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

by Rachel Jonas

  But this is what he wants. Me, by his side.

  As a girl who’s often felt discarded, set aside, being wanted is a nice change. And while I never in a million years would’ve guessed West could make me feel that way, I’m positive this is all so right.

  Somehow, now that the dust has settled, we just… make sense.

  @QweenPandora: Let’s get the obvious topic out of the way first. Our boys pulled out a fabulous win today! Everyone fought hard and it earned you all a flawless season that’ll go down in history. Be proud of the work you put in on that field! We certainly are.

  Now, let’s talk about what’s really on everyone’s mind.

  No need to speculate, folks. KingMidas and NewGirl are official. If that jersey she donned at today’s game wasn’t enough to prove she’s letting bygones be bygones, check out all the pics of her at the king’s side during the victory celebration. He’s clinging to her hand in every single frame, making sure she never gets away from him again.

  Gotta admit, I did NOT see things turning out so well for this indecisive duo. It looked super bleak for a moment there. Especially after that leak. But to say that they’ve defied the odds would be putting it mildly.

  Good job, KingMidas! Some thought you were insane not to give up when NewGirl kept giving you the cold shoulder, but your relentlessness clearly paid off for you.

  In honor of this drastic one-eighty you two have done, I’m categorizing this whole second-chance-romance vibe you’ve got going on as #RelationshipGoals.

  Later, Peeps.

  —P

  Chapter 33

  BLUE

  Dr. Pryor closes the file folder on her desk and even though she hasn’t said much, I feel it all.

  The disappointment.

  The judgment.

  She’s likely heard rumors of the reconciliation between West and me, because the staff here always seems to know what’s going on in students’ lives. From the outside looking in, it probably looks super convenient that West would want to patch things up with me. If for no other reason than to ensure that I side with him should shit hit the fan, but I can’t help the way it looks.

  Nor do I care a whole lot about convincing people that us being together is legit. If there’s one thing I’ve taken from him, it’s that fuck-the-world mentality of his. Makes life a whole lot easier when pleasing people isn’t at the top of your priority list.

  As much as I respect Dr. Pryor, and while I don’t blame her for whatever assumptions she’s made, I don’t feel guilty or silly for forgiving West. We went through some shit, made it out of some shit, now people can love it or hate it.

  “Guess there isn’t much point in asking whether you’ve come up with anything useful for me,” she says dryly.

  I offer a tight smile when I shrug. “Nope. Nothing to report.”

  She’s eyeing me really hard, like I imagine my mother would’ve if she actually cared.

  Dr. Pryor leans back in her seat, crossing her legs while staring at me. “Then, I guess you’re free to go.”

  I brace the arms of my seat and push off of them to stand. It isn’t until I get to the door that she speaks up again.

  “Ms. Riley. I hope you know what you’re doing,” she warns. “You being on probation hasn’t just vanished into thin air. You’re still being watched. They’re still waiting for you to slip up. If there’s something you could tell me to clear your name, the window for me to consider you an innocent party in all this is quickly coming to a close.”

  My heart leaps when she says that, knowing I’m definitely keeping quiet to protect West, but ultimately Parker’s being shielded from the consequences, too. Which she doesn’t deserve.

  Still, I hold my tongue. For West.

  “I understand,” I answer.

  Her gaze lingers on me a moment longer before she finally nods. “Then you enjoy the rest of your morning.”

  This time, I make a quicker exit than before. So she can’t stop me and nearly guilt me into telling the truth about Parker’s involvement.

  The bell already rang, which means I’ve missed West, and he probably grilled Lexi about where I was. She promised she’d let him know I got called down to Pryor’s office, but not without first saying how weird it is that West and I are no longer at each other’s throats. She isn’t wrong, but the idea of it will eventually grow on her.

  I’m maybe a few yards from Pryor’s office when I pass a classroom I think is empty. It isn’t until I’m snatched inside by my wrist that I realize that isn’t true. The small yelp that leaves my mouth is in vain, because one look at who’s snatched me up reveals I’m not in any danger.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “Waiting for you. Rodriguez said you’d be around here,” West answers as my heart races.

  I peer up at him. “Anyone ever told you what a damn stalker you are?”

  He shrugs and flashes a half-grin down at me. “This hot chick I’m fucking says that shit all the time.”

  I shove his chest for being so vulgar, but he knows I like it.

  “What’d Pryor want?” he asks casually, bringing me to him by my waist.

  “She just wondered if I found out anything else about the video.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  He doesn’t bother asking if I said more than I should’ve, because he knows better than to even think it. His large hands slip down my waist, snaking around until he’s gripping my ass. His touch is never tender. It’s rough and I love it. Still, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if a teacher catches us.

  “We shouldn’t be in here,” I point out, despite not wanting him to let go.

  “Then let’s leave,” he says with a shrug, almost challenging me to simply walk away from him. When I don’t move right away, he further calls my bluff by craning his neck just enough to place a kiss beneath my jaw.

  “We should stop,” I protest again, knowing my tone doesn’t match these words.

  “You’re one-hundred percent right.”

  Half a second after he gets those words out, I take his face into both hands and bring his lips to mine. Keeping him close, I force him against the wall. Only, I’m not nearly as gentle as I mean to be, which becomes evident when his back slams the cabinets behind him.

  “What the fuck?” he asks with a deep, sexy laugh, but then captures my lips again before I can even apologize.

  This is neither the time nor the place. Just on the other side of this wall, Dr. Pryor is likely sitting at her desk, pissed about whatever she thinks I’m hiding. And here West and I are, going at it hot and heavy, like we have the whole building to ourselves.

  Pushing my hands beneath his t-shirt, they flatten against his rigid abs, moving over the well-defined peaks and valleys I find there. He’s so smooth, so warm.

  Damn. I swear wanting him will be the death of me.

  I lower my hand, until my fingers form over the massive hard-on beneath his sweats.

  Shit.

  I’m breathing heavy into our kiss, having a hard time believing what I’m about to suggest. It involves his pants down around his ankles, and my legs locked around his naked waist.

  I kiss him deeper, thinking our best chance of not getting caught would be if we slip into the closet in the corner. If we’re quiet, we’ll get away with it easy.

  However, what West rasps against my lips brings the momentum we’ve built up to a screeching halt.

  “Fuck,” he groans. “We have to stop.”

  Panting, I peer up at him. “Why?”

  His eyes slam closed, as if shutting this down is physically painful for him right now.

  “I don’t have a condom,” he admits.

  I blink several times and for a fraction of a second, I’m thinking recklessly. Like, considering telling him to ‘just pull out’ reckless. But then I come to my senses. Honestly, I’m a little surprised he’s always so responsible about wearing protection. Most guys—especially ones with his rep—aren’t nearly
as conscious about it.

  “Shit,” he mostly says to himself. “I fucked up.”

  “It’s fine.”

  He leans his head against the cabinet, trying to steady his breathing. “I used to keep them on me all the time, just in case. Before—”

  His voice trails off there and I smile a little. No, he didn’t just recite me a line of poetry, but I still find what he just admitted pretty sweet.

  I stare up at him, smiling a bit. “Before we got together?”

  He nods once, but that’s his only response.

  “Well, word of advice,” I say quietly, letting my gaze lower to his lips. “Always keep a few on hand, because you never know.”

  Still clearly frustrated with himself, he peers down and manages to smile. “Noted.”

  I force myself to back off of him, before I suggest that stupid thing that was floating around inside my head a moment ago. Instead, I move to stand beside him, folding both arms over my chest while we wait for his body to… relax. It’s kind of sad, actually, this opportunity going to waste. He takes a deep breath and I know he’d kick his own ass if he could.

  “Believe it or not, I didn’t only come looking for you because I wanted to fuck around,” he says with a quiet laugh.

  I glance over with a smile. “Liar.”

  “I said that wasn’t the only reason. Never said that wasn’t part of it,” he teases, which has me slapping his arm.

  “What’d you want?”

  When my eyes land on him again, I note that his expression is still light, but the laughter fades quickly.

  “It’s about you talking to Dr. Pryor.”

  My brow quirks a little when confusion sets in. I’m starting to wonder if I’d been wrong to assume he knew there was nothing to worry about where she’s concerned. Maybe he isn’t as certain I didn’t snitch as I thought he’d be.

  “We only discussed the things I told you about. She—”

  “No, it’s not about that,” he cuts in, leaving me even more confused.

  Instead of making another assumption, I just wait for him to explain.

  “I want you to tell her the truth. About Parker,” he shares, leaving me dumfounded.

  “But if you out her, won’t she release what she knows about you?” I turn to face him, wondering what’s brought this on.

  It seemed like he’d gone out of his way to conceal whatever this secret is he’s kept, but now he wants to just put it all out there?

  “What’s going on?”

  He doesn’t look at me when I ask, but I can see him considering the question deeply.

  His shoulders lift with a shrug and I don’t take my eyes off him.

  “I’ve had a lot of shit on my mind,” he says. “It’s the reason I didn’t talk much on the ride home yesterday.”

  He’s not wrong. I noticed he was quiet, but assumed he was still exhausted from the big game, from the stress of worrying whether they’d pull out the win.

  But now, I realize that wasn’t it.

  “I don’t want to be my father.”

  His confession catches me off guard and I’m not really sure what to say to that.

  “Yeah, he’s an all-around piece of shit,” West scoffs, “but it all comes from him lying and twisting the world around him to fit those lies. It hit me that, if I don’t straighten all my shit out now, I might not ever get it straight, and I can’t wake up one day and realize I let myself become him.”

  West’s gaze is focused on the tile beneath our feet, but I’m focused on him. On the guy I thought I had pegged—as the rich prick who thought the sun rose and set on his ass, as the heartless bastard who got off on making others feel dead inside. But as I stare at him now, there’s so much emotion within him, so much conviction, I can’t believe he was ever able to hide it from me.

  It’s all so evident now.

  When my hand slips into his, he peers up.

  “I don’t know your father, but I know you. And your heart’s good. Even if you haven’t always known how to let that show.”

  He stares, eventually shaking his head at me. “Not always.”

  I don’t let him tear his eyes away from mine, holding his gaze. “We’re talking about now, West.”

  There’s a look of disbelief on his face that isn’t lost on me.

  “How can you even say that? After all the shit I’ve done to you.”

  When I shrug and smile a little, it lightens the heavy mood some. “Because I see you.”

  It’s not the most profound answer in the world, but it’s the one I have, and it’s honest.

  He peers down on me and I feel so much coming from him, things he’s not ready to say, but I feel it.

  “I want you in on everything.”

  My brow quirks. “Everything?”

  He nods. “I’d rather you hear it from me before you hear it from anyone else. After, we’ll talk shit out and decide what’s next.”

  I draw in a deep breath, knowing that whatever he needs to say will likely be heavy, but I’m not worried.

  “Come over tonight,” I say. “I have to cook for Scar when I get out of practice, but we can talk after that.”

  He nods and squeezes my hand where it still rests in his. That feeling hits me again. The one I swear he’s holding in, but has yet to outwardly acknowledge.

  The next second, I’m in his arms again, and it isn’t sexual this time. It’s just a response to both of us needing to be close. Needing each other.

  “How’d I get so lucky?” he asks, smiling despite the weight of this conversation.

  I shrug, smiling back. “Guess you’re not as big a dick as you think.”

  That answer draws a laugh from him and I’m grateful he doesn’t seem nervous to talk later. I’m sure I can handle whatever he has to say, and he’ll learn something about me—I don’t bail on people. Not even when shit gets hard, or ugly. I said I was in this with him, and I meant it.

  As long as he’s honest, as long as he’s willing to fight for us, I’m not going anywhere.

  @QweenPandora: What have we here, Princess Parker?

  Ditching school for a little retail therapy, are we? I suppose a girl has to soothe her broken heart somehow, but hopefully Daddy isn’t too upset when he gets the bill from today’s shopping spree.

  I mean, seriously, did you leave anything on the shelves for the rest of us?

  Hopefully, you got that out of your system. We get it, your guy moved on and it stings, but get a grip! Tis the season to have a smidge of dignity, woman!

  As for the rest of you, be safe out there. I hear we’re expecting several inches tomorrow evening.

  Get your minds out the gutter. I’m talking about snow.

  Maybe ;)

  Later, Peeps!

  —P

  Chapter 34

  BLUE

  I rinse the last dish and place it on the rack to dry, just as the doorbell rings.

  Shit. He’s early. I was supposed to have twenty more minutes

  “I’ll get it,” Scar offers, bouncing toward the door.

  Meanwhile, I’m smoothing both hands through my hair, trying to push it back into my braid. Doesn’t work even a little, but I do the best I can. It’s still jacked up from sweating during practice, seeing as how I rushed home to cook right after, thinking I’d have time to shower before West showed up. Looks like I cut it too close, though.

  “It’s Shane. Can he stay and game with me?” Scars eyes are lit up while she awaits my answer.

  A relieved breath leaves my mouth, realizing it isn’t West at the door.

  “As long as you two stay in the living room.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That’s where the game is, isn’t it?”

  When I shoot her a look, she flashes a playful grin. The innocent expression doesn’t stand a chance against the memory of walking in on the two of them doing much more than playing a video game.

  “I was kidding, but can he stay a while? I don’t have homework,” she whines.
>
  She does that puppy dog thing with her eyes and I cave.

  “Living room only,” I reiterate, bringing her grin back.

  “I’m gonna go shower,” I announce in a hurry, already heading down the hall toward the bathroom, snatching my shirt off.

  As soon as the water’s hot, I lather up my hair and body, then rinse as quickly as possible. When I’m done, I barely towel myself off before throwing on a pair of pink sweats and black sports bra. I’m moisturizing my arms and face when the Chevelle pulls up beneath the streetlight, right behind my hooptie. The visual of the two together has me laughing at the difference between West’s ride and mine.

  He steps out and my eyes are glued to him. Even with it being dark outside, I have a clear visual of him in all his unearthly perfection—light-colored jeans, stylishly distressed with a hole in the knee. Gray zip-up hoodie, white Nikes that match his belt and t-shirt. His breath puffs in the air as he climbs the porch, skipping steps with his long strides.

  My heart pounds to the beat of his fist against the security door. I step away from where I just gawked at him through the window, remembering I hadn’t done anything with my hair. Scar’s chatting him up for a few seconds while I rake a comb through my hair. Then, I toss it to the nightstand right before West’s at my bedroom door.

  I pretend to be casual and shit, grabbing my phone to scroll social media as I drop down onto my bed, like I’d been sitting here this way the whole time.

  “It’s open,” I call out.

  The knob turns and in he walks, looking like a damn Abercrombie model. He smiles. I melt.

  Those green eyes look me up and down, probably because I never got around to putting on a shirt over my sports bra. He scans me with a slow gaze and I’m eyeing him too, remembering how hot and heavy things got between us this morning, before we had to stop for lack of protection.