Rissa and I climb into our limo, where two other friends are already waiting with plastic cups filled with something that definitely isn’t soda. The door closes behind us, and we pull away from the curb.
“Oh. My.God,” Rissa squeals after taking a healthy sip of her drink. “Did you see how Rowan was looking at you? I thought he was going to spontaneously combust!”
“Whatever,” I scoff, accepting the cup Lisa hands me. “No, he wasn’t.”
“What are you,blind?” Rissa continues, eyes wide. “Hecouldn’t take his eyes off you! I’m pretty sure there was a moment there where he forgot Michelle even existed.”
“You’re delusional,” I mutter, taking a sip and wincing at the burn of cheap vodka mixed with even cheaper fruit punch.
“I’ve seen it at school, too,” Kara chimes in. “He totally eye-fucks you all the time.”
My cheeks heat up. “Can wepleasetalk about literally anything else?” I beg. “Like how we’re going to crash the after-party at Mike Peterson’s lake house?”
“Fine,” Rissa smirks, tapping my knee. “But just so you know, I call dibs on maid of honor once you and Rowan finally admit you’re into each other.”
When we finally pull up toLakeside High, I can hear the music thumping from inside the gym. Since the theme is Hollywood Night, spotlights sweep across the night sky, and a red carpet leads the way to the entrance.
“Ready to have the night of our lives?” Rissa giggles, linking her arm through mine after we step out of the limo.
“Let’s do this,” I say, grinning with excitement.
The gym has been transformed with twinkling lights and silver stars hanging from the ceiling. A giant disco ball spins lazily above the dance floor, sending fragments of light skittering across the walls and floor.
“Holy shit,” I murmur. “They actually pulled it off.”
We make our way to our table, dropping off our stuff before heading straight to the dance floor. For the next hour, we lose ourselves in the music, dancing like nobody’s watching. It’sperfect—exactly what I need—no drama, no boys, just me and my friends having the time of our lives.
When the DJ transitions fromTik Tokby Kesha to the classicHeavenby Bryan Adams, we decide to take a break.
“I’m thirsty,” I shout over the music. “Anyone else want some punch?”
Lisa and Kara shake their heads as Rissa is pulled onto the dance floor by some guy from our Chemistry class.
My body is humming with energy as I weave through the crowd toward the refreshment table. I’m actually having fun—way more than I expected to. Not even seeing Rowan dancing with Michelle earlier was enough to sway my mood. Maybe prom isn’t so overrated after all.
Just as I finish filling my cup, someone bumps into me from behind, sending me stumbling, ice-cold punch splashing over my hand and onto the table.
“Oh, sorry,” I say, the words automatically tumbling out of my mouth. When I turn around, I find myself face-to-face with Michelle in her tight, red, hooker dress, glaring at me.
“Watch where the fuck you’re going,” she snaps, eyes narrowing when she sees it’s me she’s knocked into.
I force a tight smile. “You bumped into me, but whatever.”
As I turn to walk away, her perfectly manicured hand clamps around my arm. “I’ve seen the way you look at him, you know,” she hisses, leaning in close enough that I can smell the vodka on her breath.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t play dumb, you little bitch. You’ve been eye-fucking my boyfriend all night.”
“Screw you, Michelle. I don’t give shit about Rowan,” I growl, yanking my arm free. “Maybe you should lay off the spiked punch.”
“Listen, you littlefreak,” she growls, her face contortingwith anger. “Stay away from Rowan. He doesn’t want you. You’re just a pathetic little girl he just happens to be living in the same house with.”
Balling my hands into fists at my sides, the familiar heat of rage starts building in my chest, crawling up my spine. “And you...” I seethe. “...are a pathetic, used-up skankycunt.”
Michelle lets out a shriek and raises her hand.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Rowan growls, grabbing her arm and yanking her away from me.
