Page 41 of Gilded Fake

“Not your business,” Royal says coolly, lifting his chin and staring down at her.

“Oh, you know,” Harper says with a giddy grin, waving away Royal’s rudeness. “We thought we’d recreate our first encounter, but just the two of us this time.”

“So you’re breaking into school to give Royal a blowjob in the basement?”

“Yeah,” Harper says. “That about sums it up. I’d invite you, but…”

“No,” Royal says firmly. “Now let’s go, or I’ll put you on your knees right here and you can choke with an even bigger audience than the last time.”

Harper scoffs. “Choking is for amateurs.”

She grabs his hand and drags him through the doors into the suite, leaving the party to us.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” Lo says, stepping over to the railing and leaning against it a few inches from me. My fingers twitch to reach for her, to feel the soft skin of her bare arm, trace the blue butterfly inside her wrist, to anchor myself to her so I don’t pitch over and fall sixteen stories to the parking lot far, far below.

“Who says I did it for you?” I ask, tossing my cigarette over the balcony. “I was defending my sister.”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding and staring ahead into the darkness. “Yeah, okay. That makes more sense.”

It doesn’t make sense, though. Nothing makes sense. She’s inches away, but it might as well be a mile. Any distance at all is way too fucking far. I want to pull her into my chest the way Royal does Harper, to fit her under my arm and have her lean there like it’s nothing, the way we would if we were together. I want to feel the heat of her soft curves pressed up against me, a tease that looks casual to anyone else, but all the time she’s winding me up for later, when I’ll dive between her legs and find release from the tension her touch has built in me all night. Right now, I can’t remember why I can’t.

And then she’s standing in the doorway, framed by the light from inside, sparkling like the jewels in her crown—the reason.

Guilt drops into my heart like an anvil, and I’m glad I didn’t reach for Gloria, that I didn’t pull her into my arms and bury my nose in her hair. That I didn’t snake a hand up under the few inches of her skirt hiding that sweet, wet cunt, bare and still soaked with my cum and ready for a finger to sink deep into its hot, hungry depths.

“There you are,” Dixie says, giving me a meaningful look. Her tone is cheery, but there’s an undercurrent of fury in it, an edge of icy danger. “Everyone’s leaving the ballroom to come up here and dance on the roof. The theme is Under the Stars, after all. What better way to celebrate than under the actual stars?”

She says the words in a rehearsed way, like she’s said them to twenty other people to convince them to leave the prom because she wanted to go and find me, but she didn’t want to lose her crowd of admirers.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I think I’m done with this whole scene.”

“It’s prom,” she says through a brittle smile. “And I want to make it last. Just take another pill and calm down, and we’ll go dance on the roof.”

“I don’t have any left,” I mutter.

“Then have a drink,” she says. “I’ll get you one. What do you want? Crown and Coke?”

“Sure,” I say, pushing away from the railing.

“No, stay here and have another smoke and chill,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

She disappears inside, and I check Gloria from the corner of my eye, the guilt deepening further when I look at her than it did when I saw Dixie, like I’m cheating on her and not the other way around.

“I’m gonna head out,” she says, dropping her cigarette into an empty beer bottle. “Let you enjoy your prom king status with your queen.”

“Lo…” I glance through the doors, where Dixie stands alone at the counter, mixing up a couple drinks.

“Don’t,” Gloria says, her voice soft but firm. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“I know,” I mutter, glaring at my girlfriend.

“I may hate her guts, but she doesn’t deserve this,” Gloria says. “She just wants what any girl wants. To know you to love her despite her flaws, that you’d do anything to be with her, that you’re more committed to her than your dick.”

“That’s what girls want?”

“Yes. I’m not teasing or flirting when I tell you every time you come to the club that you need to stop. I don’t want you there, Colt. I—it’s too hard. Tonight never should have happened. As good as it was, I can’t be your side piece. If you want to be with her, then choose her. Really choose her. And stop fucking with my head. You’re not being fair to either of us.”

She walks away, leaving me hanging my head in shame and cursing myself for not going out to my car to look for the missing pills. I could really use something to numb the sting of truth in Gloria’s words.

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