AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I lifted her off her feet, and she let out a little yelp of surprise. Without breaking our kiss, I walked to the side of the room where the Murphy bed was stored. Then I set her down.
“This isn’t school,” I said. “When the clothes come off, I’m not some leper you can step on with your stilettos for fun.”
“I wasn’t going to,” she said, glowering.
“In here, I’m a fucking king, and you treat me like one. And I treat you however the fuck I want.”
She swallowed and crossed her arms, hugging herself. “Okay. I deserve that.”
“Take off your clothes,” I told her. I turned away and got to work laying the bed down and straightening the blanket. When I turned back, she was standing there completely naked. She’d made herself vulnerable for me, let me know she was mine for the taking, just like I knew she would.
And I was going to fucking take her.
twenty-four
Rumor Has It… One of Faulkner’s Founding Sons is off the market! In a move straight out of a fairytale, he dropped to one knee in front of friends and family and slipped a ring on the lucky finger of one blonde bombshell who’s a Founding Heir herself!
Congrats, Cuz!??
Dixie Powell
I sit in the driver’s seat of Colt’s truck, seething, as I watch him sitting alone on the back step of Grandpa Darling’s. He didn’t come after me. He stood out there and smoked withherafter humiliating me, like he didn’t even care that I ran away in tears. Now he’s just sitting there staring off at nothing instead of looking for me.
I hate Gloria Walton. I wish she’d never come back after the holiday break. She should be going to FHS. I tried to get her expelled from Willow Heights, but it didn’t work. She just quit cheer, and the season was basically over anyway. But if she’s living with Maverick, on the poor side of town, she belongs at the public school. Not here, among the elite. I thought she knew her place when she didn’t come to the New Year’s party, but here she is, at Preston’s masquerade ball at Grandpa Darling’s, the most prestigious property in all of Faulkner.
She’s ruining everything.
It’s supposed to be perfect now. I’ve finally gotten everything I want, everything I’ve worked for, plotted and schemed for. It’s not like Iwantto do shady shit. I’m not a Dolceboy. But sometimes the ends justify the means. I’ve done what I had to do to get shit done when no one else would. They weren’t strong enough or smart enough or forward thinking enough. Even Harper, who managed to knock half the people off the social ladder this year, stopped before she reached the top. She let her feelings cloud her judgment and couldn’t close the deal. That’s why I’m the queen instead of her—because I’m a closer.
I turn on the truck, since it’s still cold in mid-February, and a damp chill has settled into the floorboards and crept up my bare legs. “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince” blares from the speakers, and I jab the button to change it with unnecessary force. Everything reminds me of the week he cheated. He asked me when he started liking that kind of music, since he used to only listen to classic rock and country. I told him it was because they played it in the hospital, but I’m sure it wasn’t. I’m sure it’s because ofher.
I grit my teeth and pull down the visor to check my makeup in the mirror, even though I fixed my mascara inside. When Colt didn’t follow me, there was no point in lingering, so I came out to his truck. I thought he’d go looking for me, searching frantically, ready to grovel for treating me the way he did a few minutes ago, saying what he said.
“This isn’t about you.”
My eyes fill with tears again at the memory. It wasn’t about me because Gloria walked in on us making love, and then everything was about her, the way it always,alwaysis.
God, I hate her. I wish she’d just die, that she’d blown up in that drug lab with Mr. Dolce. Colt would never think of her again, and even if he remembered, it would be too late, because she’d be gone. All that would be left to remind him are a set of fingernail prints tattooed on his arms.
I won. I beat her. She should have slunk away, humiliated. Why is she still here, still ruining my life, even when she’s nothing and I’m the queen?
I tried to distract myself tonight by dancing with Gideon, who I never see anymore now that he transferred to FHS. My parents said the Delacroixs are the new founding family on the outs with the others for ditching Willow Heights. The librarian quit and they pulled Gideon at the same time. Seems he couldn’t cut it at WHPA and is planning to spend the rest of high school at FHS, which is a huge loss for the football team, since he was the rising star they were counting on to carry the team next year. My blog post about it was a huge hit.
I hear footsteps approaching on the gravel and look up to see Colt coming this way. Finally. A good boyfriend would have chased me down already, found me in the bathroom and begged my forgiveness, gotten down on one knee and produced a ring. Even Preston did that, and he’s the biggest asshole in the Darling family. Colt always says he’s the lover and Preston’s the fighter, but if that’s true, why hasn’t Colt proposed yet?
My mascara is smudged from crying again, and my cheeks are blotchy, thanks to my pale skin. I look like hell, and I’m glad. I’m glad Colt will see how much he hurt me. I squeeze out a few fresh tears so he’ll see them on my face and feel even worse. I shouldn’t be sitting alone in his truck crying right now. He should be with me. Better yet, I should be in there with him, dancing and drinking with our friends at the first party at the Darling manor in three years. A party they threw for Preston, where he dropped to his knees and asked my cousin to marry him.
When is it my turn?
I’m so close. I’m the queen, and Colt’s popular again, back in the elite circle with the other founding heirs. We’re a lock for Prom king and queen, the perfect power couple. How couldanyone vote for anyone else? It will be the first unanimous vote in the history of Willow Heights—the girl who went from being the pathetic little freshman who let them collar her and treat her like an actual dog to being the badass, brilliant rebel queen who fought her way to the top; and the king who fell from grace, almost died, and was bullied and ostracized before effortlessly floating back to the top without lifting a finger, as if to prove he was above such things because that’s where he always belonged.
Everyone loves a comeback, an underdog, the unlikely team who comes out of nowhere and sweeps the entire playoffs.
But what does it matter if they love us, if we’re the perfect high school sweethearts, if we don’t last? All the high school crowns in the world are worthless if there’s no diamond ring waiting. Too soon, this will all be over, and all of it means nothing if I don’t get him in the end. If I don’t get to wear the ring, to inherit the money, to bear the name—Dixie Darling. It sounds so much better than Dixie Powell. It sounds like a girl who is beloved, cherished,worshipped.
“Hey,” Colt says, swinging open the passenger’s side door and hopping up into the seat. “I think I remembered something.”
We stare at each other a long minute. “What?” I whisper, my heart quaking with terror.
