fifteen
Rumor Has It… A certain member of the elite has been seen sneaking into Thorncrown Chapel at odd hours. Does the court jester have a secret he needs to confess, or is he as simple as he seems?
Colt Darling
“Come on, I’ll give you a ride,” Maverick says. “You’re fucked up.”
“Did she tell you she didn’t want to do that?” I ask, turning to him.
He glances at Lo and then shrugs. “I mean, she put up a little fight, played hard to get. You know how good girls are when they want to be convinced but think their fantasy is too naughty to admit. Just because she’s embarrassed for loving it doesn’t mean she wasn’t willing. You felt her cum all over my dick like a regular crew slut.”
I step around the end of the bed and clock him straight in the face. I don’t think about it, about the fact that he’s my friend, or her sneaky link, or that he was here first, or that he’s definitely carrying. I just do it, and it feels so fucking good.
I never hit first, and now I’ve done it twice.
“What the fuck?” Maverick stumbles back, already swinging. He pulls his punch though, dropping his fist to slam it into my shoulder at the last minute.
“Don’t ever touch her again,” I growl. “Or it’ll be a crowbar next time instead of a fist.”
“You’re lucky I was raised better, or I’d hit you in that damaged head and kill you right now,” Maverick says, glowering. “If you had a claim on her, you should have told me. I fucking asked you.”
“In front of my girlfriend,” I shoot back. “And don’t pull your punches. You want to hit me, fucking hit me. I’d rather you knock the plate out of my skull than treat me like I’m a fucking child.”
“Nah, she’s all yours,” Maverick says, holding up a hand. “I’ve got plenty of pussy where that came from. I don’t need one that causes drama.”
“Then leave,” I order, pointing to the door. “She doesn’t need you either.”
“She picked me up,” he points out. “But seriously, man. What are you doing?”
I glare at him. “I’m staying.”
“You’re getting married?” he asks. “What the fuck. I thought we were more alike than that.”
I shrug. “Guess not.”
“Start out with a wife and a side chick, and you’ll have a mess on your hands for life,” he says. “Better to stick to a Wall of Sluts and dip when shit gets heavy.”
“Because you know anything about relationships.”
It’s his turn to shrug. “Do what you want, I don’t care. But why marry a chick if you’re already stepping out on her? You obviously can’t stay away from Lo, and I know you’re not in it for money, so what’s the point in Dixie again?”
“Fuck off.”
“Think about it,” he says, then turns to Gloria, who’s lying in the bed with the sheet hugged around her body. “It’s been real, princess. Come by the shop if you ever get an itch to climb the ladder again.”
“She’s not a princess,” I grit out. “She’s a queen. And the only dick she’ll be climbing on is mine.”
I think he’s going to say something, but then he just laughs and shakes his head before walking out. I follow him to the front door to lock it behind him. When I return to Gloria’s room, she’s sitting up reaching for a box of tissues beside the bed.
“Why are you still here?” she asks. “I told you to leave.”
“I know,” I say. “But I don’t think I will.”
She gives me an incredulous look. “It’s my apartment.”
I glance around. “Yeah, a pretty nice one too. Plenty of room for me.”
She snorts into the tissue as she blows her nose. “What, you’re going to live here?”
“Nah, I’ll go home eventually.”
“When?”
“When I’m done.”
“Done proving you can do whatever the fuck you want whether I want to or not?” she asks bitterly, balling the tissue in her fist.
“No,” I say. “When I’m done taking care of you.”
“I don’t need you to—”
“I know,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to.”
I head into her kitchen, ignoring her calling after me, asking what I’m doing. I find a pan and some cans in the pantry. When I’m done, I carry a bowl into her room. She’s kicked all the underwear off the bed and is lying there with the sheet tucked under her arms, staring up at the ceiling.
“What the fuck?” she asks when I set the bowl down. “You made me chicken soup? I’m not sick.”
“Chill, I just opened a can,” I say. “If you want the chef in the family, you’ll have to date Preston.”
“I don’t have to date anyone in your family.”
“Here,” I say, handing her an ice pack I found in the freezer and a bottle of ibuprofen from a drawer in the bathroom. “Get comfortable before you eat.”
“You’re insane.”
“Probably all the blows to the head I’ve taken.”
“Why are you doing this?”
I shrug. “I didn’t know you told Maverick you weren’t into that.”
She winces as she puts the ice pack under the sheet and places it where she wants it. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to go around telling anyone you hurt me.”
“Did I?”
She picks up the soup, staring into it and stirring her spoon around slowly. “Yeah,” she whispers. “You did.”
My chest caves in on itself, and I sink onto the edge of the bed and take her hand. “I’m sorry, Lo. I never meant… I never would have… God, this is so fucked.”
“It’s unnecessary,” she says. “This is all unnecessary. I’ve done worse to you—a lot worse. You don’t have to take care of me because you feel guilty. Maybe I didn’t want to, but it’s not like I was fighting you off. I guess you didn’t know, and that’s… Whatever. Even if you had known, I wouldn’t be filing a police report or spreading rumors at school. I know how believable I am.”
“That’s fucked up, Gloria.”
She shrugs and pulls her hand from mine, taking a small bite of soup. “It’s the truth, though. Same with the Dolces. Same with Rylan.”
“You didn’t want to fuck Rylan?” I ask. “Why? He was your boyfriend.”
“It’s complicated,” she says with a sigh, setting her bowl aside. “I think I loved the idea of him, but the reality… Sucked, to be honest. And even if he’d been the perfect boyfriend, I don’t think I could have loved him anymore. I was already in love with someone else.”
She pulls her knees up and wraps her arms around them, on top of the sheet.
“Lo…” I reach for her, scooting over and slowly winding a strand of hair behind her ear. “Look at me.”
Her gaze skirts the room, briefly snagging mine before falling away again.
I scoot closer, pulling her into me. I kiss her bare shoulder, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. “I love you too,” I whisper into her neck.
I slide down onto the bed, pulling her close, letting her nestle into the crook of my arm. My heart is hammering, and I’m sure she can feel it against her cheek, but she doesn’t gloat like Dixie would. She doesn’t say anything.
“I know it’s a shitty time to say it,” I admit. “It’s hard to know what people want when they use those words. But I mean it.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she whispers. “No one’s said that to me since I was a kid. But it’s kinda fucked that you can’t trust people to love you without wanting something from you.”
I shrug. “When love is weaponized against you for so long, it’s hard to know what’s real. It’s hard not to look for the ulterior motive.”
“I have no ulterior motives,” she says her fingers curling into my t-shirt. “But I understand you not trusting me completely. I don’t mind working to earn it.”
“It might take a while,” I warn.
“How long are you planning on staying?” she asks after a few minutes.
“Until you fall asleep,” I say, planting a gentle kiss on top of her head.
“What are you going to do until then?”
“Hold you.”
She’s quiet a minute. “What if I never fall asleep?”
I tighten my arms around her. “Then I’ll stay forever.”
“You’re making it worse.”
“I’m making it better. You’re making it worse.”
“Do you always have to win?”
“I already won,” I remind her, turning her in my arms so I can curl my body around hers like a spoon. “I’m here, and Maverick’s not.”
“That’s what this is about?”
“I fought for you, and I won. Now you’re mine.”
“I think Dixie’s yours.”
“Dixie got her ring,” I say, nuzzling the back of her neck. “That’s all she cares about. You care about me, right? Even if you never get a ring?”
“Yes,” she says quietly, sliding her forearm over mine. “If this is all I ever get, I’ll take it. I’ll take it until it hurts so much I can’t take it anymore.”
“Would it be enough?” I whisper against her skin.
She tightens her hold, squeezing my arm tighter around her, like she’s holding on because she can already feel me slipping away. Like she’s already losing me.
“No,” she admits. “Half of you would never be enough. I’d always want more, want it all. But if all I could get was one night, I’d take it. I’d still choose you.”
“You didn’t choose me tonight,” I remind her, the thought turning bitter on my tongue when spoken aloud. “I asked you to go home with me at the club, and you walked out on me, and then you went home with Maverick. You chose him.”
“I didn’t know you were a choice,” she protests. “You’re engaged to someone else, Colt. And I still never would’ve done it if I knew it would hurt you.”
“Yeah, that was fucked up.”
“I’m sorry.”
We’re quiet a long moment. The drugs and the late hour make me sleepy, and I start to drift off before she speaks again.
“You hurt me too,” she whispers. “You chose Dixie. You’re fucking marrying her.”
“It’s not like that,” I say. “I don’t love her, and she doesn’t love me. She loves the status, the money, the name.”
“I think you’re wrong,” she says. “I think she wanted the ring as a symbol, something to show everyone so she could brag that she got you. But the prize is still you, not the ring.”
“I’m the prize, huh?” I ask, nipping playfully at her neck.
“I said Dixie sees it that way,” she says. “I’m not sure I’d go that far, but you’re tolerable when you’re not going out of your way to be an asshole.”
“Tolerable?” I ask. “Shit, don’t flatter my ego that way.”
She snuggles her ass down into my lap. “I have to be careful. Your ego’s even bigger than your dick.”
“My crooked little shrimp dick?”
“Exactly.”
We lie together in silence a while, until I can hear the morning birds join the chorus of insects and frogs singing outside. “Let’s go for a drive.”
“Now?” she asks, clearly skeptical.
“I don’t want the night to end.”
“Me neither,” she admits. “But I’m not sure walking is a good idea. You were pretty hard on me, Colt.”
“Worth it,” I say, pushing my hips against hers. I’ve got some morning wood going already just from dozing for a few minutes with her in my arms.
“For you,” she points out.
“I’ll carry you.”
“Then carry me to the bathroom.”
“At your service, your majesty,” I say, sliding off the bed and scooping her into my arms. “In fact, I’ll carry you around like a queen everywhere you need to go until you’re not sore anymore.”
“So, you’re going to carry me around for the entire next week?”
“What happened to not flattering my ego?” I ask, giving her a wicked grin as I carry her to the bathroom. I set her carefully on the toilet and leave her with strict instructions to call me as soon as she’s done, which of course she doesn’t. After the flush, her shower comes on, and I lean against the door and let my head fall back against it, picturing her perfect body under the falling water, bare and wet, her hands moving over it behind the swirling steam.
I’m so hard I have to rub one out while she’s in there, but I finish before she’s done showering. I toss the tissues in her trash basket on top of the condom Maverick dropped, now stretched and crinkled, the tip filled with his release. I stare at it a long minute, longer than I should, things starting to fall into place in my head. I sink onto the edge of her bed and stare at the bathroom door until it opens.
Then I rush to scoop her up and carry her back to the bed. “I’d spank your ass for not calling me to help you shower if it wasn’t the reason you’re hobbling around like my ninety-year-old great grandmother.”
“I’m going to get you back.”
“Hm, not really interested in pegging, but maybe I’ll change my mind someday,” I say, grinning as I pull open her drawers. “Guess you’ll have to stick around a while if you’re waiting for that day.”
“I can dress myself.”
“I know,” I say. “But it’s more fun when I know you’re wearing the panties I picked out under your clothes.”
I return to her and slide a pair of spring green lace panties up her glorious thighs, only bending to lay a single, lingering kiss between them before I hide her perfect pink pussy under the translucent fabric. I trace the seam of her lips with the tip of my nose, inhaling and letting out an involuntary moan of desire at the tease of her scent hidden behind whatever soap she used, only the barest hint of the sweetness that lies inside.
“I thought we were going for a drive,” she says, trying to push me away.
“I love the way you smell,” I say, resting my chin on her pelvic bone and smiling up at her. “You’d smell better with my cum dripping out of you, though.”
“You’re high.”
“Only a little.”
“You swallowed a handful of pills,” she points out. “Ones you told me were so strong I should only take half.”
“I’m a pro,” I say. “I can still fuck when I’m fucked up.”
“I don’t want to fuck you when you’re fucked up.”
“I’ll let you off the hook for now. Just know, I’m not letting this day end until I’ve filled all three of your holes with my cum. I’ve still got two to go.”
“We’ll see,” she says as I pull a pair of cutoffs up her tan thighs.
“Prolong it if you want, butterfly,” I say. “It’s happening.”
I button her shorts and then pull a t-shirt over her head.
“You forgot a bra,” she protests.
I pinch the point of her nipple through the thin fabric. “I didn’t forget.”
When she’s talked her way into a hoodie—it’s still cool out this early in the morning even in late April—and slipped on her flip-flops, I scoop her up and carry her out.
“I’ll drive,” she says. “You took too many pills.”
“But we can watch the sunrise from the bed of my truck,” I argue.
“Your truck, but I drive,” she counters.
I relent and slide her behind the wheel of my truck, buckling her in before I step down. I remember the first time I wanted to do that, how impossible it felt. I never would have dreamed back then that I’d be doing it as a matter of course now. She sees me looking at her up there behind the wheel and gives a self-conscious little laugh. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, and I step forward and kiss her once before closing the door and circling the truck. I hop up in, and she takes off without asking where we’re going, without needing my input. A few minutes later we pull up at the quarry, and she expertly backs into the gravel lot where so many parties are held, deserted at five in the morning.
“You handle this like you’ve been driving a truck all your life,” I say, leaning over to kiss her when she’s parked.
“Only a few times.”
I can tell she’s proud of herself, even if she tries to hide it, that she’s proud I complimented her. It breaks my heart for some fucking reason.
“Stay here.”
I grab a blanket and a couple sleeping bags from the back and lay them out in the bed before going to collect her. She laughs when I carry her to the tailgate and set her down.
“You know you don’t really have to carry me around like a baby.”
“I want to, baby,” I say, pulling her knees open so I can stand between them while I kiss her. I can’t seem to stop, to stop touching her soft skin, drawing her soft lips open, tasting her warm, wet mouth.
At last, she pulls away. “We’re missing the sunrise.”
I crawl back into the bed of the truck and open the blankets for her, and she scoots down in with me. After opening the back window so she can connect her phone, we listen to music, quiet this time, unlike at the parties that happen up here. I hold her, pillowing her head on my arm, and we listen and watch while the sun rises and the sky turns from dark to light, from purple to pink to pale blue, not needing words.
“We should have come up here earlier,” she says. “We could have seen the stars.”
“We’ll come up again,” I promise. “It’s a great stargazing spot.”
I remember then that I came up with Destiny once, but it seems far away now, a sweet memory that’s faded with time, ready to be let go, like a favorite t-shirt that no longer fits.
“Will we, though?” she asks. “Graduation is only a few weeks away, and then I’ll be going off to Yale, and you’ll be… Getting married, I guess.”
“I told you, today’s not over until I say it’s over.”
“I don’t think that’s what you said.”
“Oh yeah, I said something much dirtier last time.” I turn toward her pull her knee up over my hip, running my fingers over her smooth, bare skin. “Ready for the next round?”
“I don’t know,” she says, tracing the lines of ink on my neck. “Don’t you have stuff to do today?”
“I do,” I say, smiling down at her. “You.”
“Don’t you have a wedding to plan or something?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
She’s quiet a minute, her delicate fingers dancing over my skin and sending shivers through me. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, butterfly.”
“Did you ask her because of what I said that night? At prom?”
“I don’t know,” I say again. “I don’t remember asking her.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrug one shoulder. “I guess I asked her when I was blacked out. I’d taken some pills that night—not that many, really,” I hurry to add when I see her scowl. “Not as many as I planned to. I was going to go get more when I saw you getting on the elevator. So I wasn’t that messed up when we hooked up. I promise. But then Dixie made me a drink, and…”
“And?” she asks.
I swallow a lump of sawdust that’s formed in my throat. “I guess I drank too much,” I finish lamely. “I blacked out.”
“You think she got you drunk on purpose and talked you into it?”
“I don’t think she’d do that,” I say, though I can’t get rid of the chill creeping through me. “Usually we just fuck when I’m like that.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Is that something you’re into? Because I don’t want to do that.”
“Nah, she just feeds me extra pills until I’m fucked up enough to let her jump on my dick,” I say. “Or at least that’s what she says we do. For all I know we haven’t fucked in months.”
“Oh my god,” Gloria says, drawing back. “Colt, what the fuck?”
“It’s not like that,” I say. “I just haven’t been interested in hooking up with her for a while. She’s gotta get her rocks off somehow.”
“Someone giving you drugs to lower your defenses because you’re not interested in hooking up with them, and then taking advantage of you when you’re blacked out? Pretty sure there’s a name for that.”
“I know what rape is,” I say, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. “And we both know that’s not it.”
“Just because she’s not forcing you to your knees doesn’t mean you’re willing,” she points out. “You’re not able to consent in the moment if you can’t even remember doing it later.”
“I’m sure I’m not protesting when I’m fucked up.”
“So being roofied doesn’t count?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s different.”
“How?”
I don’t have an answer.
“Do you think she gave you extra pills this time?” Gloria asks.
“Maybe,” I admit, thinking about the ones I didn’t find in my console, the ones I thought fell out of my wallet. I remember Dixie standing in there at the island, making our drinks. Asking if it was a good idea when I downed it so fast. A pool of cold dread forms in my stomach.
“Colt,” Gloria says, sounding stricken. “You can’t marry her. If she’d do that to get you, what will she do to keep you?”
My laugh sounds forced and halfhearted even to my own ears. “You think she’s going to go all black widow on me, poison me and take my money?”
“I think she’s dangerous,” she says flatly. “She gets away with murder because she plays this sad little victim role, so people underestimate her. But she knows exactly what she’s doing. Think about how long she must have been planning my demise.”
“Yeah, she did you dirty.”
“So what’s she going to do to you?” she asks, a shiver running through her.
I hold her tighter, the coldness in my own stomach refusing to go away, even when I’m pressed to Lo’s warm body. I kiss the top of her head. “If she finds out about us…”
“I wouldn’t put it past her to go full femme fatale,” she says. “If she can’t have you, no one can.”
“I’m not too worried about it,” I say, trying to reassure her by sounding like it’s no big deal. “I can handle her.”
“Like how you’ve been handling her?” she asks. “Is that what you call asking her to marry you when you’re so fucked up you don’t even remember proposing?”
I start to brush away her concern again, but then I see the seriousness in her sapphire eyes. I remember Dixie’s words at Grandpa Darling’s that day—“My dad has a gun”—and the missing pills, the ring on her finger, the vicious way she went after her supposed friend so she could claim her spot on the throne. I frown down at this beautiful, fragile, broken butterfly queen in my arms, holding her tighter, as if I could protect her even when I’m not there. “You might be right about the lengths she’ll go to,” I say slowly. “I’m not scared of her. But I’m afraid for you.”