“That’s why you left me alone all week? Because you think I’m better off without you?”
“I left you alone because you told me to,” he says slowly. “And because you were right to. Everything you said that day was true. I’m no good for you, Sugar. Hell, I’m no good for anyone.”
“That’s not true,” I say, my voice breaking. I reach for him, but this time he pulls away, stepping back toward the door.
“Come on, Crystal,” he says. “I never deserved a girl like you. I never deserved anything from you. But I’m a guy like me, so I took it, anyway.Now I’m paying for it, and I’m sorry that you have to pay for it, too.”
I swallow hard, swiping away the tears on my lashes. “Now what?”
“Now, you go make your family happy because that’s what you do.”
“What about you?”
The ghost of a smile plays over Devlin’s lips. “I’ll try not to fuck up anyone else who asks you out. It might take a couple tries, but I’ll get used to it eventually. And pretty soon, I’ll be just that asshole who punched out a couple guys who wanted to date you. And pretty soon after that, I’ll be nothing to you.”
“You could never be nothing to me, Devlin,” I say. “I…”
“Don’t say anything you can’t take back,” Devlin warns. His eyes search mine, and I watch his cool exterior slide back over his face, the one he shows the world just like I show them the made-up version of me. When it’s firmly in place, and his eyes are that impenetrable frozen surface, and his face is hard and haughty, he smiles and pushes open the bathroom door. “See you around, Dolce.”
And then he’s gone. I melt back against the sink, closing my eyes and breathing deeply, trying to get myself together.
“I love you,” I whisper to the silent bathroom, my whisper like the breath of a ghost against the tiled walls. The ghost of what could have been, and what can never be. He’s right. If we tried to be together, our families would keep tearing each other apart. We’ve already torn his apart. I don’t want it to do the same to mine.
But god, it hurts. Knowing what might have been, what we could have if we were anyone other than who we are, if we weren’t a Dolce girl and a Darling boy.
I take a last breath, shaking my head to clear it. There’s no use dwelling on what beauty could be if it existed. We both bear the yoke of our names, and we can’t escape that. We’re still players on the same board, still opponents. For one moment, we came together, and made magic. But that moment is over.
four
Crystal
I push out of the bathroom and go to my locker, since it’s almost time for the next class, and I don’t even have my phone to waste the rest of the period on. As I walk down the hall, I feel naked without my makeup, but somehow stronger, too. As if I’m strong enough to fight without armor now.
I’m getting stuff for my next class from my locker when I hear quiet footsteps in the hall. I look up, my heart catching with some pathetic, terrible bud of hope.
But it’s not Devlin coming back to tell me he made a mistake. It’s the person I’ve been avoiding all week, the one whose face makes adrenaline shoot through me, my heart race, and sweat break out on my palms.
Preston is right there, so close I can see the dots of blond stubble on his angular jaw. My heart roars into overdrive, my knees nearly give out, and my hands start shaking so hard I fumble my books and they thud back into my locker. I haven’t spoken to him since he beat the shit out of me and tied me up in the locker room. I was hoping I’d never run into him without my brothers there to protect me. But here he is.
He stops and looks me over, his eyes so inscrutable it makes me want to scream. “You’re still here.”
“So are you,” I reply, forcing my fingers to close around my book. I wish I had something to defend myself, a weapon. But I know he’d just rip it out of my hand. There’s no stopping this boy—or any of the Darling boys. They take what they want, and no one can stop them. Even the coach didn’t stop him. I know there’s no help for me, that I’m at his mercy if he wants to shove me in a closet and slit my throat with his knife. But I won’t whimper and beg. I’ll go down with the steel spine and the grace that makes me a Dolce. That’s what matters. Not my face.
“You look different,” he says.
“You know, it’s a miracle what makeup can hide these days,” I say. “Scrapes, bruises, ugliness.”
He just stands there staring at me, his expression infuriatingly unreadable.
“Go on,” I say. “I made it easy for you. Take your shot.”
“Now, come on, Manhattan,” he says, a tiny smile at the corner of his lips. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Just helping you out,” I say smoothly. “You already made me into the school slut. Might as well take the last thing a girl has to hold onto—the illusion of beauty.”
“You think you’re ugly?” he asks, his head cocked to one side.
Damn him. Why can’t he just cut me down? Why does he have to play with me? He looks like he wants to figure me out so he can get inside my head and destroy me from within like a parasite.