five
Harper Apple
The next morning, Royal’s Rover pulls into the lot, and everyone turns to watch him, the way they always do. Fear, excitement, and danger follows him wherever he goes, and they’re here for it.
We’re here for it. I wish I was immune to this bullshit, that I wasn’t like every other girl out here, but the truth is, I am. I feel a weird solidarity towards them, even though they treated me like garbage until a month ago and only changed when their master commanded it. Under all the expensive clothes and makeup or cheap thrift store finds, we’re the same. I wish I could be different, so Royal could know he’s more to me than a show, but I bet every single one of these girls wishes the same damn thing.
I bet they’re all hoping he’ll say something to them, think that they’re different—special. But they’re not. None of us are. We’re all dumb bitches hanging on his every move. And though my fool heart yearns for some reassurance after the way he treated me last night, I know I won’t get it. I’m expendable to him, just like every other girl out here.
Instead of taking the number one spot in the lot, the one closest to the school, he drives down the center row. Straight toward me.
My heart flips in my chest. Here comes more trouble I don’t fucking need.
Maybe I want it, though. The drama, the thrill and adrenaline—it’s addictive somehow, and it must have gotten its claws into me because there’s a little sense of deflation when I don’t get it.
He doesn’t pull up and start shit with me. He pulls into a spot and parks. A murmur goes through the students in the lot, who obviously know whose spot that is, even if I don’t. I find my feet slowing, find myself waiting along with everyone else. My pulse quickens as I watch a blonde in the passenger seat straighten from grabbing her bag off the floorboards… Or sucking his dick. Who the fuck knows.
I shouldn’t care.
I don’t care. He never promised me a goddamn thing.
The blonde says something, leans over, and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.
Gloria Fucking Walton. That bitch said we were friends, and then she dropped me the second he showed up at her house last night, cutting off our conversation and never answering my last text. Did he spend the night with her?
She turns and opens the door, sliding out of the car and heading for the building. A few people run to catch up with her, her friends crowding around to get the gossip. But I’m still rooted to the spot, still watching Royal. He pounds a fist on the top of the steering wheel, then leans his head back on the headrest, his eyes closed, for a long moment.
My heart caves in on itself. She told me it was nothing.
It’s obviously something to him, though. I want to confront him, but I’m not going to let him know it gets to me. We basically agreed the fun was over. But I’m not some dumb bitch who sees shit go down, jumps to the wrong conclusions, and goes for a month letting a misunderstanding brew and cause unnecessary drama. I want the truth, and I’m going to get it. Turning away just as Royal opens the door to get out, I jog across the lot, pushing through Gloria’s mob of friends to get to her. I grab her elbow and spin her around.
“You said there was nothing going on with you and Royal.”
A couple girls exchange looks, but they hang on every word, waiting for the drama to unfold. I don’t give a fuck. I’m used to being the freak show, and they know Royal has two Dolce girls, so they’ve probably been holding their breath for this moment since he elevated me to that position. Well, I’m ready to give it to them. The showdown they’ve all been thirsting after.
Gloria raises a perfectly manicured brow, as if surprised I’d confront her. “Things change, sweetie,” she says. “Try to keep up.”
“Oh, so he snapped his fingers, and you came running like a bitch in heat,” I say. “And when this blows over in a week, you’ll be back to telling everyone you’re a lady.”
“No, see, I am a lady,” she says, giving me a pointed look. “Unlike some people, I don’t need to spread my legs to get attention.”
She turns and heads inside, and I guess that’s all the answer I need. I hold my head high and walk inside, concentrating on not waddling like a duck because my ass still feels like it got fucked with a knife last night. I go to my locker, anger seething inside me. Guess it’s time to stop fucking around with Royal and get my head back in the game. I got in good with him, but it didn’t do me any good. Sure, orgasms are nice, but I want what Gloria has—his secrets, his trust.
What is her secret, the secret to gaining his confidence?
I’m almost to first period when I see Dixie heading in and grab her arm. “I need to talk to you,” I say, ignoring her protests and tugging her back down the hall and into the nearest bathroom.
A couple girls stand at the mirrors, but I pull a Gloria and order them out, and they obey. I’m a Dolce girl, after all. Might as well use my sway while I have it.
“What’s up?” Dixie asks. “Do you need me to post something about you and Royal? Or your side of the story from this morning? I heard you got into it with Gloria in the parking lot.”
“Already?” I ask in disbelief. Then I shake my head. “No. I don’t have anything for you. I actually need your help.”
“Sure,” she says, glancing at the door. “I know the gossip. But I already told you not to get involved with the Dolces. You saw what they did to Colt, and he’s far from the first person they’ve fucked up. I don’t know how else I can help.”
“I need to know how Gloria got close to him,” I say.
“Well,” she says, licking her lips and glancing at the door again. “I’m not exactly unbiased. You know how I feel about Colt. And Lo is good people, Harper. You might be pissed about her and Royal, but I’m not going to say anything bad about her. She’s my friend.”