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Connor: Babe, that’s a wedding dress. You angling for wifey status?
Thea: [flustered emoji] Stop teasing me!
My heart does a little flip. She always gets me smiling.
Connor: Have fun. I’m going to hang with Devlin. Call you later?
Thea: Ok [heart emoji]
Climbing into the car, I pull out and head for Devlin’s place to figure out a plan.
Twenty-Six
Thea
The last month has been such a whirlwind. Before I know it, it’s the week of the dance. Between my planning committee duties, studying, baking about a million pies for the Thanksgiving dinner at the local shelter, and trying to have a life, time has slipped by me.
Everything is in chaos at school with the semester ending, midterms looming next week, and the excitement for the winter formal at the end of the week to give the students a break before our winter vacation.
Connor and I have barely had time to sneak away to our secret haven in the pool house over the last few weeks. He was wrapped up in his own thing with the end of the soccer season, and being there for Devlin when his relationship with Blair ended abruptly after Thanksgiving.
They’re back together now, or at least that’s the impression I got when I walked in on them making out in the English classroom before anyone else arrived. Those two burn hot and fast, like exploding stars. I quickly stammered an apology, but I’d already seen Devlin’s hand fisted in Blair’s hair, holding her head back, and the huge hickey on her neck. They didn’t even stop, just gave me matching smirks as I backed out of the room and bumped right into Connor’s chest.
The gymnasium is in a state of havoc as the committee members direct our helpers with the decorations. Connor promised he’d bring the soccer team to lend a hand, and I’m waiting on them to drape the silver and white fabric Maisy and I picked out to transform the room into a winter wonderland.
We’re both working on lifting a table onto the stage for the DJ, but we’re struggling with just the two of us.
“It’s too heavy,” I say.
“Oh!” Maisy pops up from her squat and heads for the door. “Hang on, I see my brother in the hall. Holden!”
Maisy’s brother stops and leans against the doorframe. Behind him, Fox Wilder looms like a deadly shadow, scowling at Maisy.
“‘Sup?” Holden asks.
Maisy tugs on his arm, a force of nature of her own making when she wants something. “Come here a sec. We’re trying to lift this, but it’s too heavy. I need to borrow your football muscles.” She peers over Holden’s shoulder and latches on to Fox’s wrist. “You too, Fox.”
She wrangles both of them, but Fox doesn’t seem happy about it. His sharp, eerie gaze tracks her as she leads them over.
“How long is this going to take?” Holden asks, dragging his feet. “I’m hungry. We were going to get food.”
“Just a minute. You’re wasting your own time by complaining about it.”
Holden groans, dropping his head back. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“Deal with it, my god.” Maisy flips her hair over her shoulder and sticks her tongue out at her brother. “Two minutes, or I’ll tell Mom where you’ve been going on weekends.”
“Fine,” Holden grumbles.
“Okay, help us get this over there,” she directs, kneeling to grab the end she tried to lift with just the two of us.
I get into position as Holden comes to help me support my side. Fox doesn’t move. Maisy looks up over her shoulder. Her brows hike up. He towers over her, intimidating as hell with that cold expression, his dead eyes shooting daggers at my sweet best friend.
Maisy is the kind of girl everyone likes, so how can he look at her with so much hatred?
Fox is scary. Bad boy is written all over him, from the motorcycle he rides around town on to his complete disregard for any rules. He looks dangerous in his leather jacket and messy dark brown hair. It’s hard to believe this guy is someone Maisy could’ve been friends with; he’s her total opposite.
“Aren’t you going to help us?” Maisy sighs. “It won’t take long. Then you can go back to pretending I don’t exist.”
