Page 26 of Gilded Fake

I expected her to blow up or break down, but she lifted her chin and stared me down. I respected the hell out of her for it. She had self-respect, and more than that, a whole lot of balls.

“What do you want?” she asked calmly.

“Oh, I’ve already gotten everything I want from you, princess.”

She nodded. “Okay. Have fun walking home.”

She turned and walked out, leaving me standing in Cotton Montgomery’s pool house alone. I watched her go, the defiant little sway of her narrow hips, the toss of her hair as she reached the far end of the pool, like she knew that despite my harsh words, I couldn’t keep myself from watching her walk away. She didn’t look back, and even though I was the one who rejected her, I found myself feeling like the fool when she disappeared around the corner of the house.

It was the furthest thing from the way we came in, laughing and holding hands, doing something reckless and daring together.

I snuck out five minutes later, feeling as small and low as it was possible to feel after the best fuck of my entire fucking life. I had no one to blame but myself. I could have left it as a sweet memory, another jerk-off fantasy to last me for the next year, but I went and ruined it. Now the memory was tainted by the bitter aftertaste of leaving angry.

But somehow, even that felt right for my life now. Even the good parts were shit.

I’d done the right thing. I knew that, even if it left me bitter and angry. It was too dangerous to leave this door open. Ripping off the band-aid, getting it over with, was better for both of us. It wasn’t hard to be an asshole and make her hate me. I’d been that guy for years, and she’d already hated me until that morning. Going back to our natural state as enemies was the easiest thing in the world.

six

Gloria Walton

Colt keeps staring at me like I’m a stranger, like I didn’t just push him over the edge, like he’s not standing there with my cum all over him—our cum.

“Last year?” he prompts, his eyes some fathomless void I’ve never seen, a stormy sky you could lose yourself in, one that swallows planes and never spits them out.

I can only nod. My throat is too tight, my whole body trembling with terror. I can’t lose him again. I can’t do it.

“I’m going to need you to say it.”

“I told you,” I whisper. “We fucked last year. During Bye Week. More than once. It was… Life changing.”

The confession hangs in the air between us, and I have to drop my gaze because the way he’s looking at me with such disbelief, such disgust, makes me want to sink into the ground and disappear.

Without a word, he turns on his heel and starts for the door.

“Colt,” I cry, jarred out of my trance of guilt and regret.

He doesn’t respond, so I rush after him, grabbing his arm.

“Colt,” I say again. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you before. I did. I was just afraid—”

“Fuck. You.”

I flinch at the coldness in his tone, the finality.

“Please,” I cry. “Just let me explain.”

“You had your chance,” he says. “I’m done asking for the truth from a fucking liar. I should have expected it. You’ve always been a fake. A pretty, hollow doll with nothing inside but venom.”

“I’m not,” I insist, horrified to feel hot tears stinging my eyes. “You know that.”

“I don’t know anything,” he says, yanking his arm from my grip. “Except that you’re exactly what I always thought—a demon queen with no soul.”

“That’s not fair,” I cry. “I wanted to tell you. But if the Dolces knew—”

“I’m not the Dolces.”

“I know, but if I told you, and you let it slip—”

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