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

BLUE

“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Avery. Everything was great,” I say just as Jules closes her front door behind us.

We ate until we were stuffed, hung out playing board games a couple hours after that, but it’s getting late. With work tomorrow, I need to get home.

I’m bogged down with grocery bags stacked with Tupperware containers filled with food. Thanks to Jules and her family, Scar and I have enough leftovers to get through the weekend.

Even with Mike inevitably sneaking into them.

It’s dark, so it’s not unheard of for Jules to walk Scar and me to the corner. Especially now, with news of the few missing south side girls still fresh on everyone’s minds. But still, I know Jules mostly insisted because she wants to talk about things we couldn’t discuss in front of her parents.

Scar’s about twenty paces ahead of us. Texting Shane, of course. This gives us plenty of space to chat without her overhearing.

“So, any updates?” Jules asks.

I hold my chin while I think, pretending not to have a clue what she’s talking about. She shoves me and I laugh.

“There is no update. I come out of class, and he’s just… standing there. I walk to the next class and he’s right there with me.”

I leave out the part where, on Tuesday, I tripped over my own feet and he caught me around my waist. That small bit of contact nearly had my whole body catching fire, but I played it off, keeping my face void of expression as I slipped out of his grasp.

“You’re better than me,” she admits. “I mean, if this guy’s as good with his mouth as you say, no way he wouldn’t have had my full forgiveness by now. I mean, full forgiveness.”

Smiling, I nudge her with my elbow. “It’s not that simple.”

She shrugs and clearly disagrees. “Maybe not for you, but I’d have to give him a pass. I mean, that room, those flowers. Gah!” she screams. “And to top it all off, I was dead on with it being Parker. She set him up. He told you that himself,” she adds.

“Which is the problem. He told me,” I reiterate. “I can’t trust West further than I can throw him right now.”

She shrugs again and I feel like she’s missing the point.

“So, you don’t think this girl is capable of doing this? Setting him up, then bribing him to make sure he keeps his mouth shut?”

I give her question some thought. If I’m being completely honest, of course I think Parker’s capable. That bitch has had it out for me since the moment West made me a target. From there, shit between us only became more personal. Now, since West planted that seed about her leaking the video, I find myself wanting to get at her even more than usual. So, yeah, I think she’s capable. But the problem is, when I consider the source of my information, I’m uncertain again. I mean, this is West I’m dealing with.

And let’s say Parker did post the video. Is there really some cryptic reason West would cover for her? Or is it simpler than that?

He doesn’t like to own it, but there’s history between these two. It’s possible that, if Parker is to blame, he’s not giving her up because there’s still some loyalty between them. Whether it has more to do with some bullshit North Side code, or… he still has a soft spot for her.

I’ve wondered what would’ve happened in his hotel room that night if I hadn’t shown up to interrupt whatever he and Parker were up to. Maybe he isn’t as over her as he claims to be.

“I knew she had something to do with it,” Jules states when I take too long to answer. “As soon as you told me she’d been in the room, my gut said it was her. Now, I may be biased because West is hot as hell, but I studied those pics of you two. The ones Pandora shares of him trying to show you he’s serious, and…”

I peer up when she pauses, listening more closely now.

“I don’t know, BJ. I think he’s being real.”

Her words weigh heavy on my heart. She loves me more than most, which is why I listen to her more than I listen to most.

“I suppose we’ll see about all that,” I say with a sigh, “but there’s still a shitload of conversation to be had.”

She doesn’t argue with me on this point.

“Me and West have still never gotten down to the heart of our first issue, before this new issue came up.”

My stomach churns, thinking about how I was on his shit list from day one. A girl doesn’t just forget that. And I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’m owed one hell of an explanation and an apology.

“I feel you,” Jules finally agrees. “But I still say you should let him go down on you one more time. Just to see if that helps make your decision any clearer.”

“Oh, gosh,” I say, cutting into her sentence. “Go home, Jules. Take a cold shower or three, and I’ll call you tomorrow,” I tease.

“You better.”

I turn the corner, and with our house now in view, I catch up with Scar. I don’t interrupt the text conversation between her and Shane that has her grinning from ear-to-ear. Mostly because Jules’s suggestion has me reliving that night with West this past weekend. The one where, I swear, I saw stars. And may have even touched one.

He blew my mind, and that’s putting it mildly.

In that room, in that moment, I forgot about all the wrong he’d done and only knew I wanted him. Bad shit and all.

I’m feeling super tense now, knowing West and I aren’t in a place where I can just call him up like, “Hey! You should come hang out for a bit. And, while you’re here, we may as well put my bed to good use”.

But OMG do I want to.

While I’m sure he’d be more than willing to oblige, I’m not willing to compromise. He will not touch me again until I have answers.

“Ugh! What’s that smell?” Scar screeches, jarring me from my thoughts as soon as she unlocks the back door. Her question hits me half a second before the nasty odor does. Then, it doesn’t take long to figure out where it’s coming from.

“Fucking Mike,” I groan loudly, dropping our leftovers on the kitchen table before sprinting toward the living room.

The TV’s blaring with sports highlights from today’s game, and my gem of a father is passed out in the middle of the floor, because what the hell else would he do on Thanksgiving. But not only has this asshole pissed himself, he’s definitely shit himself, too.

Happy Thanksgiving to me.

“Damn it, Mike! Get up!” I yell, trying to lift his worthless ass.

It takes a few tries and Scarlett’s help, but we finally manage to hoist him from the soggy stain he made on the carpet. Smelling like an entire distillery, and a public port-o-potty, he groans. Now that he’s off the ground and mobile, the smell is suddenly stronger.

“What do we do with him?” Scar rushes to ask, pulling her shirt over her face to shield her nose.

“Take him to his room. He can rot in there for all I care.”

The odor hits me hard and fast and I have to stop in the hallway, gagging twice. I’ll be so pissed if this bastard makes me barf up dinner.

When I regain my composure, I nod to Scar and we start again. The second we get him over the threshold of his bedroom, we drop him on the floor. I don’t even pause to see if he’s okay before rushing to close the door behind us. Now, he’s trapped in there with his stench.

Scar and I are out of breath from carrying his dead weight through the house, and as we share a look, there’s a mutual sense of this being a new low. Even for our family.

I fall against the wall, trying to keep calm. Trying to accept that this is my life.

“Fill a bucket with hot water—as hot as you can get it,” I instruct her. “Dump in whatever cleaner you can find. Then, gather every rag in the house.”

I’m so pissed, my vision’s going dark. I haven’t wanted to kill Mike this badly in a while, and there’s no promise I won’t return to his room at some point tonight to do just that. Especially after I finish scrubbing his piss from the carpet.

“I’ll help.”

“No.”

Scar turns when I say that a bit more harshly than I mean to. But she’s sweet and thoughtful and, God help me, I’m trying to keep bitterness as far from her as possible. That’s where this life we live will lead her if I’m not vigilant, and shielding her gets harder every day. But, believe me, I won’t stop trying.

“I can handle it,” I say a little softer.

She scans me with sadness in her eyes and I turn to walk toward my room. I have to. Otherwise, she’d see I’m upset, crying furious tears as I head in to change into clothes I don’t mind ruining.

At what point will life stop shitting on me? I mean, really? Today, hanging with Scar, Jules, and her family, I actually felt normal for a while. No worrying. Nothing to stress about. It was just a quiet, peaceful Thanksgiving dinner with a stable family—something I’ve never had.

Then, I get home, and it all comes crashing down.

Reality.

I storm down the hall in sweats and a t-shirt with a hole in the armpit. I should’ve gotten rid of it months ago, but it’s coming in handy now. Angry, I yank my hair into a ponytail. On my way past Mike’s door, I toss up both middle fingers as if he can see me, and then stand in the entryway to the living room.

The bucket and rags I requested are all there, and even a bandana Scar’s stuck a sticky note to that says: ‘For your nose’. I tie it beneath my hair and start scrubbing.

I’m numb. Too tired of all the shit I deal with to even feel anymore. If I do let the emotions in, I’ll fall apart and turn into someone I hate. Someone everyone hates. Someone no one can reach.

Ever.

So, I just scrub in silence, occasionally swiping tears with my shoulders. I’ve changed the water three times and the smell is finally leaving. My fingers are raw, my knees ache, but it’s clean.

Exhausted, I carry the last bucket of water to the laundry room and dump it into the wash tub, hearing commotion behind me just as I finish. The second I make it back to the kitchen, I spot Scar racing out with my phone in hand, working quickly to unlock the screen.

“Hold it! What’re you doing?”

She looks like a deer caught in headlights, bouncing a look between me and the phone, knowing she’s been caught red-handed.

“I… There’s just… I thought…”

“Hand it over.”

When I turn my palm up, expecting her to do as she’s just been told, she hesitates.

“Scar, give me my phone,” I snap, mostly because tonight’s gone to shit and I’m so, so over it.

Redness spreads across her nose and cheeks. “I just… I didn’t want you to see. Mike’s already ruined things and… I didn’t want you to see,” she repeats.

My brow tightens and I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Didn’t want me to see what?” I ask, suddenly even more eager to know.

As soon as she hands it over, the screen brightens with one of many notifications I’ve missed. Mostly from Pandora’s incessant posting.

Bitch doesn’t even take holidays off, apparently.

My ringer’s been on silent all day today. Like I said, it’d been peaceful, and I didn’t want anything to ruin it.

Now, as I stare at Pandora’s dreaded, black and pink icon, I’m starting to think shutting myself off from the rest of the world may have been more than a hunch.

Something’s happened. I feel it in my gut. See it on my sister’s face.

She tried to take my phone to shield me from something, like I do for her, but all it takes was one click to discover what that ‘something’ is.

My breathing’s erratic and I’m shaking all over, staring at an image of West that has my blood boiling inside my veins. He told me he didn’t care about Parker, claimed she means nothing to him, but that’s not what these images say.

In one, he’s going into her house. In another, he’s coming back out. And based on Pandora’s recap, they were in there alone for a while.

I haven’t known West all that long, but I know him well enough that this shouldn’t surprise me. This is exactly who he is, who he’s shown me he’s been all along.

A liar.

A con artist.

It’s me who keeps wanting to think otherwise.

“Are you okay?” Scar sounds sheepish, like she’s expecting me to implode.

“I’m fine,” I lie, accidentally speaking coldly to her again, but… damn. I don’t even know what to say.

Why do I let him do this to me? Break me in ways I never even realize he has the power to do? Like now, I’m brimming over with rage and hatred, yes, but there’s something else rearing its ugly head from the shadows.

Fucking jealousy.

At the mere thought of him going to her.

I feel like he’s gotten me all over again, humiliated me like I should’ve expected he would.

Entering her name into my phone twice—because my hands are vibrating with anger—I dial Lexi. Before she even picks up, I’m already headed to my room where I rip the ponytail holder from my hair.

“Sup, woman!” she answers, too chipper to have seen the update I just saw. If she had, she’d know I’m pissed and wounded.

“I need your help.”

“What’s up? We going on a crime spree?” she teases, falling silent when I don’t respond. “Shit! I was kidding, but are we?”

I don’t give a direct answer as I slip out of my sweats and tee, into something a bit less conspicuous. Something darker.

“Meet me at the train tracks near the school. Wear black. And if you own a baseball bat… bring it.”

“Be there in ten,” she says excitedly, not asking a single follow-up question before ending the call.

I shouldn’t even care that West was with Parker tonight, but I’m raw, aching in ways I haven’t before, broken in ways I don’t know how to fix. Guess he just picked the wrong day to hurt my fucking feelings.

Now, he’s gonna pay.

Like he should’ve months ago.