snags my arm as I turn to go. Once again, my brows go up. "Please wait!" she says.
"You wanna keep that hand?" I warn her.
She grimaces but remains locked on me. "I promise, I'm not here to do anything mean."
As if she could, I think. Still, her words come out in a rush of breath as she follows me when I try to take a step away. Short of shaking her off like a mangy mutt, there's not much I can do unless I want to get violent. I'm debating it, but looking at her big eyes and smooth face, it's kind of hard. Despite the fact that this girl obviously belongs at Eastpoint—the expensive backpack, the pound of perfect make-up on her face, the manicure, and the three inch wedges on her feet that probably cost more than my mom's rent—she's got this girl next door vibe about her. I know I called her a rich bitch, but what kind of girl would come chasing after somebody like me? My curiosity stays the violent tendencies telling me to break her fingers. If she pisses me off, though, it's still an option.
I huff out a breath. "What do you want?" I finally ask.
Her face brightens. "I was wondering if you would go out with me."
Shock ricochets through me. "Um … I'm flattered, but sorry, I am—unfortunately—purely a dick kinda bitch. It’s unfortunate, but I like cock not pussy."
Confusion ripples over her features until she realizes what she said. "Oh, no!" she squeals. "No! I didn't mean it like that. I'm—oh my gosh—what I meant was that I'm going to Urban and I heard that you kinda had a thing going on with the Sick Boys so—"
"Stop." I hold a hand up, effectively silencing her display of word vomit. "Where the fuck did you hear that I have a thing going on with the Sick Boys?" I grimace as that stupid ass nickname comes out of my mouth. Sick Boys, my ass. But fine, whatever, if it's what everyone else calls them and everyone else understands them as, I'll say that shit. Doesn't mean it's true though.
Big brown eyes—that remind me of the little brats from my old neighborhood when the ice cream truck would come around—look up at me. "From them," she says.
I'm going to kill those fuckers, I think. I pry my arm out of her grip and as soon as she realizes that I'm not about to bounce, she releases me. "Well, sorry to break it to you"—I'm really fucking not sorry at all—"but your information's wrong. I ain't shit to them and they ain't shit to me."
She bites her lip. "So, you're not with them?" she clarifies.
"I'd rather be dropped off a cliff," I say brightly.
"Oh." She wavers on her wedges, chewing silently on her lower lip. "Well, I mean, do you still want to come?"
I snort. "You're really asking me that?"
Her shoulders move up and down. "Why not? You don't have many friends, do you? And have you ever been to Urban before? It's really fun."
I don't even know what Urban is. My answer is to cross my arms and eye her speculatively. "Is it dangerous?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "No, of course not."
"Then no thanks." I drop my arms and start off.
The clicking of her solid shoes hit the pavement as she follows after me. "Are you sure?" she beseeches. "There's dancing and—"
I groan but don't say anything as I make my strides longer, causing her to lag behind a bit as she struggles to catch up. That's what happens when you wear heels—anyone in Converse can outrun you.
"It's run by the Carter family, though!"
I stop dead, slowly turning back to face her and wincing when she finally catches up and ends up plowing right into me. Her backpack slips down one delicate shoulder. "Oomph, sorry," she mutters.
"Dean Carter?" I ask.
As if sensing my newfound interest, she smiles. "Yeah. The very one. If he's off from football practice and isn't throwing a party, he and the guys usually go. You can probably go clear things up with them if you want."
Yes, that sounds like a great idea. "Alright," I say, "but I'm bringing a friend."
She practically beams. "Awesome! I'll pick you guys up in front of your dorm on Friday." Corina bounces away, lifting her backpack strap over her shoulder again.
"How do you know which—"
She giggles, looking back. "You're in the Havers Dorm," she answers before I'm even through with my question. "Everyone knows