Page 118 of Jerk
I don’t know how I look, but there’s no time. He pulls back the curtain, and I step out.
The applause is louder. Some of the crowd even rise to their feet.
I can feel him every step of the way between my legs. Is it weird that it makes me walk with more pride?
The crowd's hoots and hollers make me lift my chin high as I relish in their applause. When I get to the front of the runway, I turn and clap for my models. I couldn't pull this off without them.
I fucking did it.
The applause I’m getting right now doesn’t compare to what I thought I had as queen or with my posse. It doesn’t give me the same feeling as running a committee, or outsmarting Marisol. No, this is better.Muchbetter.
Everyone’s watching.
Good. Let them.
Placing a hand out, I take Krystal’s in mine, helping her out of the coffin. Then I do the thing that feels as right as designing this show.
“Thank you all for your support.” Once I speak, the crowd hushes, their applause quieting. “It means the world, but now it’s time to support another up-and-coming iconic woman.” I raise Krystal’s hand into the air.
“Han?” Krystal leans into me with a whisper. “What’s going on?”
“Trust me,” I whisper back before addressing the crowd again. “If I had a real crown, this is where I’d put it on the head of the one who deserves to carry my torch. Krystal Rowen deserves the respect her family name gives and the respect of our student body. She deserves the camaraderie of the Saint Bons population, and I trust you’ll give her nothing less.”
Krystal looks stunned before a smile spreads across her plum-painted lips. “Are you sure about this?”
“I heard you want to be queen. It'll be my honour if you take the reins, and reign."
She nods as I let go of her hand and start another round of applause. She drinks it in like a queen. Graceful. Poised. But she has a spark to her that I don’t. A grittiness. A grunginess. One that I’ve learned I’m drawn to.
As the crowd settles, I retake her hand and walk towards the back of the stage, applause following.
The posse squeals in delight as we move behind the velvet curtains, awaiting their new queen. “That was incredible!” Chloe beams. “No one could take their eyes off you.”
“Us,” Marisol interrupts.
They circle Krystal and me as Ember joins, moving between them.
“You killed that shit, Hannah,” Ember says, those greenish eyes beaming. “Even I had fun walking your show. Something about wearing this really makes me want to own it.” Ember looks like an afropunk Elvira, her red curls piled high on her head. Mac will have fun with that.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Marisol pushes Ember to the side and ignores the look I give her when she does. “That was only for show, right? Or did you really give your crown to Krystal?”
“I'm a senior next year, and I need to set my sights on my future." Marisol twists her nose, and I know she’s pissed it’s not her. “Krystal will be good for SBU."
“You know it, sis,” Krystal says, a smile coming to her face. “Can I call you that? Y'know, since you’re fucking my brother?”
“Hannah.” On cue, his voice comes from behind our group.
“Ooooh,” Chloe teases. “Your man wants you.”
“I thought the Crowns were off-limits,” Marisol folds her arms, playing her final card.
I smirk, parting the way to him. “For you.” Looking over my shoulder, I give Krystal a warning. “Keep your eye out for this one.”
The DJ raises the music now that the grand show is over. Bodies stream inside, chatter filling the space as they prep for the Crimson party.
When I find Rye, he holds a large bouquet of black roses in his hand and holds it out to me. “Tell me. How did it feel to relish in your accomplishments with me between your legs?”
I smirk, saying the words I know he wants. ThatIwant. “Yours.”
