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

by Rachel Jonas

  I’d forgotten how biased she is when it comes to the triplets, but that comment quickly reminds me.

  “It’s not that simple, Jules.”

  “Okay, okay. Then tell me why it’s complicated and I’ll do my best to help you figure things out,” she offers. “That’s what besties are for.”

  I swear I love this girl. She never misses a beat.

  “First, I need to put a disclaimer out there,” I begin. “You need to know that I withheld information from you, but only because I know you love me. I knew that, if I shared what I was dealing with, you’d feel compelled to advocate for me and things would get really messed up if that happened.”

  I pause, letting her digest that first.

  “I know how things work at schools like mine,” I explain. “The kind of pull and influence the parents of these kids have is off the charts, and I was—am—cautious about rocking the boat too much. Stepping on the wrong toes could mean putting a target on my back, and you know as well as anyone, I can’t afford to screw things up anymore.”

  My heart feels heavy, knowing that everything I’ve worked so hard for has all been because of Scar. I have to make something of myself, so I can be something for her—a role model, a provider. I might not have it all together by the time she heads off for college, but I’ll be close. I can pick up the cost of her schooling, put a roof over her head if she stays local, give her some type of stability for once in her life. I know what it feels like to fly without a net and I want so much more for my sister.

  Because of this, I’ll always do whatever it takes to make it.

  Whatever it takes for her.

  “Still waiting to hear what this has to do with that hot photo. The one you say didn’t capture West doing a little deep-sea drilling,” she teases.

  “For the last time, Jules—”

  “I know, I know,” she sighs. “But you cannot tell me that was all innocent.”

  When I don’t immediately answer, she reaches her own conclusion.

  “I knew it!” she screeches.

  “There was only … hand stuff, so settle down,” I clarify.

  “You totally slutted out for him!”

  “Jules! Shut up before your parents hear!” I shout back.

  “Sorry, but I knew that wasn’t innocent.” It’s a little too late to whisper, but she tries anyway.

  “We were only kissing in the pic. Luckily, whoever was spying got there late and missed the rest, which I couldn’t possibly be more grateful for,” I add.

  “Well, he might not have defiled you tonight, but from what I see, you two are definitely headed that way.”

  “You mean from what you saw?” I ask, but when she fails to answer, I know what that means. “You’re looking at it again, aren’t you, perv?”

  “I mean … I’m not NOT looking at it,” she admits.

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “And you’re fucking lucky,” she counters, making me laugh again.

  “Would you focus, please?” I ask playfully. “Still trying to bear my soul here.”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry. Continue.”

  Shaking my head, I move on. “Anyway, this all pertains to West because, well, before things went way sideways with us … he did some pretty shitty things to me.”

  That part is difficult to admit. Mostly because I know what it makes me look like—weak, desperate, like a fool.

  At least those are the things I would think of someone in this situation.

  “You mean, like, removing the tires from your car?” she asks, reminding me she hadn’t missed that little update from Pandora.

  “Well, that’s one of many things he’s done, but … yeah. Stuff like that,” I admit.

  “Okay, so, I guess the important thing to understand is why,” she interjects. “I mean, you don’t have to give details if you don’t want to, but if he was targeting you, there has to be a reason. Unless it’s just that he sucks.”

  The comment brings back the deep frustration that’s never out of reach. “Believe me, Jules, I’ve tried to figure it out.”

  She’s quiet again and, like always, I hear her wheels turning loudly inside her head.

  “Just ask me,” I sigh. “Whatever it is, lay it out there and I’ll tell you the truth.”

  Seeing as how I’ve held this info for far too long already, I won’t hold back anymore. Not with her.

  She takes a deep breath and then speaks her mind. “Okay, so, how did you two get from point A to point B? From this dark place you’re telling me about, to … where you two are in that pic from tonight?”

  It’s a valid question, but I’m not sure I can answer it the way she’d like me to. For starters, West and I are still in a dark place—present tense. I’m actually beginning to think that’s kind of our default setting.

  Dark.

  Cruel.

  Realizing she sees it too—the contrast between what makes sense and the weird place West and I have settled into—I feel like an idiot.

  “Honestly, I don’t know what to say to that, Jules,” I openly admit. “It’s like, a switch got flipped and I just … I don’t hate him like I did at first. And he’s not as toxic as he was either. Don’t get me wrong, though; he’s still no Prince Charming,” I clarify.

  “Is it strictly sexual?” she asks. “Like, is that the only thing pulling you two together?”

  I think about that for a moment, and then remember that last kiss we shared. The one that made it seem like he knew he’d walk away feeling just a little emptier once we went our separate ways tonight. The one that makes me wonder if he’s thinking about me right now, too.

  I mean, is that so crazy?

  “I thought that at first,” I reply, “but I’m not so sure anymore. It feels deeper at times.”

  She goes quiet to think again.

  “What’s your gut saying?” is her next question.

  Again, I don’t answer right away, because I want to really search deep before I do.

  “I’d like to say I know the answer to that, Jules, but I don’t exactly trust my gut anymore.” And there it is. The truth. The reason I’ve called her tonight.

  “Do you think he’s starting to care about you?”

  Flashes of the brief moments of clarity I’ve had over the months come to me. Like, when West stepped between me and Mike. When he jumped into the pool to save me. Or when he grilled me about the bruises on my shoulder. The night he spent in the hospital with me.

  When he touched me tonight.

  “As crazy as it sounds … I think he might. Does that make me delusional?”

  She laughs at that. “You’re the smartest person I know, Blue. So, no, that’s not even an option.”

  “Then what is all this?” I ask, unashamed by how uncertain I feel. With her, there’s never any judgment.

  “Well,” she says thoughtfully, “I think that, despite how things were in the beginning, you’re both feeling something powerful for each other. And most importantly, I don’t think you’re crazy. You’re not imagining any of this.”

  She has no idea how big a relief it is to hear her say this. Because, honestly, I wondered if I was misreading his signs, seeing what I want to see.

  “My only advice is to proceed with caution,” she gently warns. “As far as I’m concerned, all guys are to be fed with long-handled spoons until proven innocent. Not just West. So, while I’m all for keeping your heart open, never forget to keep your eyes open, too, you know?”

  The tension leaves me and I’m so glad I opened up to her.

  “Thanks, Jules. You always know what to say.”

  “No problem, kid,” she teases. “Just remember this when I call you with boy trouble.”

  I laugh, because we both know she’ll never take a guy seriously enough to let him give her trouble.

  “Anytime,” I promise.

  She’s quiet and it makes me suspicious.

  “You’re looking at that pic again, aren’t you?” I accuse with a
laugh.

  Caught, she stutters a bit, then doesn’t bother lying to me. Instead, the line goes dead when she hangs up, and I can only shake my head at her.

  She’s crazy, but she’s also my best friend. The one who always knows how to make me feel better. Her advice is sound, suggesting that I keep my guard up within reason.

  And I can do that.

  As I begin to think about regionals in a couple weeks, my immediate plan is to keep West at arm’s length. Still harboring some pretty deep-seated trust issues, I don’t think we’re ready for whatever aftermath we would face if sex were added to the equation. However, if I find him harder to resist than I expect, I’m also committed to not beating myself up if I give in.

  As for the future, who knows where West and I will end up, but wherever we’re headed, we’ll get there at my pace.

  Which, for now, is set to super slow.

  Well, mostly.

  … Kind of.

  Why don’t we just say I’m a work in progress.

  Chapter 36

  WEST

  “You and Parker back at it again?”

  I peer up from my duffle toward Dane when he asks. I’m confused at first, until he points at the strip of condoms I just dropped into the bag.

  Smiling, I zip it closed. “Nope.”

  Curious, he shoots me a look. “Who then?”

  I shrug, pretending not to have anyone specific in mind, but there is definitely someone specific in mind. My brothers just don’t need to know that. Not right now, anyway. Eventually.

  I’ve spent two weeks thinking about this weekend, and not because our team dominated in the district finals last week, clawing our way to regionals. What I look forward to has perfect C-cups and an ass I want to sink my teeth into.

  Now that we’re done with the swimming unit, I haven’t had an excuse to be around her. No excuse to touch her. Sucks that I even need one. I’ve given her plenty of reasons to keep her distance from me over the past couple months, though. Now, she naturally avoids me.

  She’s at every game, snapping pictures for the paper, but as far as interaction goes, there isn’t much of it between us. Not unless you count how we can hardly keep our eyes off one another during the one class we do share, when we pass one another in the halls and during lunch. I’m always aware of her.

  Always.

  I’ve even gone as far as telling the girls to pull back. Most couldn’t care less either way, but for Parker, everything concerning Southside is personal. Probably because being told that her sole target since the beginning of the school year is now off limits serves as a glaring statement. It speaks to my growing respect for the girl I once vowed to destroy.

  I haven’t gone soft by any means, but I’m not so stubborn I can’t see the need to reevaluate. Starting with a decision I made about two nights ago, when I couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t stop thinking about …

  It actually doesn’t matter who or what I was thinking about. The point is I was restless.

  It was during this restlessness that I accepted something. Southside and I are long overdue for a conversation. One she’s been asking to have since the beginning. One in which I plan to lay everything out on the table, including what I believe about her involvement with my father. Having had that man’s heel pressed to my neck my whole life, it hasn’t been hard to see how she could get roped into whatever happened between them.

  If it’s happened between them.

  It’s the reason I’m past the anger and looking forward to putting this shit behind us. Honestly, I just want the air between us cleared.

  Finally.

  So, while the team and dancers are all partying in Trip’s room tonight, I’ll be with Southside, laying my full truth bare. After that, neither of us will have any need to fight whatever happens next. All questions will be answered, all our secrets will be out in the open. A clean slate.

  “All right, we gotta go. Bus leaves in forty-five.” Sterling announces, hiking a bag up his shoulder.

  Dane grabs his jacket and I shrug into a hoodie, since winter is officially on our heels.

  A text has my phone vibrating and I glance down to read the message.

  ‘We need to talk,’ Parker insists. ‘And don’t blow me off, West. There’s a chance I can help you. Whether you like it or not, you need me right now.’

  That knot in my stomach is back and the text has me on edge, wondering what in the hell she’s talking about. As much as I’d like to think none of those privy to the only secret I have would’ve told Parker, it’s feeling less and less like she’s bluffing.

  “Everything okay?” Sterling glances back to ask when he sees I’m suddenly feeling anxious.

  “Yeah, just a stupid text from Parker,” I say, but I’m making light of things. Truth is, if this girl opens her big mouth, I can kiss my football career beyond high school goodbye.

  We get to the elevator just as the doors are parting and the message I just received is shoved to the back of my head. Because, unfortunately, our escape route is now being blocked by our father, the oppressor himself. He’s standing inside the brass box, brooding for reasons he has yet to share. But judging by the tie hanging loosely around his shoulders, and the vein throbbing on the side of his neck, it’s safe to say he’s worked up about something.

  His eyes lock with mine, and what he says next is the last thing I want to hear.

  “I need West for a few. You boys wait downstairs.”

  Dane and Sterling both shoot me curious glances.

  “We’ll wait in the car,” Sterling says, stepping inside the elevator to head down to the lobby. But his eyes are set on Dad as the doors close again.

  Now, it’s just us, the man who rushed down here looking every bit as insane as I know him to be.

  “What?” My tone is hard and unfeeling, which makes perfect sense, seeing as how I feel nothing for him whatsoever.

  There’s something in his eyes I don’t expect to see, though.

  Concern.

  I’m admittedly curious now, wondering what this is about.

  He leads with a gravely spoken, “Son … we need to talk,” that has my heart racing because he sounds just like Parker. No conversation in history has ever gone well after beginning this way, and as I stare into my father’s eyes, I don’t believe this will end any differently.

  For the fraction of a second, I’m worried he’s found me out, knows the huge mistake I made, but I force myself to relax and remember who I’m dealing with here. If he’d rushed down here because of a ‘me’ problem, he’d be much more relaxed. He doesn’t care about anyone that much. Which means this is a ‘Vin’ problem.

  What the hell has he done now?

  Vin

  “Care to explain this?”

  West leans in and his expression never changes as he glances at the two-week-old picture. One that damn-near gave me a heart attack a few minutes ago.

  Pam rushed into my study, hysterical, squawking about how she thinks our boys might be sexually active. After crushing her fragile heart with news that I’m positive they’ve had the pleasure of defiling at least a dozen girls each, she shoved her phone into my hand before storming off.

  And when I glanced down at the screen, what the fuck did I lay eyes on? Like I don’t already have enough shit to deal with? My son—the star of Cypress Prep’s football team, and future quarterback for the best D-1 college in the state—dicking down a pretty blonde I know all too well.

  “You fucking her?” There’s no need to sugarcoat anything with my boys. They’re cut from the same tough cloth as me. Not that flimsy shit they bypassed from Pam’s side of the family.

  He doesn’t answer, but his stare is furious, and I can tell by the look in his eyes he feels something for this girl.

  “This what you’re doing now?” My teeth grit together upon asking. “You ran out of good girls to screw, and had to start digging in the trash? Because that’s exactly what this one is. Trash. Straight out of the gutter.”r />
  Again, he just stands there, clenching his fists.

  “Do you care even a little about what this can do to your reputation?” is my next question. “Getting yourself caught up with one of the school’s charity cases? Playing with south side filth isn’t a good look for you.”

  Boy’s head’s as hard as a brick. Hence the reason I fight to keep him and his brothers in line. They need me. Whether they realize it or not. Even if they hate my methods.

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  His question catches me off guard and I don’t miss the growing suspicion in his eyes.

  “How could I know what?” I ask with a frustrated sigh.

  “That she’s not from North Cypress?” he clarifies. “That she’s from the other side of town?”

  Shit.

  I’m usually very careful with my words, only saying things I mean to say. It’s an art I’ve mastered, but West is usually the one to catch my slipups. Little shit is always in the wrong place at the wrong time, and usually asking the wrong questions. Like now. In my anger, I screwed up again.

  Royally.

  I don’t immediately have an answer, which only makes me look guiltier, I’m sure. His expression shifts and it’s hard to read. The uncertainty that creeps in has me on edge, though.

  “You don’t even have to say it,” he suddenly interjects. “I’ve known for months.”

  I feel the tension in my brow, and right away, my thoughts are on the phone in the safe. The one I’ve secretly suspected West had already snooped through. Now, I’m more certain than ever.

  “Son, you don’t understand what you saw. It—”

  “How long?” he cuts in. “How long were you screwing her? What’d you hold over her head to get her to sleep with your old ass?”

  It’s at this moment that I see where his mind has taken him. Only a boy would assume the obvious, but in this situation, it suits me that my son is a bit naïve. That he believes I only have one flaw—my weakness for young, pretty blondes.

  Straightening my suit jacket, I hold in the triumphant smile that almost gives me away. Kid doesn’t even know he’s just given me the upper hand again. So, I play the part, pretend to feel shame for having been found out.