“I mean it,” Royal says quietly, his hand covering mine. He leans close, his dark eyes burning with intensity. His long fingers wrap around the back of my hand, squeezing until I have to clench my teeth to keep from protesting. “Leave us the fuck alone, Harper. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t want to get involved with us. Trust me on that.”
I nod, remembering that he said the same thing about Colt. Is he doing the same thing to me, isolating me and making sure I don’t have a single friend for the rest of high school?
Fine. I can make it fine on my own. I’ve been doing it for years.
“Got it?” Royal asks, crushing the bones in my hand together until I have to wince.
“Got it.” I gasp, panic racing in my mind when I think of what will happen if he injures one of my hands and I can’t fight. I’m afraid to even struggle, afraid it will snap one of my fingers. Something inside me breaks in that moment, even though my bones don’t.
This is a game to him. He’ll never understand the fear I feel right now. He’ll never know what it’s like to have everything in your world resting on something as fragile as a fist. If he couldn’t play football, he’d still have the money and status and the big name. Without my hands, I’m ruined. Done.
“Let go,” I whisper, my eyes blurring with tears of pain. “Please.”
He takes his sweet time loosening his grip and releasing me. “Good,” he says, flicking to the next page in his book. “Let’s hope you have the brains to obey.”
I suck in a breath, cradling my hand in my lap. I may have cried uncle, but I sit there fuming through the rest of class, vowing to find something good on them, something dirty enough that Mr. D will be able to take them down. Hell, I’ll do it myself if he doesn’t. I don’t give a shit about the Darlings getting back their place in this town, but I wouldn’t mind watching the Dolces fall from grace—preferably in spectacular fashion.
I don’t want to take their place like the Darlings. I’ll be out of here in two years. I have zero interest in being a Dolce girl or even picking up the crown when it rolls from their heads and crowning myself queen. I don’t need to rule. I just want to watch them fall. Hell, I’ll throw the party to celebrate their end and dance on the ruins of their kingdom as it burns.
This isn’t just about getting information anymore. This shit just got personal. No one lays hands on me and gets away with it. Yeah, it’ll be twice the work to get information for Mr. D and revenge for me, but they’re going to learn not to fuck with the wrong girl. They can try to get rid of me, but I’ll be there haunting them like a vengeful ghost at every turn. I’ll figure out their every move, and wherever they are, I’ll put myself in their way and wreck their plans.
For all I know they set me up to get arrested the other night. Baron went to make that phone call, after all. He might have been telling the cops to come get me, and they planned to ditch me to take the fall, not realizing Duke was so drunk he’d slow them down. From now on, they won’t be able to make a move like that without me knowing about it. If they cut me down and call me a stalker, fine. If they make my life hell, I’m strong enough to endure it.
Getting into their inner circle is obviously out of the question. I got myself arrested to save their asses, and they still don’t trust me.
So, I spend the week getting in their way. I sit at their table at lunch, even when Duke takes my food and reminds me that he declared I couldn’t eat until I sucked his dick. I borrow Blue’s car and drive by their neighborhood when I know they’ll be coming home soon and might see my car. I comb through all of Dixie’s blog posts from this year to see what’s been said about them, who they’ve dated, anything that could give me an edge.
It all hinges on this weekend. That’s when it all goes down. There’s an air of anticipation, of celebration, but the school is also on hold—and on edge. Everyone seems restless without the game to look forward to, and there’s a hushed current of excitement about having a whole weekend free for anything that comes along.
I keep my ears and eyes open for whispers about what’s being planned. There’s the party, of course. The Waltons and Dolces of the world wouldn’t have it any other way. But I’m looking for something more clandestine that the boys might get into after the party. I may not know them well, but I think I’m starting to figure them out. They’ll show up to the party, probably get drunk and fuck some poor girl senseless, and then they’ll need a fix for their darker urges.
Maybe not the twins, but Royal will.
I don’t know how I know this, but I do. Maybe because it’s what I’d do, and because I know there’s something deep down in the darkest part of him that is like me. He’d never admit it, since I’m trash and all that bullshit, but he knows. Maybe that’s why he hates me so much, why he insists that I’m trash. He doesn’t want to admit, even to himself, that we’re the same in our darkest hearts.
He’d destroy me if I said it, but I think I’ve got him figured out. He’s bored by parties, hookups, adoration. He needs something more, something money can’t buy. Dixie said he needed someone to tell him no, but I don’t think it’s that, either. He needs someone to be real with him. Someone who doesn’t worship his golden arm on the field, who doesn’t bat her eyes and spread her legs when he smiles at her. This isn’t about a girl at all. He needs more. He needs the crack of knuckles on bone, the ache of a good bruise, the splatter of blood on his face. It’s hard to be fake in a dirt ring with the stink of blood in your nose.
All week, I ignore the chatter about the party. I don’t have an invite, anyway. I want in on something else, the quieter whispers, the nods and secret handshakes where money passes. If Colt is involved in the fights, someone else must be. When I play poker, the high rollers are mostly older, but there are some younger kids, too, and they don’t go to Faulkner. I study the faces in the hall, looking for someone familiar, for someone who could get me in on whatever’s brewing.
By Thursday, I’m about out of options. I don’t know who to ask, so I go to the girl with her finger on the pulse of the school.
“Anything going on this weekend?” I ask Dixie, sliding into a seat at lunch.
“Yeah,” she says, looking at me like I’m missing a few braincells. “The Montgomery party. It’s the biggest party of the year since the Darlings quit having theirs.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of an afterparty.”
“You need a party after the party?” Quinn asks.
“Or maybe a different kind of fun,” I say. “For people more like me.”
“Ohhh,” Susanna says. “You think there won’t be drugs?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, something for people who aren’t really into the party scene.”
“I’m not going,” Quinn says. “You can come over and bake with me and Susanna.”
I can’t help but laugh, even though I’m frustrated. “Even further from what I’m looking for.”