“Yes,” Quinn says, staring down at her crostini toast. “You don’t know how things work around here yet. But you just have to do what they want.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want the big bad bullies to mess with you because of me,” I concede.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Susanna says. “I’m fine with you sitting with us, and Dixie sees the good in everyone, even the Waltons, and she can’t resist a charity case, but if you bring down the wrath of the Dolces on her after everything she’s done for you—”
“Whoa,” I say, holding up a hand to stop her. “I’m no one’s charity case. I didn’t realize that’s what this was.”
“It’s not,” Dixie says, but her cheeks are bright pink.
I feel my throat tightening in a horrible way, and I push back from the table before they can see how much that stings. “Let me just make this easy for everyone,” I say. “I’ll find somewhere else to sit from now on.”
“Harper—” Dixie starts, but I stand and turn away, avoiding her eyes. I’ve known these girls for all of four days, and I hate to think how much I’ve come to rely on their company if nothing else. But I know it’s not just that. I liked them. It was nice to feel like I had a place, even if I didn’t truly belong. I was no closer to them than anyone I sat with at Faulkner High, but it was still nice to be welcomed. Now I have to face the truth, though. They were just being nice because I was new. They don’t know me or even like me for who I am. No one does.
And that’s the way I like it,I remind myself. I’ve made sure of that because I had to, because it was the only way to survive. I trust myself, rely on myself, because I’m the only person who can be trusted. No one else really cares, no one looks out for me or has my back the way the Dolces do each other. I’m an island, a girl alone.
I feel it more than I ever have as I cross the café toward the table where the Dolce boys and their girls sit waiting. I don’t like attention. I don’t want any of this. My knees threaten to wobble, but I force myself to stay steady, to be strong. As I walk, I notice that the table I left is in the minority. Most of the girls in the café are looking on with jealousy and longing, as if being singled out by these beautiful monsters is an honor.
I reach the table where they sit waiting expectantly, because apparently it’s beneath them to come to me and harass me. I have to come to them like I’m asking for it.
“Here I am,” I say. “Do your worst.”
Duke wets his lips and looks me up and down the same way he did by the tracks. “Yes, you are,” he says, making no secret of the fact that he appreciates what he sees.
I may not care about boys and dating and all those complications, but I’m not a total stranger to men hitting on me. Still, it’s different to be hit on by a guy who looks like this—gorgeous, my age, with the scent of money oozing from his every pore—than when it’s a dirtbag on the street or a sleezy asshole trying to sneak a grope in the hall.
Royal holds up a hand to put a pause to whatever’s going on. He stares at me a long second and then speaks, not turning around to address the teacher standing at the door. “Give us the room,” he says. “This is a student affair.”
The small woman glares at the back of his head, her lips tightening. Royal doesn’t turn to see if she’ll obey.
He knows she will.
God, watching him in action, seeing his power, makes me just about wet.
After a second, she turns on her heel, muttering under her breath, and walks out. I’ve seen a hundred assholes defy a teacher, but this is not defiance. It’s command. I try not to show I’m impressed, but damn. These boys really do run this school if they’re ordering teachers around. Not only that, but Royal never once bothered to even look at her. He knows he has the power here.
All the while, his eyes stay locked on me. Though I have a poker face that pays the bills some months, I suddenly feel like he can see past it, like his dark daze has pierced straight into me. Like he’s bypassed knocking down my walls and simply stepped over, where he’s fingering every secret shame and stroking every hidden desire.
“Now,” Royal says slowly, his lips twisting into the slightest smirk, one that makes me want to squirm and press my knees together. “Where were we?”
“What do you want?” I ask, ignoring the traitorous ways my body responds to being the object of his intense attention. Power is sexy, I remind myself. It’s not about him at all.
“Oh, we just want to get to know the new girl,” Duke says. “Maybe have a little fun. You like fun, don’t you, new girl?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I doubt we have the same definition of fun.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Baron says, a glint of humor in his eyes. His gaze holds mine, and my heart starts to pound. I knew it was wishful thinking, maybe even downright stupidity, but a part of me had hoped against hope that they didn’t recognize me. It was evening when we met before, dark by the time we’d left the railroad. And it was dark at the football game. It had been in a different environment, and maybe some part of me had thought, when they didn’t confront me right away, that they didn’t put two and two together and realize I was the same girl.
But of course life never goes that smoothly.
“What do you want?” I ask quietly, the attitude gone from my voice this time.
“That’s better,” Royal says, his voice a deep, smooth purr. “You can start by dropping the bratty attitude. You think you’re special? Not here. Here, you’re no one. We are kings in this place, and there’s no room on this throne for the likes of you.”
“Fine by me,” I say. “I’m just here for the education. I have no interest in your power games.”
He cocks a brow. “Then kneel and kiss our feet.”
I stare blankly at him for a second. Dixie said something along those lines, but I didn’t think she meant it literally.