The Prom Kiss (Briarwood High Book 5)

by Maggie Dallen

  She was still snickering beside me and I found myself fighting a smile. For the first time since I’d talked to Leila I was feeling like myself. And by that I mean, I wasn’t exactly about to burst into song, but the world wasn’t about to end either.

  I was, at the very least, distracted from thoughts of Leila…and it was all thanks to Briarwood’s psycho sweetheart. The meanest mean girl of them all.

  Alice would never believe it.

  I stopped short on the sidewalk leading to the parking lot. My car was down on the lower lot and I was heading in the wrong direction. “So, wait. If you’re trying to make Alex jealous, does that mean you’re trying to get him back?”

  Her smile faded fast. “Don’t be stupid.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulders. “Of course not.”

  I found myself mimicking her with the arched eyebrows and haughty look of disbelief.

  It had the desired effect of making her lips twitch with amusement. “I’m not!” she said way too defensively. “I’m just a big believer in making cheaters pay. And nothing makes a cheater more miserable than watching the one they pushed away move on.”

  “You are one coldhearted lady.” I said it slowly, with awe and admiration, and she laughed in response.

  “Don’t worry about Alex. He doesn’t really see you as a threat.” She gave me an impish grin that took some of the sting out of her words. “He knows I’d never really date a geek like you.”

  “Ouch.” I slapped a hand over my heart. “That stings.” The amused glint in her eyes made it clear she was teasing. A little, at least.

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Like you’d ever date a cheerleader like me.”

  I feigned indignation. “Hey, don’t try to pigeonhole me, blondie. I’ll have you know Leila was a cheerleader.”

  Tina groaned. “Of course she was.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I was honestly curious. Sometimes I got the feeling that although Tina’s way of seeing people and the world in general was so very different from mine…maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong.

  Not all the time, at least.

  “It means, I could have guessed that she runs in a different circle,” Tina said. Her expression said more than her words. What she meant was, I’d clearly been dating out of my league.

  “Tina Withers,” I said slowly, my voice filled with disbelief. “Are you attempting to be tactful?”

  She scoffed loudly as she started walking toward the parking lot. “Oh please. Tact is overrated.”

  “So what are you trying to say then?” I pushed. “That I wasn’t good enough to be dating someone so pretty and popular?”

  I was only half teasing. In my defense, that male ego I’d been joking about had taken a major blow lately thanks to Leila.

  Tina frowned at me and for the first time she seemed honestly annoyed. “Of course not. Don’t be an idiot. I just meant that you were in over your head.”

  “Because she was dating beneath her,” I finished. I couldn’t seem to let it go, but this felt important. Like I was getting the insight I needed.

  She stopped again and turned to face me, her hands planted on her hips. “Stop being stupid. I didn’t mean it like that. Any girl would be lucky to have you—you’re funny, in your own weird way, and smart, and…you’re not unattractive.”

  I let out a short laugh. “Careful, my ego is in serious danger of getting out of control here.”

  She ignored my attempt at humor as she let out a huff of frustration at my incomprehension. “What I meant was, she should have stuck to playing games with people who knew the score. Does that make sense?”

  No. Not really. But I’d gotten another glimpse of how Tina saw the world and the view was depressing, but also kind of fascinating. Like watching a documentary on the meat industry or whales in captivity. I couldn’t seem to look away even though I felt bad for everyone involved.

  “We were joking around before, but I’m totally serious right now,” I said, turning to face her head on. “You do know it’s not always a competition, right? No one is actually keeping score.”

  She tilted her head to the side with a little sigh that was filled with tolerance, like I was a child or something. “That’s a sweet sentiment, Morris. Naïve but sweet.”

  She kept walking toward the parking lot and I found myself keeping pace beside her. I could head back to my car later. I wasn’t in a rush, and this girl was far more entertaining than I would have ever thought.

  Crazy, obviously, but entertaining.

  “So you won’t take him back then,” I eventually said, picking up the conversation at a point before it had gone off the rails.

  “Nope,” she said, her chin lifting resolutely as she spoke. “Not this time.”

  “Good for you.”

  She gave me a sidelong look and I knew she was checking to see if I was mocking her.

  I was not. After that one phone call I’d gotten a sense of how complicated things could be following a breakup. One conversation and I was a mess of conflicting emotions. Anger and pity and sympathy and jealousy...I’d been an emotional disaster.

  And if your ex was seriously determined to get you back like Alex was? Let’s just say I was starting to understand the sick cycle that Tina had found herself in.

  “What about you?” she asked, ignoring a group of Alex’s friends from the football team who were watching us with narrowed eyes. “When’s open mic night?”

  “Tomorrow at eight at the Java Hut.” At her questioning look, I added, “And no, I am not going to be a wuss. I’m going to go, sing my songs, make some civil chit-chat and be on my way.”

  She was quiet for a moment and when I looked over she was eyeing me carefully. I thought she might say something snarky but she gave me a small smile and reached up to clap a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got this, Morris.”

  “Thanks, coach.”

  Chapter Three

  Tina

  The school’s bathroom might have been a terrible place to cry, but it did have its uses—outside of the obvious, I mean.

  From what Julian had told me, I had a fairly good picture of Leila. Still, when Veronica Smith entered the bathroom, I saw my opportunity to get an objective perspective. Veronica was a junior who’d transferred earlier this year and managed to score one of the most sought-after hotties in the school, Drew Remi. They were both juniors otherwise she and Drew would be fierce competition for the crown. Transfer student or not, Veronica was inexplicably beloved.

  But, more importantly, she’d transferred from Atwater High, AKA Leila’s school.

  I smiled at her in the mirror as she washed her hands and I reapplied my lip gloss. “Hey Veronica.”

  Her look was wary to say the least, her answering “hello” grudging, as though speaking to me was a questionable idea.

  I held back a sigh. So she was one of those girls. Being hated was a common side effect of being popular. I was used to it. My smile never faltered as I turned to face her, leaning one hip against the counter. “You went to Atwater, right?”

  She blinked and looked around quickly as if trying to determine if she was truly the person I was speaking to.

  Yes, moron, I’m talking to you.

  “Yeah, I went to Atwater. Why?” She reached for a paper towel without dropping eye contact.

  “Do you know a girl named Leila…” Crap, what was her last name? “Leila something?”

  She squinted. “Leila Vaughn?”

  I shrugged. “Pretty, outgoing, a cheerleader…”

  “Yeah, that sounds like Leila,” she said.

  “What do you know about her?” Okay, perhaps that had come across just a wee bit intense—my tone more interrogation-mode than casually curious. Still, I wasn’t expecting her over-the-top look of shock.

  “Seriously?” she said.

  Okay what was I missing here?

  “You seriously want to make chit-chat in the bathroom?” she said as if it was the craziest notion she’d ev
er heard.

  Jeez, what was her problem? I held my hands up, palms out. “It’s just a simple question.”

  She wadded up her paper towel, her shock fading into something…not nice, that was for sure. “Seriously?” she said again. She gave a little shake of her head. “The last time you spoke to me you threw a beer in my face and now you want to gossip like nothing happened?”

  Oh crap. A vague memory of one of Melody’s parties earlier this year came back to me. “That was you?”

  She looked torn between amusement and anger. I guess I couldn’t really blame her on the anger part. That had not been one of my finer moments. But I’d seen Alex with his arm around her, I’d watched him flirt with her and she’d been smiling at him like he was her goddamn boyfriend.

  He’d been mine. We’d barely even broken up. We were taking a break, for God’s sake. He’d been trying to make me jealous and it worked. What else was I supposed to do?

  “Yeah, that was me,” she said with another shake of her head. She let out a little laugh that didn’t sound terribly amused. “Do you attack girls that often that you don’t even remember?”

  I shrugged. “I’d been drinking.”

  She frowned at me. “Not a valid excuse.”

  No, likely not. I took a deep breath. “I apologize.”

  She stared at me like she was waiting for more. When I stayed silent she rolled her eyes. “Better, I guess,” she muttered. But clearly not enough.

  Pride made me want to bolt, but I had a mission. A higher purpose. Besides, there was just the teeny tiniest flicker of guilt nudging me to continue.

  “You were flirting with my boyfriend,” I pointed out.

  “I was new,” she said. “How was I supposed to know you two were a couple?”

  I stared at her. “Everyone knows Alex is mine.” I shook my head slightly. “Was mine.”

  “Well I didn’t.” Now it was her turn to stare and I was pretty sure I saw a softening in her harsh glare. Not too surprising since the general consensus seemed to be that the new soccer starlet was a sweetheart. “So you two are done for good this time?”

  “Yes.” My tone was satisfyingly decisive even if the answer made my stomach heave with anxiety. I still wasn’t totally convinced I could be strong. I still wasn’t sure I wanted to be. Much as I wanted to avoid another heartache, I also wanted to leave Briarwood on a high note. I’d clawed my way to the top of this social ladder and I wasn’t about to watch it crumble to dust because I was single. Or worse, pitied.

  And then there was the fact that Alex knew me. He loved me, in his own way. He might suck at showing it, and commitment was obviously not his forte, but…

  But nothing. You deserve better.

  It was Julian’s voice and it was a reminder of what I was doing here—besides applying lip gloss. I straightened to my full height and arched my brows. “Now that we’ve gotten that settled, tell me what you know about Leila,” I said.

  When she stared at me once more like I’d just grown a second head, I added, “Please?”

  She glanced toward the door and I knew without a doubt that she was deciding whether to flip me off and storm out or stick around to appease her curiosity. The latter won out. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to help a friend?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Probably not.”

  I pressed my lips together, cutting off a nasty response. I so didn’t have time for this.

  Veronica crossed her arms, studying me openly in a way I recognized—I was normally the one doing the studying. “Let me guess…Leila hit on Alex? Or did they hook up while you guys were broken up or something?”

  Her use of air quotes when she said broken up made me sigh. No one believed we’d be broken up for long. I couldn’t really blame her since I wasn’t sure I believed it myself.

  But Julian did.

  She let out a loud exhale. “Look, whatever’s going on between you and Alex and Leila, leave me out of it. I’ve seen enough of your relationship to know that whoever gets caught in the middle gets hurt.”

  I blinked in surprise at that blunt statement.

  That blunt but entirely accurate statement. Alex and I hurt each other and now I was starting to realize that we hurt everyone around us. God, we were beyond toxic. We were hazardous.

  I shook my head. “This has nothing to do with Alex. If you’re worried I’m looking for information so I can take her down, you can rest assured. I honestly just want to protect a friend.”

  She still looked wary.

  “Have you ever known me to lie?” I asked. “You may not be my biggest fan but I’m not a liar. If anything, I’m known for being brutally honest.”

  She muttered something I couldn’t hear but I could see her acknowledge that truth and her defenses slipped a bit more.

  “She just broke up with my friend,” I said. The word friend just sort of slipped out. And only seconds after I’d bragged about not being a liar. Huh.

  Veronica winced. “Look, I really don’t know her very well, okay? I’m sorry for your friend but—”

  “Please, Veronica.” I swallowed the last of my pride. “I know I don’t deserve your help, but this guy does. He’s a good guy and he’s hurting.”

  Veronica stared at me, her lips hitched to the side in a thoughtful expression. Finally she sighed. “I meant it when I said I don’t know her well. But I know her reputation.”

  “And?” I prompted.

  She let out another sigh. “And I wouldn’t want her dating any of my friends.”

  “Why?”

  She gave a huff at my pushiness. “Let’s just say I’d take your particular brand of honesty over Leila’s idea of niceness any day of the week.”

  That was probably the worst thing this nice girl would say. But it was enough.

  I nodded. “I’m going to take that to mean she’s a manipulative, passive aggressive user, am I right?”

  “Tina,” she said in a warning tone.

  “Okay, okay, Saint V. I get it. You don’t want to speak badly of others.” I rolled my eyes.

  She gave a snort of amusement. “I’m not a saint, I’m just not…”

  “Mean?” I said.

  She clamped her mouth shut and gave me a look that was decidedly unamused. “You said it, not me.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said with a dismissive wave. “I’m the mean girl. We all know that. Every school has to have one, right?”

  Her lips twitched with amusement but she didn’t answer.

  And I wasn’t done. I was beyond curious about Julian’s ex, even though I was fairly certain she was exactly the type I imagine. “So you don’t trust Leila?”

  “Not as far as I can throw her.”

  I nodded. “Thank you for confirming my suspicion that he’s better off without her.”

  She remained silent and watched me walk toward the door. I turned back just before opening it. “I am sorry, you know,” I said. “For the party.”

  She nodded. For a second I thought she wouldn’t say anything more, but she spoke grudgingly just as I cracked the door open.

  “I respect the fact that you’re looking out for a friend.” Then she tilted her head to the side. “He’s lucky to have you on his side.”

  I found myself smiling at her at the mention of my ‘friend’ as I made a sound of agreement. “Much better than being my enemy.”

  She let out a little snort of amusement. “Amen to that.”

  We shared a laugh and the laugh was awkward and weird…but not all bad.

  Later that night I pushed the vegetables on my plate around and around as I listened to my parents bicker over who was going to take Bradley to his violin class the next day.

  Bradley was my little brother. He was only ten and the apple of my parents’ eye. Some might say because he was still young and cute, but the real reason was—they loved him more than me.

  This was not a case of sibling rivalry, just a fact. My parent
s had me early and no one had ever tried to deny the fact that I was a mistake. They’d had a plan and I was not part of it. So they kept right on with their plans despite my irritating presence and then ten years later, when they actually wanted a child, they had Bradley. The perfect child, and the boy they’d always hoped for, no less.

  On top of being a boy who was born at a convenient time, he was sweet and docile, obedient and respectful—none of these attributes had ever been used to describe me in the last decade or so.

  Once upon a time I’d thought being good would be enough. I’d thought if I smiled, my parents would notice me and smile back. If I was very quiet at dinner they’d include me in the conversation. If I was thoughtful and sweet, they’d find me adorable enough to love.

  So yeah, believe it or not, I was once a naïve little fool. But then I grew up. And for the last five years or so I’d finally resigned myself to the fact that in this family I would forever play second fiddle to the golden son.

  But I was fine with it, I really was. Have I mentioned how cute Bradley was? I couldn’t even blame my parents for being so smitten. I was kind of head over heels myself. Besides, I’d come to grips with the fact that I would be largely ignored in this household and used it to its fullest advantage. No one aside from maybe Melody with her absentee mom and her ever-traveling dad had more parental freedom than I did.

  “I’m going out tonight,” I said when there was a lull in bickering.

  “Where?” my father asked.

  “Do you have homework?” my mother chimed in.

  I ignored both questions as I stood to clear my plate. The ‘where’ was irrelevant—they wouldn’t have said no to me even if I’d said I was going to a drug den to elope with a gang leader. The second question was just as meaningless because I was a senior with mere months to go until graduation.

  I’d already gotten my acceptance letter to a small college just north of New York City which specialized in nursing, which was what I planned to do with my life. Not because I was some saint but because I liked the way the profession was so well laid out. There was nothing ambiguous about how to become a nurse, unlike so many other careers. Teaching was the same way in my eyes—a clear path to a clear destination. But teaching presumably meant one had to like children, and other than Bradley, I was not a fan.