Page 34 of Never His Girl
Harrison isn’t buying this any more than I am, which is why that pen of his is tapping the edge of his desk nonstop.
My heart races with the sound, wondering if West’s word is enough to combat Mrs. C’s. I suppose it’s a matter of who Harrison regards more highly. A fellow member of the CPA staff, or West.
There’s a moment of silence that fills me with dread, and then Harrison speaks again.
“All right. I’ll play along,” he says with a smirk. “But next time an issue like this arises, godson or not, West, I won’t bend any rules.”
“Understood, sir,” West says, standing to shake his freakin’godfather’shand.
Ofcourse,Harrison’s his godfather. As if the scales weren’t already tilted unfairly in West’s direction.
I stand, hoping to get out of there before Harrison can change his mind, but I end up catching his and West’s conversation as I gather my things.
“Looks like your face had a target on it evenbeforeMs. Riley got ahold of you,” Harrison teases, referencing Ricky’s handiwork from their fight.
West lets out a tight laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with his answer. “Yeah, I guess you could say it’s been a strange few days.”
“I bet. I’ll have to give the wife a heads up not to be too startled when she sees you next week at Thanksgiving dinner. Your old man didn’t change his mind about dining with us, did he?”
“No, sir,” West answers with a laugh. “We’re all looking forward to it.”
“Well, we’re excited to have you all. And we’ll be watching the big game this weekend as well.”
“Then, I’ll do my best to make sure I don’t let you down,” West answers, spewing that fake politeness again.
“I’m sure you boys will pull out another win for us,” Harrison concludes.
Talk of the semifinals reminds me that, come Friday, I’ll be right back in the trenches with the team for the weekend. My stomach twists at the thought of it.
I hear a sheet of paper rip, then another before I’m stopped at the door.
“You’ll need this, Ms. Riley,” Headmaster Harrison says, holding out two pink passes. One for me. One for West. “I gave you both a ten-minute grace period to change and get to practice. No lingering in the hallways. Understood?” His voice is nowhere near as authoritative as the statement.
I’m certain that leniency is more so meant for West than me.
“Understood,” we answer in unison, and then we both hightail it out of there.
We’re taking the same hallway, so it’s a super awkward walk. Mostly because I’m always aware of him, like he’s always aware of me—two opposite sides of a magnet, drawn to each other because we’re so vastly different.
Or … at least I used to think that.
Now, I’m certain we’rebothjust fucked up.
“I’m not sorry I hit you,” I say in the bitchiest tone I can muster.
I shoot him a look and he chuckles quietly. “Never said you should be.”
It grates my nerves that he’s being all calm about this.
“And I’mnotthanking you for whatever voodoo that was you just worked on Harrison back there. You owe me atleastthat.”
This time, the asshole full-on laughs. “I’m just walking, Southside. You’re the one talking. Not me.”
“As long as you know,” I snap.
When our paths should fork, and he continues to follow me, I’m instantly annoyed, because I’ve been forced into enough conversations with him that I’m certain this is what he’s hoping to do again. But then, as we get close to the girl’s locker room, I’m shocked to hear his steps slow while I hold pace. It isn’t until I reach the door that I glance back over my shoulder, only to see he’s stopped in his tracks, wearing the most annoyingly hot half-smile I’ve ever seen in my life. And, of course, he’s trying to be all mysterious and shit, so he doesn’t say a word. Just stands there, watching with both hands tucked inside the pockets of his jeans.
The only thing worse than a certified dickhead is ahotcertified dickhead.