41. Chapter 41
Chapter forty-one
Bexley
F riday rolls around and there's a strange atmosphere looming over Willowbrook today. These guys really take their dances seriously.
Teachers barely make any effort to teach, even the Cedar Heights ones that joined the staff this week to assist. With the auditorium apparently set up and ready for tonight, I'm thrilled to find that we're all given an early mark to go home and get ready. Hey, no complaints here.
Finding myself back at Soph and Tai's house is a bit unnerving if I'm being honest. Even though the plan was always to get ready here, my mind can't help but think back to Wednesday.
Sleep has been hard to come by lately, but in Tai's bed, I took the best nap of my life. The only reason we ended up moving was to shower and join Mary for dinner—because fuck missing out on her awesome cooking. Soph seemed a bit bewildered to see me there—probably since I had just admitted to the whole school, well both schools, that I was banging Rylan. And now here I was, hanging out with her brother. Well… that's the story I went with. It's the tame version at least.
Not much gets past that girl. I was a bit worried how that conversation would go down, but whenever Mary left the room, Soph would make sexual innuendo jokes at the pair of us. So, safe to say she's not that upset about it. If anything, I've given her enough ammo to tease me for the rest of the school year. I'm sure she'll bring it up tonight in one way or another, but that's a problem for near-future Bexley. At the moment, she's in my good books, so I'll let her taunt me, since she paid for my dress against my will.
I'm just hoping that she doesn't bring it up in front of Abby. I doubt she'd care or have a problem with it, but she's too innocent to be corrupted by my antics. And now I'm stuck picturing her and Arch in kink outfits. Fucking hell.
"Stay still. I don't want to get anything in your eye," Soph directs, tugging on my hair.
"This is going to be fixable, right?" I eye her through the mirror, tensing as she applies more bleach to the ends of my hair.
She raises an eyebrow, attention locked on her hairdressing skills. "Well, if your hair wasn't purple this would be a little easier. But don't be surprised when you love it," she says in a sing-song voice.
"I have the boxes!" Abby announces, strolling into Soph's private bathroom. "This is going to be amazeballs."
"Well, at least one of you has faith in me," Soph grumbles, making me laugh.
Abby stands beside her, playing with the other side of my head. "If she can make her ends pink, she can do yours too."
"I'm all about the pink bits," Soph replies with a grin. "Like someone else."
She meets my gaze in the mirror, biting her bottom lip to stop herself from cackling.
"Shut up, Sophie ," I tease.
"Oof. Playing with fire. You're game to make a death wish while I'm applying chemicals to your head."
"I'm all about the thrills in life."
Dumping the box on the basin, Abby fluffs her hair with a smile. "Save some of that aggression for the dance, you pair. If I have any chance of getting Sagg on the dance floor, I have to make it there first and not be witness to a double homicide."
In the evening light, there's a slight charm about Willowbrook. Maybe because it's partially hidden by the dark and for a moment, I can pretend I'm not in hell.
The four of us walk into the auditorium, eyebrows raised at the in full swing dance.
Hundreds of red lights have been strung around, making the room glow eerily. Bodies are pressed together on the dance floor in the middle of the room while large circular tables line the walls. We manage to find a free one, sliding into the seats while music booms from the stereo loudly.
Black silk cloths lay over the tables, with red LED candles lingering in the middle. The entire roof is covered with floating balloons, their latex skin reflecting strobe lights that slowly project Bat signals around the room.
As soon as we sit down, I hear Abby turning on the charm, begging Arch to go dance. Cruella in her pink dress manages to persuade him in record time, and I muffle a laugh as his eyes shoot me a cry for help. The themed attire of the dance doesn't help his cause as I watch Cruella drag a terrified Magneto into the crowd of people.
Soph suddenly fans out her dress around her, nervously adjusting the bust. Instinctively, I glance around, amused when I find Parker standing in a dark corner, scowling at the crowd of dancers with a drink in his hand. Turning to her, I raise an eyebrow. "Are you getting turned on by Lex Luthor's presence?"
She freezes, eyes blowing wide. "I didn't do anything."
"Just go talk to him," I laugh. "Do you want me to take you over there?"
"Would you?" she whimpers. "I promise to fix your hair if you do."
Shaking my head, I stand, holding out my hand for her. She did a fucking good job, and she knows it. After lightening up the tips, she applied bright pink dye, before adding a few streaks of the same color throughout my head. It's not exactly Harley Quinn hair, but it's close enough. The multi-colored strands are tied into two pigtails and together, the colors are just chef's kiss. But this is her version of bribery, so I'm rolling with it.
Even though she takes my hand, I practically have to drag her over to Parker. He notices us coming, offering a tight smile.
"Bexley," he greets warmly before turning to my cowering companion. "Soph."
"Dance with the Evil Queen. Please and thanks," I say, yanking her arm forward to jerk her hand into his.
Before either of them can speak, I turn on my heel with a shit-eating grin and head back to the table. Only when I'm sat back down do I dare a glance, pleased when I see them heading to the dance floor nervously, like the two introverts they are. You'd think they were on their way to be sacrificed by the looks of horror on their faces. But despite being uncomfortable at the concept of whipping out some moves in front of their peers, their obvious attraction to each other seems to override it.
I scan the room curiously, checking out everyone's costumes when I pass a faceless body staring at me. I double back, snorting as I push off my chair and make a beeline for him.
He watches me approach, hands in his pockets and a smirk appearing out of the corner of the mask.
"Phantom of the Opera," I murmur, gazing at Rylan's sparkling blue eyes through the mask. "How fitting for you."
"Should have known you'd turn up as your alter ego."
"Hilarious," I mock, catching sight of his eyes drifting down my body. They land on my waist, cinched by the corset before falling on my chest—typical male.
"Hey," I say, using my index finger to tilt his chin up. "My eyes are up here, buddy."
Rylan grins. "I know."
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head, looking around. "Where are the other two?"
"You'll see them soon enough," he replies coolly. "No doubt Tai will come hunt you down."
This dynamic is weird. I don't have the spoons to put a label on it or to even consider what it could be. But I ask the next question regardless, getting it out of the way. "Did he tell you we had sex?"
"He did," Rylan agrees, and I'm happy to hear there's no resentment or animosity in his voice. Well, at least I think I'm happy. Relieved, mostly.
"Good," I answer, spinning around to face the dance floor. "Saves me having to do it."
He steps up behind me, leaning down to my ear. "But yes, Bexley. We're fine with sharing. So don't worry about getting your panties in a twist."
Looking at him over my shoulder, I casually smile. "I'd have to be wearing panties for that to happen."
I stalk off, leaving him open-mouthed as I weave my way through bodies to the drinks table. Staring at the punch bowl, I can't help but wonder if it's already been spiked. Deciding I'm fine with it either way since I need something to get me through this evening, I pour myself a cup.
When I spin around to head back to my table, I stumble, nearly colliding with someone. Green eyes narrow at me, a sneer crossing his face.
"Duchess."
Without responding, I stare him down, drinking the entire thing in one go, eyebrows shooting up when I taste the unmistakable taint of vodka—thank fuck.
"Hold that thought," I murmur, filling my cup again and drinking that as well.
Hunter scowls, obviously catching on to my tactic, that I need to be buzzed to be in his presence. "Seriously?"
"Yep," I shoot back calmly. "Feel free to do the same. I won't be offended."
He cocks an eyebrow. "And drink that cheap shit? No, thanks. I brought my own."
My eyes fall to the cup in his hand. I wonder what his poison is. Probably something expensive and fancy like scotch.
"What is it?" I ask, making a poor attempt at conversation. I guess we should try to be amicable since we're going to be working together. The thought of being civil with this man makes my skin crawl, but to be fair, I thought the same about Rylan and Tai before they grew on me like the plague. And the three of them are a package deal, so I'm a bit screwed either way—pun intended.
Conflict appears in Hunter's eyes as if he's equally trying to mentally peptalk himself into being nice to me. It's quite entertaining to watch, waiting to see if he caves in as well.
"Scotch."
Ha! Called it.
"Cool."
The two of us stand awkwardly. I continue to look around for a familiar face—anyone really, I'm not picky—but Hunter keeps his eyes locked on me. It's probably some lame effort to make me uncomfortable, but he's going to have to work on his stalker tendencies if he wants that to happen.
I can't even see Soph or Abby anymore, and my eyes start to hurt the longer I stare into strobe lights and reflections of red.
Finally, I relent, giving him my attention. "The Devil, huh?"
Red horns poke out of his head, matching perfectly to the dyed tips of his hair. But that seems to be the extent of his outfit, like he couldn't be fucked trying any harder. Though, I'll never admit it out loud, but he looks fine . He's dressed in black fitted jeans and a black buttoned-up shirt. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, his bulging forearms sticking out looking like God himself carved them. In an alternative universe, I'd say he looks hot. But in this lifetime, no chance of that.
"Harley Quinn doesn't have purple and pink hair."
Sighing, I'm just about running out of patience for this walking butt plug when another voice chimes in.
"Well, my version of Harley does."
We both turn at the same time to find Tai, grinning widely at me. His eyes run slowly down my dress appreciatively, but I'm too stunned to react to that.
"You're fucking kidding me," I mumble, taking in his costume.
Gone is his silvery ash hair. Bright green strands are slicked back; white makeup smeared messily over his face with red lipstick climbing up his cheeks. Dressed fully in a royal-purple suit and green tie, I'm both horrified and impressed to see the Joker standing before me.
"I'm going to kill Sophia," is all I manage to say.
Tai laughs, ignoring Hunter as he snakes his arm around my waist and yanks me into him. "Don't be mad," he muses. "Just get even."
Hunter makes some type of gagging noise, muttering, "Gross," before turning and walking off. Well, I guess that answers that question about how much the three of them share news of their bed conquests. I'm actually surprised Hunter didn't murder them, but I guess he's outnumbered anyway.
"Come dance with me, Pumpkin Pie," Tai grins, dragging me toward the dance floor.
"I thought I was Peach Queen," I laugh.
"That too," he answers, blissfully unaware of the confused and alarmed eyes on us. "But tonight, you're my partner in crime."