“There are five of them, Anna,” Cynthie complains.
“So pick three.”
“Fine. Fuck Reed, kill Gideon, and marry Easton.”
Something seizes up inside me at the thought of another girl with Reed. Hard enough to see him with Abby. I don’t need to envision him with a whole line of girls waiting to screw him.
“Easton’s a dog,” Anna protests.
“He’s a doll,” Cynthie says. “And reformed bad boys make the best husbands according to my maw-maw. Now you.”
Okay, maybe Cynthie isn’t all that bad. Easton really is the sweetest guy under all that bravado.
“Marry Gideon, because he’s the oldest and will end up running the Royal business. Screw Easton, because he has to have learned something for all the time he’s spent up girls’ skirts. Kill the twins.”
“Both of them?”
“Pretty much.”
I wince. Harsh. Anna is harsh.
“Abby and Reed looked cozy outside, didn’t they?” a honeyed voice whispers in my ear, interrupting my eavesdropping.
Ugh. Jordan Carrington. She’s not in costume, which is a shame. She would’ve made a fantastic witch.
“Don’t you have a boiling pot to stir?” I ask sweetly.
“Don’t you have a Royal to screw?”
“Maybe one or two,” I say in a breezy voice. “I bet that drives you crazy, doesn’t it, Jordan? That the Royals will screw everyone but you?”
Her face flushes for a second, but she recovers quickly. “Are you seriously bragging about your sluttiness?” She rolls her eyes. “You should write a book about all your experience. It’ll be a real feminist empowerment story. Fifty Shades of Banging: The High School Years.”
“Only fifty? That seems like a low number for a slut like me.”
Jordan flicks a curtain of dark hair over her shoulder. “I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. Figured that even you couldn’t be so insecure that you needed three hundred guys to prove your worth.”
I wonder if she’d believe me if I told her I’m still a virgin. Probably not.
But it’s true. Before Reed, I hadn’t even given so much as a blowjob.
We did a lot together, but not the final deed. I told him I was ready, but he wanted to wait. At the time, I thought it was because he was thoughtful. Now…well, I don’t have the first clue why he didn’t want my virginity.
Maybe the girls in the bathroom are right. Maybe Reed likes for Easton to break them in for him. That thought churns painfully in my stomach.
“Your snarky little insults don’t work on me, Jordan.” I straighten from the wall. I’m taller than her, and I use it to my advantage. “I fight back, remember? And I fight dirty. So go ahead, come at me. Let’s see what happens.”
“I’m shaking in my boots,” she parries, but there’s a note of concern. We both hear it.
I allow a vicious smile to spread. “You should be.”
The door to the bathroom opens, and I brush by the two gossipers into the powder room. My hands are shaking and sweaty. I wipe them against my shirt and then stare at my reflection in the mirror.
Astor Park is not my crowd. It will never be my crowd. So why am I trying to change myself to fit in? Even if I dressed exactly like Jordan and wore soft makeup and pretty clothes, I still wouldn’t get the kids here to accept me.
I’m always going to be the trashy interloper.
I use the toilet, wash my hands, and then leave—without changing one thing.
Back in the main room, I survey the crowd. Tonight the football players are the gods. I don’t know if that’s true in other months, if in December, after football is over, the school revolves around the basketball team or the lacrosse team or whatever other sport. But tonight, the rulers are the broad-shouldered football guys. My gaze takes in several. Their eyes meet mine and skip away.
When I look behind me, I’m not surprised to see Reed. He’s leaning against a wall and glaring at every male in the room.
I march over to him. “You said you’d do anything for me.”
“I would,” he says gruffly.
“Yeah? Then prove it.”
“Leave you alone?” he guesses, a resigned look in his eyes.
“Yep. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me, or I swear to God I’ll find the first guy I can and screw him right in front of you.”
Something in my face or my voice must convey my seriousness because Reed gives me an abrupt nod. “For tonight then.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, and then I stalk away.
17
“What’s good?” Val asks when I step onto the porch. She presents me with a bottle of cold beer.
“I can’t find one guy who’ll look me in the eye.” I scan the crowd and spot Easton on the other side of the porch. His hand is on Shea Montgomery’s hip and they’re looking intently at each other. “I guess Reed really did lay down the law.”
“We should go over to Harrisville,” Val suggests.