper connection’ with her.

  Whatever the hell that means.

  Yup, father-of-the-year is completely fine pimping out his son to this chick, all because it could benefit one or all of us down the road.

  No surprise there.

  Headmaster Harrison starts carving the bird while the missus sits idly by, eye-banging Sterling while he shoots a text. It isn’t until my phone buzzes in my pocket that I realize he was sending it to me and Dane.

  Sterling: ‘She wants the D sooooooo bad. I feel kinda dirty. And also a little tempted to introduce her to The Legend.’

  Dane: ‘The Legend?’

  Sterling: ‘The one in my pants.’

  I hold in a laugh reading his dumb-ass message.

  Dane: ‘Mom thinks she and Harrison are on their last leg. As soon as the ink dries on the divorce papers, just put her out of her misery. Do her good enough and we’ll all have it easy next year.’

  West: ‘Screwing older chicks is supposed to up your sex game. Hit that. Get some tips. Move on.’

  West: ‘Actually, I take that back. Forgot the stalker factor. Any other girl you date after that will mysteriously come up missing. True shit.’

  I’m only half kidding.

  Mom clears her throat, which means we’re not being all that discreet. So, the three of us put our phones away, and we mostly behave through the rest of dinner.

  Mostly.

  Two servers come out to clear the table and we all sit in awkward silence. Peering up at my father, the guy looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. Which makes sense. Family means shit to him and I’m sure he’s got some chick waiting in the wings to do his bidding tonight. Hence the reason he keeps checking his watch, and insisted that we eat and run by no later than eight.

  “Gina, wasn’t your niece supposed to join us tonight? Was she unable to make it?”

  Gina—or Mrs. Harrison to the rest of us—perks up when Mom asks. The two go way back, hailing from neighboring parishes down in Louisiana.

  “You’re right! She was, but it’s the strangest thing. Our lines got crossed somewhere and I missed that I was supposed to submit some sort of form to request that she come spend the holiday with us,” Mrs. Harrison explains. “Long story short, with her school running such a tight ship, they wouldn’t allow us to take her on such short notice. They keep those girls under lock and key.”

  Mom sighs a little. “That’s a bit… extreme, isn’t it?”

  Mrs. Harrison shrugs, not looking the least bit disappointed that this niece of hers wasn’t able to make it for dinner.

  “Possibly, but Brighton Pierce is the best boarding school in the country. So, I suppose you take the good with the bad, so to speak,” she says dismissively. “At any rate, now that I know the proper procedure, I’ll be submitting the necessary paperwork first thing Monday morning to see to it that Kendall’s able to visit this spring or summer.”

  “Spring or summer? Don’t you mean Christmas?” Mom asks.

  “Oh, heaven’s no! Martin and I have plans to spend Christmas in Europe. I’m sure she’ll be fine hanging out with friends for one more holiday.”

  Mrs. Harrison flashes a lighthearted smile that Mom doesn’t return. Having spent a short time at boarding school herself, she’s not a fan of them. Lucky for her, my grandfather has a soft spot for his girls and brought them home as soon as that year ended.

  The moment’s broken up when a round of dessert is brought out and set before us. My first thought is that they intended to feed a small army with all this shit, and not just the five of us. Mom’s eyes get big at the new spread, giving an awkward chuckle.

  “Wow, Gina! You didn’t have to go through all this trouble just for us. After that dinner, I’m not even sure I have room for anything else.”

  “Not if you want to keep that waistline,” Dad grumbles.

  Mrs. Harrison smiles big, standing from her seat to cut into one of two pumpkin pies now resting on the table.

  “Honey, please,” she says with a southern twang before laughing. “I didn’t cook a thing today, so it was honestly no trouble at all. Besides, you’ve got growing boys on your hands,” she adds, flashing a look toward Sterling next. “You want a piece. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

  No way she’s still talking about pie.

  “Um… I’ll take some,” Dane answers, breaking up the awkward tension when Sterling doesn’t respond.

  The two of us lift our plates, accepting a slice. Then, Sterling does the same. My phone’s buzzing in my pocket before I even get the chance to grab my fork, though.

  First thought when the text comes through is that Sterling’s venting again. However, I’m suddenly queasy when I see who it’s actually from.

  Parker: ‘I need to see you. Be at my house in an hour. Come alone.’

  I tip the screen toward Sterling to show him the message. His response is the confused look on his face I interpret to mean ‘What the fuck does she want now?’

  I shrug and try to pretend I’m not worried, but it’s never far from my mind that I didn’t exactly stick to the plan. Didn’t exactly keep my word. The deal between me and Parker was for me to keep my mouth shut and she’d keep what she knows to herself. Only, I got desperate, gave in, telling Southside more than I should have. Which, ironically enough, came nowhere near telling her enough.

  “You going?” Sterling asks, being discreet about it.

  Anger has my face blazing hot now, and I give the only answer I can.

  “Don’t have much of a fucking choice.”

  @QweenPandora: Happy Turkey Day, lovelies ;)

  It’s freezing outside, and while most of you are knee-deep in your third helping of green bean casserole, I received a rather interesting series of photos.

  Looks like, after leaving dinner at the Harrison’s not-so-humble abode, KingMidas made a pitstop. Here he is, headed inside none other than PrincessParker’s palace, about fifteen minutes after her parentals take off. Then, he resurfaces nearly twenty minutes later, and the two linger outside her door a little while. Tonight’s mystery photographer reported getting a very heavy vibe from whatever the pair were discussing.

  My guess?

  This was more than just a friendly social call.

  KingMidas seems to have been working double-time to earn NewGirl’s forgiveness, but maybe he was looking for a bit of an ego boost tonight. Maybe he needed someone who’s known to give in when he pushes, instead of pushing back?

  Whatever the case, if NewGirl reads this, QB-1 will likely spend the rest of the night groveling and doling out excuses. Better make them good, KingMidas. This will do NOTHING to help your latest cause.

  What say you, folks? Is our boy playing both sides of the field?

  Check out the pics and you be the judge.

  Later, Peeps.

  —P

  Chapter 19

  BLUE

  “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Avery. Everything was great,” I say just as Jules closes her front door behind us.

  We ate until we were stuffed, hung out playing board games a couple hours after that, but it’s getting late. With work tomorrow, I need to get home.

  I’m bogged down with grocery bags stacked with Tupperware containers filled with food. Thanks to Jules and her family, Scar and I have enough leftovers to get through the weekend.

  Even with Mike inevita
bly sneaking into them.

  It’s dark, so it’s not unheard of for Jules to walk Scar and me to the corner. Especially now, with news of the few missing south side girls still fresh on everyone’s minds. But still, I know Jules mostly insisted because she wants to talk about things we couldn’t discuss in front of her parents.

  Scar’s about twenty paces ahead of us. Texting Shane, of course. This gives us plenty of space to chat without her overhearing.

  “So, any updates?” Jules asks.

  I hold my chin while I think, pretending not to have a clue what she’s talking about. She shoves me and I laugh.

  “There is no update. I come out of class, and he’s just… standing there. I walk to the next class and he’s right there with me.”

  I leave out the part where, on Tuesday, I tripped over my own feet and he caught me around my waist. That small bit of contact nearly had my whole body catching fire, but I played it off, keeping my face void of expression as I slipped out of his grasp.

  “You’re better than me,” she admits. “I mean, if this guy’s as good with his mouth as you say, no way he wouldn’t have had my full forgiveness by now. I mean, full forgiveness.”

  Smiling, I nudge her with my elbow. “It’s not that simple.”

  She shrugs and clearly disagrees. “Maybe not for you, but I’d have to give him a pass. I mean, that room, those flowers. Gah!” she screams. “And to top it all off, I was dead on with it being Parker. She set him up. He told you that himself,” she adds.

  “Which is the problem. He told me,” I reiterate. “I can’t trust West further than I can throw him right now.”

  She shrugs again and I feel like she’s missing the point.

  “So, you don’t think this girl is capable of doing this? Setting him up, then bribing him to make sure he keeps his mouth shut?”

  I give her question some thought. If I’m being completely honest, of course I think Parker’s capable. That bitch has had it out for me since the moment West made me a target. From there, shit between us only became more personal. Now, since West planted that seed about her leaking the video, I find myself wanting to get at her even more than usual. So, yeah, I think she’s capable. But the problem is, when I consider the source of my information, I’m uncertain again. I mean, this is West I’m dealing with.

  And let’s say Parker did post the video. Is there really some cryptic reason West would cover for her? Or is it simpler than that?

  He doesn’t like to own it, but there’s history between these two. It’s possible that, if Parker is to blame, he’s not giving her up because there’s still some loyalty between them. Whether it has more to do with some bullshit North Side code, or… he still has a soft spot for her.

  I’ve wondered what would’ve happened in his hotel room that night if I hadn’t shown up to interrupt whatever he and Parker were up to. Maybe he isn’t as over her as he claims to be.

  “I knew she had something to do with it,” Jules states when I take too long to answer. “As soon as you told me she’d been in the room, my gut said it was her. Now, I may be biased because West is hot as hell, but I studied those pics of you two. The ones Pandora shares of him trying to show you he’s serious, and…”

  I peer up when she pauses, listening more closely now.

  “I don’t know, BJ. I think he’s being real.”

  Her words weigh heavy on my heart. She loves me more than most, which is why I listen to her more than I listen to most.

  “I suppose we’ll see about all that,” I say with a sigh, “but there’s still a shitload of conversation to be had.”

  She doesn’t argue with me on this point.

  “Me and West have still never gotten down to the heart of our first issue, before this new issue came up.”

  My stomach churns, thinking about how I was on his shit list from day one. A girl doesn’t just forget that. And I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’m owed one hell of an explanation and an apology.

  “I feel you,” Jules finally agrees. “But I still say you should let him go down on you one more time. Just to see if that helps make your decision any clearer.”

  “Oh, gosh,” I say, cutting into her sentence. “Go home, Jules. Take a cold shower or three, and I’ll call you tomorrow,” I tease.

  “You better.”

  I turn the corner, and with our house now in view, I catch up with Scar. I don’t interrupt the text conversation between her and Shane that has her grinning from ear-to-ear. Mostly because Jules’s suggestion has me reliving that night with West this past weekend. The one where, I swear, I saw stars. And may have even touched one.

  He blew my mind, and that’s putting it mildly.

  In that room, in that moment, I forgot about all the wrong he’d done and only knew I wanted him. Bad shit and all.

  I’m feeling super tense now, knowing West and I aren’t in a place where I can just call him up like, “Hey! You should come hang out for a bit. And, while you’re here, we may as well put my bed to good use”.

  But OMG do I want to.

  While I’m sure he’d be more than willing to oblige, I’m not willing to compromise. He will not touch me again until I have answers.

  “Ugh! What’s that smell?” Scar screeches, jarring me from my thoughts as soon as she unlocks the back door. Her question hits me half a second before the nasty odor does. Then, it doesn’t take long to figure out where it’s coming from.

  “Fucking Mike,” I groan loudly, dropping our leftovers on the kitchen table before sprinting toward the living room.

  The TV’s blaring with sports highlights from today’s game, and my gem of a father is passed out in the middle of the floor, because what the hell else would he do on Thanksgiving. But not only has this asshole pissed himself, he’s definitely shit himself, too.

  Happy Thanksgiving to me.

  “Damn it, Mike! Get up!” I yell, trying to lift his worthless ass.

  It takes a few tries and Scarlett’s help, but we finally manage to hoist him from the soggy stain he made on the carpet. Smelling like an entire distillery, and a public port-o-potty, he groans. Now that he’s off the ground and mobile, the smell is suddenly stronger.

  “What do we do with him?” Scar rushes to ask, pulling her shirt over her face to shield her nose.

  “Take him to his room. He can rot in there for all I care.”

  The odor hits me hard and fast and I have to stop in the hallway, gagging twice. I’ll be so pissed if this bastard makes me barf up dinner.

  When I regain my composure, I nod to Scar and we start again. The second we get him over the threshold of his bedroom, we drop him on the floor. I don’t even pause to see if he’s okay before rushing to close the door behind us. Now, he’s trapped in there with his stench.

  Scar and I are out of breath from carrying his dead weight through the house, and as we share a look, there’s a mutual sense of this being a new low. Even for our family.

  I fall against the wall, trying to keep calm. Trying to accept that this is my life.

  “Fill a bucket with hot water—as hot as you can get it,” I instruct her. “Dump in whatever cleaner you can find. Then, gather every rag in the house.”

  I’m so pissed, my vision’s going dark. I haven’t wanted to kill Mike this badly in a while, and there’s no promise I won’t return to his room at some point tonight to do just that. Especially after I finish scrubbing his piss from the carpet.

  “I’ll help.”

  “No.”

  Scar turns when I say that a bit more harshly than I mean to. But she’s sweet and thoughtful and, God help me, I’m trying to keep bitterness as far from her as possible. That’s where this life we live will lead her if I’m not vigilant, and shielding her gets harder every day. But, believe me, I won’t stop trying.

  “I can handle it,” I say a little softer.

  She scans me with sadness in her eyes and I turn to walk toward my room. I have to. Otherwise, she’d see I’m upset, cryin
g furious tears as I head in to change into clothes I don’t mind ruining.

  At what point will life stop shitting on me? I mean, really? Today, hanging with Scar, Jules, and her family, I actually felt normal for a while. No worrying. Nothing to stress about. It was just a quiet, peaceful Thanksgiving dinner with a stable family—something I’ve never had.

  Then, I get home, and it all comes crashing down.

  Reality.

  I storm down the hall in sweats and a t-shirt with a hole in the armpit. I should’ve gotten rid of it months ago, but it’s coming in handy now. Angry, I yank my hair into a ponytail. On my way past Mike’s door, I toss up both middle fingers as if he can see me, and then stand in the entryway to the living room.

  The bucket and rags I requested are all there, and even a bandana Scar’s stuck a sticky note to that says: ‘For your nose’. I tie it beneath my hair and start scrubbing.

  I’m numb. Too tired of all the shit I deal with to even feel anymore. If I do let the emotions in, I’ll fall apart and turn into someone I hate. Someone everyone hates. Someone no one can reach.

  Ever.

  So, I just scrub in silence, occasionally swiping tears with my shoulders. I’ve changed the water three times and the smell is finally leaving. My fingers are raw, my knees ache, but it’s clean.

  Exhausted, I carry the last bucket of water to the laundry room and dump it into the wash tub, hearing commotion behind me just as I finish. The second I make it back to the kitchen, I spot Scar racing out with my phone in hand, working quickly to unlock the screen.

  “Hold it! What’re you doing?”

  She looks like a deer caught in headlights, bouncing a look between me and the phone, knowing she’s been caught red-handed.

  “I… There’s just… I thought…”

  “Hand it over.”

  When I turn my palm up, expecting her to do as she’s just been told, she hesitates.