Never His Girl: Dark High School Bully Romance (Kings of Cypress Pointe Book 2)
Never His Girl: Chapter 32

BLUE

One earbud is popped into my ear and the other’s hidden inside my hoodie. I’m tuned in to one of the major network’s coverage of the game, hearing all the predictions being made. Yes, many of those predictions are about the outcome of this state championship, and even about the future of the team as a whole, but mostly?

They’re talking about West.

Apparently, I’ve been living under a rock, because this is the first I’m hearing about his ‘Golden Arm’, as they call it. They speak about his accuracy, saying it’s rare to see such power and skill this early in a player’s football career.

There’s lots of talk about him going pro after college. Which has me thinking about his future, how so many will want a piece of him when he makes it. That’s how it is any time one star shines just a little brighter than the rest. Others do everything they can to get closer, hoping to steal even a glimmer of that shine.

But of all the things West has going for him, all I’ll ever ask for is his heart. That’ll never change.

Speaking of hearts, mine is in my throat. Guess that’s to be expected when the best of the best meet on the field. A true clash of Titans.

I’m on edge, right with the rest of the crowd, volleying a look between the scoreboard and West as both teams stand at the line of scrimmage.

Six seconds on the clock.

The players’ warm breath meets the cool air, puffing from their nostrils and mouths as this game comes to a head. Both sides have given their all, leaving it all out on the field today, but our boys are trailing by five points. This play is their last chance to make something happen, and the setup isn’t great.

I can’t see West’s expression from here, but I know how much football means to him. He’s got raw talent. So much that most people miss that there’s more to him than what he brings to the field. It’s knowing his passion for the game that I’m certain he’s not giving up easily. Even if some are already writing this off as a loss for our Panthers.

I move down a few rows of seating to snap a few photos with my phone, and even with such a close game, there’s still a fair amount of attention on me. Not sure when I’ve last seen a saltier group of girls in my life, but they’re out in full force today. From both, Cypress Prep and South Cypress High—West’s super fans, I’m sure.

They eye the jersey I’m sporting over my hoodie. No doubt glaring at the last name of their king embossed on the back.

Golden.

When he first asked me to wear it, I was hesitant because I foresaw it garnering this exact level of attention. Because I knew the message it would send.

That I, Blue Riley, am officially West’s girl.

But damn, who knew I’d like the sound of that so much?

Ignoring the many, many eyes I feel on me, I face the field again, trying not to panic.

“You’ve got this,” I whisper mostly to myself, but some small part of me believes West can feel me rooting for him. Even above all the others.

Sterling snaps the ball to West and then West drops back. He gets away from the pressure, thanks to Sterling and the other linemen acting as a human shield.

Three seconds.

“You’ve got this,” I say again, sending those words to him like a fervent prayer, clutching my phone tightly in both hands.

Another breath leaves him, and I hold mine, feeling so tightly wound I can only imagine what this feels like for the team.

For West.

Time and the defense are closing in on him. Then, with one second left on the clock, he launches a desperate Hail Mary from midfield. A pass that has me and the crowd at my back on our feet.

Immense tension—those are the only words for this feeling I have, the cause of the sinking sensation in my gut.

It’s as though we’re watching in slow motion, our gazes never leaving the ball as it soars. There’s overwhelming anticipation and a sense of disbelief that West is still fighting for this win, but he is.

It’s do or die and no one can ever say he didn’t give this game his all.

“Holy mackerel, Jim!” one of the announcers yells through my earbud, punctuating the moment I just witnessed in real time—Dane plucking the ball out of the air in the endzone, pulling it into his chest.

Touchdown!

Hands shaking, I snap as many pics as I can of Dane’s clean catch, shocked as shit that they just pulled that off.

“What a nail-biter!” The announcer yells. “These boys are a sight to behold. I, for one, cannot wait to see what they bring to the field of NCU next fall.”

The crowd erupts in cheers, celebrating the narrow win that has just marked the end to Cypress Prep’s perfect football season.

Players rush the field from the bench and so does the entire dance squad, jumping all over the boys while small gold squares shoot from confetti cannons on the sideline. The marching band plays loud and proud, because our boys just did it.

I snap a few more photos, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got more than enough for the paper. Besides, the professionals are here—local and national news outlets that swarm the field.

Placing my phone inside my hoodie, I fight the urge to sprint down the stadium steps to West. It wouldn’t be right, though. That well-earned spotlight is shining brightly on him today after that incredible pass, and I’d never stand in the way.

The team fought hard for this and they deserve their moment in the sun.

Instead of interrupting, I slowly ascend toward the exit, knowing I couldn’t be prouder of him than I am right now. Every so often, I glance back over my shoulder to West, as he smiles into the lens of some network’s camera, and I’m content to congratulate him later.

I’ll still be here when the interviews end, when the screams die down, when the confetti settles.

My notifications are going wild, which isn’t a surprise. With the boys’ win, Pandora is gonna be firing off updates all day, I’m betting. I hug myself for warmth and trudge up the stands, but the sound of cleats on the cement steps has me halting and turning around.

Out of breath and drenched in sweat, the star of the game is taking the steps by two to catch me.

I should be scolding him for leaving behind the slew of reporters who were in line to get a few words from him, but I’m too happy he’s standing here.

“West! They’re waiting for you!” I shout at him, imagining how many are staring us down right now. Starting with his Coach, who’s likely going to give him an earful for ditching his team.

“I don’t give a shit,” he says. Then, half a second later, he’s kissing me.

Hard. Deep.

I cradle his jaw with both hands and can’t deny the changes I see in him. Yeah, he was different before our talk last night, but there’s been another shift since then. He’s not capable of being soft, and I wouldn’t want him to be. He has, however, dulled some of those sharp edges. The ones that used to catch me off guard, cut me deep. But having his undivided attention at a time like this, a time I expected to be all about him, I don’t exactly hate it.

From around West’s shoulder, I spot his coach glancing up at us, and he doesn’t look happy.

“Um, I think you might want to get back down to the field.”

He lifts my chin with his finger, then his gaze flashes down to my lips. “I’ll go, but you’re coming with me.”

“West, I—they’ll have my face plastered all over every single article about you,” I protest with a laugh.

“Good thing you’re fucking beautiful.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to keep arguing with him, but he hits me with that smile of his. Once that happens, I feel myself giving in. His hand settles at the small of my back and I’m headed in the opposite direction of where I had in mind.

But this is what he wants. Me, by his side.

As a girl who’s often felt discarded, set aside, being wanted is a nice change. And while I never in a million years would’ve guessed West could make me feel that way, I’m positive this is all so right.

Somehow, now that the dust has settled, we just… make sense.

@QweenPandora: Let’s get the obvious topic out of the way first. Our boys pulled out a fabulous win today! Everyone fought hard and it earned you all a flawless season that’ll go down in history. Be proud of the work you put in on that field! We certainly are.

Now, let’s talk about what’s really on everyone’s mind.

No need to speculate, folks. KingMidas and NewGirl are official. If that jersey she donned at today’s game wasn’t enough to prove she’s letting bygones be bygones, check out all the pics of her at the king’s side during the victory celebration. He’s clinging to her hand in every single frame, making sure she never gets away from him again.

Gotta admit, I did NOT see things turning out so well for this indecisive duo. It looked super bleak for a moment there. Especially after that leak. But to say that they’ve defied the odds would be putting it mildly.

Good job, KingMidas! Some thought you were insane not to give up when NewGirl kept giving you the cold shoulder, but your relentlessness clearly paid off for you.

In honor of this drastic one-eighty you two have done, I’m categorizing this whole second-chance-romance vibe you’ve got going on as #RelationshipGoals.

Later, Peeps.

—P