The Golden Boys: Chapter 15

West’s heinously dark stare burns right through me.

I can’t escape it.

The tension in his jaw, the sharp flare of his nostrils, both only add to what I already know. He’s still just as wicked as the first time our paths crossed.

And even knowing this, I don’t quite look at him the same. Not since the kiss.

Feeling the moist heat of his mouth covering mine, the taste of it … I haven’t been able to shake the memory. Believe me, I’ve tried putting it out of my head, because I know exactly who I’m dealing with.

But that’s been easier said than done

He’s not the boy next door, or the kind you trust with your heart. West Golden is a devil in designer jeans, with all the charm of a bona fide psycho. Still, even with all the hatred I hold for him, I swear I feel him all over me.

Like a ghost.

“Should I go?” Ricky isn’t one to be easily intimidated, so I know he only asks because he thinks it’s what I want.

“It’s fine,” I answer casually, but heat creeps up my spine as my eyes lock with West’s. So much that I quickly turn away.

“You sure about that?” Ricky adds with amusement in his tone, “because he’s on his way over here.”

Balls.

I snap my head that way again and a quiet, inward gasp hisses in my throat. All because that confident stride of West’s, the rhythmic dip and roll of his broad shoulders, has brought him right to me.

“Sooo … Enjoying yourself, Southside?”

There’s a cocky smirk on his lips as he eases both hands inside his pockets. First, he stares me down, and then drags his gaze toward Ricky. The usual bright green of his irises seems to darken then, as the two stand eye-to-eye.

My fingers tighten into fists where they rest on Ricky’s shoulders, but we aren’t dancing anymore. He seems to sense that I’m highly uncomfortable at the moment, and misreads it completely. I fear he thinks my concern is that West will get the wrong impression about us, when I honestly couldn’t care less about that.

“I’ll uh … I’ll go check on Shane and Scar,” Ricky offers, but something in his tone is off.

Way off.

Unlike most guys in West’s presence, Ricky shows no sign of being shaken, which means he’s only backing off for my sake. Thanks to Pandora’s misguided posts, the world—those living outside of West’s circle, anyway—seem to think I’m his property.

Which I definitely am not.

There’s a loaded stare that passes between the two guys, but then Ricky turns to walk toward my front lawn, never looking back. My gaze flashes to West again, and I hope he can feel the hatred burning within it.

“Why are you here?” I practically growl.

“That your new boy-toy?” He tips his chin toward Ricky, asking the question through gritted teeth. That’s when I notice I don’t have his full attention.

Ricky does.

“You don’t belong here,” I snap.

A furious glare falls on me. “What’s the matter, Southside? Not a great feeling when someone weasels their way into your world, is it?”

I hate him. I mean absolutely, positively hate him. From the bottom of my heart.

Both fists tighten at my sides and, for the second time tonight, I want to punch someone.

Something dawns on me then. Unlike when we’re at school—West’s kingdom—I don’t have to put up with his shit. I can walk away, so that’s what I do.

He doesn’t seem to get the hint when I start putting distance between us, because he’s right on my heels. I step up onto the sidewalk and the second Scar spots who’s hawking me, her entire face lights up.

Jules notices him and stops mid-chew to stare at West, leaving a hunk of cookie dangling from her lip. I’m reminded of something she said the night at the bonfire. Something about being willing to trample her own grandmother for the chance to lick him?

Apparently, I’m the only one who isn’t a fan.

“This your place?” West’s voice is deep and quiet when he leans closer to ask, letting his chest bump my shoulder.

Frustrated, I bump him back, which only makes him laugh. But then, my eyes slam shut, because I realize what I’ve just done in my desperation to get away from him.

“Nope,” I lie. “Just a neighbor’s place.”

He doesn’t say more, and I don’t offer any details other than that. Hopefully, he bought it.

“Brownie?” Scar’s voice is bright and chipper as she grins at the devil.

He, of course, soaks it all in. “Sure. How much?”

Scar waves him off, like I knew she would. “For you, it’s free.”

Shane and I both shoot her a look.

“What she meant to say is it’s five bucks,” I interject, casting a bitchy smile toward West. He can afford the upcharge.

Being the freak he is, he smiles back and it grates my nerves. Without protest, he digs out his wallet, and drops a hundred-dollar bill into the fishbowl where Scar’s been stashing her earnings.

“That cover it?” West asks.

Scar’s eyes widen and I hate the idea of her idolizing him. And also the idea of him winning over yet another of my family members.

“Oh my gosh! You’re awesome!”

Before I can stop her, she’s bounding around the table, squeezing West around his waist. Surprised by the attack, he lightly hugs her back.

“I’m Scarlett by the way,” she freely shares. And just like that, the thin lie I told is blown to hell. No way he’ll buy that I don’t live here now.

“Scarlett,” West repeats, looking directly at me. “Your sister, right?”

He remembers, from when I stupidly told him too much about my life after orientation. Before I knew he was the devil himself.

I don’t answer. A searing hot glare is my only response.

“Yep! The one and only,” Scar happily confirms, pushing pink strands behind her ears as she returns to her post.

She tries to play it cool, but I know my sister. She’s getting ready to put her foot in her mouth and I see it coming from a mile away.

“So … are you two, like, dating?” There’s so much hope in her eyes, all at the mere idea of me dating someone she equates to a celebrity. “I only ask because that’s what Pandora seems to think.”

Of course, she does …

In my peripheral, I’m aware of the moment West casts a slick grin down on me. Right before he answers my sister’s probing question.

“Yeah,” he lies. “You could say that.”

My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach and my focus instantly shifts to Ricky, who’s overheard everything. I’d made it a point to squash Pandora’s rumor when he first asked, and again a moment ago when we were dancing. Only, now, with West opening his big mouth, I’m sure Ricky thinks I’m a liar.

Awesome.

Ricky turns to face the street instead of looking at me. He’s pissed and I see it all over his face.

My skin comes alive at the feel of hot fingers slinking across the small of my back. In the sliver of space where my high-waisted shorts and the t-shirt I’ve knotted at my ribs meet. West draws me close in a smooth motion that smashes me against his rock-hard body.

For a second, I forget that I hate him, but those feelings come rushing right back when he peers down at me.

“You said something about showing me your room, didn’t you?” He slipped the question in so smoothly I have to do a double-take.

“What? I—”

Before I can even form an answer—which would have been a resounding, ‘Hell no!’—his hand eases into my back pocket and I’m ushered toward my front door.

Don’t make a scene Blue. You can light into him as soon as you cross the threshold, but don’t … make … a scene.

I still hadn’t forgotten West’s threat from the night before. Challenging him in front of his brothers had been enough to stir up talk of burning down my uncle’s diner. I could only imagine how much worse his reaction would be if I called him out right here, in front of everyone.

Fear of how far he’d take things is all that keeps me from breaking that hand now gripping my ass as my sister and friends watch him follow me into the house.

The second I close the door behind us, I shove him hard. I feel so much satisfaction when his back slams against the wall, rattling the pictures hanging beside the window.

Even if he is completely unfazed and laughing.

“Feel better getting that out your system?”

“What do you think you’re doing? Why’d you lie to them?” I cut in, ignoring his snarky comment completely.

He steps away from the wall and straightens his shirt while staring me down. “I think an even better question is why you didn’t correct me.”

I’m seeing pure red. “You think I don’t know how that would end?”

The smile on his face broadens, but it’s turned wicked. “Well, somebody’s learning,” he croons, seeming pleased with the idea of me finally understanding my place.

“Congrats!” I shout. “You’re rich, I’m poor. You have this entire town on your side, and to you I’m nothing. Got it, asshole.”

I cross my arms over my chest after speaking and can’t even look at him. It’s then, in that moment of silence, that I glance around. The place is a wreck. Scar spent her day baking while I worked an early shift with Dusty. There had been no time to clean and, honestly, with school, work, and journalism club all week, it’d been more than a few days since anyone had straightened things.

The frustration that dominated my mood a moment ago is replaced by something else.

Embarrassment.

From the old couch that dips in the middle—thanks to the many nights Mike has chosen to sleep there instead of his actual bed, to the collection of empty beer cans and overflowing basket of laundry, to the two fist-sized holes in the wall from a recent episode where my father couldn’t control his temper.

West is worming his way into areas of my life I hardly allow the people I trust to enter, let alone my enemy.

“Just … go,” I say softly, feeling the weight of shame holding me in place. I can only imagine the things he’ll take back to school about me, about my home.

Before he can even say anything ugly, a door creaks down the hall and my stomach plummets.

“What’s all the damn noise about?”

Mike’s staggering even more than when he’d come out to terrorize us out front. Meaning, he’s downed another bottle or two since then.

“Nothing, Mike,” I say as firmly as possible, but my voice is quieter than usual, strained. “West was just leaving.”

At least, I hope he is.

Especially as I become aware of the familiar sting in my eyes. The one that usually means tears are on the way. I can’t think of anything worse than giving someone who sees me as weak, who believes he owns me, the chance to see me cry.

“Thought I told you bitches not to let any of these hellraisers you call friends into my damn house anymore. You stupid or something?”

I’ve long-since grown numb to my father’s insults, his indifference towards my siblings and I, but it stings especially bad to be treated this way in front of West. Someone who already thinks I’m worthless.

I suppose I don’t answer quickly enough for Mike, because his next move is to amble across the living room, coming straight toward me to get in my face. Surprisingly, he’s never struck anyone under this roof before, so I don’t brace myself for impact, but … West does.

In what I guess is some kind of knee-jerk reaction, he’s suddenly standing between Mike and me. Like a fortress, shielding me from the encroaching storm. Shocked, and very much confused, I’m unsure what to do or say. So, I watch in silence as the two engage in a fierce stare-down.

“Try it, boy,” Mike grunts, barely sober enough to stand on his own.

West is unwavering, but his biceps tense when he readies his fists. Just in case, I guess.

“You should back up,” is his cold warning to my father. “Maybe go sleep it off before you do something you’ll regret … sir.”

Mike doesn’t take kindly to threats, but I imagine the polite, and yet stern, tone of West’s voice is confusing to him. He certainly wouldn’t be the only one with no clue what’s going on.

They seem to have reached a stalemate, neither having spoken a word in several seconds. But then, adding to this batshit crazy turn of events, Mike retreats. Yeah, he’s grumbling and cursing to himself, but he’s doing all those things while slow-walking it back to his bedroom.

There’s an awkward silence in the room, hovering between West and me as I keep my stare trained on his back. With each of the deep breaths he draws in, his shoulders rise and fall. But he has yet to face me.

Maybe he can’t.

A wall came down I don’t think he intended to lower. Ever. But what’s done is done. There’s no taking back what I know—that he just put himself in harm’s way for me. If it had been anyone else who intervened just now, I wouldn’t hesitate to show my gratitude, thank them, but … not him.

Never him.

Instead, I’m bitter as hell that he’s pushed himself into this corner of my life, seen the dark parts I keep hidden at all costs.

Furious, I can only get one word out of my mouth. “Leave.”

I don’t regret the chill in my tone. Not even a little. He has no right to be here.

What could have been an act of valor, only feels like an invasion of privacy to me and I want him gone.

Opening the front door makes it clear I mean what I said. And I don’t breathe again until West brushes past me without either of us even attempting to make eye contact. Then, he storms down the steps of my porch, hopefully knowing better than to ever come back here again.