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

WEST

Someone honks at a jaywalker as I move toward the front door, stepping through the dead leaves that’ve gathered in Southside’s yard. I’m not only anxious to get inside and figure out what the hell was going through her head when she swung that bat. I’m also kind of desperate to know if Dane’s theory checks out.

Desperate to know if Southside’s done with me, done with us.

From the outside looking in, a normal person would argue that there is no us, but that someone would be dead-ass-wrong. Because what they’re missing is that there’s always been an us.

Since I wanted to kill my own brother for grinding all over her at the dance.

Since I realized I can’t stand to be touched by any other girl.

Since we fucked and she damn-near made my heart explode inside my chest.

I don’t know how or when it’ll get through to her, but Southside’s gonna realize she’s fucking stuck with me.

The barred security door rattles when I bang my fist against it. It isn’t until now that I even consider her dad might get pissed that I’m stopping by at nearly midnight. Then, I remember what my first impression was of the guy, and that he isn’t worth shit, and suddenly I don’t care if I disturb him.

No one answers, so I bang a second time.

Another gust of wind sweeps through and I shove both hands in my pockets to warm them. But when I glance up, I’m met by the confused gaze of the wrong Riley sister. Or maybe she’s the right one. The one who didn’t come at my car with a bat tonight.

“I need to talk to Blue,” I say through the door.

Scarlett’s response is to stand there, holding the curtain back while she stares, seemingly torn. Seeing as how she once kind of idolized me, having her snub me means she’s seen Pandora’s stupid post. Of course, she’s very much on her sister’s side, which also means she’s suddenly feeling very anti-West tonight.

That’s beautiful.

Fucking great.

I think quickly, before she walks away and leaves my ass standing out here in the cold. Because she’d totally do that. I see it in her eyes. The sisterly bond these two have going on is deadly.

“Listen, that post wasn’t what it looked like,” I rush to say. “I just want to come in and explain that to your sister. Please. She blocked my number so this is the only way I can reach her.”

Well, shit! Did I just tell the truth without being backed into a corner?

I’m not even sure I meant to until it spewed from my mouth, but from the way Scarlett’s expression is softening, I wonder if that didn’t just work.

She looks me up and down like the trash I imagine she thinks I am for hurting her sister, then I could kiss the kid’s feet when I hear that lock disengage. Only, when I reach for the security door, turns out that’s locked, too.

“Tell me why I should let you in,” she greets me through the wrought iron bars, pushing a faded pink ponytail behind her shoulder. Then, she tosses me the same chilled look her sister loves to hit me with.

I breathe into my hands because I left without a coat and it’s fucking freezing. So, I’m trying to ignore the cold while figuring out how to reason with a fourteen year-old girl.

“Because I’m a fu—”

Dude, you just acknowledged she’s only fourteen. Watch your damn mouth.

I take a breath and start again. “Because I’m a screw-up. I know it. Your sister knows it. It’s the whole reason we’re so dysfunctional. But I didn’t do what she thinks I did, Scarlett. I swear.”

She looks me up and down, crossing both arms over her unicorn t-shirt as she leans against the doorframe.

“And what else?” she asks, sounding only about half as bratty as Southside when she challenges me.

“And… I want to make things right,” I add. “I don’t like her being pissed at me for things I didn’t do.”

“What about the things you did do?”

What the hell! Is Southside selling a ‘Give Him Hell’ training course I don’t know about?

“I’m trying to fix that stuff, too,” I answer. “But I can’t do that from out here.”

She still isn’t budging and I’m starting to wonder if I would’ve had better luck with Blue answering. But then, right when I start doubting, Scarlett flips the lock on the security door and lets me step inside.

“You’ll have to wait a bit. She’s in the shower, but I’ll let her know you’re here.”

“No!” I say quickly. “I mean, it’s okay to say someone’s here, but don’t say who. Please.”

All I need is for Southside’s scrappy ass to hear my name and she’d climb out the bathroom window before I even get a word in.

Scarlett eyes me a few seconds, and then disappears around the corner. Not long after, I hear her pound on a door before yelling to let Southside know she has company.

The place is quiet, wreaking of pine-scented cleaner I can only guess is coming from the dark spot in the carpet. Where it looks like someone’s scrubbed the hell out of it. I’m guessing her dad’s here, but he hasn’t made himself known yet. Not that I’m complaining.

My nerves are fried, so I don’t bother trying to sit. Instead, I pace, using the time to glance around at family photos. Some nailed to the walls, others resting on top of aged furniture placed around the room.

I stop at one of a toothless Southside grinning up at the camera. She’s smiling, yeah, but she’s far from happy. Even back then, it looks like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. How that’s possible, I have no clue.

Moving down the line, I come to one of her when she’s a little older. Someone captured her braiding Scarlett’s hair, looking every bit as devoted to her then as she is now. The two share a bond that blows my mind, rivaling my own with Dane and Sterling. Here I was thinking we were close, but the Riley sisters have raised the bar to a whole new level.

I glance over at the next one, laying eyes on a woman who looks so much like Southside it confuses me at first. She’s hugging her three kids, and this is the only one I see where there’s genuine happiness. The smiles don’t look forced or temporary, although I know firsthand that they don’t last. Still, I imagine this is one of those moments Southside holds on to, an anchor moment—a memory that keeps us from getting swept away when life turns into a storm.

Some of us have more storms than others.

“You know better than to let someone into the house this late, Scarlett!” Southside shrieks from down the hall. “What are you thinking? It’s—”

Those words cut off the moment I turn, laying eyes on the one who both infuriates me and jumpstarts my fucking heart. Taking note of that deer-caught-in-headlights look now set on her face, I’m aware of the moment her fight or flight kicks in, telling her to run like hell.

Her feet thunder across the carpet at lightspeed, out of the living room and back down the hall. I’m faster, though, which is why she’s surprised as hell when I manage to catch her around her towel-clad waist with one arm, lifting her off the ground. A high-pitched yelp leaves her mouth when I toss her over my shoulder caveman-style, grabbing a handful of bare ass in the process.

Can’t say I mind that part.

She’s not your typical damsel in distress by any means. She doesn’t scream for help. Instead she’s cussing like a raging sailor and clawing at my fucking back like a rabid cat, not pounding on it like most girls would do. I spot her room—the one with twinkling lights strung from the ceiling—and charge in at full-steam, tossing her down on the bed roughly before rushing back to lock the door behind me.

The towel that once covered her came undone and fell to the floor while she fought me. Now, I can’t take my eyes off her as she stands to grab it.

“You… are an ass!” she shouts, resecuring the blue terrycloth fabric across her chest.

There’s heavy pounding at the door. “I’m calling the cops?!?!” Scarlett announces from the other side.

“Don’t!” Southside and I yell in unison, causing her sister to fall silent across the threshold.

Waiting to see what Southside’s next move will be, I’m getting the death-stare of a lifetime. Girl has me praying harder than I’m panting, with hopes that she’s not about to freak out again.

“Just… go to your room, Scar,” Southside eventually concedes, breathing like she just ran a quick lap around the track.

She’s covered now and her damp hair rests on both shoulders. Won’t lie; knowing she’s practically naked right now has me distracted. If I’m being honest, I don’t think she’s ever looked sexier, which is why I’ve nearly forgotten why I’m here. It isn’t until I spot that damn pink softball bat that my memory gets triggered.

“Kind of late to be getting in the shower, isn’t it? Must’ve worked up quite a sweat fucking up my car,” I snap.

She’s got both fists balled at her sides, clearly squaring up for a fight. “No clue what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

I take my eyes off her for one second to pick up the bat, and when I stand straight again, she swings a fist at me.

Yeah, she misses, but I’m still shocked she just tried to punch me.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“You!” she shouts. “You’re what the fuck is wrong with me!”

She tightens the towel around her chest again and I see her hands are still balled into fists. This time, when she swings, I’m ready for her and manage to get her restrained, holding her tight against me, which she hates.

I’ve never seen her like this—wild, enraged, raw with emotion.

“Let go of me, West. I swear,” she grunts, struggling to break free.

Her eyes burn red as she fights unshed tears. Her face is flushed, too, and it’s seeing her emotions exposed like this that has me thinking less about her reaction, and more about what caused it.

Seeing me with Parker. Misreading that entire encounter.

“I know what you think I did,” I say to her, but I swear the words go in one ear and out the other.

All because she’s had enough. Enough of being handled with kid-gloves. Enough of being given part of the truth instead of all of it. Enough of not being able to trust.

“I didn’t fuck Parker.” This time, I say the words point blank, right against her ear so there’s no mistaking what I mean.

A small measure of fight drains from her, but she still wants to break free. I won’t allow it, though. Not until I’m certain she understands.

“I wouldn’t do that, because I don’t even want her.”

Southside’s found her second wind and I have to hold her tighter, seeing those tears fall freely now.

“Let… go of me, West,” she seethes, threatening me with a wicked glare I can’t escape from this close.

But I don’t want to. I want everything she has to give. Every punch she can pull—whether they be real or emotional. I’ll take it all.

“I don’t want Parker or any other girl. Because the only one I want is you.”

My head spins with what I’ve just admitted—that I’m basically committed to her without her even being able to own the fact that she feels something for me. But… it’s all I have.

The truth.

When I free her from my arms, she staggers away, swiping angrily at the tears she’s shed.

“I saw the pictures,” she finally admits. “Saw what Pandora had to say about it.”

“And we both know that bitch is wrong more than she’s right.”

Southside’s shoulders are heaving and I can’t take my eyes off her. Not just because she’s beautiful even when she’s pissed and wants me dead, but because, more than anything, I want her back in my arms.

Even knowing she could very well swing on me if I get close enough.

Fucking psycho.

“You always expect me to just take your word for shit,” she accuses, “but the bottom line is that your ass isn’t trustworthy enough for that to work on me.”

She hits me with a deep stare that cuts to the bone.

“I’m so sick of this West. You’re exhausting and I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want you stalking me at school. I don’t want the flowers. I don’t want you stopping over uninvited. I just… I want you to leave me alone.”

She lowers her gaze and folds both arms across her chest, but I’m not feeling nearly as defeated as she is.

“Fuck that.”

Her wet strands quiver when she peers up, confused by my response.

“Fuck my feelings?” she asks.

I take steps closer and she eyes me warily. “No, fuck you trying to dismiss me. I’m not going anywhere and I’m not sure how many different ways I have to say that.”

Her lips part, like she wants to say more, but isn’t quite sure what to say.

I close the distance between us and fight the urge to grab her, fight the urge to toss her to the bed and fuck her like I know she needs me to. So good she’ll never question my feelings again. So good it’ll obliterate all this other shit into a pile of nonfactors that amount to nothing. But I refrain. Stopping where I am.

“Why were you at Parker’s?”

There’s an air of vulnerability in her voice I don’t miss.

“Because she basically has me by the balls right now, which means I couldn’t afford to tell her no,” I admit. “And because she doesn’t know how to let go.”

Telling the truth for a change feels like digging myself out from underneath a pile of rubble. Each lie, each secret rolling off me like a boulder as I crawl to the surface.

“No, I need to know what she said,” Southside demands. “Verbatim.”

She swallows deeply, holding her composure when I sigh and take a couple steps back. I lean against her bedroom door before meeting her gaze again.

“She wanted to know why I look at you the way I do. In a way I’ve never looked at her,” I admit. “For whatever reason—to torture herself, I guess—she says she’s re-watched the video of you and me about a dozen times. Not the… sex part. The part where we argued, before any of that other stuff happened.”

I pause, thinking back to that night myself, envisioning it.

“She said she was willing to ‘unknow what she knows’ if I agree to give her another chance. A real chance. It was an opportunity to buy myself at least a little time to figure something else out, a chance to regain a bit of leverage, but—”

“But you didn’t take it.”

I stare at Southside through the dim light, shaking my head. “No.”

Her eyes are softer now, but still not trusting.

“I’m supposed to believe that? I’m supposed to believe you wouldn’t jump at the chance to save your own ass in exchange for being Parker’s pretend boyfriend?”

There’s a hint of something I hadn’t heard in her voice before now and I nearly call it out.

Jealousy.

“Shit, Southside! How many times do I have to tell you I won’t have anyone else?” I say coldly, needing her to really hear me for once.

She’s rolling her eyes. “Right. Because you only want me.”

Her tone is mocking, but I know she’s at least considering my sincerity.

“I need to know what this secret is she has on you. This thing that’s kept you from clearing your name.”

My head lowers. “That’s literally the one thing I cannot say to you tonight. I’m begging you to ask me anything but that.”

She’s holding my gaze and I hold hers, not wavering.

“Fine. You want immunity?” she asks. “I’ll give you immunity on that one thing, but you have to do something for me.”

I already feel the weight of what she’s preparing to say. Even before she actually says it.

“I’m listening.”

Her chest rises and falls when she breathes deep. “In exchange for me letting you hold on to that one secret, you have to tell me everything else. Everything else.”

My heart skips a beat when her brow quirks.

“Can you handle that?” she asks.

I’ve held so much in I don’t think she really realizes what she’s asking me to do, but I also know I’m desperate to make things right between us. So, after deliberating for several seconds, and then scolding myself for not coming up with an alternate option, I cave.

“Deal.”

The look of shock on her face when I give in is hard to miss.

“I mean everything, West. No more lies. No half-truths. Everything,” she reiterates.

I nod once and even cross my fucking heart as it races, because I have to pull out all the stops with this girl. She never lets me off easy and tonight’s no different.

“You have my word,” I promise.

She holds my gaze for a bit, seeming to question whether she’s just made the right decision, and then she stares down her nose at me. Likely still questioning whether I can actually be trusted or not.

“Give me a sec to change,” she says in a clipped tone. “Then, I guess we’ll get started.”

She pops her brow and then steps to the dresser to grab a t-shirt and shorts. I pretend not to watch as she drops her towel and quickly slips into clothes. Next, she points toward the floor.

“Sit,” she instructs. “We’ll be at this a while.”

If she expects me to flake, expects me to bail in favor of holding what I know close to the cuff, she’s wrong. I’m about to bear my soul for a chance to win her heart. There’s no other way, no other choice. I’m all out of excuses. All out of options.

In other words, what I’m trying to say is… fuck my life.

The whole thing.

Yup. Fuck it.