Micah
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I stand rigidly beside Alora in a small group she’d dragged me over to. She’s spent the last fifteen minutes walking me around, putting me on display like I’m her new pet. She’s showing me off—shoving it down everyone’s throats that we’re here together so there’s no chance they’ll forget it. Like she’s trying to say, Look, he’s mine. Back off, bitches.
I drag in a painful breath. My girl is across the dance floor kissing Beau’s brother, plastered tightly to his body. And he’s kissing her right back. It’s no sweet little kiss, either. It’s heat and tongue and desire.
I watch him groping at her body and want to break his motherfucking hands. They’re currently sliding down over her ass, cupping what belongs to me. And I can’t do a fucking thing about it. The things I’ve done—and more importantly, things I didn’t bother dealing with—are now going to drive a wedge between us. In this case, a Griffin-shaped wedge.
It’d killed me to see Daphne so upset when I kissed Alora.
It’s killing me now to see Daph’s mouth on someone else. To watch her give him kisses that belong to me. And what’s worse, it looks like she’s enjoying it.
She’s so fucking beautiful. Can I even blame Griffin for accepting the advances of a hot girl throwing herself at him?
As I watch, their mouths disconnect, they stare at each other, he gives her this cocky-as-hell grin, then he goes back in for another round. Tasting her sweet lips. Her tongue.
My eyes slam shut and my head drops back. I can’t watch. The pain in my chest is so intense, I want to lash out, to hurt someone. Hurt myself. I pull out another small bottle of vodka, twist the cap off, and pour it down my throat. Fuck it.
My mind spins me back to the day a few weeks ago when she showed up at Headmaster Gilmore’s office. She’d been shy. Reluctant to do what they’d asked of her. Nervous.
Innocent.
And, oh God, I’d been so fucking annoyed to have a smart-as-hell rule follower assigned to help me bring up my fucking grades. Grades I’d let slide on purpose, dammit.
There’d been something so sexy about the way she held her ground with me, even though it was obvious I intimidated the hell out of her. But she hadn’t backed down. She’d been determined to do what was asked of her by my coach and the headmaster. But now I get it. I get her. She has her own set of personal obstacles and always meets them head-on. It’s admirable.
And once we’d gotten to know each other, she’d surprised me with nerdy Star Wars talk—which was hotter than hell to a fan like myself—and the way she’d looked at me like I meant something to her … And that goddamn bet. That’s where it really started. I never thought for a minute she’d accept. But she had.
She’d destroyed all of my carefully laid plans and distracted me from the hurts I’ve been nursing for so long. Somewhere along the way, I flipped my whole messed up world upside down just to be closer to her. To have a chance in hell of being with her.
I took her innocence without a second thought. Relished in it. Loved that I had so many of her firsts. Fuck, it felt so good that she trusted me with them. But I never thought this would happen, that I would fuck up this bad. Fuck her up this bad.
My eyes blink open and, like a heat-seeking missile, lock directly on her. Griffin has his hands all over her, and the guys—the fucking assholes from the football team—standing around them are having a field day. I’m surprised the commotion over the full-on make out session happening right in plain sight hasn’t attracted the attention of the chaperones.
Fuck.Can I even blame him? Look at her in that dress. She looks like a walking wet dream. My body responds even as she holds him close and slips her tongue into his mouth. My dick swells, and I angrily shove my hand against it, groaning as I readjust myself.
I can’t touch her. I can’t hold her like I want to. Because I’ve fucked everything up with who I am and what I’ve done. I deserve this.
With the beast inside me clawing even harder to get out of my chest, I force myself to watch. Miserable.
“See? You’re doing the right thing. She’s already moved on. She didn’t really want you anyway.”
My blood boils. I level a pissed off stare at Alora. “Don’t fucking think I’m happy about this. I’ll never be happy about this.”
She shrugs, then slaps my bicep. “Look! They’re getting ready to announce the homecoming king.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “You’re going to make an amazing king!”
“Don’t fucking care,” I grit out.
She pouts. “Come on. You promised me.”
The whining tone of her voice grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. My jaw locks up in response, and I yank my hand out of her grip. I seethe, “I promised to bring you to the dance, to be your date, to deal with the homecoming bullshit. I never promised to be excited about any of it.”
“It’s not bullshit,” she huffs. She gets an odd gleam in her eyes.
Great. Just what I need. Alora scheming over something else.
Mrs. Jayson taps her finger to the microphone before she clears her throat. With an odd smile on her lips, her voice flutters through the room. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It’s about time to crown our king and queen! Could we have the following young men up to the stage, please?”
She calls my name first, and I heave out a tremendous sigh. Alora gives me a little shove and claps, but I don’t pay much attention. I’m so fucking pissed off at her I don’t know how I’m going to deal with her after tonight.