“And what if they don’t want to be run through by a bunch of assholes who probably don’t even remember their names afterwards? We’re people, Duke, hard as that may be for you to understand. You can’tsteala person’s loyalty. These girls chose to be loyal to me. They have minds of their own. Believe it or not, some people have goals in high school that don’t involve being passed around by the football team.”
“Yeah, but not those girls,” Duke says, flashing a huge grin. He drops into his chair and scoots back, slouching down so it’s just about impossible not to stare at his crotch. Then he pats his knee and gives us an inviting smile. “Isn’t that right, girls?”
A few of the girls who haven’t sat down hesitate, crowding together and tucking their hair behind their ears, looking all bashful.
“Aww, did we neglect our Dolce girls?” Duke croons, stroking his fingers lightly up his thigh. “Come on over,bellissima.We’ll take good care of you from now on. Remember how good I took care of you before?”
He wiggles his brows, and a few girls lean in to whisper to each other, probably wondering which one he’s talking to. I know he’s not talking to any of them—he’s talking toallof them. I can’t believe that works, but then, I guess I sort of can. Duke’s hot, and he’s got a pair of puppy dog eyes that could melt the hardest heart.
I’m no different, after all. Just because I chose Royal instead of Duke, I’m no better than any of them.
“I’ve got a spot for you right here,” Duke goes on, tapping his knee with two fingers. “Come on over. You can sit at our table.”
“Every day?” asks the dance team captain.
Duke slides his hand up the front of his pants, palming his crotch. “Every night,” he says.
“Everyone in this school knows you can’t keep a girl longer than a few weeks,” I cut in. “Your dick’s not going to change anyone’s mind.”
A bunch of people start whispering and tittering.
“It might,” he calls over the noise. “Maybe you need a reminder of how persuasive my dick can be.”
He slips his hand into his pants, and suddenly, I have to brace my hand on the table to keep myself anchored. I know how persuasive his dick can be—in the most horrifying way.
A roar goes through the room, girls giggling and grabbing each other, craning their necks to see, asking what’s going on as Duke pulls out his penis. It’s still shocking to see a dick in the middle of the school cafeteria, even if I know he has no problem whipping is dick out in public. He slapped me in the face with it my first week here, after all.
“You want a seat at our table, Ginger Snap?” Duke taunts. “Come bounce on this.”
Everyone at their table is rolling with laughter. Suddenly, Baron shoots to his feet, dropping a half-eaten sucker onto the table. “She has a phone,” he bellows, pointing in our direction.
Chaos explodes through the room. The Dolce boys and their squad lunge for us. In a split second, I see Magnolia holding up her phone, and then a football player shoves me back in my chair as he passes. Magnolia shrieks and ducks around the table when Baron grabs for her. Someone else grabs my chair from behind, slinging it aside to get by. I spill out, my ass hitting the floor. Magnolia dives behind Colt, who’s next to me. Dixie shoves back her chair, too, and the next second, she hits the floor beside me, rolling into me. Our heads collide, and I curse savagely, trying to untangle myself from her and our chairs as several football players run over us. Colt is up and swinging, but I’ve lost sight of Magnolia.
I finally roll free and jump up. Rylan, who was also at our table, gets in one swing before a beefy football player named George decks him. He pinwheels his arms and crashes back into the table of cast-off Dolce girls beside us. Plates and cups are upended, drinks splashing across the table and rolling to the floor. More bodies join them as people dive out of chairs and are knocked over in the fight.
I hear a shriek and whip around to see Baron holding Magnolia from behind, one arm wrapped around her middle while he swipes for her phone, which she’s waving wildly. I jump toward them, making a swipe for it, but he wrenches it out of her hand. He drops it on the floor and stomps on it, his heel crushing the glass.
“You’re too fucking late,” she yells over the noise. “You’re too late!”
I try to pull her free of Baron, but before I can, Gloria steps in my way. Her eyes widen as she tries to convey some unspoken message, but she shoves me in the shoulders without giving me a chance to figure it out. I throw a punch, but she ducks, then rams her shoulder into my solar plexus, making me see stars. I grab her hair as we topple backwards.
“Not my face,” she says through panting breaths. “It’s Homecoming weekend!”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl, sinking a fist into her side as my ass hits the floor.
She grabs my hair and yanks my head down to the floor, so I’m flat on my back instead of sitting. “Just keep fighting,” she says, smacking my cheek with her palm. “I’m not going to hurt you, either. This is just for show.”
I buck my hips and roll her over, straddling her hips with my knees and drawing back a fist. She grabs my arm with both hands, barely twisting her head out of the way as I go in for the punch.
“Harper,” she shrieks. “Don’t hurt me!”
I pull back, wrestling with the adrenaline and the rush of fighting, registering her words. She’s not some tough chick at Femme Fight Friday. She’s not even really fighting. A real fighter doesn’t slap your cheek so softly it barely stings. She slugs the shit out of you.
All around us, the brawl rages. This isn’t a fake fight. Chairs are scattered and tables shoved out of the way. A crowd is gathered near the door and along the wall, gaping at the mayhem unfolding. A couple football players pound on a few hapless guys who got involved while DeShaun and Duke are throwing down with Colt and Gideon. Another football player is whaling on Rylan, who’s curled up on the floor with his arms over his head.
But the guys on the team won’t fight girls, which means they’re in the minority. Most of the fighters are of the female persuasion. A dozen former Dolce girls are duking it out with the current members. I spot one the Walton twins shrieking as Amber holds her by the hair, yanking her head down into some spilled food on the table. The girl who told me about being branded like it was a good thing is rolling around with Josie, who was at our table.
“You fucking bitch,” screams the other Walton twin, throwing a handful of mashed potatoes at a former Dolce girl. Her face is red with rage and streaked with tears. The girl ducks, and the Walton flies after her, screaming in fury. She slams into her back, and they crash into a chair and then into some bystanders, finally hitting the floor.