See No Evil (Brotherhood Trilogy #1)(47)

If I pull away now, she’s going to make a scene.

If I tell her I have a girlfriend, she’ll want to know details. I can probably spin a lie, but everyone at this school knows I’m not a girlfriend kind of guy.

I have to go with this.

I won’t sneak her out back. I’ll just give her a little sugar on the dance floor and then be done with it.

Chris will understand.

It’s all for show.

Sophia closes the space between us, squeezing the back of my neck and diving in. The old Trey would respond with fervor. The winter formal and prom are basically the only times of the year we can get away with kissing the girls. We have to be in the hall and our hands have to stay on the waist, but teachers tend to look the other way as long as the making out doesn’t get too heavy.

Sophia’s tongue pushes into my mouth, feeling foreign and unwelcome.

But I have a role to play right now.

To keep Chris safe.

So against my better judgment, I wrap my arms around the brunette and pretend like I’m enjoying it.





#27:

Winter Dance Torment



Christiana



Okay, so I’m officially hating Trey right now.

What the hell is he doing?

I want to storm across the dance floor and slap him in the face, but I can’t because I’m supposed to be a stupid-ass guy who couldn’t care less who his friends make out with.

Taking another swig of Sprite, I try to calm the rage within, but my eyes keep flicking back to Trey and Little Miss Big Boobs. My stomach coils into a knot, tight and choking.

I scan the room for some kind of distraction, but Kade’s surrounded by a gaggle of giggling airheads and Riley’s locking lips with a blonde, his cheeks as red as raspberry sauce on a sundae.

With a huff, I spin away and find myself scowling at Ivan.

His eyes narrow, a slow smirk pulling at his lips.

I shift away, turning around and trying to walk casual as I move through the crowd. One girl notices me, her shy smile lighting up when our gazes cross.

Ew! Is she flirting with me?

She bites her lower lip and pulls off the standard chin-dip/coy-smile routine I’ve implemented numerous times to score me some attention.

I swallow and do a one-eighty.

I’m face-to-face with the drinks table again…and Dean Hancock.

“Not one for dancing, Mr. Lorden?”

Forcing a tight smile, I shuffle away without answering.

This night could not get any worse.

Trey’s making out with another girl!

I’m wearing a suit that makes me feel like an ugly idiot.

I want to be across the floor, encased in Trey’s arms, swaying to the music. I want to be a girl again. I want to be Ana, the flirtatious hottie guys used to line up to dance with. But that’s a pipe dream. I’m never going to be able to claim Trey as mine. We might make out in secret and act like a couple in our rooms, but he can never be my boyfriend. Not here…and most likely not in the future.

Even if I do have Riley’s number, will I ever realistically be able to dial it?

Trey has every right to play tongue twister with Big Boobs. He should move on.

Just…damn that he makes my heart hurt so bad!

I shouldn’t let myself feel anything for him. Soon Rybeck’s gonna take me into the center of my nightmare. I’ll be facing off with the devil, and then my life will change all over again.

I’ll never see Trey go to college, figure out what he wants to do with his life. He’ll probably find some cute little thing to marry and eventually have some kids. He’ll become a high-flying businessman. The brotherhood will get together every Fourth of July and vacation in the summer with their families.

And I won’t be there.

I’ll be walking the streets alone while constantly looking over my shoulder, worried about retribution from one of my family’s minions…or the Candellas.

I shudder and press my back against the wall, fighting an intense sting of tears.

I’m not going to cry right now.

Boys don’t cry.

Clenching my jaw, I force my gaze away from the get it on dance floor and once again am locking gazes with Ivan. A chill prickles my skin. It’s weird that he hasn’t approached me since returning from Thanksgiving break. Every day I’m waiting for him to pounce. His dark looks are unsettling.

I sidestep and hide behind a group of girls who are gossiping together.

“He’s so hot.”

“So, go ask him to dance.”

“No way. Like he’d ever want to.”

“Come on, Megs, you can do it.”

Her cheeks flame red and she glances over her shoulder, spotting me listening in on the conversation.

I clear my throat and scratch the back of my neck, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

“Do you want to dance?” she asks, sizing me in a way that screams, ‘I’m too scared to go after the guy I want but your scrawny ass will do.’

“No, thanks,” I mutter, no doubt killing her confidence as I make a beeline for the door.

I can’t do this anymore.

Between being flirted with, settled for, cheated on (sort of, not really, but it feels like it!) and glared at, I’m done.

Ivan can stick it.

I’m not letting him intimidate me anymore tonight.