George looks sick.
“Oh.” The guy flicks his gaze to Gabriel, and I see him do a quick math equation in his head regarding his chances of getting out of this with his dignity intact.
“Ignore Gabriel. He doesn’t know when to shut his face.” I thrust myself between them and hold my hand out to the guy. “Hi. Mackenzie Malloy, class bitch. I hear you want to take my friend George to homecoming.”
To his credit, the guy takes my hand and gives it a firm shake. “I’m Isaac Hirst. And yes, I would. But if she’s already going with Fallen, I won’t intrude—”
“She’s not. I apologize for the confusion.” I shove a frozen George forward. “The two of you can go buy your tickets together.”
George looks like she’s going to bolt, but Isaac threads his arm through hers. I see the exact moment his touch registers, because her whole body wobbles and she looks like she’s going to faint. I know that feeling – the electrical charge that lights you from the inside. It’s how I’m lit up like a Christmas tree 24/7 around Noah and Gabriel. And Eli, although I shove the memory of his touch back down again.
Shelikesthis guy.
George and Isaac step up to the table. Cleo gives them this indulgent look as she slots their tickets into a gold-rimmed envelope, like they’re two children playing dress-up. “I’m sure you’ll have the mostinterestingdress,” she purrs at George.
My fingers itch to slap a bitch, but I’ve got enough to deal with without deepening my feud with Cleo St. James.
We’re next. I turn to Gabe and Noah in a panic. As I do, I notice Eli standing near the end of the line, bright ocean eyes boring into me. His body jerks as he sees me looking back, and he turns his head away.
Gabriel grabs me around the waist. “I call bagsy on Mac.”
“Bagsy?” Noah makes a face. “You can’t just make up words to win an argument. Mackenzie is my date.”
“You’re the Dark Horse. You need an equine date,” Gabriel shoots back. “What about Daphne Ballantyne? She’ll happily kick you with her spurs—”
I growl low in my throat. Ain’t no one spurring Noah except me. I feel Eli’s presence behind me – the itch between my shoulders that says he’s listening to every word. “Is there any rule that says you can only have one date?”
“Who cares if there is – you’re Mackenzie Malloy.” Gabriel looks delighted. “You don’t play by the rules.”
“Damn right.” I throw my arm around both of them just as Cleo gestures angrily at us to hurry up. “What do you say, Marlowe?”
“You’re on.” Noah waves his black card in Cleo’s face.
As Gabriel starts hounding Noah about coordinating their outfits, Eli strides past, his head down. He heard everything. I want him to seethe with jealousy. I want him to stay as far from me as possible. I want his arms around me, but I can’t have it. I’m a mess over him, and judging by how rumpled his usually neat uniform is, he’s not much better. I watch as he shoves his way through the crowd, nearly knocking down Daphne in his desperation to get away from me.
My good mood deflates like a balloon. I have not one, but two of the hottest guys in school taking me to the dance, so why can’t I get the boy with the sunshine smile out of my head?
* * *
“I heardshe’s taking GabrielandNoah to the homecoming dance.”
“That’s not allowed. Is that allowed?”
“Cleo says it’s not, but that new English teacher took over as faculty advisor for the dance committee and he overruled her. Have you seen him? He’s completelyripped. He’d be so fucking hot if it wasn’t for his scarred-up face—”
I’ll show you a scarred-up face.
I keep my homicidal thoughts to myself. Tiberius can handle his own reputation. Voices swirl around me as I dump my backpack on the bleachers and pick up my pom-poms. I’m used to being the focus of gossip at this school. The minute I step outside Malloy Manor, the whispers claw at my back. At least now I’m in control of the narrative. A few girls even look at me with awe in their eyes.
Damn right, bitches. One guy isn’t enough for Mackenzie Malloy.
Antony blows the whistle, and we line up for warm-up drills. I can tell by the smirk on his face as he watches Daphne’s ass in her short skirt that he’s not sad about being stuck with Mrs. Anderson’s after school activities.
As squad captain, Cleo leads us through the halftime routine we’ll perform at Friday’s game. Football isn’t a big deal at Stonehurst – although that might just be because our team is shit. Most of the popular jocks play lacrosse or tennis or are on the track team, and no college recruiters turn up to the games to scout hot talent. But the cheerleading squad is another story. Cleo led the team to take the national championships last year, and before that, they’ve been state champions ten years running. In the sport of bouncing around like bulimic bunnies, Stonehurst is number one.
I’m glad I spent all that time over the years working out in the ballroom and dancing to Gabriel’s music, or I’d struggle to keep up. Today, Cleo is extra brutal, making us repeat every move until it meets her standards. My muscles scream in protest as I lift Daphne onto my shoulders. She kicks me in the ear as she flips. From the smile on her face as I set her down, I’m sure it’s deliberate.
“Again,” Cleo barks, twisting her head to the side to bat her eyelashes at Antony as she bounces into a series of back handsprings, flashing her black lace underwear. It’s gross.
