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

by Rachel Jonas

  Her feet thunder across the carpet at lightspeed, out of the living room and back down the hall. I’m faster, though, which is why she’s surprised as hell when I manage to catch her around her towel-clad waist with one arm, lifting her off the ground. A high-pitched yelp leaves her mouth when I toss her over my shoulder caveman-style, grabbing a handful of bare ass in the process.

  Can’t say I mind that part.

  She’s not your typical damsel in distress by any means. She doesn’t scream for help. Instead she’s cussing like a raging sailor and clawing at my fucking back like a rabid cat, not pounding on it like most girls would do. I spot her room—the one with twinkling lights strung from the ceiling—and charge in at full-steam, tossing her down on the bed roughly before rushing back to lock the door behind me.

  The towel that once covered her came undone and fell to the floor while she fought me. Now, I can’t take my eyes off her as she stands to grab it.

  “You… are an ass!” she shouts, resecuring the blue terrycloth fabric across her chest.

  There’s heavy pounding at the door. “I’m calling the cops?!?!” Scarlett announces from the other side.

  “Don’t!” Southside and I yell in unison, causing her sister to fall silent across the threshold.

  Waiting to see what Southside’s next move will be, I’m getting the death-stare of a lifetime. Girl has me praying harder than I’m panting, with hopes that she’s not about to freak out again.

  “Just… go to your room, Scar,” Southside eventually concedes, breathing like she just ran a quick lap around the track.

  She’s covered now and her damp hair rests on both shoulders. Won’t lie; knowing she’s practically naked right now has me distracted. If I’m being honest, I don’t think she’s ever looked sexier, which is why I’ve nearly forgotten why I’m here. It isn’t until I spot that damn pink softball bat that my memory gets triggered.

  “Kind of late to be getting in the shower, isn’t it? Must’ve worked up quite a sweat fucking up my car,” I snap.

  She’s got both fists balled at her sides, clearly squaring up for a fight. “No clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, I bet.”

  I take my eyes off her for one second to pick up the bat, and when I stand straight again, she swings a fist at me.

  Yeah, she misses, but I’m still shocked she just tried to punch me.

  “The fuck is wrong with you?”

  “You!” she shouts. “You’re what the fuck is wrong with me!”

  She tightens the towel around her chest again and I see her hands are still balled into fists. This time, when she swings, I’m ready for her and manage to get her restrained, holding her tight against me, which she hates.

  I’ve never seen her like this—wild, enraged, raw with emotion.

  “Let go of me, West. I swear,” she grunts, struggling to break free.

  Her eyes burn red as she fights unshed tears. Her face is flushed, too, and it’s seeing her emotions exposed like this that has me thinking less about her reaction, and more about what caused it.

  Seeing me with Parker. Misreading that entire encounter.

  “I know what you think I did,” I say to her, but I swear the words go in one ear and out the other.

  All because she’s had enough. Enough of being handled with kid-gloves. Enough of being given part of the truth instead of all of it. Enough of not being able to trust.

  “I didn’t fuck Parker.” This time, I say the words point blank, right against her ear so there’s no mistaking what I mean.

  A small measure of fight drains from her, but she still wants to break free. I won’t allow it, though. Not until I’m certain she understands.

  “I wouldn’t do that, because I don’t even want her.”

  Southside’s found her second wind and I have to hold her tighter, seeing those tears fall freely now.

  “Let… go of me, West,” she seethes, threatening me with a wicked glare I can’t escape from this close.

  But I don’t want to. I want everything she has to give. Every punch she can pull—whether they be real or emotional. I’ll take it all.

  “I don’t want Parker or any other girl. Because the only one I want is you.”

  My head spins with what I’ve just admitted—that I’m basically committed to her without her even being able to own the fact that she feels something for me. But… it’s all I have.

  The truth.

  When I free her from my arms, she staggers away, swiping angrily at the tears she’s shed.

  “I saw the pictures,” she finally admits. “Saw what Pandora had to say about it.”

  “And we both know that bitch is wrong more than she’s right.”

  Southside’s shoulders are heaving and I can’t take my eyes off her. Not just because she’s beautiful even when she’s pissed and wants me dead, but because, more than anything, I want her back in my arms.

  Even knowing she could very well swing on me if I get close enough.

  Fucking psycho.

  “You always expect me to just take your word for shit,” she accuses, “but the bottom line is that your ass isn’t trustworthy enough for that to work on me.”

  She hits me with a deep stare that cuts to the bone.

  “I’m so sick of this West. You’re exhausting and I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want you stalking me at school. I don’t want the flowers. I don’t want you stopping over uninvited. I just… I want you to leave me alone.”

  She lowers her gaze and folds both arms across her chest, but I’m not feeling nearly as defeated as she is.

  “Fuck that.”

  Her wet strands quiver when she peers up, confused by my response.

  “Fuck my feelings?” she asks.

  I take steps closer and she eyes me warily. “No, fuck you trying to dismiss me. I’m not going anywhere and I’m not sure how many different ways I have to say that.”

  Her lips part, like she wants to say more, but isn’t quite sure what to say.

  I close the distance between us and fight the urge to grab her, fight the urge to toss her to the bed and fuck her like I know she needs me to. So good she’ll never question my feelings again. So good it’ll obliterate all this other shit into a pile of nonfactors that amount to nothing. But I refrain. Stopping where I am.

  “Why were you at Parker’s?”

  There’s an air of vulnerability in her voice I don’t miss.

  “Because she basically has me by the balls right now, which means I couldn’t afford to tell her no,” I admit. “And because she doesn’t know how to let go.”

  Telling the truth for a change feels like digging myself out from underneath a pile of rubble. Each lie, each secret rolling off me like a boulder as I crawl to the surface.

  “No, I need to know what she said,” Southside demands. “Verbatim.”

  She swallows deeply, holding her composure when I sigh and take a couple steps back. I lean against her bedroom door before meeting her gaze again.

  “She wanted to know why I look at you the way I do. In a way I’ve never looked at her,” I admit. “For whatever reason—to torture herself, I guess—she says she’s re-watched the video of you and me about a dozen times. Not the… sex part. The part where we argued, before any of that other stuff happened.”

  I pause, thinking back to that night myself, envisioning it.

  “She said she was willing to ‘unknow what she knows’ if I agree to give her another chance. A real chance. It was an opportunity to buy myself at least a little time to figure something else out, a chance to regain a bit of leverage, but—”

  “But you didn’t take it.”

  I stare at Southside through the dim light, shaking my head. “No.”

  Her eyes are softer now, but still not trusting.

  “I’m supposed to believe that? I’m supposed to believe you wouldn’t jump at the chance to save your own ass in exchange for being Parker’s pretend boyfriend?”

/>   There’s a hint of something I hadn’t heard in her voice before now and I nearly call it out.

  Jealousy.

  “Shit, Southside! How many times do I have to tell you I won’t have anyone else?” I say coldly, needing her to really hear me for once.

  She’s rolling her eyes. “Right. Because you only want me.”

  Her tone is mocking, but I know she’s at least considering my sincerity.

  “I need to know what this secret is she has on you. This thing that’s kept you from clearing your name.”

  My head lowers. “That’s literally the one thing I cannot say to you tonight. I’m begging you to ask me anything but that.”

  She’s holding my gaze and I hold hers, not wavering.

  “Fine. You want immunity?” she asks. “I’ll give you immunity on that one thing, but you have to do something for me.”

  I already feel the weight of what she’s preparing to say. Even before she actually says it.

  “I’m listening.”

  Her chest rises and falls when she breathes deep. “In exchange for me letting you hold on to that one secret, you have to tell me everything else. Everything else.”

  My heart skips a beat when her brow quirks.

  “Can you handle that?” she asks.

  I’ve held so much in I don’t think she really realizes what she’s asking me to do, but I also know I’m desperate to make things right between us. So, after deliberating for several seconds, and then scolding myself for not coming up with an alternate option, I cave.

  “Deal.”

  The look of shock on her face when I give in is hard to miss.

  “I mean everything, West. No more lies. No half-truths. Everything,” she reiterates.

  I nod once and even cross my fucking heart as it races, because I have to pull out all the stops with this girl. She never lets me off easy and tonight’s no different.

  “You have my word,” I promise.

  She holds my gaze for a bit, seeming to question whether she’s just made the right decision, and then she stares down her nose at me. Likely still questioning whether I can actually be trusted or not.

  “Give me a sec to change,” she says in a clipped tone. “Then, I guess we’ll get started.”

  She pops her brow and then steps to the dresser to grab a t-shirt and shorts. I pretend not to watch as she drops her towel and quickly slips into clothes. Next, she points toward the floor.

  “Sit,” she instructs. “We’ll be at this a while.”

  If she expects me to flake, expects me to bail in favor of holding what I know close to the cuff, she’s wrong. I’m about to bear my soul for a chance to win her heart. There’s no other way, no other choice. I’m all out of excuses. All out of options.

  In other words, what I’m trying to say is… fuck my life.

  The whole thing.

  Yup. Fuck it.

  Chapter 22

  WEST

  Moment of truth.

  I stare at her, seated on the edge of her bed, looking every bit as nervous as I feel. But surprisingly, she hasn’t said a word yet. Maybe she’s not sure what to ask first, isn’t sure where to begin.

  Her gaze shifts to the floor where I sit against her door, elbows propped up on my knees.

  “Why?”

  That one word falls from her lips and my gaze meets hers, letting every emotion she holds bleed from her and into me.

  “Why… what?”

  The question comes out quieter than I mean for it to. Kind of like I’m already shaken by this conversation. A conversation that’s barely begun.

  “You’re going out of your way to convince me there’s something between us, but the last few months of my life have been hell because of you.” She pauses, shaking her head. “I need to know why. I need you to tell me what you think I did to deserve that.”

  Her voice breaks when asking and it tears me apart on the inside.

  There’s a short answer to that question, and then there’s the one that lets her into my world a little more. And seeing as how I’ve stormed my way into hers uninvited, I decide she deserves the whole truth.

  “Our lives—yours and mine—they’re different, but not as different as you might think.”

  Her brow quirks when she scoffs. “How do you figure that?”

  I’m sure she’s thinking about the money, the material things, but I’m talking about a fundamental similarity. One that, at the thought of opening up about it, I’m already feeling exposed. I hardly even talk to my brothers about these things.

  “Our fathers,” I reveal. “Neither of them really gives a shit. Not like they should.”

  Southside’s expression shifts, softening just a little as she draws both legs onto the bed to cross them.

  “Not sure about your dad’s history, but mine is a serial cheater with one foot in the door and one foot out. I’ve known he steps out on my mom since I was eight,” I share. “That was the first time I caught him.”

  Her head tilts and I sense she has a question before she even asks it.

  “You… saw him?”

  I nod and hate that I remember that shit like it was yesterday. “Unfortunately,” is all I say, seeing as how I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want the details.

  “Infidelity is about the only sin my dad’s not guilty of,” she shares. “My mom’s the one who steps out. Way out. So far out she seems to have forgotten her way home this time.”

  Southside lets out a humorless laugh before lowering her gaze to where she fidgets with the hem of her shorts.

  “Sometimes, I think it’s the reason he drinks so much. Kind of like, it’s his way of numbing the pain of being so attached to someone who’s not nearly as devoted. When she’s here, they fight like cats and dogs, but when she’s gone, he’s never quite sure what to do with himself. So, he drinks more, passes out more. Sucks more,” she adds.

  I’m fixated on her, on her story, wondering if she fears she’ll become one of her parents one day. That’s something I wrestle with all the time. Not wanting to be a total asshole like my father. Also, not wanting to be the doormat my mother’s turned into. Deep down, I know this fear is what’s turned me cold.

  “I found something this summer,” I reveal. “Something I didn’t question at the time because I didn’t know the whole story, but I damn sure know Vin Golden.”

  I watch her when I say his name, and she doesn’t even flinch, just holds my gaze as I speak. It adds to what I’ve started to believe over the past couple weeks—that she has no fucking idea who my father is, meaning he’s woven this entire story on his own.

  But why?

  Why lie and pretend to know her? Why lie and pretend she’s one of his side bitches just to keep me away?

  When I reach for my phone, I feel Southside’s eyes on me. My hands are shaking like crazy, but I’m not changing my mind about what I plan to do next. Even with the possibility of her freaking out on me again.

  I scroll to the pic I keep of her. The one that’s fueled untold anger that I aimed right in her direction, without question.

  Her gaze follows when I stand and walk closer to hand over my phone.

  And when I finally do… blank stare.

  No words.

  I lower back down to sit on the carpet, but closer this time, leaning against the bedpost. That’s probably a pretty stupid idea, since she’s known to punch me when I’m least expecting it.

  “Where did you get this?” Her voice is quiet when she asks, as if she’s equal parts stunned and confused.

  “My dad had it in his phone. Well, he had it in a secret phone he keeps locked in the safe in his study,” I clarify. “I found it before the school year started, after I saw you at the bonfire a couple months earlier.”

  “And you thought—”

  “I thought this was more evidence of Vin being Vin,” I cut in.

  She’s quiet again, staring at the image on the screen.

  “And you never thought to just fucking ask
me?” she snaps.

  When I peer up, I’m not surprised she’s furious now—red in the face, angry tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

  She shakes her head at me, disappointment marking her expression, and I feel like shit.

  “It didn’t seem necessary, because I thought I knew everything I needed to know,” I admit.

  She swipes at a tear and turns to look out her window, instead of looking at me or the naked image on the screen.

  “A simple conversation, West. One conversation could’ve cleared all this up.”

  I’m completely aware that this is how a normal person probably would’ve handled the situation. Instead, I saw the picture and saw an opportunity to right a wrong. Unfortunately, I never even took into consideration that Southside might be innocent in all this.

  Which I’ll never let myself live down.

  “This is bullshit,” she hisses, drawing her knees against her chest.

  My gaze lowers when it becomes hard to look at her, knowing how royally I’ve fucked this whole thing up.

  “For what it’s worth, I’ve never met your dick of a father,” she hisses. “Couldn’t pick him out in a damn crowd even if I wanted to.”

  Feeling like shame has me in one hell of a chokehold, I nod. “I think I already realized that.”

  I’ve done some pretty ugly shit to her, all in the name of revenge. Not realizing at the time that she didn’t even deserve it.

  I peer up and she’s glaring at the photo again, concern marking her expression.

  “I did send this picture, but not to your dad,” she clarifies, wiping more tears half a second before she reaches for her own phone, putting it on speaker while it rings.

  Late as it is, whoever she’s called picks up on the second ring.

  “What’s wrong? You good?” someone answers in a mild panic. Someone I’m ninety-nine percent sure is fucking Ricky Ruiz.

  Breathing deep, I beat a spike of rage into submission, convincing myself that’s all I feel when it comes to him and Southside.

  But that’s a lie. Anything involving the two of them interacting makes me want to level this entire city, and jealousy is one of the few emotions that packs that kind of power. I feel it bone-deep, and I fucking hate it.