Page 12 of Tell Me You Like It

“Uh, not a good idea.” Wyn shakes her head. “Turning down one of the Sacred Sons is like social suicide.”

I throw her a look. “For me or for him?”

“For you, obviously. Roman Rush is from one of the original families. The influence he has on campus is limitless. And if you’re on his shit list, then you might as well not exist.”

I blink at her. “That sounds perfect, actually.”

Blending into the background, and staying off everyone’s radar—what’s wrong with that? Sounds pretty ideal.

Bree grabs me by the shoulders. “Lux, I love you, but listen to me. You can’t waste your entire college experience in your dorm room.” She shakes me. “This could be a good thing. Live a little.”

I purse my lips. I guess this would be a bad time to tell her I want to leave and go back to my dorm room. Unfortunately, it looks like she’s nowhere near ready to bail on this thing—which means I’m stuck here for at least another hour.

I glance down at the necklace. It’s a round pendant with a crown and Latin words stamped in the middle. “So do I just wear this for now, or what?”

“Definitely,” Wyn says with a smile. “Seriously, that necklace will open up a whole new world for you. It’ll give you access to places on campus you can’t even imagine.”

“And, obviously, you’re going to bring your best friend with you to all of those incredible places,” Bree says, flashing a cheesy smile.

I sigh, defeated. They’ve managed to talk me down from the ledge. Temporarily. “I’m not fucking this guy.”

I have standards. And douchey college guys aren’t on my fuck-list, no matter how attractive he is.

Bree tilts her head back in frustration. “Fine, whatever. But you can string him along for a few weeks. It’s the least you can do.”

“Don't worry,” Wyn says to Bree. “Once she sees the benefits of being a consort, she won’t want to give that necklace back.”

There’s a ruckus coming from the ceremony room. I guess Jackson made his selection because people are cheering. Like, actual cheers of joy. I’m a little annoyed I didn’t get that. I mean, sure, I’m not even one of them, so why would they be happy about me being chosen? But still.

The guy with the stick calls everyone to attention again.Thump. Thump. Thump.“Christian West will now make his selection.”

“Oh, Christian is hot. I’m already dating someone, but I can still enjoy the view, right?” Wyn says, blowing us both a kiss, then sprinting off to join the ceremony.

Bree tugs at her bodice up and runs her fingers through her long waves. “I should throw my hat in, too. Do you think I have a chance?”

I just blink at her.

She pushes out a breath. “Whatever. Wish me luck.”

I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”

But she doesn’t even hear me, because she’s already gone, zigzagging her way through the crush of people.

It doesn’t surprise me that she wants this. She’s always been more focused on the popular kids, even when we were in middle school. Back then, we were on the fringes, not popular, but not unpopular, either. We were in the middle and blissfully invisible. I guess she didn’t find it as blissfulas I did, though, and I wonder if she’s hoping college is her chance to infiltrate the popular crowd.

I push out a sigh and lean against the wall, tilting my head back. I have to get out of this somehow. But Roman doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that just accepts rejection. Maybe there’s a way I can let him off the hook gently. It shouldn’t be hard. This guy doesn’t even know me, so giving him the ick shouldn’t be too difficult. Tonight I’m all dressed up, but, honestly, I’m a sloth in real life. And there’s no way a guy like Roman Rush would go for a girl like me. Not when he’s sober.

There’s no fucking way.

CHAPTER FIVE

Lux

I don’t knowwhat happens with Christian’s selection—whether or not he chose Bree. There are at least forty girls in there, all begging to be picked, so who knows? Bree is gorgeous, but this guy could be into red hair and thick thighs. On both counts, she’d lose.

After a few minutes of trying to get my shit together, I give up and decide to explore the house. It’s better than sitting in the foyer, silently freaking out.

On the main floor, aside from the room where the ceremony is being held, there’s a bathroom, a huge kitchen, a formal dining room, a study, and an informal living room—and in the foyer, there’s a coat closet where I find the basket of cellphones, unguarded. I sift through the phones, and find mine, pulling it out. Ha!

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