Elite (Eagle Elite) - By Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,17
one of them was going to throw a punch.
So I was really surprised when Monroe bounced into the room with a wide smile on her face. “Guess what!”
“You killed your brother?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not that lucky, no.” With a huff she sat on her bed. “The Elect are throwing a party tonight and I get to bring you!”
Excuse me while I pull out my pom-poms. “Swell.”
“Boots, don’t go raining on my parade. Besides, Tex will be there and…”
I raised an eyebrow.
She flushed. “Fine. I like Tex. Happy?”
“Does Satan know?”
“He sees all,” she grumbled.
“Is that why you guys were fighting?”
“What should I wear?” Monroe clapped her hands. “I don’t want to look too easy, but I still want to look hot, you know? Hmm, maybe a red dress? You think? With Loubuitan heels?”
“Uh… Louib—who?” I laughed. “You’re beautiful in pajamas. Just wear something you feel confident in.” I didn’t miss that she changed the subject, but I decided maybe it was best if I didn’t know all of the happenings of their family.
Monroe began pulling clothes from her closet and tossing them onto the floor. Finally, she chose a purple dress with a plunging front and back. Only it was covered with some sheer material so technically it could not be defined as slutty.
I did say technically.
“Your turn.”
“Um, I have a lot of homework and—”
“—Nope, you’re going. Nixon said you could.”
“Oh well, if the great and powerful OZ said I could go….”
Monroe threw her head back and laughed. “Can we please call him Oz from now on?”
“Sure, he’d love that.” I smirked. “He’d probably threaten me again.”
“Whatever.” Monroe rummaged on the floor and grabbed a tight t-shirt and short jean skirt. “Here.” She tossed them at my face.
I caught them. Both pieces of clothing were smaller than the tank top I wore to bed. How was that supposed to work?
“Um, Monroe, this outfit is kind of—”
She rolled her eyes. “Wear flip flops so you don’t look as tall, and we’ll give you a leather jacket. It will look awesome. Trust me.”
I wasn’t sure I could trust anything coming from her mouth, considering she was the one wearing a purple get up that would make the Jersey Shore blush.
“Are you sure I should go? I don’t know, Nixon and I got in a fight and—”
“I need you!” She stood to her full height and stomped her foot. “I need a wing person.”
“For Tex? You’re kidding right?”
“Please?” She jutted out her bottom lip.
I glared, but she kept giving me that pitiful stare of hers. “Fine, I’ll go.” I had a really bad feeling about this party.
Chapter Eight
Note to self — if you have a bad feeling about something… If your gut is twisting at the idea of following through with a bad choice… Just say no. Do not be a yes person. I closed my eyes and opened them again. Maybe if I closed my eyes I’d become invisible. I tried it again. Nope. No such luck. Crap.
“Monroe, I should go,” I yelled above the music.
“No! Stay!” She was dancing with Tex. I mean, I guess you could call it dancing. His hands were everywhere, and honestly I was waiting in anticipation for Nixon to punch him in the nose for holding his sister that close.
But Nixon was nowhere to be found.
Not that I was looking for him.
And even if I was looking for him, it was only out of self-preservation and survival. Like on the Discovery channel, when the antelope see a lion. They don’t just hang out and give the lion a chance. No, they run like hell.
“Okay, five more minutes,” I chanted to Monroe, but she was too busy making out with Tex. Hmm, I’d never really found red heads attractive, but he was kinda cute. When his tongue was in his mouth and he wasn’t completely drunk and humping my roommate.
So basically he was cute this afternoon. Tonight? Not so much.
“Hey, New Girl,” a male voice said from behind me.
I turned.
Phoenix stood there two drinks in hand. His Harvard good looks would get him far. His sandy blonde hair was slicked to the side, but it totally worked for him because it made his thick black eyelashes stand out against his chocolate eyes.
“Drink?” He held out the red plastic cup.
“Did you put a roofie in it?” I asked nicely.
“If I did I wouldn’t tell you,” he said with a deadpan expression.
And there goes that sick feeling again in my stomach.