Never His Girl (Kings of Cypress Prep #2) - Rachel Jonas Page 0,32
she has to go. My attendance is officially shot to shit, but I’d say it’s worth it.
People are starting to notice. Not only that I’m clearly trying to make a statement by not giving up, but that Southside doesn’t seem to be caving. Not even a little.
Dane, Sterling, and Joss have appointed themselves as some sort of relationship council, advising me on what to do next, and they all support the decision not to give up. Joss thinks it’s romantic, the guys think it’ll show commitment. I’m not sure about any of that shit, but I know I feel compelled to keep showing up.
Something I’ve come to know about Southside is that people have bailed on her. A lot. Despite having fucked up so bad, I need her to know I’m capable of sticking around, being consistent. I need her to know I’m capable of sensing what another human needs and becoming that. Even if it goes against who I am. For her.
Pandora’s firing off updates left and right as images flood her inbox, but no one’s completely sure what to make of my behavior.
Are me and Southside still a thing?
Am I still in the doghouse?
Am I obsessed and refusing to let her go?
My pride’s taking a beating, but I’m committed to this. Plus, nothing I’m feeling compares to what she’s felt this past week. Takes a real badass to go through what she’s been through and keep showing up. If I’m being honest, watching her keep her head held high makes me admire the hell out of her, and it makes sticking with my new—and somewhat humiliating—routine a little easier.
“Anything? Has she spoken to you yet?” Joss asks, popping a chip into her mouth.
We’ve started sitting at a small, round table so the rest of the crew can’t crowd us, listening to what have become daily strategy consultations. I peer up at Southside on the other side of the cafeteria with the question, watching her and Rodriguez.
Shaking my head, I feel frustration with having made zero progress.
“Not a word,” I confess. “She’s either cursing under her breath about me crowding her, or pretending I’m not there.”
“Well, I say keep going. She has to see you’re trying. Has to see you’re making an ass of yourself for her,” Joss adds, before whispering, “Whoops. Didn’t mean to say that part out loud.”
My jaw tenses and, for a split second, I consider my reputation. Consider the guy people expect me to be, the standard they expect me to uphold. But then I remember where all that got me.
“Whatever you do, just… don’t let some other bastard slip in under your nose,” Dane warns, sounding bitter as hell as he stabs a meatball with his fork.
I hold in a laugh, knowing he’s not talking about my situation anymore. Joss seems none-the-wiser that he’s butt-hurt about there still being no explanation as to why her new friend in Cuba is suddenly marking his territory.
“I say stay the course and play the long game,” Sterling adds. “She’s got good reason to be pissed. Let her be. Then, once she’s tired of being angry, she’ll see the effort you’re putting in and maybe that’s when you’ll get to say what you gotta say.”
I don’t mention it out loud, but that sounds like a long-ass time from now.
But it’s all about turning over a new leaf, right? Being patient and shit.
“I’m not changing the plan anytime soon, so I guess we’ll see where this leads,” is my final thought on it.
Either Southside gets the hint—that my apology is real and I think we need to see where things lead with us—or I’ll be labeled the loser who lost the girl before he ever really had her.
Whatever the case, I’m knee-deep in this now and there’s no turning back.
Blue
“Shit!” I gasp.
Jules and I both jump when our phones blare with an alarm at the exact same time. We glance down at our screens, reading the AMBER alert that’s just come through. The second this week.
Another missing southside girl.
I scan the details for whatever info stands out—she was sixteen this time, last seen leaving the liquor store over on Murphy.
“That’s not too far from the diner,” I say distractedly, counting the number of blocks between there and Uncle Dusty’s.
Only three, which is a little unnerving to say the least.
“Probably just ran off with her boyfriend or something. She’ll turn up in a week or two, when they run out of food and condoms,” Jules answers with a smirk.