Forever Golden: Dark High School Bully Romance (Kings of Cypress Prep Book 3) by Rachel Jonas (beach books TXT) 📕

“Damn, dude! Last time I saw you, you only came up to my elbow. What the hell have you guys been eating?” West asks with a laugh as he turns to introduce us. “Beau, I’d like you to meet my girl Blue, her sister Scarlett, and a friend of the family, Joss.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” I say, shaking Beau’s hand when he offers it.

“Same,” he says politely. “And did I hear right? Your name’s Blue?”

Smiling, I nod. “Yeah. It’s different, I know.”

“Nothing wrong with different,” he shrugs, holding my gaze. “If you get bored at the big house, I just got a new truck. It’d be no trouble to swing by and pick you up. There’s lots to see in Dupont Bayou.”

I’m not quite sure what to say because he’s friendly, yes, but maybe a bit too friendly?

West’s gaze lingers on my hand, which is still in Beau’s because he has yet to release it.

“Ok, so this is the part where you either let go or lose a damn finger,” West warns with a smile. When Beau’s gaze shifts from me to his big cousin, it’s clear he was intentionally trying to get under West’s skin by flirting. Which worked like a charm.

Beau laughs and finally releases me, taking a few steps back just in case West’s threat isn’t quite as empty as he thinks.

“My fingers are my life,” he reasons. “I need ‘em for playing bass and, you know… other things,” he adds, passing a look over me that makes me feel naked, dirty.

“Fuck you,” West growls, lunging toward Beau with a huge grin. He grabs him in a playful chokehold, and I imagine there’s a lot of broken furniture that results from these eight getting together.

Poor Boone.

Without West as a buffer, two more of his prowling cousins stroll over. Twins this time. Looks-wise, they’re identical, but they’re complete opposites in the style department. One’s sporting dark jeans and a button-down rolled to his elbows. He wears glasses that I’m pretty sure make him look a whole heck of a lot more innocent than he actually is. Like all the others, he’s tall and broad across his shoulders, much like the triplets. His brother opted for a much more casual look tonight—Adidas track pants and a black hoodie. Both looks are trendy, but they’re as different as night and day.

“You two must be River and Stoney, right?”

They nod. “In the flesh,” the casual one says just before introducing himself. “Stoney.”

“River,” the one in glasses adds.

Before more can be said, Dane walks up and interrupts, draping an arm around both twins’ shoulders. “Nice outfits, guys.”

Stoney nods and thanks Dane, but River stares up at the sky, like he hasn’t even heard a thing that was said.

“I see you two are still stealing shit.” When Dane finishes speaking, he tears off the price tag dangling from Stoney’s sleeve.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, turning red as a stop sign.

“You assholes are fucking loaded,” Dane points out. “Anything your parents don’t buy you, Grandpa does. Mind telling me why you still think it’s okay for your happy asses to weigh twice as much when you leave the mall than you did when you went in?”

The twins glance at each other and I don’t miss the wicked grins curving their lips.

“Because… we’re fucking good at it?” River proposes with a shrug.

Frustrated, Dane snatches the glasses off River’s face before he can stop him, then proceeds to stomp them into the dirt.

“What the fuck, dude?” River protests, clearly pissed, but also seeming to understand that Dane could kick his ass if he wanted to.

“And what ditz told you you look smart wearing glasses you don’t even fucking need? No one does that,” Dane concludes, walking away after effectively calling the pair out.

It probably goes without saying, but they scatter now that Dane’s thoroughly ripped them both new assholes. But from what I just heard, they needed it. Sterling walks the fourth cousin over and he’s the first that seems even remotely quiet. Not shy, and definitely not innocent, maybe just careful with his words.

“Ladies, this is Keaton.”

We’re offered a half wave, but Keaton’s obviously high off his ass right now. Kid probably doesn’t even know what day it is.

I wave back and so do Joss and Scar, but when he rubs his hand down the scruff on his chin, that’s when I notice his knuckles. They’re bruised like he’s been in a fight recently. I should know. I’ve had bruises just like that on more than one occasion.

Or, you know, maybe he punched a mirror or wall like some other dumb-ass I know.

I can now safely assume that this somber, quiet version of him is simply the result of whatever he’s been smoking.

“West tell you these guys are in a band?” Sterling asks.

“No, this is the first I’ve heard. That’s pretty cool. What do you play, Keaton?” I ask, not even sure the guy’s coherent.

“Drums.”

I stare, waiting for him to elaborate, but nothing.

Okay. Good talk.

Shaking his head, Sterling gives up trying to pull conversation from him and walks away. At which point Keaton stumbles back to the lawn chair Sterling plucked him out of and stares at the stars.

I laugh a little to myself. He must’ve sprung for the strong stuff, because I swear this kid is no longer in this world.

Posted against the trunk of a nearby tree, another of the boys peers up and his fingers go motionless on his guitar. The final, lingering note of the riff he just played dissipates into the night and it’s suddenly silent.

He’s got that stormy look in his eyes that I often get from West, but instead of the heartbreaker greens I’m used to seeing, his are dark. Like staring down a well in the middle of the night. His skin looks sun-kissed, which I can easily see even with the dim light of the bonfire, but that doesn’t make much sense. It’s the dead of