Page 75 of P.S. I Hate You


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“Lighten up, El. We just got here. We’ll worry about all that later.” He pushes his chair back and stands. Pulling me up with him, he drags me to the dance floor.

Chapter twenty-one

Troy grossly underestimated the size of the after-party. The entire estate is crawling with people. Not only those who attended the prom but also kids I recognize from my own high school.

I stand alone at the edge of the property, nursing a beer while people strip off their suits and gowns and jump in the pool. I should have told him to take me home first, but I knew that wouldn’t have been an option.

“Hey.”

My blood runs cold. Darla stands mere footsteps away. I take a heavy gulp of liquid courage and press the cup against my racing heart.

She lifts her palms in surrender as she ambles toward me. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna fuck with you, okay? I gave Jace my word.”

I pull my brows together. “Jace?”

“Yeah. When he showed up at my house demanding I return that ring.”

Chills scamper up my spine. I rub my thumb across the diamonds, thinking back to that day. I lifted the bouquet and the ring fell out. At least, that’s what I thought. Was I wrong? If it was Jace who got it, then all this time he let me believe Troy was responsible. Why would he do that? Why didn’t he just give it to me himself?

“Yeah, so. I’m like, sorry, and shit,” she says.

I stand there stunned, regardless of her begrudging tone. It feels as though I’ve been punched in the gut. This simple act of gallantry was the reason I gave Troy a second chance to begin with. I thought deep down he was a good man who had my best interests at heart. Turns out, I gave him far too much credit. It was Jace all along.

“You gonna puke or somethin’?”

I lift my gaze to hers. “No. I’m fine. Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t get all weepy and shit. We ain’t gonna be friends.” She pauses to take a drink, then adds, “But I do like that dress.”

The corner of my mouth curls up. “Thanks. I like your shorts.”

She shoves her hand into one of the deep set leather pockets. “I got them today. Boots n’ Bangles has this new rack of designer shit.”

It takes all the willpower I have not to squeal. She doesn’t need to know I’m the secret mastermind behind thedesigner shit. I know, and that’s enough for me. I bite down on my bottom lip to hold in my grin. “I’ll have to check it out.”

She leans in closer and whispers under her breath. “Don’t look now, but your boyfriend’s wasted.”

I follow her gaze as Troy staggers toward me. His shirttails hang untucked, his jacket and vest nowhere in sight. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” The stink of booze wafts off hisbreath. I turn my head, but he falls against me, wiping his wet lips against my cheek.

Darla giggles. “Have fun,” she says, sauntering away.

“You’re hammered.” His attempt to wave me off results in a vicious wobble. I grab him by the shirt to hold him steady. “Maybe you should lie down.”

I link my arm around his waist, but the weight of him bearing down is too much for my five-foot frame to traverse the football field of a yard. The pool house is just a few tottering steps away.

“You’re so hot,” he mumbles as we topple onto the couch.

“Sleep it off, Troy.”

But he pulls me back as I try to get up. “Don’t go yet.”

“It’s late, and I have a headache.”

“I got a cure for that.”

He lurches forward, knocking me to my back. I jerk up, but he pushes me down and awkwardly starts kissing my jaw.

“Troy. Stop,” I say with conviction.

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