Never His Girl: Dark High School Bully Romance (Kings of Cypress Pointe Book 2)
Never His Girl: Chapter 18

WEST

As far as awkward Thanksgiving dinners go, this one’s right up there with the worst of them.

To start, Vin and I are barely speaking to one another, and those seated around the Harrison’s enormous dining table have taken notice. It’s made things pretty fucking tense. Especially seeing as how the two of us haven’t even made eye contact since two servers brought out hors d’oeuvres roughly an hour ago.

Vin went from being pissed about the video, because he assumed—like the rest of Cypress Pointe—that I was the one who leaked it, jeopardizing my own future. To, now, being pissed because he’s thoroughly convinced I’m making a fool of myself over a girl he insists isn’t worth it.

A girl he also claims to have once had mutual feelings for, before deciding to end it.

At the thought of it, I glare up at him over the dry-ass turkey that’s just been brought out on a platter.

Lucky for me, my douche of a father’s been following Pandora’s updates super close. Ever since first catching wind of my involvement with Southside. So, naturally, he’s kept up with what Joss has now dubbed Mission: Lobster. Apparently, that’s some lame-ass Friends reference I don’t even pretend to understand, but it’s how she sums up everything I’ve done to show Southside I’m not giving up.

Meanwhile, my father’s had a front row seat of me trying to earn Southside’s forgiveness. Which, by the way, is pretty fucking hard when I’m limited in what I can and can’t say to her right now.

When he does speak, it’s to let me know what a pussy he thinks I’ve become, pissing away my reputation, turning soft.

Fuck him.

Not gonna lie, though. Getting the silent treatment from his toxic ass has been well worth the emasculation and shit-talking. Being honest, I’ve considered it more of a vacation than anything. It’s been so effective, Dane and Sterling are seriously considering getting on his bad side just so he’ll stop talking to them, too.

Highly recommended.

But this dinner was unavoidable. Apparently, we owe Headmaster Harrison for the favor he did Vin, which consisted of him keeping me off the team’s suspension list. In a way, I suppose I’m grateful for that, too, but it’s not lost on me that it’s kind of shitty to appreciate being given a pass. Especially when I know Southside wasn’t afforded that same luxury.

Anyway, here we sit. Stuck at a table with Headmaster Harrison, his stalker wife, and about eight empty chairs.

“Bon appetit!” wifey says with a smile.

For a woman her age, she isn’t bad to look at. She definitely has a little help, though—fake tits, and she lives in the tanning salon. She keeps highlights in her dark hair, and it’s cut a bit shorter than usual, hitting just above her shoulder now.

Her eyes shift around the table to each of us, but I don’t miss that her stare lingers on Sterling a bit longer than anyone else.

Hence the whole ‘stalker’ comment.

I started noticing she has a thing for him around the time we turned fifteen. First incident I picked up on was during the weekend our parents went away for their anniversary and left us here. It was small shit at first—giving Sterling the bigger guest room, letting him choose what movie we went to see. Those things were petty, of course, things that could’ve been passed off as coincidence.

But then, shit just got weird.

Like, how on our last night with them, she claimed to have “accidentally” walked in on Sterling after he showered. According to him, though, she didn’t leave his room all that quickly and she sure as hell checked out his junk.

Since then, she’s gotten much bolder, shamelessly flirting with him when our folks and her husband aren’t within earshot. It’s sick, really, but the one time Sterling mentioned it to Vin, the advice he gave was that Sterling should ‘lean into her fascination’. With Mrs. Harrison being provost at North Cypress U, he thought it might come in handy down the road to have a ‘deeper connection’ with her.

Whatever the hell that means.

Yup, father-of-the-year is completely fine pimping out his son to this chick, all because it could benefit one or all of us down the road.

No surprise there.

Headmaster Harrison starts carving the bird while the missus sits idly by, eye-banging Sterling while he shoots a text. It isn’t until my phone buzzes in my pocket that I realize he was sending it to me and Dane.

Sterling: ‘She wants the D sooooooo bad. I feel kinda dirty. And also a little tempted to introduce her to The Legend.’

Dane: ‘The Legend?’

Sterling: ‘The one in my pants.’

I hold in a laugh reading his dumb-ass message.

Dane: ‘Mom thinks she and Harrison are on their last leg. As soon as the ink dries on the divorce papers, just put her out of her misery. Do her good enough and we’ll all have it easy next year.’

West: ‘Screwing older chicks is supposed to up your sex game. Hit that. Get some tips. Move on.’

West: ‘Actually, I take that back. Forgot the stalker factor. Any other girl you date after that will mysteriously come up missing. True shit.’

I’m only half kidding.

Mom clears her throat, which means we’re not being all that discreet. So, the three of us put our phones away, and we mostly behave through the rest of dinner.

Mostly.

Two servers come out to clear the table and we all sit in awkward silence. Peering up at my father, the guy looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. Which makes sense. Family means shit to him and I’m sure he’s got some chick waiting in the wings to do his bidding tonight. Hence the reason he keeps checking his watch, and insisted that we eat and run by no later than eight.

“Gina, wasn’t your niece supposed to join us tonight? Was she unable to make it?”

Gina—or Mrs. Harrison to the rest of us—perks up when Mom asks. The two go way back, hailing from neighboring parishes down in Louisiana.

“You’re right! She was, but it’s the strangest thing. Our lines got crossed somewhere and I missed that I was supposed to submit some sort of form to request that she come spend the holiday with us,” Mrs. Harrison explains. “Long story short, with her school running such a tight ship, they wouldn’t allow us to take her on such short notice. They keep those girls under lock and key.”

Mom sighs a little. “That’s a bit… extreme, isn’t it?”

Mrs. Harrison shrugs, not looking the least bit disappointed that this niece of hers wasn’t able to make it for dinner.

“Possibly, but Brighton Pierce is the best boarding school in the country. So, I suppose you take the good with the bad, so to speak,” she says dismissively. “At any rate, now that I know the proper procedure, I’ll be submitting the necessary paperwork first thing Monday morning to see to it that Kendall’s able to visit this spring or summer.”

“Spring or summer? Don’t you mean Christmas?” Mom asks.

“Oh, heaven’s no! Martin and I have plans to spend Christmas in Europe. I’m sure she’ll be fine hanging out with friends for one more holiday.”

Mrs. Harrison flashes a lighthearted smile that Mom doesn’t return. Having spent a short time at boarding school herself, she’s not a fan of them. Lucky for her, my grandfather has a soft spot for his girls and brought them home as soon as that year ended.

The moment’s broken up when a round of dessert is brought out and set before us. My first thought is that they intended to feed a small army with all this shit, and not just the five of us. Mom’s eyes get big at the new spread, giving an awkward chuckle.

“Wow, Gina! You didn’t have to go through all this trouble just for us. After that dinner, I’m not even sure I have room for anything else.”

“Not if you want to keep that waistline,” Dad grumbles.

Mrs. Harrison smiles big, standing from her seat to cut into one of two pumpkin pies now resting on the table.

“Honey, please,” she says with a southern twang before laughing. “I didn’t cook a thing today, so it was honestly no trouble at all. Besides, you’ve got growing boys on your hands,” she adds, flashing a look toward Sterling next. “You want a piece. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

No way she’s still talking about pie.

“Um… I’ll take some,” Dane answers, breaking up the awkward tension when Sterling doesn’t respond.

The two of us lift our plates, accepting a slice. Then, Sterling does the same. My phone’s buzzing in my pocket before I even get the chance to grab my fork, though.

First thought when the text comes through is that Sterling’s venting again. However, I’m suddenly queasy when I see who it’s actually from.

Parker: ‘I need to see you. Be at my house in an hour. Come alone.’

I tip the screen toward Sterling to show him the message. His response is the confused look on his face I interpret to mean ‘What the fuck does she want now?’

I shrug and try to pretend I’m not worried, but it’s never far from my mind that I didn’t exactly stick to the plan. Didn’t exactly keep my word. The deal between me and Parker was for me to keep my mouth shut and she’d keep what she knows to herself. Only, I got desperate, gave in, telling Southside more than I should have. Which, ironically enough, came nowhere near telling her enough.

“You going?” Sterling asks, being discreet about it.

Anger has my face blazing hot now, and I give the only answer I can.

“Don’t have much of a fucking choice.”

@QweenPandora: Happy Turkey Day, lovelies 😉

It’s freezing outside, and while most of you are knee-deep in your third helping of green bean casserole, I received a rather interesting series of photos.

Looks like, after leaving dinner at the Harrison’s not-so-humble abode, KingMidas made a pitstop. Here he is, headed inside none other than PrincessParker’s palace, about fifteen minutes after her parentals take off. Then, he resurfaces nearly twenty minutes later, and the two linger outside her door a little while. Tonight’s mystery photographer reported getting a very heavy vibe from whatever the pair were discussing.

My guess?

This was more than just a friendly social call.

KingMidas seems to have been working double-time to earn NewGirl’s forgiveness, but maybe he was looking for a bit of an ego boost tonight. Maybe he needed someone who’s known to give in when he pushes, instead of pushing back?

Whatever the case, if NewGirl reads this, QB-1 will likely spend the rest of the night groveling and doling out excuses. Better make them good, KingMidas. This will do NOTHING to help your latest cause.

What say you, folks? Is our boy playing both sides of the field?

Check out the pics and you be the judge.

Later, Peeps.

—P