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“What for?” Everleigh asks, going to her dresser and rifling through.
“I don’t want to go back in there and wake him,” I say. “And I need to talk to Baron.”
“Oh, yeah,” she says, her eyes widening. “They’ll tell for sure.”
“Not if I can stop them,” I say. “Rylan said he’s going to our school, so I have to talk to them, figure out what I can give to make them let me go.”
“You’re going out with Rylan already?” Eleanor asks.
“He says we never broke up, so we’re still together,” I tell her. “Which means he considers what happened cheating.”
“That sucks,” Everleigh says, handing me a pair of cheeky little white panties from a new pack. They haven’t been washed, but I’m in no position to be picky.
“You don’t have anything in color?” I ask, cringing at the thought of the stain I’m sure to leave on them. The Dolces ruin so many pairs of underwear that Mom has a dozen auto shipped to our house every month.
“No,” my sister says with an apologetic shrug.
I know why. Baron likes the sweet and innocent look. I wonder if my sister actually likes him, the way I fell for Royal after a while. It’s hard not to develop feelings after spending so much time together and being involved so intimately.
I pull on the underwear and tell my sisters I’ll be back for dinner. Then I start down the street toward the Dolces’ house. Royal told me not to go back there, but we live in the same neighborhood, and I’m basically his brothers’ possession. He’s going to see me from time to time.
My heart aches when I picture the indifference in his eyes when he told me to leave his family alone, that I was dead to him. He may not have loved me the way I loved him, but we were friends. True friends.
Sometimes I’d hook up with Royal over the past few years, even though I knew he didn’t want more than a friend with benefits. He knows what he’s doing and he’s good at it, and when I fell for him, I’d seek him out, needing the closeness and release the same way Duke does.
Every girl in school saw what they did to Mabel and is terrified of becoming their next victim though, even if they’re fascinated by the danger and mystery at the same time. Claiming a D-boy is social proof, a status symbol, not something girls do out of genuine affection.
Now, I’m about to risk their wrath by daring to ask for something of my own, something I’m not even sure I want. I just know I can’t lose it all now, after I’ve come so far, done so much, to ensure I’m never a victim.
I am a victor.
six
Rumor Has It…One of the Founding Families has expanded through a whirlwind summer romance that brings two new students to WHPA! Will they join the Founding Heirs or forge their own paths?
Gloria Walton
When I reach the Dolce house, my heart sinks. A car is parked in the driveway, and Royal’s leaning on the trunk talking to a girl I don’t know. He should have gone off to college in another state, played on a Division 1 football team. For reasons no one understands, he stayed in Faulkner and went to the dinky little Catholic college. I’m surprised by the flare of jealousy in my chest when the girl laughs and leans her hand on the car near him. It’s not a cozy or sexy pose, but their familiarity irks me. I was his friend, and now she is.
Maybe she’s even a girlfriend, though her casual posture says she’s not trying to impress him. I’m good at reading the body language of others in his presence, from the fawning admiration to the overly seductive touches. I spent the good part of my sophomore year dying of jealousy as the entire school threw themselves at him. I was always sure he’d choose someone else, and I’d know that the reason he didn’t date wasn’t because he was too fucked up for a girlfriend, like he said. I’d know it was me, that I wasn’t good enough.
And now I do.
I march up the drive anyway. A victor doesn’t run from her problems.
Royal crosses his bulky arms over his hulking chest and tips his chin up, watching me approach with cool, hooded eyes. “I thought I told you not to come around here anymore.”
“I need to talk to your brothers,” I say. “It’s an emergency.”
“Did you try changing the batteries?”
“Fuck off, Royal,” I say. “You don’t own this house.”
“No, Dad does,” he says. “I’m sure he’ll ask for a turn before you go upstairs to my brothers. Wouldn’t it be easier to order a new one online?”
“It’s not my fucking vibrator,” I snap, glaring daggers at him.
“Hi,” the girl interrupts, clearing her throat and giving me a cool nod. “I’m Mercy.”
