“I think I know what you mean,” Dixie says. “You’re going to want to talk to Colt for something like that.”
Of course. I’m so fucking stupid. Colt’s the king of the underbelly of Willow Heights. One little problem with that—I’m forbidden from talking to him.
But it’s not like Royal has hidden cameras around the school. If I talk to him in class…
Baron’s in the only class I have with Colt, though.
“Any chance you have his number?” I ask Dixie.
“Why would she have Colt Darling’s number?” Susanna asks, peering around her friend.
“It’s in the school directory,” Dixie says to her food, her cheeks going pink. Apparently not all of her friends know about her little Friday trysts with the school’s bad boy. “Or I can ask him later. I have a class with him this afternoon.”
She gives me a meaningful look and I drop it. But later, she catches up with me at my locker. “I know what you’re after,” she whispers like she really is a connection for buying drugs. She glances up and down the hall and then pulls me behind my locker door. “I couldn’t say anything in front of Quinn. She’s not really into that kind of thing, and our family would shit a brick if they knew I was going, but there’s a race on Saturday night. You can put money down if you have it, but most people just go to watch and hang out. Whatever happens that night, you can never talk about it at school. Never.”
“First rule of fight club,” I say with a grin, feeling a buzz of energy just from knowing. This is what I’ve sensed in the halls all week. The big event, the culmination of Bye Week. “Thanks, Dixie.”
I’m about to close my locker when a hand grabs it and pulls it back. Gloria Walton stands there looking from me to Dixie like she caught us talking about her.
“Hey, Lo,” Dixie says.
“I need to talk to Harper,” Gloria says.
Dixie waves and tromps off like she’s not leaving me with a pit viper.
“Come to un-invite me from your party?” I ask. “Don’t worry. I’m not crashing.”
“I heard you were going after Royal Dolce,” she says. “I just wanted to say—don’t.”
“I think you have to be friends to invoke the ‘I saw him first’ clause.”
“I don’t like Royal.”
“Then why are you so worried about it? Afraid you’ll be tossed from the throne if he breaks his no-high-school rule for someone else when he wouldn’t do it for you?”
“He told you he didn’t like high school girls?”
“Yes, and so did everyone else.”
“Good,” she says. “Then you already know. And in case you hadn’t figured it out, they’re all bad news, and he’s the most…”
“Emotionally unavailable?” I say, quirking a brow. “You don’t have to tell me that.”
“I was going to say fucked up, but yours works, too.”
For a second, our eyes meet, and I think she’s being real with me. A little smile passes between us. But she’s a more dangerous type than Royal. Boys can make everyone else believe you’re trash. Girls can make you believe it yourself.
“Wow,” I say. “I didn’t think Waltons cussed. But again, why are you telling me this?”
“Call it… An act of charity,” she says. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told my sister. He may look like the prettiest package under the tree, but once you peel off that shiny paper, there’s nothing but black coal inside.”
“A little early for Christmas analogies, don’t you think?”
She sighs. “Make your snarky comments if you have to, but just know, he has secrets you’d rather not know. Trust me. If you’re smart, you’ll run far and fast in the opposite direction when you see him coming. Whatever you think he’ll do for your reputation, it’s not worth what he’ll do to your heart.”
“You know, in a weird way, I think you’re actually trying to look out for me right now,” I say. “What I can’t figure out is why you care.”
“Maybe because it’s Bye Week,” she says with a shrug. “Or maybe it’s because we have more in common than you think, but neither of our reputations would hold up to us being friends.”