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“Axel.” I barely acknowledge him, checking my phone again.
11:55 p.m.
“Damn, Vee, I almost didn’t recognize you with that hair.” Axel smirks. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks,” I drone before attempting to walk around him, but he intercepts me, sidling into my way.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asks.
“I’m good.” I glance over his shoulders at the staircase barely a few feet away.
So close.
“Look, while I have you, there’s this friend of mine I’d like you to meet. Said you’re just his type.”
“Thanks, but I’m not interested.”
“You haven’t even met him.” He laughs.
One more peek at my phone.
11:57 p.m.
Jesus, this guy is harder to get rid of than a piece of gum under my shoe.
“I don’t need to, I’m… seeing someone,” I lie.
His eyes light up, and I mentally smack myself. Why did I have to say that? It’s only going to lead to more questions.
“You are? Bummer. My buddy was really looking forward to it.”
11:58 p.m.
I don’t have time for this.
“So, who’s the lucky fella—”
I interrupt him. “Sorry, I got to run.”
“But you didn’t even answer my question,” he presses.
“Oh my God.” I gasp. “Is that girl taking her shirt off?”
In typical Axel Fletcher style, he turns around immediately.
By the time he looks again, I’m gone.
A flock of giggling cheerleaders storm by me as I’m scurrying up the stairs, their captain leading the way. Bitch—I mean Brie—interrupts her chugging of the red cup in her hand to fire little old me the nastiest look she can muster. I take it she still hates me?
Feeling’s mutual, honey.
My chest lifting up and down, I stop at the third floor’s last step and grip the railing to keep myself from bailing. The onlyreason I’m not booking it back down the stairs and aborting the mission right now is my hand.
Tightly wrapped around this iron railing.
One more step, Vee.
Just one.
