Page 66 of Gilded Fake

“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.

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