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

BLUE

The feel of a warm hand resting on my thigh startles me awake. But my heart settles when I follow the length of a long, tattooed arm over the edge of my bed. I peer down to where West—in all his sexy-as-sin hotness—fell asleep on my bedroom floor last night.

Well, it was more like morning.

Our conversation carried on for a while, until I dozed, I’m guessing. Not sure at what point he decided he wasn’t leaving, but… I don’t entirely hate waking up to find him here.

We talked about quite a bit, including the fact that Parker was behind my allergic reaction at the Monster Bash. Yeah, he had to talk me down from clawing out her eyes the next time I see her, but the point is he told me without being prompted. Even at the risk of me losing my shit and blowing his cover the next time my path crosses hers, he didn’t hold back.

Almost like… he trusts me.

The shit with his dad has us both baffled, but I sure as hell intend to question Ricky about it. While I should be super suspicious of him, our history won’t allow it. Whatever he meant by that statement he made to West, there’s an explanation.

There has to be.

I still don’t quite know what to make of West, though. Not after getting off to such a rocky start, but the hatred I held isn’t nearly as potent. Actually, it’s possible I’ve let it go completely.

Staring down on him while he sleeps, using the pink teddy bear I got from Hunter on my tenth birthday as a pillow, it’s hard to consider him my enemy. Especially since I sort of identify with him on some level. If anyone can understand the effects of the parentals fucking you up in the head, it’s me.

A dog barks a few doors down and it makes him stir a little, but his hand doesn’t leave me. It makes me wonder if he slept with it there the whole night and I didn’t notice. There’s something about his brokenness I find beautiful. Maybe because it makes him real, flawed just like the rest of us.

I close my eyes, planning to just lie there until he wakes, but when someone’s heavy fist starts pounding the front door, we both sit straight up.

I’m on my feet, squinting into the sunlight as I peer out through my curtains.

“Shit,” I whisper, eyeing the familiar pickup parked just outside.

“Who the fuck is that?” West asks groggily.

“Someone you don’t want to cross paths with,” I answer, already rushing toward my bedroom door. “Wait here. Like, seriously. Don’t come out.”

West glares, trying to process the grim warning I’ve just given, but I don’t have time to stick around for him to respond.

Scar and I nearly collide when we rush out of our bedrooms and into the hallway, both trudging toward the living room. I make it to the front door first, and snatch it open, meeting Uncle Dusty’s stoic gaze.

“Morning,” I say warily, unsure what has him here so early.

“Morning, Kiddo,” he says sweetly, the tone of his voice coming nowhere near matching the fury with which he just nearly beat down our door.

My gaze shifts over his shoulder, to the badass muscle car parked out front. It sticks out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood, but I can only hope my uncle doesn’t know it belongs to someone inside this house.

Especially West.

Needless to say, he’s not exactly a fan of the guy after our little video went viral.

“I’ll only be a minute,” Uncle Dusty says next, confusing me when he grabs something he’s propped against the house.

“A door?” I ask, frowning.

“Yup,” is all he says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta take care of something before heading down to the diner. The girls can only hold down the fort for so long without me.”

He pushes past me and Scar, but when I glance at her, she doesn’t look nearly as confused as me.

“What did you do?” I mouth silently.

Instead of actual words leaving her mouth, she looks scared shitless.

We follow Uncle Dusty toward the hallway, where he stops in front of Mike’s bedroom. He props the door he carried in beside him, resting it against the wall. Then, without warning, he slams the sole of his large boot into Mike’s door, nearly kicking the thing right off the hinges. It flies open, hitting my dad right in his ass.

“Get the fuck up, Mike,” Dusty yells. “On your feet.”

Mike groans, but doesn’t move much. He’s pretty much in the same position as when Scar and I dumped him here. He sure as hell smells the same.

“We’re taking a little trip,” Uncle Dusty announces. “Turns out, there’s a nice little state-funded facility for shitbags like you, and lucky for your girls, they’ve got room for your sorry ass.”

Next thing I know, before I can even ask a question, Dusty wraps Mike in a faded, blue tarp, then grabs him by both hands to drag him back toward the front door. He stops there, taking a breath before parading my gem of a father down the sidewalk to his truck.

“He’ll be gone for at least a month,” Uncle Dusty announces. “Blue-Jay, I know you’re eighteen, but if you need me to pack up and stay with you girls until then, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

Tears blur my vision, but they’re not the kind you’d expect from a girl watching her father getting hauled away like this. They’re tears of relief. Tears of joy, knowing Scar and I will have one less burden to bear for a while. Even if the treatment doesn’t stick, even if it took Mike getting shitfaced on Thanksgiving to make it happen.

“We’ll be fine,” I assure him.

He eyes me a second, then nods. “I’ll be back after the diner closes to fix the door. See you in a couple hours for your shift.”

He’s so casual about it, I smile a little.

“Yep, see ya.”

Scar and I stand there a moment, as do a few of our neighbors, listening to Mike groan as he’s hoisted into the bed of our uncle’s truck. He’s never gotten clean before, but I can’t help but to hope someone’s able to get him the help he needs.

Dusty pulls off and Scar tries to jet out of the living room as I lock up.

“Hold it,” I call out. “What’d you do?”

She stops in her tracks, but is slow to face me.

Guilty. Just like I thought.

“It’s possible that I may have texted Uncle Dusty while you were scrubbing up after Mike last night.”

I wanted to kick her ass for discussing things that go on in our home with someone who doesn’t live here, but refrain when I realize this means we’ll be Mike-free for a little while.

“This is the one and only time you get a pass,” I warn, running my fingers through her messy hair.

“Okay.”

I start back toward my room, knowing I have a ton to explain to West. When I get there, he’s sitting on the edge of my bed looking like a dream. I fight the urge to smile at him, still feeling sort of uncertain about where we stand. His hair’s a mess, but somehow, it’s working for him.

Damn is it working for him…

He stands and his t-shirt’s wrinkled as hell, his jeans are riding kind of low, revealing the waistband of his boxers, and all I want is to strip him naked and keep him right here all day. But we’re not there yet.

I mean, we’re not there.

Why the hell did I say yet?

Anyway, I close the door behind me with hopes that Scarlett didn’t notice his car is still outside. A car I spotted during my tirade last night but had no idea it belonged to him. There’s sure to be a post about him staying over, which means there’s a chat with Scar about it in my future, but I’d at least like West to be gone before that happens.

“Sorry about the noise,” I say quietly. “My uncle just stopped by to take out the trash.”

West smiles and I’m positive he watched the entire scene play out from my window—Mike being dragged down the porch, then hauled off in the truck.

“Don’t worry about it.” The smile on his lips widens and I peer up when he steps closer. “I should uh… probably take off.”

I nod quickly. “Right. Of course.”

There’s an awkward pause.

“If you wanna talk, you know, about what we discussed last night, I wrote my number down on your desk.”

He points and my eyes go to the piece of paper he left there. I smile a little, remembering that I blocked him.

“Okay,” I say with a nod. “Will do.”

We linger in one another’s space, and I can’t shake the feeling things aren’t supposed to end here, but where else would they end? We’re not together. Although, I suppose I no longer consider him my enemy, but…

His arms slip around me and it’s just a hug, but it’s… a hug. From West. I’m not even sure I knew he knew how to hug. That sounds strange, I know, but I’ve considered him to be about as warm and inviting as a porcupine.

Sex? Guy’s got that down to a science.

Intimacy? I would’ve sworn he was clueless.

But this embrace… damn… it’s kind of everything right now.

My arms go around him when I lean in, letting my cheek press to his shoulder. His scent is so familiar now and I know I’ll catch traces of it all day, despite him being nowhere around. I’m more than content right here in his strong arms, which is why I nearly whimper like a bratty kid when he lets go.

He smiles down on me and I feel my face turning warm.

“Use the number, okay?” he says casually, making it clear he does want to hear from me later.

Heat creeps up the length of my entire body and I nod. “Okay.”

I watch as he takes his keys from his pocket and heads out. I don’t dare follow him to the door because I already feel vulnerable, exposed like he sees how I’m affected by him, but I do peek out the curtains until he pulls off.

What this boy does to me should be criminal, but we’re a long way from being solid.

He’s growing on me, though.

Like, really growing on me.

Hopefully, I don’t end up regretting it this time…

@QweenPandora: What. Have. We. Here?

Looks like KingMidas spent his night in a foreign land. Several spotted his chariot—one he doesn’t break out often—parked outside NewGirl’s house all night. Yep, you heard me.

All.

Night.

His encounter with PrincessParker was over within minutes, so maybe I called that one wrong. Maybe his heart hasn’t gone astray.

Grab a box of Kleenex, Princess. Looks like the King isn’t done wooing our fave southside connection after all.

I know we’re all getting whiplash watching the back and forth, but admit it. You’re just as addicted to the drama as I am.

Later, peeps.

—P