The Golden Boys: Chapter 5

I should’ve brought Jules. At least I’d have someone to talk to while I wait.

The lines were brutal, but I made it through quickly enough. Now, I’m forced to wait in the auditorium with everyone else, where we’ve been herded for an assembly.

The entire row beside me is empty, but it’s probably got something to do with sitting in nearly the farthest section from the stage. Still, it shoves the loneliness of being so far out of my element right in my face. An entire year of this, that’s what I have to look forward to. It’ll be pure hell, but I know why I’m doing it.

For Scar.

For me.

For change.

‘Still alive, Preppy?’

I smile at the text from Jules, feeling a little less invisible.

‘Barely. Have to sit through some lame assembly, then home. Thank God.’

The lights dim a little and a middle-aged woman wearing an unseasonably warm plaid blazer over a cream blouse starts across the stage. When she takes the mic, I shoot Jules a quick, ‘Gotta go,’ text and drop the phone down in my purse.

The lady goes over standard issue stuff—a short spiel about how she hopes we all had an enriching summer, something about why they decided to forego uniforms this year, and then a rundown about what clothing articles will and won’t be allowed on campus.

Then, right after that, I blank out.

It’s not that I’ve suddenly gone deaf and blind. It’s because of who I see sliding into my row from the opposite end, like he’s not the most delicious thing any girl has ever laid eyes on.

A backwards baseball cap hides the dark, tousled hair I remember wanting to run my fingers through, but … it’s definitely him. His tatted arms are bare today, from the shoulders down. The wifebeater he wears is most certainly against the dress code the woman just dutifully recited from stage, but I don’t imagine this one fears much of anything or anyone.

A blatantly cocky stride tells me I’m right.

The white, ribbed fabric clings to his pecs, as well as the discernable ridges of solid abs that have me biting my lip. Then, I’m done in by the rest of his godlike features, the towering height, the half-smile revealing perfect, white teeth set behind fleshy lips.

But he’s not smiling at me. I’m not even sure he’s seen me yet. He’s smiling at them, the two he’s conversing with. The two I know must be his brothers, or they’re possibly even triplets, considering they’re all here together at orientation. They’re not identical, but nearly. Each one obviously aware he could have any girl in this world, but somehow giving off a vibe that they don’t care.

Oh, they care.

I’m a fidgeter around boys. Always have been. So, to keep my hands busy when I realize they don’t intend to sit at the other end of the row, but instead close to me, I shove the abundance of paperwork I’ve gathered today inside my purse.

Then, he looks up, and that have-my-babies smile of his casts it’s spell.

For a second, I wonder if he recognizes me from the bonfire, but he can’t. He’s probably had twenty or thirty girls on their backs and/or knees since then.

I’m smiling, but it feels weird, like I’m thinking too much about what my face is doing. He’s still coming this way and I’m starting to think he spotted me before I realized. Actually, I wonder if he spotted me and then decided to approach.

Don’t say anything stupid, Blue. They’re just boys. Yeah, they’re really, really cute boys, but boys, nonetheless.

I tell myself not to look up when he stops and hovers over me, but that would be even more awkward than acknowledging him. So, I take a chance, only to realize I wasn’t anywhere near ready.

He wets his lips and I hold my breath when he speaks.

“Anyone sitting here?” His glance shifts to the seat beside me when he asks, and I try to recover from the shockingly deep voice that left him. It’s smooth and melodic. Perfect for talking girls out of their panties, I imagine.

My throat is so, so dry. “Uh, n—no! It’s just me.”

I sound super eager, which I hate. For that reason, I tone down the smile I offer.

“Cool. Mind if we sit?”

I blink up at him, and then shake my head. “Sure. That’s fine.”

I turn away as all three drop down in the seats beside me. When I do, I’m suddenly aware of all the eyes on us. Even with the lights dim, everyone seems to have taken notice that these three have sought me out.

Great.

Not exactly helping me fly under the radar.

When I turn, I sense the one Jules identified as King Midas staring, and I’m right. He is. His gaze makes its slow trek upward, from where my shoes are propped against the back of the seat in front of me, to where my knees and thighs press toward my chest. Aware of having his attention, I lower both feet to the floor. The sudden movement brings his eyes to mine with a snap—the perfect shade of what Mom calls ‘heartbreaker green’. She coined the term before I was even thought of, but she’s used it often. So often I know it describes irises such a deep green they look like true emeralds.

“I’m West. These are my brothers—Dane and Sterling,” he adds.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

I wave after both brothers offer their short greeting, then decide to ask a question I believe I already know the answer to. “So … you’re triplets, right?”

West nods and my stomach fills with knots when he smiles. “That obvious?”

“Kind of,” I manage to say through a super cheesy grin. “I mean, there’s obviously some sort of relation, but seeing as how you’re all here for orientation, I kind of put the pieces together.”

He’s nodding again and I realize I still haven’t given my name.

“Oh, I’m Blue. Blue Riley,” I share. He gives me the same look everyone does when I tell them.

“Is that short for something? Or a nickname?”

My cheeks feel hot and I’m grateful it’s dark, because my entire face is probably red.

“Uh, no,” I admit. “My mom thought it’d be cool to name my siblings and I after colors. She’s … a little eccentric, I guess you might say. So, she named us Blue, Scarlett, and Hunter.”

When he nods and his smile grows, I’m not really sure how to take it. He’s either trying to hold in a laugh or he’s thinking my mom must be a little unhinged.

Which wouldn’t be far from the truth.

“I hated it most of my life, but it’s grown on me,” I share.

He’s thoughtful for a second, and it’s in this moment I become even more aware of his intense energy. He’s confident, which is why he hasn’t broken his gaze. Meanwhile, I’m fighting the urge to fidget again.

“Blue.” It seems he’s deep in thought when my name rolls off his lips. Then, my gaze lowers to his mouth when he adds, “I like it.”

“Thanks.” The burning in my cheeks grows warmer.

Those heartbreaker-greens stay trained on me a few seconds longer, then they flicker back toward the stage to listen. We’re silent through the rest of the assembly, but it’s an uncomfortable silence. One where I’m overwhelmed with the urge to turn in West’s direction just to see if this is real.

The lights brighten and I reach for my purse where it rests on the floor between us. Pulling out the forms I was given earlier, I stand. When I do, West and I are eye-to-eye. Well, sort of, considering he’s so much taller.

Feeling the need to put at least a little space between us, I step out into the aisleway and the boys follow. More of the fiery stares from strangers fly my way, and I gather there are a number of these girls who’d like to be me right now, but I don’t let it go to my head.

They’re just boys, Blue.

A paper slips from the folder I’m holding and, before I can bend to grab it myself, West crouches and has it in hand. He rises to stand, reading the header out loud when he does.

“Sports Physical. What do you play?” He hands it back after asking.

“Basketball. I played all three years at South Cypress.”

His brow twitches and he doesn’t respond right away, but when he does there’s a tone I notice. “You’re from the south side?”

I’m unsure if that’s judgement I hear, or just surprise.

“Uh, yep. Born and raised,” I say chipperly, refusing to feel ashamed. I am who I am, whether he accepts that or not.

“You still live there?”

I nod. “Same house since I was born, actually.”

All three of their faces are hard to read now.

“So, you’re a scholarship kid.”

I feel my brow twitch at Dane’s wording. ‘Scholarship kid’ feels like a label. Like one of those petty insults the rich kids toss around while wearing those smug-ass grins.

“Not exactly,” I lie. “My tuition is already covered.”

West’s stare turns inquisitive and I have never wished I could read someone’s mind more than I do right now. Maybe he knows I’m not telling the truth, but it’s no one’s business that I am, in fact, a scholarship recipient. Only a few are given out each year, as the board’s version of a community outreach program. Even still, they only let in students with considerably high GPAs, and there are some pretty serious caveats attached. For example, their already strict zero-tolerance policy for BS is even stricter for those of us from the outside.

Which is why I thanked my lucky stars I was still admitted, considering the scuffle I got into at the end of last school year.

Long story short, I’ll be walking a very thin line here, and my counselor, Dr. Pryor, will make sure of it.

West is quiet for a sec, then he nods toward the auditorium doors. “Since you’re new, why don’t I show you around?”

I draw in a nervous breath before nodding. “Yeah, okay. I could probably use some help finding my locker, anyway. Thanks.”

An easy smile curves the corner of his mouth. “No problem.”

Mostly everyone makes a beeline for the exit now that the assembly has let out, leaving only a few students lingering. The four of us take to the hallway as a group—West to my right, Dane and Sterling to my left. I feel small sandwiched between them, but it isn’t a bad feeling. The looks of admiration from the guys we pass, and downright fangirling from the female population, is overwhelming.

It’s more than clear that my assessment of these three ruling this school is one-hundred percent accurate.

A few twists and turns and we’re here. I’d given West my locker number, so he knew exactly where to go. According to my schedule, and the little map printed at the top, it isn’t far from my first hour, which is nice.

“We get five minutes between classes, so it’s probably not a bad idea to fit as much as you can in your bag,” Sterling offers. “Teachers here probably aren’t as lenient as where you’re from. One tardy and you can expect a detention.”

On the surface, what he says seems kind enough, but it’s the ‘where I’m from’ part that’s rubbed me the wrong way.

What the hell does he know about what standards were upheld at my old school? I’m guessing they think anyone from the other side of the tracks must be some kind of thug or criminal. Typical. It would probably blow his mind to know that several kids in my class have full scholarships to some very desirable universities.

In short, I feel judged.

I force a smile, but don’t say anything.

“We should head toward the cafeteria,” West suggests, leading us down a hallway lined with windows on either side.

We hang a sharp left and I see the lunchroom at the end of the hall. Through the double-doors, we’re able to peek inside. It’s pretty standard from what I can see.

“When weather permits, most of us eat in the courtyard,” West shares.

I’m not sure if that’s an invitation to join them, but when he doesn’t spell it out, I’m even more confused. We move on again and I’m not given a clue where we’re headed next, but my companions have suddenly gone quiet on me, which is unnerving to say the least.

We turn down yet another passage, but this one is a dead end, only a few dormant classrooms on either side. Confused, I peer down at my schedule to see if any of the room numbers match, but nope. No idea why we had come this way.

“So, what are the teachers like here?” I ask. Someone had to say something.

Dane glances toward me briefly, but his eyes dart ahead quickly after. “Like everywhere else, I guess. Pains in the ass.”

A nervous laugh slips out, but the others are all quiet. This sudden change in mood can’t be my imagination, and I’m sure of it when we come to a stop in the middle of this dead zone. West faces me and I’m overwhelmed by the sheer size of him when he steps closer, peering down on me with a look that’s grown increasingly dark. Whatever hope I held on to that this moment would rebound has mostly faded now. I realize I hadn’t imagined being given the cold shoulder, but it’s possible I imagined the kindness these three had shown only a moment ago.

Something’s very, very off about this whole thing. This point is only driven home when harshly spoken words fly from West’s mouth the next second.

“I’m just gonna come right out and ask.” A soft, yet wicked, laugh slips from between his lips. And when his shoulders square, I feel every bit as intimidated as he wants me to feel. “How exactly can you afford all this? Your parents must’ve sold a shit-ton of meth, because Cypress Prep ain’t cheap.”

Shots fired.

I feel his words hit me right in the chest and there’s no question about it. I misread this entire interaction. Completely. And, of course, it stung so much more coming from him, because I’m the idiot who thought we had chemistry.

“Who the hell are you talking to? I don’t have to listen to this.” The words leave my mouth shakily. Then, the first step I try to take away from them is halted when West takes my arm. His grip is firm, but not painful. Still, I’m keenly aware of his strength.

Dane and Sterling flank him while staring me down, but neither speaks. My gaze flickers from them to West when I’m backed against the brick wall, and then boxed in by his large arms at either side of my head. He’s formidable in stature, but also in presence, which I can’t forget as he lingers deep in my personal space.

They have me thoroughly cornered, and I hate it.

“Come on now, Southside,” he calls me coarsely, as if it’s my name. “Can’t blame me for being curious how someone from the ass crack of Cypress Pointe can afford this school. So, if your parents didn’t rob a bank, then you must’ve come up with the cash yourself.” He steps closer and every breath I take presses my chest to his. “Who’d you suck off to get that kind of money?”

I’m wounded emotionally by the cruel words, and because it’s still so surreal that he’s turned on me, I’m not sure how to process it. I didn’t expect this. Not at all.

Rage in its purest form seeps into my veins, but I quench it when I remember being narrowly allowed through the wrought iron gates out front. Being on probation means I can’t stray outside the lines, means I can’t give this bastard what he deserves. I’m trapped literally and figuratively, and it sucks.

“All you need to know is I’m not here on your dime, dipshit.”

“Sure about that?” He’s so close the heat of his breath moves over my lips.

My heart races. Only, this time, it’s not because of the misguided infatuation that got me into this mess—those feelings are so long gone I swear I never had them at all. Now, it’s throbbing inside my chest because my blood’s suddenly boiling out of control.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means there are a lot of blind spots just like this in a school this big,” he warns. “Lots of places for someone who doesn’t belong here to get into trouble.”

This anger of his, where is it coming from?

My entire body shakes, from head to toe. I hadn’t done anything to them or anyone. Was having me here such an insult? Did having someone around who hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in their mouth offend them that much?

Both fists tighten at my sides and I’m so tempted to use them, but then I think of Scarlett. Like, how I’d dropped the ball last year because things were so screwed up, and now I can’t waste this chance. I need to make this work. I need to make sure I do everything I can to give my sister the life she deserves. The life our crappy parents have robbed us of having thus far.

So, I loosen my hands and let them fall limp.

West sees the fight leave my body and I know he’s taken it as a sign of weakness when he smiles. I force myself to press tighter to the wall, preferring to have the rough stones scrape the backs of my thighs, versus being any closer to him.

“I’ve heard all kinds of freaky shit about girls from your hood. Rumor has it, you’ll do practically anything if the money’s right. That true, Southside? Cause I have a few dollars in my pocket if you’re game.”

His stare is wicked, smoldering with misguided hatred. But now, I’m filled with hatred of my own.

“Tell you what,” I seethe, feeling my teeth grit as I speak. “If you can somehow find that short dick of yours, we’ll see where things go from there, asshole.”

He’s practically panting in my face, fury burning in his eyes.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you?” he bites back, leaning in even more, until his lips graze the rim of my ear. “But fair warning: the only thing short about me is my fuse. Test me if you want to.”

My breath quivers and I know he feels it, which I hate. I’m not afraid of him, but I’m afraid for me. The semester has yet to begin and I cannot start the year proving them all right, proving that where I come from automatically means I’m trouble.

I’d seen the pull West has here, the reverence everyone who passed us held for him. What if that power extends further than just the students, to the staff?

I’ve seen enough of the world to know how these things work. These kids’ family’s checks are the foundation on which these schools are built. The rich, the powerful, they defend their own. It’d be his word against mine and I couldn’t take that risk.

“Thaaaat’s right. Settle down like a good little bitch,” he growls against my neck. His deep timbre is low and even, calm, because he knows he has me right where he wants me.

“I’m not breaking for you,” I choke out. “I’ll never break for you. You have my word on that.”

This brings a dark laugh out of him and his weight presses into me more completely now, until I feel all of him.

“Never say never. We’ve got a whole year ahead of us. Anything could happen.”

He’s right and I know I’m outnumbered here, but it’s not in me to give in. My pride is the last thing I have left that’s worth anything.

I feel his long, hot fingers slink around my throat. Then, just as they tighten over my racing pulse, he lets go.

“See you around, Southside.” A deceivingly sweet smile tugs at his lips as he backs away, adding a sinisterly spoken, “…Welcome to Cypress Prep.”