three
Harper Apple
At home, I check in with Mr. D, filling him in on my progress for the week. My head is so fucked. I don’t know what Royal’s doing to me, but whatever it is, I’m not immune. I cannot resist even when I try. So, I don’t try. After all, I’m in! I’m so fucking in.
This whole week, I thought sex with Royal was a mistake, that I’d played all my cards way too soon. But if it gets me close enough to uncover his secrets, it’s worth the broken heart. I know he’ll break it anyway. What does it matter if I help, if I break my own heart instead?
I’m so close now I can feel it. I can taste it. Gloria knows something, but she doesn’t trust me. She won’t spill anything… Yet. When she said she’d never seen him like that, I thought she was full of shit. He didn’t even bothering texting me back. But after today, I’m not so sure. If what she said is true…
Will he tell me himself? Bare his soul to me?
My heart does some stupid-girl thing in my chest every time I replay his words at lunch. Apparently I’m a basic bitch like every other dumb girl who’s fallen for him. Oh, well. Not like anyone ever said I was special.
I ignore my dumb bitch heart and bask in Mr. D’s praise. Then I slip on Royal’s letterman jacket, which I still have from last week, and head out to wait for Gloria, who insisted she was coming to pick me up before the game. I feel a little weird about getting in her car in front of Blue, as if I’m betraying her by making friends with rich bitches. So I avoid her gaze as I climb in the back seat of the Mustang next to Eleanor.
“We’re going to swing by and grab burgers on the way,” Gloria says. “Have you eaten?”
“Yep,” I lie, not about to take charity from the Waltons. It’ll probably end up on Dixie’s blog. I wouldn’t have thought the Waltons would consume the kind of calories in fast food, but a few minutes later, we pull up at Boehner Burgers’ drive-through.
“Sure you don’t want anything?” Gloria asks, adjusting the mirror to see me. Just then, the smell of fries hits my nose, and my stomach decides it’s a good time to growl like a motorcycle revving its engine.
Everleigh giggles. “You obviously didn’t eat enough. Is that how you stay so skinny?”
“Skinny?” I ask. “Have you seen my ass?”
She sighs. “I’d die for your figure. I mean, I tried waist training, but I don’t think it did anything. Can you tell?”
“Yes?”
I’m not really sure how to talk to girls like the Waltons, who worry about shit like that. I could tell her that the real reason for my tiny waist is lack of nutrition, but somehow, I don’t think that’s what they’re looking for.
“Really?” she asks, looking so pleased there’s no way I can admit I have no idea what she’s even talking about.
Gloria hands back two bags with grease stains blooming on the paper. My mouth waters.
“I just got four of the same,” she says. “Y’all can get me back next time.”
“Thanks,” I say, too hungry to really care that much that I owe her. It’s like five bucks, and she’s loaded.
We all dig in. The car is filled with the smell of fried food and ketchup, the chatter of the three sisters, an old pop song by Aria Airheart, and the crackle of anticipation. Though I don’t participate much, it’s hard not to get caught up in their excitement. We get to the game, and Gloria points to a section of at least a dozen girls wearing jerseys and standing in a corner at the front of the bleachers. No one gives me dirty looks when I join them in front. When I edge into the group of girls, they absorb me like an amoeba. Dixie smiles and waves as the dance team comes out wearing cowboy boots and flowy dresses to hang out at the edge of the field, waiting for Quinn’s routine.
So, this must be what it’s like to be accepted.
It’s weird, but not bad. We watch the girls do a dance routine to some old Taylor Swift song, and then the guys take the field. We cheer for Willow Heights, and at the end of halftime, Royal jogs over and hops up on the railing, towering over us. The other girls giggle and bat their lashes at him like he’s a rock star. He catches the front of my jacket—his jacket—and pulls me against the railing, so I’m flush against him with only the cold metal bars between us. “You think this is yours now, huh?” he says, smirking down at me. “I thought you didn’t want to be my girlfriend.”
I snort. “Please. Wearing your letter jacket is a total ho move.”
Duke hops up beside Royal and claps him on the back. Then he stuffs something in the pocket of my jeans, grinning down at me. “Go get yourself a snack, Jailbird. Gotta keep your stamina up for later.”
He winks and drops off the railing, jogging off even though half the girls behind me are clamoring for his attention.
“So, this is what it feels like when y’all don’t hate me,” I say, pulling out the five Duke shoved in my pocket.
“Don’t get comfortable,” Royal says. “We still hate you.”
“Ditto.”
He leans down and kisses my forehead before hopping off the railing and jogging away after his brother.