Hell High | An Alastor x Reader Lemon Series

What Dance?

I settled into a routine that mostly involved avoiding everyone except Cherri and Angel. Alastor would often come over and chat about music during our independent music class but kept to his clique for the majority of the time. It wasn't an exciting existence, but not uncomfortable as far as Hell's standards went.

"You going to go to the dance Friday?" Angel asked as we chowed down on what we were told was sloppy joes. Though, it being high school, could have easily been something other than hamburger. 

"What dance?" I asked around a mouth full of food. You know, like a lady.

"There's a dance this Friday since it's the start of the school year." Angel said, then sighed, "And like usual, no one has asked me to be their date."

He raised his voice at the end, looking pointedly at a demon sitting at an adjacent table. The demon scooted out of eyesight, clearly feeling called out.

"I might just stay in the dorms," I said, trying to get Angel to focus on me instead of the poor demon he was harassing with his eyes.

"Like hell you are," Cherri said, "We finally have someone to pass around the flask with and talk shit about the others with."

I sighed, resigning. If I was going to spend a night on the sidelines, I might as well have some fun doing it. 

"Alright, but don't bring any of that fruity wine cooler crap," I said.

Angel grinned, "Vodka it is then."