Trick Me Twice - Becca Steele Page 0,45

neared my locker, I noticed Dylan waiting for me, a wide smile on his face. When I drew level with him, his smile widened further.

“Mrs. Whittall wants to speak to you. Come on.”

At his words, hope flared inside me. Had the whole thing been a mistake? I hurriedly shoved my things into my locker, before following him through the school to the office belonging to the head of the drama department. “She’s expecting you. Come and find me afterwards.” Dylan beamed at me, and I couldn’t help returning his smile.

I heard a “Come in,” almost as soon as I’d knocked on the door. Entering the room, I found Mrs. Whittall sitting behind her desk, her fingers steepled, peering at me over the top of her glasses. “No need to take a seat. I’ll keep this brief. As the money has been returned, you may resume your position as costume designer. However, should this happen again, you will be instantly barred, and I will have no choice but to mark it on your permanent record.” She held up a hand when she saw me open my mouth to speak. “No arguments. The only reason I’m being so lenient with you is because of your prior track record and the situation with your uncle leaving. Now, you’re dismissed. I believe that Xavier’s jacket needs adjusting, so you may start with that.” One brow raised expectantly when I remained in place.

“Oh…yes. Okay. Sorry. Thank you,” I mumbled, whirling around and leaving the office. Confusion warred with elation. The money had been returned. By who?

Collapsing into the chair in the costume storage room, I began pulling out supplies from the drawers, ready to get started. A throat cleared, and my head flew up to see Dylan in the doorway, grinning at me.

“Welcome back.” He took a step into the room and perched on the edge of the sewing table.

“Do you know anything about this?” Grabbing a pot of pins from the back of the table, I unscrewed the lid, then turned to face him.

“Don’t be mad.” His smile suddenly dropped, and he was the same unsure, scared guy I’d always known. “I…I’m rich, Rainey. It was no problem to replace the money.”

“Dylan!” I stared at him in shock. “Y-you can’t do that!”

“It’s already done.” Crossing his arms, he gave me a stern look.

What was I supposed to do? “At least let me pay you back.” Even as I said it, I had no idea how I would actually achieve that.

He picked up a spool of thread from the table, rolling it along his palm. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. I don’t want to hear any more talk of you paying me back, okay?”

“I can’t let you do that.” Looking up at him, I shook my head, and he shrugged.

“It’s nothing. Can’t friends do something nice for their other friends?”

“They can, but this is a lot of money. Please let me pay you back. It…it might take me a while, but I’ll pay back every penny.”

He sighed, looking resigned. “You’re not going to give this up, are you? Fine, you can pay me back, if it makes you feel better. But you can take as long as you need, and you’re under no obligation.”

I sat back, reassured by his words. “I can’t thank you enough, Dylan. This is so generous of you.”

“What are friends for? I knew how upset you were, and how much this means to you.” With one last smile, he left me to my sewing.

20

Dylan was kind enough to drop me off at home, which I was grateful for, since I had no idea where I stood with Carter, especially with everything that had happened recently, and I didn’t want to take the risk of being shot down by him again. My mind was racing, thinking of ways to pay back the money. Lying on my bed, I picked up my phone and sent Lena a text.

Me: Know any ways to make a bit of cash?

Lena: Drug dealer?

Me: *eye-roll emoji*

Lena: Serious?

Me: Yep.

Lena: How much are we talking, and how quickly?

The next moment my phone was vibrating, and she was calling me. “I’m just leaving a friend’s house. Five minutes from you. Want me to come over?”

Fifteen minutes later I was seated on my bed, and Lena was seated at my desk, deep in thought, idly flipping through my costume design sketch pad. “I’ve got it.” She tapped on an open page, where I’d sketched out a ballgown design, long and flowing with