Never His Girl (Kings of Cypress Prep #2) - Rachel Jonas Page 0,64

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

Chapter 24

BLUE

Heart racing, I walk through the doors of Cypress Prep knowing all eyes will be on me, thanks to Pandora pointing out me and West’s little sleepover during the short holiday break.

Kids here will either think I’m stupid for giving West the time of day, or they’ll think the whole sex tape thing was a hoax. Either way, I’m here. Come what may.

The door swings open and I was right. There are stares and whispers at every turn. As I pass Dr. Pryor’s office, I consider stopping in. This weekend gave me plenty of time to think, and my prevailing thought was that I need to speak to my brother. His words, his warning, have been consuming my thoughts, and I need to know what it all means.

My hand lingers on the knob to Dr. Pryor’s door, but for some reason, I don’t turn it. Maybe for fear of her denying me the opportunity to miss a couple classes to make the trip, or perhaps it’s fear of facing Hunter knowing so much now. Whatever the case, I never open that door, instead choosing to head to my locker.

There’s more staring, more whispers, but I’d like to think of West as an ally with this round of ridicule I’ll likely face. Then again, maybe that’s farfetched. Seeing as how I never called over the weekend. I stared at his phone number, even put it in my phone and unblocked him, but never got up the nerve to call.

My mind, heart, and my emotions are still warring with one another. On one hand, I want to believe he’s different, and everything that happened was just a series of misunderstandings. However, I’m not quite that gullible. I need time to process. Need to see a difference and not just be told there’s a difference. Sure, he’s been working at that, but anyone can be on their best behavior for a few weeks.

What about beyond that?

I pop my coat into the locker and take out what I’ll need for my first couple classes. Then, when I slam the door shut, my hand flies to my chest, clutching it.

“Shit, West!”

A wicked smile touches his lips, amused with having startled the hell out of me. I fight a smile of my own as I hike my bag up my shoulder.

“Morning,” he greets me. That deep timbre speeds up my heart just a little.

“Morning,” I say back, feeling just a tad bit awkward because I’ve completely avoided him since our talk the other night. But he doesn’t seem bothered. Maybe he understands that forgiveness takes time. Having him not push too hard has definitely earned him a few points.

Our steps are unhurried despite me knowing he has to get to his own class after he walks me, but he’s never in a rush. Those stares I noticed when I walked the halls solo have multiplied now, meaning Pandora is sure to have all sorts of ammo to use when she fires off her next post.

“Things okay without your dad around?” he asks.

I steal a glance up toward him when I nod.

“Better than okay,” is my honest answer. “He’s never much help, but always a burden, making it harder