Page 75 of Gilded Fake

This is my choice—to lay down my weapons and surrender. I’m so tired from fighting not just him, but Dixie, the Dolces, and what I truly want. Tonight, I hand the keys to my enemy and let him in, let him have what he wants, even if that’s to destroy me. I let him tear down my walls, throw open my cage, and rampage my heart, my body, my soul, my dignity. I give myself up to the enemy, make him my king and my god. I place my fate and my faith in his hands and let myself fall into the abyss, knowing he’s as likely to catch me with the point of his sword as he is to catch me on the tip of his tongue like a snowflake.

Whether he gives me galaxies or death, whether he lifts me to my feet or conquers me, locks my cage when he’s done or sets me free… That is his choice.

seventeen

Rumor Has It… The school outcast was seen trying to lure another girl’s boyfriend into her car. How desperate can one skank get? One thing’s for sure: no one is safe, so girls, hold onto your man!

Colt Darling

Willow Heights keeps seniors coming to school second semester by giving us solo projects, and they keep us coming until graduation by making us present our projects the last month of school. Not only is it our final grade, but several school, local, and alumni-owned organizations and businesses offer scholarships and grants for students who impress them. That means the student lot is filled with bleary-eyed, burned-out seniors Monday morning when I pull up and park in Gloria’s spot in the back row.

Apparently finding it hilarious, Duke told me the whole story through laughter at lunch one day—that the school informed her, the week after her fall from grace, that her parking spot in the front row had been mistakenly double paid, and due to this ‘administrative error,’ she had to choose a new spot from those available. The Dolces apparently think everyone is as shallow as they are, and they thought she’d care about a parking spot when she was being threatened with assault, called vile names, and ‘accidentally’ touched in the halls every day, all while mourning the loss of her brother and the betrayal of her sisters. I know how it is because they did the same thing to me after Devlin died. Losing my parking spot didn’t even register on the list of shitty things in my life that month, and that was something we’d fought over before Devlin disappeared. Gloria probably didn’t give a single fuck.

If anything, she probably appreciated being out of the spotlight for those few minutes each morning before the daily battle of survival began. I should have done more to help her back then, been there for her the way Harper was. Of course the admin didn’t double book her old spot in the front row, and it sat empty for the rest of first semester. Ironically, it was assigned to me second semester, though I think it bothers Dixie that the Dolces didn’t give it to her, since she’s the queen now and cares about that stuff a hell of a lot more than I do.

I toss down my cigarette, pick up Lo’s bubble tea, and hop off the tailgate when June Bug pulls up behind me, since she can’t pull into her spot.

The window slides down and Gloria frowns at me. “What are you doing?”

“Just waiting for you, butterfly,” I say, circling the hood. I give it a tap with my knuckles, then open the passenger door and slide in. “To your spot, my queen.”

“You’re in my spot,” she says, her hand resting on the gear shift as she gives me a flat look.

“The queen’s spot is in the front row,” I say. “Take it.”

“I’m not the queen anymore.”

“If you need a reminder, I’ll be happy to oblige,” I say, cracking a grin and squeezing her thigh, clad in a pair of tight, faded blue jeans. My mouth waters at the thought of tasting her again, and I shift in my seat, tugging at the knees of my own jeans. “Want me to go down on you in the back seat? Or should I lay you over the hood and eat you out in front of the whole school?”

“Colt,” she hisses, glancing around like someone might hear.

“Go on,” I say, gesturing toward the front of the lot.

She swallows and glances in the rearview, where someone has come up the row and is idling behind her. Then she lets out the clutch and creeps slowly forward. “What if they bust up my car for disobeying?”

“They won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.”

It’s not just because I’m a king and I’m staking my claim to her, giving her the shield I should have offered a long time ago. If the other elites start to question me, Duke has my back. Not out of loyalty, but because I’ve done things to him that he’ll take to his grave. Even though I feel pretty shitty about that night, I’m glad I did it. It gives me a power that all the money and heritage in the world can’t.

Gloria finally inches into the parking spot at the front with a little more coaxing. I see people turning our way, looking, their glances curious and excited as they wait for drama. But no one approaches, so I climb out of the car and circle around to open Lo’s door.

There’s a certain wariness in the rest of the students when it comes to me. I’m a king, and some of them pretend well enough that I was never anything else. But there’s a shadow over my name, my presence. Guys are guarded when I’m around, their jokes cautious, and popular girls don’t flirt and fawn over me the way they do the athletes. Instead of a pretty boy beefcake like the guys the Dolces handpicked for their elite circle, I look more like the kind of guy their daddies warned them about.

Besides the fucked up hand, my hair is long enough that I have to tie it back, and my tats show even when I wear a button-up shirt, since my hands and neck are both fully inked. Instead of playing a sport, I book illegal fights and street races, smoke, and am known to associate with gangsters. If girls propositioned me, they’d keep it a dirty little secret instead of broadcasting it as a badge of honor like they do when they hook up with Duke Dolce or DeShaun Rose or Cotton Montgomery. But they don’t, because I have Dixie, and they’re more terrified of her than they are attracted to my bad boy image.

“I’m waiting for you, butterfly,” I drawl, holding out a hand, since Lo’s still sitting in the driver’s seat, gnawing on her fat lower lip in a way that drives me wild.

“Why?” she asks.

“Because you deserve this,” I say, taking her hand and pulling her from the seat. I hand her the bubble tea before scooping her into my arms, and she gasps and throws her free arm around my neck instinctively.

“What the hell?” she grits out, her eyes wide.

“I told you I was going to carry you around until you could walk normally.”

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