The Golden Boys: Dark High School Bully Romance (Kings of Cypress Prep Book 1)

by Rachel Jonas

  Like … I enjoyed it.

  This is the whole damn reason I never kiss chicks. They read way too much into things. I should’ve been smarter, thought things through.

  Not to mention, she had me hard as a brick—a sign I’d let her inside my head. Deep. The loss of control happened almost the instant I tasted that sticky, orange-flavored gloss on her damn lips. As pissed as I am at myself, I’m aware of the fact that, if I didn’t know her secret, things would’ve gone a lot further than they did tonight. Right there, with her pinned against that wall, knowing her uncle and all the customers would be a few yards away listening.

  “You owe me dinner.” Sterling’s gripe pulls me out of my thoughts. “Seeing as how you spazzed before we even got to order,” he added under his breath.

  I know I just caused a scene, making my brothers clear out of the diner without explanation, but leaving was an absolute must. If I didn’t go right then and there, I couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t have seen what kissing her had done to me.

  I pegged her right; she’s pure poison. But I have the perfect remedy.

  “I’m texting Joss,” Dane jumps in. “She says her mom cooked a huge dinner and we’re welcome to whatever we want.”

  I hear him, but have something else in mind.

  I’m already shooting a text of my own before answering him. “Can’t. Just made plans,” I reply. “Besides, her dad hates your ass. Remember?”

  He doesn’t laugh when I do.

  “Hate’s such a strong word,” he counters.

  “Maybe, but it sure as hell isn’t the wrong word,” I say back. “You guys are on your own tonight, though. I’ll drop you off to get one of your cars.”

  “Got other plans?”

  I smile at Dane through the rearview mirror when answering, “Parker’s.”

  Both he and Sterling laugh. “How’s that gonna work? She’s on crutches,” Sterling points out.

  I take off into the intersection and shrug. “There’s nothing wrong with her mouth.”

  Yeah, the head is terrible, but practice makes perfect. Even the worst can be great with the right teacher on the job.

  Ten minutes later, my brothers are out of the car and I’m on my way to get Southside’s taste out of my mouth.

  The best way I know how.

  @QweenPandora: Attention, northsiders! Up for a little adventure? Well, strap the kids into the backseat and journey across town for the annual Southside Block Party tomorrow night! Never been? Now might be a good time to check it out, seeing as how we’ve recently made a south side connection of our own. Never know, things could get interesting in NewGirl’s neck of the woods.

  Later, Peeps.

  —P

  Chapter 13

  WEST

  “Explain again why we’re spending a perfectly good Saturday night out there?” Sterling asks, slipping on a pair of brand-new kicks.

  “Who cares why? Just think of all the photo-ops,” Dane cuts in, answering Sterling’s question before I have the chance.

  And not at all in the way I would’ve answered it.

  Joss rolls her eyes from the armchair beneath my window, shaking her head at Dane’s vain ass.

  “Do you make any life decisions without thinking about selfies?” she asks.

  Gazing at himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror opposite my bed, Dane smooths his eyebrows. “I gotta give the people what they want,” he teases, knowing it’ll get under Joss’s skin.

  It does. She stands, pushes both hands down the front of her jean shorts, deciding she’s had enough of us already.

  “I’ll be down in the car when you three prima donnas are done getting ready for the ball,” she says with a playful sigh. “Not being the prettiest girl in the room is getting kinda old.”

  We laugh, but the moment she passes to walk into the hall, Dane’s eyes are lustfully glued to her in those tiny shorts, taking it all in.

  “I don’t know why you don’t just hit that already,” I say with a sigh.

  He faces the mirror again, fixing his collar.

  “It’s simple,” he reasons. “I refuse to be the asshole to ruin something so perfect.”

  His honesty catches me off guard and I pause, rolling the sleeves of a black button-down to my elbows. “Well, damn. I think that’s the realest thing you’ve ever said.”

  “Which is fuckin’ sad,” Sterling chimes in, shoving his wallet into the pocket of his jeans.

  Then, we’re ready.

  I kill the lights in the penthouse on our way to the elevator. It’s not until the doors close and seal us in that Sterling revisits his earlier question.

  “So, we’re slumming it on the crap side of town for … what reason again? Sorry, just still trying to wrap my head around this.”

  My back rests against the wall as we descend twenty-plus floors. “Because I have a message to send,” I explain. “Can’t have Southside thinking she can escape me. She needs to know I’ll be everywhere, until I say she’s had enough. Her job, her hood, everywhere,” I add.

  I don’t mention it, but showing up and pissing her off again serves a secondary purpose. Like fixing whatever malfunction I had last night when I touched her. I just need to remember how much I like seeing her broken, and all will be right with the world.

  My brothers are silent, probably because I’ve never gone this dark. But if they knew what I found, knew what I’d seen in the past, they’d be raging, too.

  There’s an unknown history between my dad and me, information only the two of us share. Well, us and the cunt I caught him with exactly a decade ago. He always had a soft spot for young blondes and seeing Blue in his phone only proved he hadn’t changed. The only difference is, unlike the first time I caught him cheating, I’m old enough to do something about it.

  Like, break his newest conquests soul in two.

  “You can’t defeat an opponent unless you know what makes them tick,” I explain. “So, to answer your question, that’s why we’re going tonight. Once I know what’s important to her … I can go in for the kill.” I add.

  And in case it isn’t already clear, I’m going to enjoy that shit.

  Chapter 14

  BLUE

  Music, dancing, good food.

  Southside block parties never disappoint.

  Peeking around Scar and Shane’s baked goods booth from a lawn chair, I take in the glittering lights that zigzag from one side of the street to the other. They burn bright against the dark sky. A neighborhood committee had carefully hung them just this afternoon, having taken on the challenge of making this year’s celebration a little more festive than in the past.

  The lights, the hired clowns and face painters, a professional DJ posted at the end of the street. Mostly, he played hip-hop from the 90s and early 2000s, which has the neighbors dancing beneath the lights. Young and old. All races.

  A lot of work went into pulling this off, and it shows.

  “Get those away from me,” I cringe, turning my face when Jules bounces to the table with the last batch of peanut butter cookies from her oven. She volunteered to bake them for Scar, since preparing them in the house could end badly for me.

  “Oh, relax,” she teases. “I even wiped down the outside of the container and washed my hands before coming over here, so—”

  She takes my face and plants a big kiss on my forehead.

  “Cut it out! I know the many, many places those lips have been!” I joke.

  She shoves me playfully and I do the same to her once she takes the seat next to me.

  “Hopefully, we made enough,” Scar huffs, surveying the several dozen cookies and brownies she slaved over last night, as well as most of this morning and afternoon.

  “We’ve got way more stuff than last year,” Shane assures her. “You’re gonna make a ton of cash.” I glance up at the sound of his deepening voice. He’s not much of a kid anymore, which feels strange, seeing as how I’ve known him his whole life.

  Year after year, he lo
oks more like his big brother—jet black hair, killer gray eyes, and dimples that make me fear for my sister’s chastity. Lord knows I happily let his brother decimate mine. Shane’s gotten tall, too, towering over Scar by a few inches already. They laugh together like innocent friends, but I’d been down that road once with a Ruiz brother, and we all know how that ended.

  “Everything turned out perfect,” Jules beams, surveying the party. “Mr. Huang even sprang for a bouncy house.” I follow her gaze when she points to the long line of kids waiting to jump on the large, inflated castle a few doors down.

  “The amount of germs in that thing makes me want to bathe in a vat of bleach,” I joke, which earns me an eye roll. “Seriously, that’s a ringworm outbreak waiting to happen.”

  “Pessimist.

  “Realist,” I counter.

  Her phone chimes and I no longer have her attention.

  “Things are about to get real interesting,” she says with a smile. “A bunch of kids from the north side are headed this way. Pandora’s been posting about the block party all day.”

  I hadn’t missed her updates, nor that my moniker had been stated in most of them. While some might argue she’s only trying to bring unity between their side and ours, I feel differently about it. Almost like we southside dwellers are some kind of sideshow, an exhibit for the rich to come gawk at for a few hours, and then return home to their mansions.

  Needless to say, I hope to blend into the crowd tonight, flying under the radar of anyone from Cypress Prep.

  “This seat taken?”

  I peer up to find Ricky peering down on me, that same killer smile his brother likes to hit my sister with.

  “Free country,” I reply, which draws a laugh out of him as he gets comfortable in the seat beside me.

  “Take you all day to come up with that one?” he teases.

  It’s been a solid week since we’ve spoken, and it didn’t end on a good note, but he is the reason our electricity is on. I smile a little when he nudges me with his knee, although I don’t mean to.

  Behind us, the screen door of my house creaks open and I don’t even turn to see who’s staggering outside.

  Freakin’ Mike—Daddy Dearest.

  “Maybe if we don’t stare it right in the eyes it’ll go away,” Jules jokes under her breath, which makes me choke out a laugh.

  “I’ve been trying that for years. Doesn’t work,” I whisper back.

  “If you’re gonna talk shit, do it in front of someone else’s house,” Mike gripes, the words partially muffled by the cigarette dangling from his lips. His lighter clicks a few times and I can’t help but to wish we had set up in front of a different house.

  When I finally turn, a tall, slender frame steps into my peripheral, wearing the same jeans and wifebeater he’s had on the past four days. His fingers slip through his stringy, shoulder-length hair while he scans the street, scowling.

  “Damn music’s so loud it’s rattling my windows,” he manages to get out before an ugly cough chokes him out.

  He steps toward Scar’s booth and I’m immediately on high alert. Sure enough, he reaches his filthy hand toward a stack of snickerdoodles and I’m not having it.

  “Got a dollar?” I ask, getting to my feet as I stare him down. “Because that’s the only way you’re taking anything off that table.”

  His hateful glare lands on me and I give it right back to him.

  “Where the hell do you think this shit came from? My damn kitchen,” he declares, making my blood boil.

  “Mike, you haven’t spent a dime on groceries in years and you and I both know it,” I seethe. “So, if you don’t cough up the cash, you get nothing.”

  And I mean that with everything in me. All he’s ever done is take, and I refuse to let him belittle what Scar’s doing here tonight. To help out with bills, no less.

  A long, intense silence passes between us and I’m fully committed to sucker punching him if he touches a single chocolate chip.

  His gaze slips back toward Scar’s merchandise, and then to me.

  “You’re just like your mother, you know that?” he asks. “A world-class bitch.”

  He turns to walk away and, without even thinking about my actions, I lunge at him. Had it not been for the arm that catches my waist, I would’ve knocked Mike right on his drunk ass.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ricky says in my ear, holding my back flush against his chest until Mike’s made it inside again. “You know he’s always talking out the side of his neck. He’ll forget everything he said when he sobers up.”

  But the problem is I never forget. I carry every hateful thing he’s ever done or said with me like an old suitcase weighing me down.

  “I’m fine,” I snap, snatching out of Ricky’s grasp. But he knows I’m only pissed at my dad, not at him.

  Scar’s trying to pretend our father’s antics don’t affect her, but I know better. I realize Shane’s aware of it too when my gaze lowers, to where his hand is linked with my sister’s.

  “Why don’t we walk until you cool off?”

  Ricky barely has the suggestion out of his mouth when Jules agrees. “Yep, go. I’ll keep an eye on the kiddos.”

  “We’re not kids,” Scar sing-songs.

  “You’re whatever I say you are,” Jules teases in the same tone.

  I feel hot all over, brimming with anger as I glare at the house. Knowing he’s inside makes me want to burn the damn thing right to the ground.

  “Know what’s better than walking?” Ricky asks. “Dancing.”

  I throw my head back. “Absolutely not.”

  Even as I’m protesting, he’s dragging me out toward the street, closer to the gigantic speaker set up by the DJ. Since I refuse to move, Ricky takes my hands and makes me sway awkwardly to the beat. It’s only a matter of time before I can’t take it and a laugh slips out.

  I meet his gaze and the negative energy starts to burn off. He tends to have that effect on me often. It seems he notices when my mood lightens and drops my hands, placing his own on my waist.

  Too much. Way too much.

  “We should go back.” I sound casual, but I’m anything but that at the moment.

  He smirks and draws me even closer to speak over the music. “Why? Because your boyfriend’s watching us?”

  At first, I don’t know what to make of that, but then, as I scan our surroundings, I put two and two together.

  The Golden boys.

  They’re posted on the other side of the street, but Dane and Sterling are focused on their own conversation with Joss and a couple players from the team. However, there’s no question who has West’s attention.

  Lucky me.

  Chapter 15

  BLUE

  West’s heinously dark stare burns right through me.

  I can’t escape it.

  The tension in his jaw, the sharp flare of his nostrils, both only add to what I already know. He’s still just as wicked as the first time our paths crossed.

  And even knowing this, I don’t quite look at him the same. Not since the kiss.

  Feeling the moist heat of his mouth covering mine, the taste of it … I haven’t been able to shake the memory. Believe me, I’ve tried putting it out of my head, because I know exactly who I’m dealing with.

  But that’s been easier said than done

  He’s not the boy next door, or the kind you trust with your heart. West Golden is a devil in designer jeans, with all the charm of a bona fide psycho. Still, even with all the hatred I hold for him, I swear I feel him all over me.

  Like a ghost.

  “Should I go?” Ricky isn’t one to be easily intimidated, so I know he only asks because he thinks it’s what I want.

  “It’s fine,” I answer casually, but heat creeps up my spine as my eyes lock with West’s. So much that I quickly turn away.

  “You sure about that?” Ricky adds with amusement in his tone, “because he’s on his way over here.”

  Balls.

 
I snap my head that way again and a quiet, inward gasp hisses in my throat. All because that confident stride of West’s, the rhythmic dip and roll of his broad shoulders, has brought him right to me.

  “Sooo … Enjoying yourself, Southside?”

  There’s a cocky smirk on his lips as he eases both hands inside his pockets. First, he stares me down, and then drags his gaze toward Ricky. The usual bright green of his irises seems to darken then, as the two stand eye-to-eye.

  My fingers tighten into fists where they rest on Ricky’s shoulders, but we aren’t dancing anymore. He seems to sense that I’m highly uncomfortable at the moment, and misreads it completely. I fear he thinks my concern is that West will get the wrong impression about us, when I honestly couldn’t care less about that.

  “I’ll uh … I’ll go check on Shane and Scar,” Ricky offers, but something in his tone is off.

  Way off.

  Unlike most guys in West’s presence, Ricky shows no sign of being shaken, which means he’s only backing off for my sake. Thanks to Pandora’s misguided posts, the world—those living outside of West’s circle, anyway—seem to think I’m his property.

  Which I definitely am not.

  There’s a loaded stare that passes between the two guys, but then Ricky turns to walk toward my front lawn, never looking back. My gaze flashes to West again, and I hope he can feel the hatred burning within it.

  “Why are you here?” I practically growl.

  “That your new boy-toy?” He tips his chin toward Ricky, asking the question through gritted teeth. That’s when I notice I don’t have his full attention.

  Ricky does.

  “You don’t belong here,” I snap.

  A furious glare falls on me. “What’s the matter, Southside? Not a great feeling when someone weasels their way into your world, is it?”

  I hate him. I mean absolutely, positively hate him. From the bottom of my heart.

  Both fists tighten at my sides and, for the second time tonight, I want to punch someone.