“You’ve barely said two words all night,” Mason said.
“I’m just nervous about the game tomorrow.”
He laughed. “Why? No one ever even comes close to beating us.” He clapped me on the back. “Oh good, I’m fucking starving.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when some random guy started serving our table. I’d still be able to have my perfect first meeting with Brooklyn. After I took care of Isabella. I knew it wouldn’t be easy to shake Isabella’s threats. Normal blackmail? Sure, simple. But blackmail from a Pruitt? She could have me fucking killed. And I probably deserved it.
Now I was the one downing too much champagne.
The sound of glass shattering filled the ballroom. For a second I thought I’d made the noise. But my glass was still intact. I took another huge gulp of champagne. I hated it when someone dropped a tray of food. It always made me feel terrible and I’d leave a generous tip to make their day better. But when I heard the noise this time? I didn’t just feel bad. Panic gripped my chest. Please God don’t let it be Brooklyn.
“Clean it up,” Isabella said from somewhere behind me.
No matter who had dropped something, they didn’t need that comment. Isabella could be such a bitch. Mistakes happened. Why did she have to act like she never made them? I was holding the stem of my glass so tightly I thought it might snap.
“She doesn’t need assistance, Rob,” said Isabella. “She’s smart enough to figure it out. Right, darling? Isn’t that the only reason you’re at our school? Because you were smart enough to earn yourself a scholarship? You’re not one of us.”
Fuck.
I heard a few snickers.
Who else would Isabella be talking to if it wasn’t Brooklyn? I let go of the champagne flute before it had a chance to break.
“Yo, isn’t that the new girl you’re into?” Mason asked.
I already knew it. But I was really hoping I was wrong. I slowly turned around to look at the scene unfolding behind me.
Brooklyn was kneeling by a broken plate. Shards of glass were everywhere and so were the remains of a plate full of food. Isabella was standing over her with a smile on her face, looking every bit the monster that she was. Brooklyn sat there for a second, completely frozen. And for a moment I was frozen too.
Everyone’s eyes were on her. The whole ballroom shushed. All I wanted to do was go help her pick everything up. But Isabella was standing there. And Isabella had the power to ruin my life. All I could do was clench my jaw and watch.
Brooklyn shoved some of the glass onto the cart and then grabbed her hand.
Shit, did she cut herself?
“Brooklyn, are you okay?” Her friend Kennedy knelt down beside her, ignoring the stares. She grabbed her hand. “Jesus. Go take care of the cut. I’ll clean this up.”
Brooklyn just looked at her, blinking back tears.
“Seriously, go. I got this.”
“Thank you.” Brooklyn stood up.
“Looks like you’ll definitely have to replace your shoes now,” sneered Isabella.
Brooklyn looked down at her shoes and then rushed past Isabella without looking back.
Isabella’s vicious laughter cut through the party.
I was already standing up. I only had so much restraint.
“Where are you going?” Isabella asked, her fake fingernails digging into my forearm before I had a chance to get passed her. “You better not be running after the new girl.”
“I gotta take a shit. You got a problem with that?”
“Ew. Don’t be so crass, Matthew.”
“If you don’t let go of me, this won’t be the only mess on the floor.”
“Yuck.” Her hand fell from my arm and I practically ran after Brooklyn.
No, this wasn’t the way I’d planned our first meeting to go. And no, I doubted Isabella even believed my lie. But I couldn’t let Brooklyn be alone right now. I’d deal with the consequences tomorrow. I pushed into the women’s restroom without giving it another thought.
Brooklyn was standing at the sink with one of her shoes in her hand. She was scrubbing at a stain to no avail. Tears streamed down her rosy cheeks. The blood from the cut on her hand mixed with the water, creating what looked like a crime scene in the sink.
“You’re bleeding,” I said. It was the first thing I could think of to say. The first thing I’d ever said to her at all. And it was stupid. It was really fucking stupid. But it was out there, and I couldn’t take it back. They’d always be my first words to her. I should have said she was beautiful. Because she was. Even with tears falling down her face. All I wanted to do was wipe them away.
Her hand stopped scrubbing the fabric of her shoe. She looked up into the mirror in front of her and stared at the reflection of us.
“Am I in the men’s room?” she asked.
I pressed my lips together. Her first words to me were almost as bad as my first words to her. And I wanted to smile, even though everything about this moment wasn’t going according to plan.
She lifted up her shoe like she was about to put the soaking wet bloody mess back onto her foot and run away.
I didn’t want her to ever run away from me.
“You can buy new shoes,” I said, ignoring her question about which restroom she was in. I’d buy her as many pairs as she wanted. “You can’t buy a new hand.” I walked up next to her, waved my hand under the automatic soap dispenser, and then stared at her reflection as I slowly took her hand in mine. Touching her was better than downing a thousand glasses of champagne. It was like she was buzzing through my veins. She stayed completely still and I hoped she felt it too.
I dipped her hand back under the running faucet
