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I look up from my phone, quickly turning off the screen. A goth girl I recognize from school stands over the sofa where I’ve parked myself out of the way of the football assholes. I glance around, but I’m the only loser hiding out on the second-floor landing, paying more attention to his phone than the crowd.
“Rylan, right?” she prompts.
“Yeah,” I say. “Lo’s down there.”
I nod to the railing that runs along the catwalk and landing, turning into the banister when it reaches the stairs to the first floor. Below us, I can see a good amount of the party, which means I can keep an eye on Gloria without joining the drunken horde. I’m pretty sure there are people actually fucking on the dance floor, the perfect atmosphere for her to let down her guard and get a little carried away. I’m just waiting for her to slip up and show me which guy she’d rather be fucking than me.
“Oh, I know,” the goth girl says, flopping down on the couch. Her drink sloshes onto her tits, which are barely contained by her black corset top. I’m pretty sure I can see a sliver of her pink areola as she wipes off the droplets with her fingers. I gape at the pale globes of her round tits, and she giggles and licks her fingers.
Fuck, is she flirting with me?
I jerk my eyes away from the display and back to the dancefloor, guilt wilting the threat of erection. Gloria is dancing with her sisters and a couple other girls from school, swinging her blonde hair around like a delicious tease. I wonder who’s standing off to the side, where I can’t see. Who is she dancing for?
“I’m Dixie,” the girl beside me says. “I was dancing with Gloria and Gideon and them, but I’m taking a break.”
“Gideon?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.
“Yeah,” she says, widening her eyes. “Gideon Delacroix? This is his house?”
“I know who Gideon is,” I say, since he’s one of the populars. He’s less of a dickhead than the others, kind of quiet and moody. He actually talks to me like I belong there and I’m not just some peasant who’s tolerated because I’m fucking the queen.
“Oh, right,” Dixie says, giggling again and shifting on the couch to make her tits jiggle. “You sit with him at lunch. Of course you know who he is.”
“You’re the gossip chick,” I say, remembering Gloria’s connection with her.
“That’s me,” she says, sipping her drink and beaming.
“I guess I owe you a thank you,” I say. “You probably made me famous by putting me in your blog so much.”
“Nah, you’d be popular for dating Lo anyway,” she says, waving a hand. Then she giggles and takes another drink. “Okay, maybe I made you a little famous. You definitely made things more interesting this year.”
I scoff. “I seriously doubt that.”
“You did,” she insists, giving my arm a flirty little shove. “Ever since I started here as a freshman, the elite squad has always been a homogenous group of the usual suspects—football players and their skinny cheerleader girlfriends. You’re definitely the first emo kid to sit at their table.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that. It’s widely acknowledged that Dixie knows everything about everyone, which piques my interest but also makes me wary. I’ve never talked to her, since Gloria says any little slip around her could get someone in trouble. But maybe there’s a reason my girlfriend doesn’t want me talking to her.
“You said Gloria and Gideon,” I muse. “Like they’re a couple. Is there something I should know?”
“What? No, I didn’t.”
I give her a look and nod to where Gloria and her sister are sandwiching DeShaun between them. “You’re telling me I have nothing to worry about?”
“With Gideon?” Dixie asks. “No. No way. He’s a nice guy. And so is DeShaun. Which is not Lo’s type.”
I scowl at her. “What’s her type?”
“You know,” she says with a nervous giggle. “The Dolces.”
“Right,” I say, glaring down when I see Royal making his way past the dance floor. He doesn’t even spare Lo a glance, which is satisfying as hell. I watch my girlfriend, waiting to see if she’ll show off for him, shake her ass his way or grind on DeShaun, but she doesn’t seem to notice him either.
“I mean, thatwasher type,” Dixie says, noticing my frown. “Before you. Actually, she’s never really dated anyone before, so you must be pretty special.”
“Really?” I ask, the relief inside me so immense I didn’t even realize how worked up I’d gotten about Gloria dating someone else. Maybe she really did love me all that time, like I loved her. She told me she and Royal just went to prom together, but I never quite trusted her word.
Having someone confirm it settles my anger for the first time since we moved here. Maybe I can stop punishing her at last.
“Yeah,” Dixie assures me, laying a hand on my knee. “And y’all are like, official. That’s a big deal at Willow Heights. Most of the elite prefer not to label things or get serious. Baron’s only had one girlfriend, freshman year, and I’m pretty sure he was just setting her up. Duke’s never had a girlfriend, DeShaun and Dawson only do casual, and girls know better than to date Cotton.”
