Pretty When We Fall

5 - Kiss, Curse, Carry On

Now, I'm all about revenge. But turning up to a party in a scandalous little dress with a hot guy? That's next-level. And honestly? I respect it.

Everyone - meaning me - knows Scarlet and Nick have a thing. You can only hate someone that much for so long before it turns into something else. But those two? It's like they've been feuding since the womb. If I find out they argued through their ultrasounds, I wouldn't be surprised.

We'd already finished pre-drinks, as evidenced by the graveyard of glasses scattered across Scarlet's new room. The only reason we hadn't left yet was because Scarlet's chosen accessory for the evening - Thomas fucking Wilson - was taking his sweet time.

Not that I minded. The guy was hot, and watching him all night? No complaints here. Honestly, I'd fuck Thomas in a heartbeat. But I'm a good friend. I think about sleeping with almost everyone, so I'll get over it. Eventually.

He showed up just in time - right as Meghan was hovering over a shot of tequila like it might attack her.

"I don't know, I can't... I'll be tipsy before we even get there."

"And you three think you aren't already?"

Scar and I turned toward the doorway. Thomas. Standing there with that smug smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Meghan tossing the shot into a plant.

"HA! You are not wasting my tequila on some dying piece of nature!"

I lunged for the bottle and stashed it in my overnight bag, safe from any more horticultural sabotage. We'd agreed to pass through the dorms so Meg and I could drop off our stuff before the party. I, for one, wasn't about to lose a phone charger again. Cough cough, Meghan.

"Hi, pretty boy," Scarlet said, stepping up to Thomas, arms curling around his neck. "Ready for the party of a lifetime?"

He grinned down at her. "Always."
And then. They. Started. Making. Out.

I made a retching noise. "PDA, people! We haven't even made it to No. 1 yet. Honnêtement, je pourrais vomir dans vos visages!"

Scar and Meg scurried around in response to my outrage. I grabbed my night bag and stormed down the hall to our dorm, locking up behind them.

I shared with no other girls - just Meg - and had claimed the bed farthest from the door, closest to the window. Essential for late-night escapes.

"Stomp louder and Matron will catch us!"

But not tonight. Perks of being on good terms with the kitchen staff. Cook - bless her - was a sweet older lady who'd worked at Harrowhill since the dawn of time. She'd promised to leave the side door unlocked and a key tucked behind the pots so we could lock up when we came back. Legend.

We shuffled down the narrow servant staircase, bodies pressed together like some weird team-building exercise. When we finally broke out into the kitchen, I gasped for air. My ribs could breathe again.

Like every year, No. 1 was being held in the old stables, tucked just far enough into the woods to avoid being heard - or caught. Everyone knew about the parties, but if there's no proof, there's no problem.

We practically danced down the dirt path.

"What if my dress gets filthy? What if we get lost? Oh god, I don't think this was a good idea," Meghan panicked.

"Well, Meg - my good friend - you're not turning back. You're coming, and you're going to have the time of your life. Got it?"

She nodded, breath shallow. I squeezed her hand.