“Ohh, is that what that thumping sound is?” she asks, releasing my thumb and missing the insinuation entirely while she bobs her head to the beat.
Her jokes are fucking horrendous.
So is her dancing.
Her singing? Next-level terrible.
And I still wouldn’t change a single thing about her.
She stops suddenly and pokes her finger in the juncture of my jaw and neck. “Where’d you get that scar?”
My heart warps. I’ve had it for over seven years, and this is the first time Blaze has noticed it. I clear my throat and sway stiffly with her. “I shoved a boy you were having a screaming match with. A minute later, you told me you hated me, then threw a book at me.”
She squints like I might pull out a video of the day. “I have no memory of this.”
I chuckle. “Probably because you did shit like that weekly.” There’s no such thing as a dull moment as long as she’s involved. “We’re scars to each other, Blaze. You can like or hate it; we’ve stuck togetherlonger than anyone else.”
Blaze scrunches her nose. “Because you wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“Then your lonely world would have gotten smaller.”
Her finger grazes over the small scar. “Just confirming, is the scar from me or the boy?”
Of course, that’s what she got out of the conversation. “The book.”
Her eyes brighten. “Was itEnglish Grammar for Dummies?”
I blink. “What?”
“Inside joke,” she sighs.
“With who?” Fucking Duke?Elijah?
“You had to be there, I guess.”
Anger zaps through me at her words as McGill comes into view at the corner of my eyes. “Miss Whitlock, may I—”
“Fuck off, old man.” Blaze and I say the first part in unison. The second is all her.
His eyes drop to the red lipstick stains on my collar, then to the evidence of the same crimson still on her lips. I don’t like the callous gleam in his eye, the threat-tipped words he pairs with it. “Excuse me?”
I start to pull her behind me, but the klepto shifts her body instead, standing a foot away from McGill as if she’s shielding me from him. Blaze lowers her voice and says, “I’m doing as my grandfather asked.” The notes come out ominous and dramatic, as if she’s trading state secrets.
McGill watches her curiously for a second before swinging his gaze to me as if trying to see if I have any inkling of what she’s talking about—I do. But he doesn’t need to know that.
“Very well.” He nods. “We will discuss this tomorrow.”
She nods stiffly, but as soon as he turns away, she flips him thebird. We both watch as he slinks away back to the side of the stage, where a group of teachers is doing an even worse job watching over us than the security guards.
“He needs to go,” I mutter.
She leans against me, lifting her ankle off the ground as if it hurts to stand on. “You took the words right out of my mouth, lover boy.”
“Tonight,” I clarify. Blaze is sorely mistaken if she thinks there’s any chance they’re having their discussion tomorrow. For now, I want to watch my little thief move in that black dress and look at me like I’m someone she can trust.
“Should I head out first, then you join me later?” she asks.
“I told you, we’re coming and leaving here together. That’s never going to change.”
