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“You’re kidding,” the blinky one asks but all the others seem relieved. “You’re not going to kick her naked ass?”
“Nope.” Asher grins like she wasn’t just seething moments ago. “We’re all friends here now. A much better ending.”
“I can’t decide if she’s saying this because she’s terrified of you, or if she actually just had an epiphany that changed her views in a second,” Alice mumbles through the corner of her mouth.
“I can hear you,” Asher states.
Alice shakes her head. “No you can’t.”
I laugh and dig my clothes out of my bag. “I’m getting dressed.”
Asher nods and turns on her heel. Her friends follow, but when we exit the locker room, she’s alone on our way out.
“So, mall? I still haven’t found my dress for the Christmas dance.” She pulls out her phone and shows me the kind of thing she’s looking for, except it’s a collage of six different dress styles.
“And then there were three,” Alice declares and links her arms through mine and Asher’s. “Isn’t this exciting?” She stops us all and looks at our new black-haired friend. “Just so you know, I’m her number one best friend, okay? Don’t be trying to take that spot.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper and she continues dragging us along, through the crowded hall of students who have no fucking idea what is going on.
“SCANDAL!” Lane’s voice carries loudly up the stairs where I’m sitting on the soft fur rug in my room, leaning on Curlyfry while reading a magazine that Asher insisted I read.
“YEAH?” I call back.
“Your friend is here!”
Friend? I’m not expecting anyone.
I stand, stretch, place the magazine on my bed, and exit my room wearing nothing but fleece, waist-high hot pants and a matching hooded sweater. They’re pajamas that Asher insisted I needed at the mall and they are so comfy. She bought them for me as an apology for everything. They say candy apple on the ass. I’m not sure Stanley and Lane will approve.
Alice still thinks I terrified her. I’m not so sure. I think she just needed somebody to call her out on her shit.
“Who is it?” I ask, quietly racing down the stairs while twisting my hair into a messy knot atop my head.
My jaw hits the floor when I see Carter standing in the hall, thumbs tucked into his jeans pockets, hair mussed and pushed to the side.
I fiddle with my lip ring with my tongue, unable to form words.
“Thank you, Mrs. Oaks,” he says to Lane and then smiles at me but I can see it’s forced. His eyes trail down my body and my bare legs, to my fluffy sock-clad feet. “Can I have a word, Scandal?”
Lane looks between us both, trying to stifle her smile, and heads into the kitchen. I pull Carter into the den with my hand gripping his arm.
“Nice PJs,” he comments, smirking now, eyes glued to my ass.
“Shut up.” I drop his arm and turn to face him with my hands on my hips. “What do you want?”
“Those shorts you’re wearing in my mouth.”
My belly flutters but I don’t show it. “Seriously? Do you want Stanley to get his shotgun out?”
His smirk becomes a smile. “I’m just kidding, Scandal. Don’t be such a priss.” He moves to the mantlepiece and looks at the photos of Lane and Stanley and their family. “I actually came to see if we can practice that dance out of school.”
“Why?”
“Because I actually want to win this thing and I don’t think Presley is going to be doing it with us.”
“He’s dropping out?”
“He doesn’t have a choice. His mom is sick and his dad just lost his job. He’s got no way to pay for this school’s tuition fees, let alone college on top of his mother’s medical bills. Somebody has to look after his kid sister and his dad is a—” He stops talking and let’s his head hang between his arms as he grips the mantel. “It’s not my place to say. I just want to know if you’d still consider dancing with me without Presley.”
“Will you be nicer?”
“Got no reason to be rude anymore,” he mutters, turning to face me again. His face is so perfect. “Will you or not?”
I nod. “Fine. I guess there are worse dance partners in the world.”
“That’s the exact same thing I said to myself before biking over here.” He nods for me to follow. “You coming?”
“Right now?”
“It’s only eight. Let’s go.”
“I need to get dressed.”
“Just slip on your shoes, you look fine.” He marches from the room in large strides and waits by the front door.
“I’ll be back soon,” I call to Lane, and then Stanley appears in the doorway to the kitchen, thundering eyes on Carter who immediately goes to shake his hand. Stanley stares at it, and then at him, an intimidating beast of a man.
