“They aren’t ready for my superstar moves.”
“They’ll never be ready. You just gotta rip off the Band-Aid and give it to them.”
I’d spent an hour curling her hair, and it was starting to go limp. I reached up, fluffing and arranging the pretty ringlets around her face.
“Quit it.” She knocked my hands away, putting a stop to that.
But I didn’t miss the twitch in her lips. She secretly loved when I fussed over her.
“When are you going to ask me what’s wrong with my face?” She folded her arms across her chest.
Not this again.
I sighed. “Never.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s nothing wrong with your face. This is the problem.” I gripped her arms and dragged them down to her sides. “See? Less defensive. More approachable.” I stepped back and drank in the beautiful sight of her. “Holy shit, you’re hot. I kinda wish I was gay right now.”
“You’re so annoying.” Her throat worked, and she averted her face. But she couldn’t hide the affection in her voice. “Go away.”
“Oh no. You’re stuck with me.” I poked her in the ribs. “Best friends, remember?”
That earned me a smile.
Her eyes flicked over my shoulder, and her lips flattened. “Incoming.”
I turned and found Tucker Kensington sauntering toward us. His gaze lingered on me, giving my dress and heels an unabashed perusal.
Over the past few weeks, he’d started to grow on me. For a cocky, immature, self-centered trust fund kid, he had a couple of strengths, such as his skill with a football and his ability to roll with Daisy’s punches.
He’d put a lot of effort into winning over my prickly friend, and the best part? His attempts were sincere. He seemed to actually enjoy riling her up with compliments.
I still didn’t know why he gravitated toward me the way he did. I wasn’t particularly nice to him and never gave him an opening to kiss me or touch me sexually. If I was reading him right, he wanted out of the friend zone but wasn’t aggressive enough to make that happen. Seemed weird considering the ease in which he flirted with every other girl at Sion.
He was the most handsome, most sought-after boy at St. John’s. He was also the wealthiest. His family had more money than God.
Standing before me, he wore a tailored tuxedo and a panty-melting smile. Every girl on the dance floor gawked at him and glared at me. Daisy had been right about this whole thing. Tucker had asked me to this dance, and all the girls hated me.
As if I cared.
“Damn.” He released a low whistle, giving me another once-over. “You’re killing me, Tinsley. Breathtaking.”
“Thank you.” I inclined my head.
He didn’t need any prompting before he turned to Daisy and pressed a palm over his heart. “Two beauties in such close proximity. I’m a lucky man.”
I expected him to immediately drag me onto the dance floor and claim the thing he’d valiantly worked for over the past four weeks. But he surprised me again.
“May I have this dance, pretty lady?” He held out his hand to Daisy, making my chest flutter.
“Should I tell him?” She glanced at me.
“That’s up to you.”
“Tucker.” She stared at his waiting hand. “I know about Tinsley’s ultimatum. She told me when we left football practice that day. You don’t have to be nice to me anymore.”
I’d confessed to her immediately because I didn’t want her to get hurt if the whole thing went south. I also wanted her stamp of approval on my train-Tucker-to-be-a-decent-person project.
“Okay, well…” He shot me an angry glare and returned to her. “If it’s all right with you, may I still have that dance?”
He kept his hand outstretched, and I delighted in the happy shock that registered on her face.
Tucker might’ve been a judgmental prick, but once he’d charmed his way past Daisy’s protective walls, he’d discovered the same thing I had. She was smart, hilarious, and pretty freaking fun to be around.
As he pulled her into his arms and twirled her across the dance floor, he cast a few sullen scowls my way. Yeah, he wasn’t thrilled with my duplicity. I’d made him spend four weeks wooing a girl he never would’ve wooed, and she knew the whole time why he was doing it.
That was a lot of work just to win a dance with me. But this was about more than a dance. He’d made some sort of claim on me. I sensed it every time I was around the other guys from St. John’s.
None of them hit on me. None of them asked me out. And as I stood here, watching boys in tuxedos lead girls in glittery gowns on and off the dance floor, not one of them invited me to dance. Not a single pair of eyes turned my way.
That was Tucker’s doing. I was certain of it. Without telling me, he’d taken me off the market and declared me as his.