“No, no,” he says, shaking his head. “See, we don’t throw parties. We just show up at them.”
“So, you’re too cool to throw a party, but not too cool to go thrash your friends’ houses,” I say. “Sounds about right.”
“She’s feisty,” DeShaun says, reaching across Duke to give Royal a little shove. “I like her.”
Royal looks up, his dark eyes meeting mine, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His voice is low, as if he doesn’t care if anyone hears, but his words, his smile, his gaze, are meant only for me. “Me too.”
“Ditto,” I say, ducking my head to pick through my salad while I try to figure out what the fuck is happening to me and why it feels like he just pushed me off a cliff and I don’t give a single fuck that I don’t have a parachute.
“Oh, bless,” Gloria mutters beside me. “Y’all gonna break my heart, aren’t you?”
*
Tipping the Scales
What is the worth of a name?
Could a Darling bastard answer
Better than a prodigal son
Who gave it all up
For an hour in the backseat
With a Dolce princess?
What is the worth of a family?
Could an exploitative father answer
Better than an absent mother
Who gave it all up
For a season of holiday parties
In Gucci gowns?
What is the worth of blood?
Could a DNA test answer
Better than the foolish soul
Who’d have to give it all up
For a chance to exact revenge
On a girl who doesn’t carry
Her family name?