Boys Club by Selena
one
Content Warning: This book is extreme. If you have ANY hard limits, do not continue. If you proceed, do so with caution.
*
Harper Apple
The Monday after we fuck, Royal ghosts me. I’m not about to act all desperate, especially since he thinks I want to be his girlfriend, so I ignore him back and go about my business. It’s not easy, though. My fucking heart is in knots. I knew sex with him would not be casual. I knew my heart was already too wrapped up in him, and my head too fucked up by him, for our hookup to be meaningless. And the way he acted afterwards only pulled me in deeper.
He said he wanted to do it again, and he took steps to prove it, making me believe he meant it. I should know better than to believe a word from his lying lips. But I did.
I’m pissed and yeah, fucking hurt, but I try not to care about Royal’s disinterest. I try not to panic at the thought that he’s done with me, and not because I’ve caught feelings, but because I need answers. I’m not done with him. I’m just starting. I’ve just barely gotten in with the boys—or I thought I had. He acted that way. Now, he’s giving me the one-and-done treatment.
Last time a boy did that to me, I was thirteen and didn’t know how to handle it. But I’m older, if not wiser, now. And Royal Dolce is not Colin Finnegan. He doesn’t go around school telling everyone I gave it up easy. He doesn’t say anything. And neither does anyone else.
That’s what gives me hope that I didn’t fuck up the whole master plan before I could learn one damn thing about him.
If anyone didn’t already know I’m Royal’s plaything, they do now. There’s even a picture of the stunt I pulled on Friday at the game in Dixie’s blog, or so I’m told. Whatever the case, no one so much as mentions the video or says the word blowjob to me, which is a welcome relief. I can’t help but think it has less to do with my sign proclaiming myself to be Royal’s ho, and more to do with him showing up at the quarry and pronouncing to the whole town that I was his.
Since Dixie didn’t witness the fight on Friday night, I was hoping that part would escape her blog, but apparently Gloria filled her in on the gory details, so now the whole school knows that Royal “rescued” me from some asshats—and of course they think he’s some kind of hero, even though I would have finished them off if he hadn’t come along to mop up the last two for me.
More than that, everyone knows I’m untouchable.
If that’s all I get in exchange for fucking Royal, I’ll take it.
I slide in next to Dixie in class on Tuesday afternoon before the rest of the group arrives and finally have a chance to talk to her alone for the first time in a week. It’s been ten days since Royal almost killed our friend.
“Have you heard from Colt?” I ask, glancing at the door. I know she keeps that on the DL, and I’m not trying to get her in trouble with anyone.
“Yeah,” she says. “He’s awake, but he’s going to have to get some major reconstructive surgeries.”
“Fuck,” I say, shaking my head, as if that can drive away the image of my friend before the attack, his shiny blond hair down to his ears and designer shades that didn’t seem to match the roughness of the beautiful, tattooed rebel boy with bitter eyes and guarded smiles. I try not to think about that face being bashed in by Royal’s fists, teeth snapping, nose caving in, the sound of the blows becoming muted when they were no longer hitting bone.
I grip my desk, trying not to puke up the breakfast I just ate.
“Yeah,” Dixie says. “It’s bad, Harper. He might have to have a metal plate put in part of his face. They destroyed him.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she wipes a tear away.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling all kinds of fucked up that I slept with the boy who did that to Colt just a week later. “I didn’t realize it was that bad. I mean, I knew, but… I thought he’d be back.” My own throat tightens at the thought of never seeing my brave, wounded friend again.
“His family thinks he’s going to finish out the year online,” she says. “That’s what Preston did last year after… You know.”
“I don’t actually know,” I say, lowering my voice to a whisper. I’m a gossipy bitch like the next girl. I want to hear all the whispers about the Dolces. “What did they do?”
“I knew it was coming,” she whispers. “I tried to tell him. The only reason they let him stay was because of Mabel, and even that protection doesn’t last for—”
She breaks off in the middle of her word, and I turn to see Baron sauntering in, his sucker tucked in the corner of his mouth. His eyes skim over us, studied indifference on his face, though Dixie’s sudden silence must give away that we were talking about him. Without acknowledging us, he takes his seat at the table across the room where he sits with Gloria and their friends. He must be used to the attention. I don’t want to wonder or care if he hates it as much as Royal, but I do.
Dixie doesn’t finish her thought, like she’s afraid he has a spy microphone that can carry her voice to the far corner.
“Can I ask you something about the Darlings?” I whisper, leaning close to her so she won’t be afraid he’ll overhear. “Are any of them in prison?”
“Yeah,” she whispers, her eyes widening. “Preston’s dad. He got sentenced for murder, but pretty much everyone knows he was framed by you-know-who.”
Her gaze cuts to Baron, who’s staring at his laptop screen as it starts up.
“Is he the kind of person who would want revenge for that?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says. “Totally. Colt says he’s a real bastard. Why?”
“Just wondering,” I say with a shrug, but my heart is racing in my chest. It’s the best clue I’ve gotten so far. Not that I’ve tried that hard, but if he’s Mr. D… It could explain why he can move money around and bail me out, but he won’t meet me in person.
Quinn and Susanna arrive, cutting off any more conversation about it for now. Class starts, and we start our assignment, but pretty soon, the conversation turns to football, as usual.
“Are you going to the game again?” Dixie asks, back to her usual vivacious self. “That outfit you wore was crazy! I put a picture in the blog.”
“So I heard.”
“You’re so crazy,” she says, shaking her head. “You remind me of—”
I quirk a brow. “Of…?”
She waves a dismissive hand. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with this week. I mean, how can you top that?”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“You have to,” she squeals. “This is the last game before Thanksgiving break. And we have a new dance routine. Quinn choreographed it herself.”
I narrow my eyes at Dixie. On the surface, if you didn’t know better, you’d think she was just some gossipy dumb bitch. You’d never know her heart is broken for the boy she loves. In a weird way, she’s the biggest mystery in this school. She’s like a celebrity who’s always “on” in public, who has this persona, but you never know the real her, the girl underneath the public face. She spills the tea about everyone else, is in the know about every whisper and rumor, but until I stop and think about it, I never realized that there’s nothing about her in those posts.
I wonder if anyone ever thinks to ask her what’s going on with her, not just the latest gossip.
“Everyone thinks you’ve got balls,” Dixie says before I can turn the conversation.
“I can’t believe you made those signs,” Susanna says, though I can’t tell if she admires that or thinks I’m desperate. “I mean, the Waltons are obsessed—like, waiting by the phone for them to call. But you’re, like, aggressive.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “I’m not pursuing Royal.”
She and the other girls exchange a look.
“Well, it got the point across that you’re his, that’s for sure,” Quinn says.
“So, you going to the game?” Dixie asks again, looking all excited, like I might give her more fodder for her blog this week.
“Yeah, no. Football’s not really my thing,” I admit.
I leave out the part about how it’s Femme Fight Friday, and I can’t afford to miss another week at the Slaughter Pen.
“But it’s a big game,” Quinn says, her eyes widening. “We’re playing Ridgedale.”
“I thought Faulkner High was the big game,” I say. Even I’ve heard about that game. You’d have to be blind not to know about it. But the other schools are just names to me.
“We have Quinn’s new dance routine,” Dixie offers.
I shrug. “It’d be cool to see y’all dance again, but I already have plans. Maybe another time.”
“How can you have plans?” Quinn asks. “Everyone will be at the game. I mean, besides Faulkner, it’s our biggest game. I’ve literally never missed the Ridgedale game. My parents like to tell me how they bundled me up in my stroller when I was six months old to come to this game. My dad’s a Ridgedale High alum, so they’re really into it.”
“You weren’t there every year,” Gloria says smugly, turning around from the next table, where she moved to work with one of her friends. “Why don’t you tell her about the year you were in a padded room?”
I raise a brow at Quinn, who sits frozen.
“No one here is talking to you,” I say to Gloria when it’s clear Quinn won’t speak up. “Mind your own business, evil little witch.”
“Looney Quinn from the looney bin,” Gloria sings, meeting my eyes and twirling a finger in a circle next to her ear in the universally acknowledged sign for crazy. She acts like I’m supposed to be in on this, but yet again, I find myself on the outside, not knowing any of anyone’s history. I’m kind of used to it by now, but it’s still annoying.
“So anyway,” I say, turning back and smiling at my table mates. “Y’all are on dance, so you actually have to go to all these things, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah,” Quinn says. “But I’d go even if I wasn’t on the team. What else is there to do on Friday night? Pretty much the whole town is shut down on Fridays.”
“Not the whole town,” I mutter under my breath. The fights must go on, after all. No one at the Slaughter Pen cares about football—at least not many of them. The regulars skip the game to come watch us fight every week. The big chain stores and restaurants and gas stations are open, but that’s about it. I guess for people who like to be part of the social scene, the games are where that happens. It was like that at FHS, too. Football is king. I’ve always known that. I just didn’t care.
“Royal’s going to expect you at the game,” Gloria says. “You can’t just skip them. He’s the quarterback.”
“And I’m not his girlfriend,” I say, giving her a look. I notice everyone else in the room has gone silent at the mention of their king’s name. Even the teacher is watching, like she wants to know who Royal’s fucking, too. I’ve heard whispers about him liking older girls. Maybe she thinks she’s got a shot.
“You’re a Dolce girl now,” Gloria says. “You have to go.”
“Um, no,” I say. “Neither of those things are true.”
“Whatever you say,” she mutters, shaking her head. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you at the game. Just hopefully a little less of you than we saw last week.”
I ignore her for the rest of class. In science, where I sit with Royal, he’s cool and indifferent to me before choosing a different partner for our week of outdoor study. Guess he’s a one-time type of guy after all. I’m too done with the bullshit to even protest when DeShaun comes to claim me as his partner. Whatever. If Royal’s trying to fuck with me by having his friend keep tabs on me, he can knock himself out. And if he thinks I’m going to say something to DeShaun about him, he should know me better.
I focus on scraping the rocks on the inside of the fountain like my life depends on it. Right now, it feels like it does. I try not to think about Royal, about what a fool I am. Okay, so I broke my rules for him. I let down my walls, and now I’m paying. Not like I really expected more. This will not kill me. It won’t break me. It might break my heart, but I’ll survive. It’s what I fucking do.
After lunch on Wednesday, I’m tossing my trash when Gloria marches over and grabs my arm. “I need to talk to you.”
“I thought Dolce girls were too cool to carry their own trash,” I say, cocking a brow at her freshman servant.
“Just shut up and come with me,” she says, dragging me toward the bathroom. Her squad follows, but Gloria holds up a hand when we get to the restroom door. She reaches out and squeezes Eleanor’s hand when she starts to protest. “This is between me and Harper. Royal business. You understand, right?”
Without waiting for her sister to answer, Gloria pulls me into the bathroom off the café. When she sees a group in front of the mirrors, Gloria snaps her fingers at them and points to the door. “Out.”
“But we—”
She plants a hand on her hip and swivels her head in that bitch way girls do. “Did you hear that, Harper? I think she said no to me.”
“I didn’t hear that.”
She turns back to the girls. “You better be glad my girl here didn’t hear you this time,” she says. “Next time, someone might be paying better attention.”
“Is this really necessary?” I mutter to her.
The girls grumble and roll their eyes as they trudge past us and shove out the doors. “Can you believe them?” Gloria huffs. “The attitude of some bitches at this school, I swear.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
She cracks a smile like she can see the irony. “For real, though,” she says, covering her heart and rolling her eyes back in her head. “You and Royal, oh my god. Is it true?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Did you have something to talk to me about?” I ask, crossing my arms and glaring. “Or is that it? Because if it is, this conversation is already over. There is no me and Royal.”
She turns on the water and checks each of the stalls before returning to the mirror and opening her little purse. “You never know,” she says, meeting my skeptical gaze in the mirror.
“You think someone’s going to hide in the bathroom to listen to our conversation?”
“The rumor mill is the heart that pumps the blood of this school,” she says before turning to me, her hip braced on the sink. “Just… Be careful, okay? Despite my horridness, I actually like you, Harper.”
“And you want to tell me to be careful of Royal, that he’s going to destroy me, that he’s dangerous and not someone to be trifled with. Trust me, I know. I’ve been warned. I’ve experienced it firsthand. And now I’m paying.”
She gives me a funny look. “Is that your final decision?”
“What are you talking about?”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Royal is… I’ve never seen him like this for a girl, okay? He’s got a lot of pride, and he may not say it, but the ball’s in your court, Harper. Please make the right decision.”
“Fuck you, Gloria. I’ve got my pride, too.”
“Fine,” she says. “If that’s what you want, at least let him know.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “And what? Put myself out there again? Make myself available twenty-four-seven, like you and your sisters, and I can be a Dolce girl, too?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“But that’s what you told me after my first trip to the basement, remember? Keep going, and if I survive them, one day I’ll be where you are. Well, here I am. So close I can taste it. Now you’re telling me I have to prove myself to him somehow? Again?”
“Exactly,” she says, grabbing my hand and squeezing. “Can you imagine? We could be friends, Harper. You could be a Dolce girl like us. Like me.”
Her eyes plead with me, and I wonder why she needs a friend so damn bad. She has her sisters, and the three other official Dolce girls, and then a whole squad of wannabes who follow them around in football jerseys and sit at the next table like dogs waiting for someone to toss them a bone… Or like vultures circling the throne, waiting for one of the royals to fall so they can ascend.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask, pulling my hand away and shooting her a cool grin. “Fight you for him? Because I’m down for a rematch. You’re not half bad.”
“He’d probably like that,” she says, returning my smile. “That would definitely prove you want him.”
“I’m not sure I need to prove anything to him,” I say. “But if that’s what it takes to earn a place at his table, let’s do it. But I’m warning you. If we’re fighting for Royal, I will win.”
“Stop being so confrontational,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m trying to be real with you. I don’t need to fight for Royal Dolce. I have something more valuable than his dick already.”
I look her up and down. “You pregnant or something?”
“What?” she asks, spinning to the mirror and pressing a hand on her flat abdomen, as if I’m suggesting she’s fat.
I laugh, and she glares. “No, you idiot,” she snaps. “His friendship. Besides my sisters, Royal is my best friend in the whole world, Harper. Sometimes even before my sisters. Trust me, when you get here, you need all the real friends you can get.”
I rock back on my heels. “Okay…”
“He isn’t someone to be trifled with,” she says, getting out her lipstick. “But I’m not here to warn you about the big bad wolf in your bed. You already knew that before you took him to bed. That’s why you invited him in, isn’t it? The fangs and claws are exciting.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“What I’m trying to say is, there’s more to Royal Dolce than fangs and claws,” she says. “He’s… Well, I won’t say he’s a good guy under it, or anything like that, but there’s more to him than you know. He’s a real boy under that wolf costume. If you want him, let him know now, before he thinks you don’t. And if you don’t…”
“Wait, are you telling me His Majesty Royal Dolce needs reassurance?”
“I’m telling you that if you trifle with that boy and hurt him… I will cut a bitch. You think I’m talking shit with nothing to back it up, because you think you’ve got me all figured out. But I’m not some spoiled little rich girl who can’t defend herself and hers.”
“I know that,” I say. “You gave as good as you got in that fight.”
“Good,” she says, popping her red lips and dropping her lipstick back in her bag. “Then picture that, but with a knife in my hand.”
I sigh in frustration. “I’m still confused. Are you saying Royal is yours, and I need to back off? Or that I’m supposed to make a move? You can’t have it both ways.”
“I’m saying there are things you don’t know about him, things you might not be able to handle, no matter how tough you are. I’m not telling you this to protect you from him, Harper. I’m telling you I’m not sure of your intentions, and I want to know.”
“So you’re protecting him from me?”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” she says. “I think you’re cool as shit, but Royal is my boy. I fucking ride for him. So if there’s anything in his past, present, or future, anything he could do or you could find out that might make you walk away, and you care for him at all, then be a good person and just walk away right now. But if you can handle anything he’ll throw at you, he needs to know that, Harper. And he needs to know it soon.”
“I won’t beg for his attention,” I warn her. “I’m not going to be some desperate little twit like your sisters. No offense.”
“I’m not asking you to,” she says. “But seeing the look on his face when he talks about you… Damn.”
Royal is talking about me? For once, my heart and head get on the same page with that. It can only be a good thing.
And there it is—hope, the world’s cruelest master.
“Are you telling me to text him?” I ask, swallowing hard at the thought of putting myself out there, again, after he’s ignored me all week. It feels so fucking desperate. But desperate times call for desperate measures and all that shit. I need to solidify my position in their crowd. No one said it would be easy, or that I could do it without sacrifice. If making myself vulnerable is the only way to make it happen, then I’ll do it. After all, I’m trying to get him to do the same. It’s fair, even if I don’t like it.
“All I’m saying is, I’ve never seen Royal Dolce lose his head over a girl,” Gloria says. “I didn’t think it was possible. So right now, I’m thinking two things. First, that if you’re cool enough and strong enough, like I think you are, you’ll let him know if you feel the same. And if you don’t, well, I’m thinking that right now, you’re the one who’s dangerous, not him. And my instincts are usually right.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, and I have to lean a hand on the edge of the sink. Not that I believe for a second that he’s not dangerous or that he won’t destroy me. I’m holding back, scared to let him in fully, to give him my heart and make it easy for him. But he’s holding back, too. And when I find out those secrets that might make me walk away, I’m going to destroy him every bit as much as he’s planning the same for me. We’re both dancing too close to the edge, both pushing the other as far as we can push. One of us is going to have to break or give in and fall.
And fuck if I’m breaking first.
But I can send him a text. I can do that much. If he doesn’t answer, then that’s that. I’ll have to find another way to get his secrets.
Gloria’s words echo in my head, though. He’s a real boy. A boy with feelings. One who can be hurt. She’s a good person, a good friend.
I’m not a good person. But a good person’s not going to be able to take down the Dolces. Only a monster can fight that kind of monster and hope to win.
The bell chimes, signaling that we’re late for class. I need to give her something. She deserves an answer.
“I’m not walking away,” I say. “Whatever happens, it’s worth it to me. Every single moment. Even if his secrets destroy us both.”
She nods, swallowing hard. “I thought you’d say that. But I hope you’ll think about it. Make sure you really like him before you tell him anything. I don’t think you can change your mind once you do.”
“Wait, didn’t you drag me in here to convince me to text him?”
“I dragged you in here to tell you to be straight with him,” she says, her voice softening. “Don’t fuck with his head. If you cut your losses now, he’ll be pissed, but he might be okay. If you hurt him… Harper, he’s already so broken, I don’t think he’ll survive even the tiniest fracture. One more hurt, and he’ll shatter into a million pieces, and we’ll never be able to piece him back together.”
“I think he’s stronger than you give him credit for,” I say. “If this kills one of us, it’ll be me.”
“I’m not worried about you,” she says, snapping her purse and looping it over her shoulder. “It takes more than a boy to break girls like us.”
*
Who She Is
The outsider
Who forced her way inside
She came, she saw, she connived
Slithered into my bed
Looking for dirt
That’s how she works—
A Darling girl.
This town was hers
She could have owned it
But she doesn’t know it
She doesn’t want what’s ours
Only to destroy
That’s how she thinks—
A Darling girl.
She doesn’t belong here
No one wants her
But she won’t leave
Until the damage is done
A treacherous heir
With venom in her blood—
A Darling girl.
