Page 37 of Gilded Fake

“That’s rich, coming from a girl who’s so desperate for dick she let guys run trains on her.”

“At least I was never so desperate that I let a guy put a bag over my head because he was so disgusted by my face he couldn’t get it up.”

Dixie lets out a shriek of rage and lunges at Gloria, slapping her across the face so hard that her head whips around, her hair flying. “You think being blonde makes you better than me?” she snarls with even greater ferocity. “I’m the queen. You’re nothing! You’re not popular. You don’t have a boyfriend. You don’t have friends. You’re not even skinny anymore.”

“Oh, damn,” Duke crows, and he starts laughing, covering his mouth like he’s trying to hide it. After a second, everyone else joins in, like they were just waiting for the signal.

Gloria stands there looking stunned for a second, her hand covering the cheek Dixie just slapped. Then she spins on her heel and shoves through the laughing, taunting crowd and storms out.

“I can’t believe you took her side,” Dixie says, wheeling on me, apparently ready to start in on her next victim now that she’s gotten rid of the competition.

“Someone had to.”

“You’re really going to choose your bully over the girl who’s stood by you all these years? Who sat by your bed and nursed you back to health when you were in the hospital, at your lowest? How could you do that? I’m your girlfriend, Colt.”

“You’re a bitch.”

She draws back, her eyes wide with shock. Then they narrow, her nostrils flaring with fury. “You’ll be sorry,” she swears. “With the way she’s let herself go, she’ll be as fat and ugly as me by graduation. And then where will you be? Beauty is fleeting. The loyalty I have, that lasts forever.”

“Beauty isn’t just what you look like,” I say. “It’s what you do. Pretending it’s purely physical is just an excuse for being a shitty, selfish person who sells out the people you claim to care about the moment you see an advantage in it for yourself. That’s not loyalty. It’s duplicitousness. You’ll always be ugly because you’re ugly inside, Dixie.”

I turn and push my way through the crowd, searching for Gloria as I go. I step into the hallway and glance in either direction. No sign of her.

She’s gone.

nine

Rumor Has It… The student body at Willow Heights came together to make their voice heard and tell the powers that be that they won’t stand for one more undeserving cookie-cutter clone to win the crown! Congratulations on thinking for yourselves and choosing the right Prom Queen this year!

Colt Darling

I grit my teeth and reach for my wallet without thinking, flipping it open and slipping my finger into the pocket where I keep the dozen pills that get me through the day. Nothing but the soft leather meets my finger, and I pause and open it wide, staring into the compartment. I swear I didn’t take them all yet—it’s not even midnight, and I knew I’d need a few extra to survive the evening’s stresses. I took a couple on the way here, then tossed my wallet in the console. Maybe they spilled in there. The urge to swallow one and feel the wave of calm tugs at me, and I turn toward the doors, where the parking lot beckons.

But then I hear the ding of the elevator, and I turn back and see Gloria stepping in.

“Wait,” I call, jogging back in that direction. When I step into the mirrored car with her, I can see she’s been crying. She must have been in the bathroom touching up her makeup, as her lashes are perfect, though her eyes are red and puffy.

“You’re making it worse,” she says, retreating to one side and hitting the button before resting her hands on the bar at hip level.

“I can’t help it,” I say, stepping close. She doesn’t protest.

I bend at the knees enough to slip my hands behind her bare thighs, straightening and sliding them up to the very top, stopping when my fingers reach the bottom of her ass. I lift her in one swift motion, and her legs wrap around me. I press her back against one of the mirrors, gripping her ass in both hands. “I’ve been dying to know what’s under this dress all night.”

“We can’t,” she protests.

“One taste,” I say. “I can make you cum before we step out of this elevator.”

“That’s like one minute,” she protests.

“Is that a challenge?” I ask, burying my face in her neck, inhaling her shampoo, her skin, the scent of her that drives me out of my damn mind. I squeeze her ass, grinding between her thighs.

“Colt,” she protests again, shoving at my shoulder, but it’s a weak attempt to put space between us. “You’re fucked up.”

“Barely,” I lie. “I’m sober enough to know what I’m doing, and to know what I want to do it. Open your legs for me, my queen.”

“You have a girlfriend.”

“You hate my girlfriend,” I point out. “She slapped you in the face.”

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