Never His Girl (Kings of Cypress Prep #2) - Rachel Jonas Page 0,26
holds me in place. He doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he just levels a look on me that has me thinking there’s more he wants to say.
“What is it?” I ask.
He hesitates a moment, and then seems to come to himself.
“Nothing. Just … don’t hesitate to call me if you need something. Doesn’t matter what time it is,” he says. “Things on the street are heating up and … I just worry about you. About Scar. That’s all.”
When I nod, he lets go of my wrist.
“While I appreciate the thought, I stopped being afraid of the Boogeyman when I was eight.”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever,” he shoots back with a laugh, starting toward the alley. “Just sayin’, the Boogeyman doesn’t need you to believe in him to exist.”
“Got it, Ruiz. Night,” I call out, stepping back inside to watch from the doorway.
“Later, beautiful.” He waves once over his shoulder, never looking back.
Without even realizing it, he’s made my night. All because I’ll have the visual of one, West Golden, getting his ass handed to him as I fall asleep.
Sweet dreams to me, I guess.
@QweenPandora: SeXyBeAsT found the perfect way to lick his wounds after that fight. And I’ll give you one guess what his last stop was before heading in for the night.
You guessed it. NewGirl’s house.
Check out these pics of the duo and tell me what you think. Is there a true love connection happening here? I’m no expert, but something in this blonde bombshell’s eyes tells me she’ll be getting over everyone’s favorite QB-1 in no time.
But be careful, SeXyBeAsT. KingMidas isn’t known to graciously take a loss.
Later, Peeps.
—P
Chapter 9
WEST
Dane’s advice has been stuck in my head all day.
When I passed Southside before first hour. When she entered the cafeteria. And now, as I’m posted outside the locker room trying to look casual, knowing I’m guilty of that stalking shit she accused me of before.
There’s just this impulse in my gut, urging me to plead my case. Hopefully, without saying too much, which I know is probably impossible, but fuck. I’m losing my shit.
I spot her and I’m instantly on the move.
“Southside,” I call out, damn-near sprinting toward her, which makes her pick up speed with hopes of avoiding me.
No such luck.
She’s maybe three feet from making it into the girl’s locker room when I catch up and manage to wedge myself between her and the door. Lucky for me, Rodriquez—cockblocker extraordinaire—is nowhere in sight.
Southside gives the mother of all eye rolls when I gently take her shoulders and move her aside as a group of chicks approach. They level weird looks at us as they pass by, heading in to change for gym. I don’t care about that, though. Yeah, I’m abso-fucking-lutely positive I look like a maniac, but who gives a shit?
“You don’t owe me a chance to say a single word. I know that,” I say first, “but I’m begging you. I’m only trying to say I’m sorry for how things went down.”
She steps back and slips from the light hold I have on her.
“You’re not deaf, West, so I’m sure you heard me say we’re done talking,” she snaps.
There’s no mention of the marks I’m sporting from yesterday’s fight, but I see her eyeing them.
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say,” she adds. “Hence the reason I blocked your ass last night,” she says in a low hiss. “And for the record, FUCK your apology.”
She moves to step around me and, despite knowing I shouldn’t, I take her shoulders again. Immediately, I release them when she flashes a death glare my way. Instead, I opt to plead with her again. This time, I’m completely aware of the freshman doing a shit job of hiding behind a locker, taking pictures.
Pandora has eyes everywhere. A loyal following despite no one even having a clue who the bitch really is.
My gaze snaps back toward Southside.
“Listen, I know things are jacked up right now. Believe me. But I didn’t—”
Just that easy, the words almost slip out. The one thing I’m not allowed to say—revealing that I’m not the one who posted the video—was so close to tumbling out. Desperate to be heard, I’m not thinking clearly.
At all.
My breaths come hard and fast. Southside’s staring but hasn’t walked away yet, which is a small victory, I guess. It’s clear she’s sick of my ass, though. I’m actually positive there’s nothing in this world she’d want more than to be left alone right now.