Page 166 of Lessons in Cruelty

I stare at her in her pink suit-skirt. Her long, sculpted legs. Her immaculate hair and stunning almond eyes.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

She laughs. “Thank God.” But there’s just a touch of unease around her eyes as she gathers up her toiletries. “Need a hand with your things?” Her eyes dart to my bed, then back to me.

“Nah. One more trip, max.”

“’Kay. See you in a bit.” She pauses at the door and turns back to me. “Ooh, I forgot to ask. What are you wearing?”

I look down at myself. “Uh…clothes?”

She grabs onto the doorframe and gives me a hard stare. “To the Rain Dance.”

I guess my face isn’t screaming gotcha, because she rolls her eyes. “The fundraiser we were literally just discussing?”

“I’m supposed to go to that?” I clear my throat.

She gives me a weird look. “Be kind of rude if you didn’t.”

“Because…?”

“It’s expected of you?” She frowns. “You feeling okay? You look…not okay.”

“I’m okay, just processing.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know, right? Sooo many choices.”

When I just keep staring at her, she elaborates with a smirk, lifting her fingers as she counts off a list.

“Cocktail dress or ballgown? Stilettos or ballet flats? Hair up or down?”

“Right…because it’s a fancy fundraiser,” I mutter, finally connecting the dots.

Of course I’m expected—reasons unknown—to attend a black-tie fundraiser, because I’m in hell.

I mean, seriously, I didn’t even go to prom.

Melissa leans out into the hall as if she’s checking to make sure it’s clear.

“So…Who’d you pick?” she stage-whispers.

For a moment, I think she’s still talking about dresses. She might have choices, but I have none. As in, not even one.

Melissa lifts her eyebrows in a meaningful gesture. “Which guy?” she whispers.

“Kai or Ezra?” I say through a tight grimace.

She rolls her eyes again, checks the hallway again. “Kai or Rooke.”

“Oh my God, Melissa!” I rush over to give her a playful shove.

She giggles as she stumbles into the hallway, catching her balance and heading for the bathroom down the hall. But she turns around after a few steps, walking backward.

“Both, right?” She points at me with a slipper. “You’d pick both, you dirty slut.”

I give her the finger when I pass, and her laugh follows me down the stairs as I head for the Land Rover to collect the last of my things.

Both.