No wonder these boys, these fucking princes of Faulkner, call me trailer trash. That’s exactly what I am.
I’m stiff with self-consciousness as I pry myself from under the steamy blanket spread over myself and Royal.
“Shit,” I mutter, sliding across the seat to make a quick escape. “I got your seats wet.”
Somehow, until this moment, I didn’t take the time to marvel at or even notice that the seats are soft as butter and the interior smells like new leather, that the car moves so smoothly and silently that I could hear Royal’s heartbeat all the way home. I’ve been in Royal’s racing car, but this one… Damn. I know zero about cars, but this is a really fucking nice car.
“Trust me, a little river water is the cleanest thing that back seat’s ever seen,” Duke says, turning around to flash me a grin.
I try not to think about that as I climb out of the car. I wave to Blue and hurry up the walkway and inside my house. I should check in with Mr. D, as is our Friday arrangement, but Mom is home and I don’t want to use the computer in the living room. Since my laptop is at school, as is my bike, I can’t use that, either. I can’t even use the OnlyWords app on my phone, since it’s also at school.
I’m honestly relieved I have an excuse not to text him. Today was too fucking long, and I just want to crawl in bed and pile blankets over myself and not think about any of it—Colt lying on the road in the rain until someone happened by and found him; the easy fun we had together and how much it cost us both; the helpless hate I feel for Royal Dolce and the infuriating attraction that goes along with it; the way his tortured soul calls to mine and the way mine answers whether I want to admit it or not.
I want to be above it all, to not care what anyone thinks about me, to not care that I’m poor and that people call me a whore and that everyone has seen me sucking a teacher’s dick. Sometimes, I pull it off, and usually, I can fake it until I make it to the blissful land of not giving a fuck. But the Dolce boys get under my skin. They make me ashamed of who I am, and at the same time, make me think that I can be someone else. They pull me under their spell and make me want to change, to be better, to be good enough for them. Implied in that desire is the sneaky way they make me feel like I’m not good enough already.
The more I learn about the Dolces, the less I think I know them, the less I have figured out. What scares me most is that the more I get to know them, the less I know myself. I definitely never thought I was the kind of girl who could care about a boy who treats me the way Royal does. But even if he doesn’t care if he lives—maybe because he doesn’t care—I do.
*
A Mother’s Love
What were you thinking?
Are you just trying to scare me
After everything this family has been through
Haven’t I suffered enough?
Is this some kind of cry for attention
Because I’ve tried
If you bothered to pick up the phone
Call me back once in a while
But you shut me out
Do you know how that makes me feel?
Do you?
And now this
Do you expect me to drop everything?
There’s an opening this week
Maria Giancursio has a piece in the gallery
One art class and suddenly she fancies herself an artist
Can you imagine?
Or did your father put you up to this?
So typical