Walking Heartthrob

Chapter 47 One Raging Riptide

Laurel strutted up to us, a smile fixed on her face aimed at Daylen. Ugh, great! The wicked witch of the west came to this party! She wore a golden backless gown that matched the decorations—I bet that was her intention. Ridonkulous. I glanced at Daylen who grimaced at her presence.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, Daylen! It's so good to see you, we missed you at—"

"Not now, Laurel, can't you see I'm busy?" Daylen snapped at her. Mr. Griffith looked like he regretted not slapping him earlier and would have done it again if not for his—ladyfriend.

"Now, now, let's all calm down," Eleanora intervened before sparks could fly. "Ladies, why don't we go get some drinks and give the gents a moment in private, hmm?" Somehow, with a persuasive, determined smile, she shepherded me and Laurel away from Daylen and his father, something neither of us was happy about. Daylen immediately turned to his dad, arguing in a low, heated voice. Uh oh. I couldn't hear what was said, being dragged away from them but it was dangerous to leave my heartthrob alone with him. I glanced back at him worriedly, unable to protest.

"Those dear boys... they really need to work out their differences," Eleanora said priggishly like she was doing them a favor. I snorted under my breath. What does she think, that they'll see eye to eye if they're alone? They're more likely to pull off 'an eye for an eye' move alone. They were like two clashing tides causing a riptide every time they met.

I glanced at Laurel in disgust, seeing her watching me with equal disdain. At least it was no secret that we hated each other's guts.

"So, dears, I trust you're both past eighteen?" Eleanora simpered, offering us both flutes of champagne. Laurel accepted one and downed it immediately but I declined.

"Yeah, I don't drink," I replied.

"I beg to differ," Laurel mouthed off. "I seem to remember you getting completely trollied at the Freshers Ball." What a fibber, I had just one cocktail that night!

"And I seem to remember you acting like a troll the next morning," I threw back, smirking as I saw Laurel's face smart at that. Eleanora gave a condescending laugh.

"Oh dear, everyone seems to be on edge today. Why don't we all start over, hmm? Tell me, do you both go to Kings?"

"Yes," we replied and then glared daggers at each other for answering simultaneously.

"How lovely! I suppose that's how you're friends with Daylen," Eleanora continued. Hearing his name, I turned to where he was but didn't see him—or his dad for that matter. Oh no, where'd he go?

"No, Daylen and I have been friends since high school," Laurel rubbed in while I was distracted, "we have a very fond history together." I turned back to see her smirk this time. I snorted.

"Yeah, until you cheated on him," I mumbled only for her to hear. It worked; she looked ready to blow her top off the next moment.

"How delightful to have two of Daylen's friends here!" Eleanora continued, oblivious to our brewing animosity before turning and addressing me. "But tell me, dear, are you not from around here? You sound distinctly American."

"Oh she is," Laurel answered before I could open my mouth, her voice dripping with disdain, "she's the half-blood daughter of Lady Margaret Westrope." I blinked, too shocked to think up a comeback fast enough. Did that little witch just call me a half-blood?! Oh, heck no, nobody insults my parents that way!

"Margaret Westrope?" Eleanora looked taken aback at that and stared at me. "Then you're—from the Westrope family?" So she knew about Daylen's dad's history. She must be closer with Mr. Griffith than I thought.