by Rachel Jonas
Something dawns on me then. Unlike when we’re at school—West’s kingdom—I don’t have to put up with his shit. I can walk away, so that’s what I do.
He doesn’t seem to get the hint when I start putting distance between us, because he’s right on my heels. I step up onto the sidewalk and the second Scar spots who’s hawking me, her entire face lights up.
Jules notices him and stops mid-chew to stare at West, leaving a hunk of cookie dangling from her lip. I’m reminded of something she said the night at the bonfire. Something about being willing to trample her own grandmother for the chance to lick him?
Apparently, I’m the only one who isn’t a fan.
“This your place?” West’s voice is deep and quiet when he leans closer to ask, letting his chest bump my shoulder.
Frustrated, I bump him back, which only makes him laugh. But then, my eyes slam shut, because I realize what I’ve just done in my desperation to get away from him.
“Nope,” I lie. “Just a neighbor’s place.”
He doesn’t say more, and I don’t offer any details other than that. Hopefully, he bought it.
“Brownie?” Scar’s voice is bright and chipper as she grins at the devil.
He, of course, soaks it all in. “Sure. How much?”
Scar waves him off, like I knew she would. “For you, it’s free.”
Shane and I both shoot her a look.
“What she meant to say is it’s five bucks,” I interject, casting a bitchy smile toward West. He can afford the upcharge.
Being the freak he is, he smiles back and it grates my nerves. Without protest, he digs out his wallet, and drops a hundred-dollar bill into the fishbowl where Scar’s been stashing her earnings.
“That cover it?” West asks.
Scar’s eyes widen and I hate the idea of her idolizing him. And also the idea of him winning over yet another of my family members.
“Oh my gosh! You’re awesome!”
Before I can stop her, she’s bounding around the table, squeezing West around his waist. Surprised by the attack, he lightly hugs her back.
“I’m Scarlett by the way,” she freely shares. And just like that, the thin lie I told is blown to hell. No way he’ll buy that I don’t live here now.
“Scarlett,” West repeats, looking directly at me. “Your sister, right?”
He remembers, from when I stupidly told him too much about my life after orientation. Before I knew he was the devil himself.
I don’t answer. A searing hot glare is my only response.
“Yep! The one and only,” Scar happily confirms, pushing pink strands behind her ears as she returns to her post.
She tries to play it cool, but I know my sister. She’s getting ready to put her foot in her mouth and I see it coming from a mile away.
“So … are you two, like, dating?” There’s so much hope in her eyes, all at the mere idea of me dating someone she equates to a celebrity. “I only ask because that’s what Pandora seems to think.”
Of course, she does …
In my peripheral, I’m aware of the moment West casts a slick grin down on me. Right before he answers my sister’s probing question.
“Yeah,” he lies. “You could say that.”
My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach and my focus instantly shifts to Ricky, who’s overheard everything. I’d made it a point to squash Pandora’s rumor when he first asked, and again a moment ago when we were dancing. Only, now, with West opening his big mouth, I’m sure Ricky thinks I’m a liar.
Awesome.
Ricky turns to face the street instead of looking at me. He’s pissed and I see it all over his face.
My skin comes alive at the feel of hot fingers slinking across the small of my back. In the sliver of space where my high-waisted shorts and the t-shirt I’ve knotted at my ribs meet. West draws me close in a smooth motion that smashes me against his rock-hard body.
For a second, I forget that I hate him, but those feelings come rushing right back when he peers down at me.
“You said something about showing me your room, didn’t you?” He slipped the question in so smoothly I have to do a double-take.
“What? I—”
Before I can even form an answer—which would have been a resounding, ‘Hell no!’—his hand eases into my back pocket and I’m ushered toward my front door.
Don’t make a scene Blue. You can light into him as soon as you cross the threshold, but don’t … make … a scene.
I still hadn’t forgotten West’s threat from the night before. Challenging him in front of his brothers had been enough to stir up talk of burning down my uncle’s diner. I could only imagine how much worse his reaction would be if I called him out right here, in front of everyone.
Fear of how far he’d take things is all that keeps me from breaking that hand now gripping my ass as my sister and friends watch him follow me into the house.
The second I close the door behind us, I shove him hard. I feel so much satisfaction when his back slams against the wall, rattling the pictures hanging beside the window.
Even if he is completely unfazed and laughing.
“Feel better getting that out your system?”
“What do you think you’re doing? Why’d you lie to them?” I cut in, ignoring his snarky comment completely.
He steps away from the wall and straightens his shirt while staring me down. “I think an even better question is why you didn’t correct me.”
I’m seeing pure red. “You think I don’t know how that would end?”
The smile on his face broadens, but it’s turned wicked. “Well, somebody’s learning,” he croons, seeming pleased with the idea of me finally understanding my place.
“Congrats!” I shout. “You’re rich, I’m poor. You have this entire town on your side, and to you I’m nothing. Got it, asshole.”
I cross my arms over my chest after speaking and can’t even look at him. It’s then, in that moment of silence, that I glance around. The place is a wreck. Scar spent her day baking while I worked an early shift with Dusty. There had been no time to clean and, honestly, with school, work, and journalism club all week, it’d been more than a few days since anyone had straightened things.
The frustration that dominated my mood a moment ago is replaced by something else.
Embarrassment.
From the old couch that dips in the middle—thanks to the many nights Mike has chosen to sleep there instead of his actual bed, to the collection of empty beer cans and overflowing basket of laundry, to the two fist-sized holes in the wall from a recent episode where my father couldn’t control his temper.
West is worming his way into areas of my life I hardly allow the people I trust to enter, let alone my enemy.
“Just … go,” I say softly, feeling the weight of shame holding me in place. I can only imagine the things he’ll take back to school about me, about my home.
Before he can even say anything ugly, a door creaks down the hall and my stomach plummets.
“What’s all the damn noise about?”
Mike’s staggering even more than when he’d come out to terrorize us out front. Meaning, he’s downed another bottle or two since then.
“Nothing, Mike,” I say as firmly as possible, but my voice is quieter than usual, strained. “West was just leaving.”
At least, I hope he is.
Especially as I become aware of the familiar sting in my eyes. The one that usually means tears are on the way. I can’t think of anything worse than giving someone who sees me as weak, who believes he owns me, the chance to see me cry.
“Thought I told you bitches not to let any of these hellraisers you call friends into my damn house anymore. You stupid or something?”
I’ve long-since grown numb to my father’s insults, his indifference towards my siblings and I, but it stings especially bad to be treated this way in front of West. Someone who already thinks I’m worthless.
I suppose I don’t answe
r quickly enough for Mike, because his next move is to amble across the living room, coming straight toward me to get in my face. Surprisingly, he’s never struck anyone under this roof before, so I don’t brace myself for impact, but … West does.
In what I guess is some kind of knee-jerk reaction, he’s suddenly standing between Mike and me. Like a fortress, shielding me from the encroaching storm. Shocked, and very much confused, I’m unsure what to do or say. So, I watch in silence as the two engage in a fierce stare-down.
“Try it, boy,” Mike grunts, barely sober enough to stand on his own.
West is unwavering, but his biceps tense when he readies his fists. Just in case, I guess.
“You should back up,” is his cold warning to my father. “Maybe go sleep it off before you do something you’ll regret … sir.”
Mike doesn’t take kindly to threats, but I imagine the polite, and yet stern, tone of West’s voice is confusing to him. He certainly wouldn’t be the only one with no clue what’s going on.
They seem to have reached a stalemate, neither having spoken a word in several seconds. But then, adding to this batshit crazy turn of events, Mike retreats. Yeah, he’s grumbling and cursing to himself, but he’s doing all those things while slow-walking it back to his bedroom.
There’s an awkward silence in the room, hovering between West and me as I keep my stare trained on his back. With each of the deep breaths he draws in, his shoulders rise and fall. But he has yet to face me.
Maybe he can’t.
A wall came down I don’t think he intended to lower. Ever. But what’s done is done. There’s no taking back what I know—that he just put himself in harm’s way for me. If it had been anyone else who intervened just now, I wouldn’t hesitate to show my gratitude, thank them, but … not him.
Never him.
Instead, I’m bitter as hell that he’s pushed himself into this corner of my life, seen the dark parts I keep hidden at all costs.
Furious, I can only get one word out of my mouth. “Leave.”
I don’t regret the chill in my tone. Not even a little. He has no right to be here.
What could have been an act of valor, only feels like an invasion of privacy to me and I want him gone.
Opening the front door makes it clear I mean what I said. And I don’t breathe again until West brushes past me without either of us even attempting to make eye contact. Then, he storms down the steps of my porch, hopefully knowing better than to ever come back here again.
@QweenPandora: Hold up … RED ALERT: Fellas, hide your ladies if you intend to keep them. It looks like there’s a new player in the game. My sources identified this bringer of hotness as Ricky Ruiz. However, his official, Pandora-issued moniker tells you everything you need to know about him—SeXyBeAsT.
If my eyes on the street are right, it seems he may already have his sights set on a prize. Perhaps, … a prize fit for north side royalty.
Looking at you, KingMidas.
A little friendly advice for our beloved QB-1: It might be time to channel that energy you bring to the field, because from where the rest of us are standing, NewGirl’s got options. And since it’s my job to express my completely unbiased opinion, I’ll give it.
The King might already be too late.
Later, Peeps.
—P
Chapter 16
BLUE
Today’s been quieter than expected. I mean, sure the Golden boys’ followers are still on a hundred—whispering insults, purposely bumping me in the halls—but the boys themselves have absolutely nothing for me.
Which should come as a relief, but instead, I’m paranoid as hell.
I make it through lunch with no drama, and I’m admittedly confused. There’s been no commentary about my house or my hood. No petty jabs about my drunk-off-his-ass father. The only thing I can come up with for the fight being taken out of West is the weirdness between us over the weekend.
Friday, the kiss that practically made my underwear catch fire.
Saturday, West shielding me from my dad.
Because I’ve been around Mike all my life, I know he only intended to get in my face about defying his BS rules. No, that’s nowhere near okay, but I knew I wasn’t in danger. However, to West it looked like more than that. It looked like my raving lunatic of a father was about to haul off and hit me. That is, until my knight in blindingly white Nikes stepped in.
Apparently, no one’s allowed to push me around but him. But who knows what goes on inside that sick bastard’s mind?
I’m the last one to make it into the girl’s locker room to change, and every set of eyes shifts to me when I walk in. I bypass all the chatter and head straight for Lexi, seated at the end of a bench, already wearing her bathing suit.
I’m dreading this for too many reasons to name, but I need the grade. Failure is not an option.
“I vote we skip and go smoke a joint behind the athletic building,” she suggests.
“Don’t tempt me.”
Right after answering, I grab the bathing suit from my duffle bag. Jules loaned me hers, seeing as how I’ve never had reason to own one.
I disappear inside a stall to change, then return to close my things in the locker. It’s not lost on me that Parker’s girls haven’t taken their eyes off me once. I think it’s pretty safe to say whatever they’ve been discussing since I walked in is likely about me.
Still, I can’t find it in my heart to regret what I did to her, their queen. She tried to take me down, so it only seemed fair that I do the same to her.
Not my fault I succeeded and she didn’t.
Lexi stands when I start toward the door. Already, the heavy scent of chlorine is freaking me out. I’ve avoided situations such as this my entire life, but Cypress Prep has a knack for shoving me into the worst possible scenarios, which I couldn’t hate more.
The heavy door slams behind Lexi and me, and I observe my surroundings. Pale turquoise tile covers the floor, nearly matching the color of the water perfectly. Gigantic windows make up the upper half of the two-story addition off from the school’s main building. Bright lights hang from the metal beams above and I accept that this will be the setting of my nightmare.
“You okay?” Lexi asks. “You’re shaking.”
I glance down at my hands before tightly crossing both arms over my chest.
“I’m cool,” I lie.
She shoots me a weird look and then smiles. “If you say so.”
Our gazes shift to Mrs. C. as she begins explaining what’s expected of us. However, she only has my attention for the fraction of a second because the door to the boy’s locker room has just burst open.
Like every teenage girl’s wet dream just spilled into reality, out walks more bronzed skin, ink, and muscle than any girl can reasonably handle. The Golden boys and a handful of their teammates line up on the opposite side of the pool and I swear the temp shot up ten degrees. Their quiet conversation lowers to a hum now that they’ve joined the rest of us, but a smile still ghosts on West’s lips.
Of course, I’ve singled him out from the rest.
His dark hair is lightly tousled on top of his head like always. But without a shirt to cover the superhuman physique marked with the dark images adorning his arms and chest, I barely notice much else.
“See something you like?” Lexi teases, letting me know I’m not being as discreet as I think.
“Not at all,” I lie. Truth is, I see plenty I like. Just sucks he’s so ugly on the inside.
Before averting my gaze, I watch West scan the line where me and the rest of the girls have lined up. There’s a slow burning fire in the pit of my stomach, and with it comes a growing need to know for sure I’m the one he’s searching for. It’s sick and stupid to need confirmation, but I do. In fact, the second his eyes land on me, I glance away, satisfied knowing I was right.
Kissing him has obviously screwed with my head. I’ve thought about it more than once, and what’s worse is that I know it meant n
othing to either of us. It was a power play. One that proved his point more than I’d ever let him know.
My eyes are locked squarely on Mrs. C. now, but it isn’t easy to do. Not with him standing on the other side.
“Okay, jump in and warm up,” Mrs. C. announces. A cacophony of screams and splashes follows. Lexi joins the others, but I’ve decided it’s probably time to speak up about my limitations.
The whole ‘I can’t swim’ thing might present a few problems.
With most in the pool, the group has thinned enough that I notice Parker seated in a chair near the wall. Her ankle is neatly bandaged, her crutches are propped beside her, and she’s staring right at me. I probably shouldn’t, but I smirk at her, just to make it known that I regret absolutely nothing.
Mrs. C. glances up when I approach, and I note the weary smile that flashes across her face. I’m guessing she’s still on the fence about whether Parker’s accident really was one.
Nervous, I pick at the end of my braid as I begin to speak.
“Can I … talk to you for a sec?” I force the words from my mouth.
Her brow quirks. “Of course. Always.”
Breathing deep, I just spit it out. “I can’t swim. I had a … thing happen when I was a kid, so I never learned.”
Her head tilts slowly. “You aren’t the first newbie I’ve had,” she shares. “It just means your milestones will be a little different than the others’. Instead of working on timing and technique, you’ll have until the end of the unit to learn how to actually swim. I’ll need to see you get from end to end to earn a passing grade. I can work with you, but would you prefer that I assign a classmate to help instead?”
I hated the idea of anyone having to babysit me, but especially a classmate.
“I’ll figure it out,” I answer, offering a tense smile right after.
She passes another weary look my way, then goes back to taking attendance on her tablet. Meanwhile, I turn to hightail it back to the shallow end.
A deep breath leaves my mouth and I’m trying to wrap my mind around facing my biggest fear. My eyes are focused on the intermittent tiles I step across, counting down the numbers printed on them.