Never His Girl (Kings of Cypress Prep #2) - Rachel Jonas Page 0,12

in P.E. sixth hour.

“Well, you look surprisingly stable. You know, for a girl rocking a modern-day rendition of the Scarlett Letter,” Lexi teases.

I take my seat, and as soon as I do, there’s explosive laughter from a table nearby. No need to wonder who they’re talking about. It’s me. It’s been me all day.

“Yeah, at least I came in first place at something right? Slut lists count, too.”

She laughs when I do, trying to take it all in stride.

“I waited at your locker before first hour, but had to bail so I wouldn’t be late.”

I sip from a bottle of water and nod. “Dr. Pryor wanted to see me before class. Sorry about that.”

“Uh oh. Pryor?” she says, curiously popping a brow. “That’s never a good thing.”

“It wasn’t,” I admit, “but it’s not her fault she gets stuck being the bearer of bad news. She’s pretty cool other than that.”

The image of her shutting Parker down this morning comes to mind and I’m still grateful she saved me from myself. Especially seeing as how I’m already on probation. As soon as I let myself think about that part, my lunch starts looking less and less appealing.

“Well, it’s probably best you left me hanging,” Lexi adds with a sigh. “After a while, West showed up to wait for you too.”

My stomach sinks hearing he actually had the nerve to seek me out. Now, I’m wondering if I didn’t imagine him trying to get to me before I slipped into the counseling office.

“Don’t worry, though,” Lexi continues. “I told his ass to leave you alone.”

“Think he’ll listen?” I ask, laughing a little while picking over the sandwich I packed.

“Oh, not a chance, but I had to speak up regardless. You know, girl-code and whatnot.”

I shake my head, trying to imagine what would possess him to think we’re actually on speaking terms. My best guess is he’s trying to worm his way deeper under my skin. I’m even willing to bet he knew I was put on probation before I found out.

“He’s such an asshole,” I grumble. “Should’ve known he wouldn’t let up.”

Not that I expected West to change his stripes, but damn. Hasn’t he done enough damage? Humiliating me in front of not just the school, but the entire city? Just saying, a day or two to catch my breath would’ve been nice.

That burn returns to my eyes, but I refuse to cry. Not here for everyone to see.

I swear I can feel West’s stare locked on me. More intensely than all the others currently set in my direction. I hate it. Hate that I still feel remnants of a connection to him. Even after all this. But I will never let him close enough to fool me again.

Ever.

“Shit. Heads up.”

Lexi barely gets those words out before the seat beside me fills. And in it, there’s a large, muscular body. One cloaked in that stupid black and gold jersey, wreaking of funky cologne he must’ve taken a dive in this morning.

Peering over, I lock eyes with the guy, one of the football players I don’t know by name, and he isn’t alone. Seconds after making himself comfortable, two more drop down into seats surrounding Lexi and me. One of them was bad enough, but this feels like an ambush. Mostly because of all the creepy stares and eye-bang action these three are giving me.

I glance toward the first guy’s hand when he fishes something out of his pocket. My heart doesn’t sink until he pulls out one of those stupid pink sheets of paper and starts unfolding it.

I shift my gaze toward Lexi and hers is already on me.

“Blue, just say the word and I’ll flatten these bitches or die trying,” she states plainly. As though it’s nothing at all to take on guys this size. However, the lack of hesitation in her tone has me thinking this is no empty threat.

“Shut it, Rodriguez,” the one sitting to her left warns. “Austin just has a quick question for your friend.”

Now I know Neanderthal-Number-One’s real name—Austin.

“Well, I suppose you could say it’s less of a question and more of a proposition,” the guy clarifies.

My fist tightens at my side and I’m channeling the unshed anger from earlier. From when I ran into Parker and didn’t get to sink my fist into her face. On cue, my gaze shifts to her and, of course, bitch is already watching with her usual smirk. She loves everything about this situation—the taunting, the embarrassment—which makes me hate