She pops above the surface of the water again, doing that same ridiculous gasping routine as before. As I watch her overreact, and nearly smack some unsuspecting nerd girl in the face as she swims by, I’m aware of the damn soft spot forming for the one I swore to ruin.
It was never a secret that the sexual tension between us was blistering hot, from that first time I laid eyes on her at the bonfire. But what comes as an unwelcomed surprise is that I find myself drawn in by more than just her looks. Even the dorky mess I’m staring at now gets to me.
Something about this girl … it makes me want to pull her close and block out all the bad things she seems to draw to her like a magnet. People like me, her dad.
My dad.
Don’t get distracted. This changes nothing. She’s still the enemy.
The short pep talk I give myself brings me back to my senses. I chose my side weeks ago, when I found the pic in the safe. I decided then that I’d find and destroy her. It’s a means to righting my own wrongs from the past, starting with being too young to do something about the first affair I found out about.
If being attracted to Southside is the only thing that stands between me and making things as close to right as I can—without simultaneously tearing my mother’s world apart—I can manage that.
From now on, I’m keeping the blinders on. Her problems are just that. Her problems. Including me, the biggest, most resilient problem of them all.
And as God is my witness … I’m not going anywhere.
@QweenPandora: Apparently, the pool at Cypress Prep has turned into a hot tub! Things seemed to be heating up between our beloved QB-1 and NewGirl this afternoon. If you’re easily offended by PDA, might want to grab a blindfold before checking out the pics. Not sure about everyone else, but I’m totally digging these two lovebirds from opposite sides of the track. However, one must wonder … are KingMidas’s parentals going to be as accepting of this star-crossed romance as the rest of us?
Stay tuned, peeps. The answer is sure to reveal itself in time.
—P
Chapter 20
WEST
“So, you boys already have dates to Homecoming?”
Mom’s smile is bright when she asks, contrasting the tension at the dinner table tonight. It isn’t often we actually join her and Dad for this Brady Bunch bullshit, but she asked nicely, so …
Not to mention, I figure she needs a break, after dealing with my father on a daily basis.
“Dates?” Sterling counters with a laugh. “Nobody really does that anymore, Mom. You go alone, then hook up with friends when you get there”
Our mother’s tiny, manicured hand slams to her chest. The southern belle of the family seems genuinely horrified by that answer.
“Are you kiddin’ me? Part of the fun of going to these things was waiting for ‘the boy’ to finally get up the nerve to ask,” she shares. “Can’t believe your generation’s done away with all that. Some traditions are worth keeping.”
“And some are nothing but pretty little fantasies that twirl around inside you women’s heads,” Dad interjects with a gruff laugh. “It’s nonsense. You, of all people, should know this.”
He barely notices that we’re all staring as he stacks potatoes on his fork.
I’ve never known him to miss a chance to belittle her, the woman who bore his sons and stood by him while he built his empire from nothing. Seems like, to him, she’s only an armpiece these days.
You know, when there’s not some underage gold digger swinging from his nuts.
“Well, just seems like a missed opportunity is all. It’s the perfect chance to show whatever young ladies you three have eyes for that they’re special to you,” Mom adds. After speaking, her gaze lowers to her plate and she leaves it at that.
“Pam, please. These boys are star athletes. They can have any girl in this damn city. It’d be stupid to walk into some dance with chicks on their arms. Talk about taking sand to the beach,” he barks out with a laugh.
There’s an uncomfortable silence that follows, but my dad seems to completely miss that he’s killed the vibe as usual.
“What’s the verdict on South Cypress?” he asks, taking a sip from his glass of wine while changing subjects.
“We’re solid this year,” Sterling answers. “We pulled out the win against them a couple weeks ago, like we knew we would.”
“Barely,” Dad shoots back. That one word is spoken sharply, and a displeased look passes over my brothers and me.
“It was a clean win and—”
“You’re Goldens,” he says, cutting off Dane. “You boys are good. Damn good,” he adds. “It’s the reason each of you got a full ride to NCU. So how do you think the coach over there feels about his future stars narrowly stealing a win against a poor, gutter-trash school like South Cypress?”
Mom glares up at him but doesn’t dare interrupt.
“Whoever this punk kid is that they’ve staked everything on, squash him,” he declares. “The next time you go up against him, show him why he should’ve stayed in Ohio. Or wherever the hell he came from. Understood?”
Dane and Sterling pass one another frustrated glances, but don’t speak or agree with his B.S. logic.
I, on the other hand, am in no mood to keep quiet or play pretend. I know who and what he really is, and I know so many of his secrets.
“We won. Get over it,” I grumble. “For someone who hasn’t shown up to a single game in three years, you sure have a lot to say.”
A hush falls in the room and I feel my father’s gaze locked on me. Still, I don’t look up to confirm that I have his full attention.
“What’d you just say to me?”
“Vin, honey, relax,” Mom says sweetly, trying to diffuse a situation she doesn’t realize is already beyond her control.
He doesn’t speak directly to her,
