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Our gazes hold, and a fluttering butterfly wing catches in my throat. Finally, Colt slides his hand across the table, holding the joint erect between us. I reach for it, licking my lips as I tear my attention from his gorgeous, unreadable face. What is happening to me?
And why am I agreeing to be Colt Darling’s friend?
I don’t want to be his friend.
Now that I’ve been cast out, maybe…
Maybe I can finally have what I’ve wanted for so long.
I see him stretched out on a bed dotted with rose petals, not a stitch on him as he casually tugs his pierced cock with one hand, the other folded behind his head as he waits for me…
God damn.
I know it’s too good to be true. He’s not even allowed to have friends. He already has Dixie, and Josie, and now Harper. And there’s no way in hell they’ll let me be his friend, even if they’re done with me. For one, I know way too fucking much about them to consort with their enemy.
I can’t even think about what they’re going to do to me after this. It was bad enough being their Queen. If they declare me an enemy…
I shudder and push my spoon away, not even bothering to open my float. I don’t know what I was thinking. There’s no way I can eat right now, not even ice cream.
Colt holds out his lighter, an old-fashioned Bic that he has to flick open to make a flame for me. I lean in, my hands trembling as I cup his to light up.
“So, Gloria Walton smokes,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankle over his knee. “Who knew?”
“You’ve seen me smoke before.”
“Cigarettes.”
I shrug, passing the joint across. “No use pretending now.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, nodding at his phone. “I read the blog.”
Of course he did. I’m surprised it took him this long. If there’s one person who has every reason to celebrate my downfall, it’s him.
Still, it stings to know he read those words, even knowing he thought I was a whore already. I wait for him to say more, to gloat about what a good job she did, or even apologize, as ridiculous as that would be. But he doesn’t say anything else, just watches me as he puffs on the joint.
“You and everyone else,” I mutter.
“Is it true?” he asks, tipping his head back and blowing a smoke ring. “About the underwear.”
We both know it doesn’t matter. It’s true to the whole school.
“Why?” I ask. “You want to buy a pair?”
“No,” he says slowly, taking another puff and holding my gaze as he hands it back. “I want to buy all the pairs.”
I stare at him a long minute, not sure what to say. I could tell him he already has a pair of my underwear, but there’s no way to do that without telling him why. Besides, he probably burned them a long time ago. Finally, I take the joint and shake my head. “Sorry, that part’s a total fabrication.”
“Huh,” he says, digging his cigarettes from his pocket and leaning back in the Adirondack chair again, crossing his ankle over his knee. “Dixie may put her own spin on the story, but she usually doesn’t post shit unless it’s true. She says otherwise people won’t trust her.”
“Well, I guess now that she’s so trustworthy, she can slip in a little lie now and then, and people won’t question it,” I say.
“Maybe,” he says, sounding unconvinced. “She sure covered all the bases.”
“Make sure to congratulate her for me,” I say, blood pounding in my ears.
One blog post, and my entire empire was razed to the ground. It was always a house of cards. I just didn’t know she’d be the one to topple it.
“You okay?” Colt asks.
