Tarnished Crown

by Erin Watt

  I take a deep, cleansing breath and try to act like I’m done crying over Gideon Royal.

  “You have some nerve.”

  “Fortune favors the bold,” he quips.

  I curl my fingers into my palms. “Are my feelings some kind of game to you? Have you become such a degenerate piece of shit that you get off on making me miserable?”

  He lifts his hand as if to brush my hair off my face, but I step back out of reach. His hand lingers in the air before he drops it to his side. “No. I never got off on that. Every time you were sad, I was sad. Every time you cried, I cried. It got to the point that I couldn’t handle that pain anymore, so I shut down. Just like you did.”

  “Don’t make yourself into the victim here, Gideon. This has never been about me. Your feelings always came first. The thing with you Royals is that you believe your pain and loss and trauma is so much more important than the rest of the world’s. Like no one understands how it feels to be you.” I close my eyes in disgust. “If you stopped thinking for one minute that the world revolves around you, maybe you wouldn’t act the way you do.”

  “I think about you every minute of the day. Every minute of the goddamned day. What will it take for you to forgive me?”

  “Nothing.” Everything. “I don’t want you anymore. Yes, I’m still mad. Yes, I still hurt. But none of that makes me want to be with you again. I’m not the same foolish girl who fell in love with you three years ago. Don’t wait for her, because she’s not coming back.”

  He shakes his head. “No. She never left. She’s still there. I left you before. I know that. I caused us both a lot of misery, but I’m done now. I’m done running. I’m done leaving.”

  “But you’re not done hurting me,” I say resentfully.

  “Then why did you come here?”

  “This was always my plan, Gid. You know this. We talked about how this school was the best one in the state to study theatre and filmmaking. I’m not going to let a little thing like an ex keep me from my dreams.”

  He nods. “Okay, then. I’ll see you around.”

  He shoves his hands in his pocket and turns to leave.

  “That’s it?” I ask incredulously. “You had my future house kick me out just so that you could leave me on the sidewalk?”

  “I’m staging a strategic retreat. Besides, I thought you hated me?” He gives me a cheerful wave. “I’ll see you, Savage.”

  My nickname on his tongue fills my stupid heart with longing. My palm stings, not because it hurts, but because I want to hit him again and again and again.

  “I’d like to be able to say that I would’ve refused him, but I don’t think I’d be able to. I mean, look at me tonight. I left with him. I let him get to me.” I flop backward on the bed.

  “Eh. We all have boys that make fools of us,” Kira says.

  Jisoo nods in agreement. “During spring semester of my freshman year, I crushed hard on this guy in my Lit class. He had long hair and the greenest eyes. I found out he was in a band. I made Kira drive downtown where his practice studio was, but I didn’t go inside. Instead, I sat in the car and took creepy, stalkerish photos from my phone.”

  “I joined the intramural flag football team with the Sigmas because I liked this one guy so much, and I hate sports,” Kira chimes in.

  “That makes me feel marginally better,” I admit grudgingly.

  “Were those girls in high school really mean to you?” Kira asks, coming to sit beside me on the bed.

  “Some. A couple were very jealous. They’d put garbage in my locker. Then other people who wanted to suck up to Gideon would clean it out. It was hard to have any real friends, because I didn’t know who hated me and who liked me. But it didn’t matter, because I had him. And for a while there, we were really happy.”

  Jisoo stops rubbing her face. “So when did it all fall apart?”

  “When his mom died.”

  Three years ago

  I look over at Gideon’s pensive face. He spent the last ten minutes staring out the window. I said his name a couple times but then gave up. He’s been this way for the last couple of weeks. Shea has told me not to press him. Guys don’t like talking about their feelings.

  I set my spoon beside the bowl of half-eaten ice cream and pick up my phone.

  Where are you? I text to Shea.

  Where do you think? The witch’s house. We’re having a party. It’s so much fun.

  She punctuates the text with the eyeroll emoji in case I didn’t pick up on the sarcasm bleeding through every word.

  Gid’s in lala land again.

  Don’t even go there. If he wants to share w u, he will. No pressure or he’ll run out on you. B cool Sav.

  I am being cool!!!

  Don’t !!! me. U don’t like my advice, don’t listen to it. Reed’s here. God, I hate these Royals. Every1 is sucking up to him. I hate that ur dating one. It’s bad enough I have to hang out with the witch.

  I smirk. Shea’s probably the only girl at Astor who doesn’t love at least one of the Royal brothers.

  “What’s so funny?”

  I look up to see Gideon watching me. I flash my screen toward him so he can see that I’m texting Shea.

  “My sister’s at Jordan’s house. She says your brother is there. Want to go?”

  “Do you?” He taps the side of my bowl. “Or do you want the rest of your ice cream?”

  The last thing I want to do is go to Jordan’s place. I smile, though, because Shea says that I follow Gideon’s lead. It makes sense. He’s a senior. I’m a lowly sophomore. Two months of dating him and I’m still dizzy with disbelief. My side is black and blue from being pinched so much. “I’m up for whatever you want.”

  There’s a slight freezing of his expression, like I’ve disappointed him somehow, but then he smiles his beautiful smile and I think I must’ve imagined it. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stack of bills. “Let’s go to Carrington’s, then.”

  He holds out his arm and gestures for me to precede him out the door. I grab my purse and take a step forward. A bout of bravery seizes me, and I stop.

  “What is it?” he asks. “Are you still hungry? I thought you were done.”

  “I think the question is, are you done?” I’m not so courageous that I can look him in the eye, but I get it out.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see him glance over at his uneaten dessert. “Yeah. I had a big dinner.”

  I deflate immediately at his misinterpretation and begin walking toward the exit again. Was it deliberate? Is he trying to avoid answering or did he really think I was talking about our melting bowls of ice cream?

  There’s a gap between us. No matter how physically close we are, there’s still space and I don’t know how to eliminate it.

  Or maybe the truth is that I’m afraid to reach across for fear of being rejected. I run a hand over my hair and flip the ends over my shoulder. Isn’t that why I spend hours every morning getting ready? If Gideon saw the real me—frizzy hair and no makeup and emotionally needy, he’d run away fast and hard.

  “You look pretty tonight,” he comments as we reach the door.

  “Thank you.”

  He laughs. “So formal. Are we at the country club?” He swings an arm around my shoulder.

  “What do you want me to say? I know?”

  “Why not?” He bends down and nuzzles his nose against my hair. The fall air is chilly, but it’s not the weather that sends shivers down my spine. “It’d be the truth.”

  My eyelids flutter shut. Swallowing my insecurity is worth it to have these moments.

  “Hey, Gideon!” A high-pitched voice cuts through the air. The voice belongs to a very pretty blonde who looks vaguely familiar. I think she’s a senior.

  Her wrist is weighted down by three gold bracelets that clink richly as she waves at us. No, at Gideon.

  “Hey, Rhiannon,” Gideon says.

  “There’s a party over a
t Jordan’s. You should come.”

  Her top is one of those off-the-shoulder numbers, hanging dangerously low over her boobs. I eye her chest with envy.

  “We’re headed that way,” he says and gently urges me forward.

  I hadn’t realized I’d stopped walking.

  Rhiannon flicks her eyes over me and then turns her attention back to Gideon. “When you’re done with the kindergartener, come and find me.”

  I may not be able to be open with Gideon, but in the short time we’ve been dating, I’ve learned that I have to assert myself with other girls or they’ll pretend like I don’t exist. And I’ve learned that fighting back amuses Gideon.

  So I smile at her and chirp, “If he wanted you, he wouldn’t be standing next to me.”

  Rhiannon scowls. “Please, girl. The only reason he’s with you is because you’ll do whatever he wants. Some of us have standards.”

  “Really?” I drawl. “Because you’re the one begging for scraps of his attention. I feel sorry for you. Try hounding a guy who’s not taken. It might go better for you next time.”

  I grip Gideon’s hand and pull him forward to his Range Rover.

  “Savage, Savannah,” he whispers as he opens the car door.

  My cheeks are hot but I feel giddy. Gideon’s phone rings as I settle into my seat.

  “It’s my mom,” he says and holds up a finger indicating I should wait. Then he answers. “Yeah? No one else is home?” He listens. “I can come. I’ve got Savannah with me. We’ll be right there.”

  I eagerly nod my agreement. I’ve never been to Gideon’s place and I’m kinda dying to go there.

  “Oh? No, I guess not.” He makes a face. “Okay, I’ll drop her off and be right home.”

  Disappointment replaces anticipation, but I cover it up with a concerned smile. “Is everything okay?” I ask after he hangs up.

  “Yeah.”

  It’s not a convincing sound. On the ride home, he falls into that silent, brooding mode. The gap between us widens.

  I twist my hands in my lap. “Your mom doesn’t like me, does she?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  It’s not a denial. “Is it me? Has she heard something about me?”

  Gideon waves a hand. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I think if she—”

  “Savannah,” he cuts in. “It’s no big deal.”

  I bite my lip and fix my gaze out the window.

  “Sorry.” Gideon sighs. “It’s really nothing. It doesn’t matter if she likes you. She’s just having issues these days.” But there’s a stiffness in his frame that feels an awful lot like rejection.

  “Sure.”

  He reaches over to grab my hand. “I’m sorry, Savannah. Think of it this way. You won’t have to hang out with Jordan tonight.”

  “Right.”

  We travel another mile and then he turns, only it’s the wrong way. I tap his hand. “Um, you missed my turn.”

  “I know.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “My place. I’ll see Mom and then we can watch a movie in my room. How’s that sound?”

  “Perfect.” I get a fluttery feeling. I want to clasp my hands against my chest, but I resist. I sit up straight and smooth my hair down. I wish I had a portable flat iron. My straight hair gives me confidence.

  “You look fine,” Gideon assures me.

  Fine? I want to look amazing. Unless Maria Royal doesn’t like amazing. Then I want to look fine. “Thanks.”

  He releases my hand to press a button, and the gate ahead slowly opens. The car moves down the dimly lit lane. There’s a row of Maidenhair trees on either side. The Royals have money. I mean, we’re well off, but it’s nothing like the Royals. We fly business class. Royals don’t even fly commercial—they have their own plane. Their cars all have the logo of their dad’s company stitched into the custom leather seats. Gideon wears a watch that cost as much as his car.

  Half the time, I think it’s their money as much as their looks that attracts girls like bees to honey.

  Their mansion is enormous. It could house three families. Then again, he does have four brothers. Maybe they need the space.

  He stops the Rover at the base of the front steps. As we approach the house, Gid’s feet slow. He hesitates, like he’s wondering if he made a mistake, but then he opens the door.

  The entry is polished marble, and there’s a grand staircase just beyond a circular table filled with fresh flowers.

  “Mom?” he calls.

  A rush of steps on our left draws our attention. Gideon’s brother Reed appears. He stops abruptly at the sight of us.

  “Why’s she here?” he demands.

  I shrink back behind Gideon.

  “Why are you here?” Gideon returns. “Thought you were at Jordan’s.”

  “Mom called, so I came home.” Reed scowls at me. “Why’s she here?” he repeats.

  Gideon scowls back. “I brought her.”

  “She can’t be here.”

  Reed throws something at me. I catch it reflexively. It’s a set of keys

  “Go home, Savannah,” he snaps. “You can take my Rover. Get out.”

  My jaw falls open. “But—”

  Gideon plucks the keys out of my hand. For a second I think it’s because he’s as dumbfounded by Reed’s behavior as I am, but I’m wrong. He exchanges Reed’s keys for his. “Take mine. I’ll pick it up at school tomorrow.”

  I gape at him. “Gideon…”

  Gideon exchanges a quick look with Reed. Then he nudges me backwards.

  Before I know it, I’m standing outside, staring at the front door. Gideon didn’t defend me. He didn’t say I should stay. He didn’t tell his brother that he was out of line for telling me to get out. Instead, he gave me his car keys and pushed me out the door.

  I stare in astonishment for a good minute before finally getting into Gideon’s Rover and driving away.

  Chapter 6

  Gideon

  3 Years Ago

  “I’m sorry,” Reed says as soon as I close the door on Savannah.

  “What’s the emergency?” I ask tersely. After tonight, I’ll be lucky if Sav talks to me again, let alone allows me to lay one finger on her perfect body.

  “Mom. What else? I had the twins out of her reach, but Easton came home.”

  “Oh, friggin’ A.” But it’s nothing more than I expected when I answered my brother’s call. “Where are they?”

  “In Mom’s suite. She cornered the twins in the media room, but Easton was able to lure her upstairs. I can take her on, if you want to get the twins,” he offers.

  “I got this.” I shove him in the direction of our wing, which is where I assume the twins are. My little brothers don’t need this shit. Hell, none of us need it, but Reed and I are the oldest. We’re here to protect the others, since our old man has forgotten us. Speaking of the absentee parent, I ask, “Did you call Dad?”

  “Of course. Uncle Steve answered and said Dad was in a ‘meeting.’” Reed makes quotation marks with his fingers.

  “Got it.” In other words, Dad was boning some hooker and couldn’t come to the phone.

  I take the stairs two at a time. Maybe I can square this all away in the next thirty minutes and then haul ass over to Sav’s. We can watch a movie at her place. Or I can take her somewhere. I know instinctively that the less time that passes, the better chance I have at her forgiving me.

  A bad feeling creeps over me as I reach the top of the stairs. Mom’s crying can be heard from the hall. I stop outside the double doors and take a stiff breath before entering.

  I find Mom with her back to me, sitting on the sofa in front of the French doors. The windows are open and the room is freezing. A quick scan of the room reveals two empty wine bottles on her dresser. I cross the room and discover Easton sitting on the floor at her feet. There’s another bottle between his legs, but it’s not the li
quor that concerns me. It’s his uncharacteristic stillness. I’m guessing he’s stoned.

  “Gideon, darling,” Mom cries. She raises a half-full wine glass in my direction. “You’re here.”

  “I’m here,” I say, taking the glass before she spills its contents on my brother’s bent head.

  “Don’t close the doors,” she says as I bat the gauzy curtains out of the way to reach for the handles. “It’s stuffy in here.”

  “You’re going to catch a cold,” I counter and close the doors anyway.

  She pouts. “Easton and I were enjoying the ocean sounds. So calming, don’t you think?”

  I don’t know who she’s asking, but Easton’s too gone to answer. I tip his chin up and take a good look at his face. His pupils are the size of quarters.

  “I’ll put on some music for you.” I pick up the room controller and get some soothing music going.

  “I want to hear the ocean,” she whines. “The real one. Not fake sounds. I don’t want anything fake in here.”

  Ignoring her, I return to the sofa and crouch down by Easton. “You okay?”

  He rolls his head toward me and gives me a brief and sloppy smile. “Yo, bro.”

  My heart squeezes tight. This is so wrong. “Give me a sec and I’ll get you out of here.”

  His glassy eyes don’t register much of anything.

  “Mom, Easton needs to go,” I tell her.

  “But I don’t want to be alone.” Her thin fingers clasp my wrist. I could easily break free, but her frailty holds me tighter than any rope.

  These past few months, she’s been spiraling harder. Drinking more, taking more pills. Meanwhile, Dad is off doing who knows what, leaving us to take care of Mom.

  Carefully, I pry her hand loose. “I know. I’m going to stay here.” Which means no seeing Sav tonight.