Page 56 of Brutal Prince

My strength doesn’t lie in fudging the truth — I get by on stubbornness alone.

* * *

Heavily mascaraed eyesturn to me when I slide my tray onto the side of the cheerleader’s bench.

“Sorry to disturb you, ladies, but I heard a rumor one of you slept with Prince Briar.”

The table immediately falls silent, until a girl I can only assume is the head cheerleader rushes to her feet. “Fuck off, virgin.”

“So it was you then?” I ask, lifting my eyebrows as if this is all the confirmation I need. I lower my ass, and the girl closest to me scoots over to make room for me. I stick a fry in my mouth and chew, staring at the standing cheerleader with utter fixation.

“He got a big dick?”

The girl’s cheeks turn pink. “I didn’t fuck Briar,” she says, and then glances at her friends. “I swear, I didn’t!”

“Didn’t…or didn’t want to?” I inquire with a deep frown.

A chorus of gasps break out. Suddenly everyone except Tiffany’s looking at their plates. I glance across at her for the first time, and make sure she sees me looking at her.

Yeah, she saw me, if her glare’s anything to go by.

“I gotta go,” she mutters, standing.

“Yeah?” I get up too. “Mind if I walk with you? This new school is so confusing…”

Tiffany stares at me for a second, and then shrugs. “Whatev.” She strides away, and I have to hustle to keep up with her.

I stop her outside in the hall.

“What?” she snaps, her bob swaying as she turns to face me.

“I just want to talk,” I say, lifting my hands, palms up.

She narrows her eyes at me. “I didn’t screw Briar.”

I slip a hand in my pocket and draw out one of Addy’s golden joints, but only far enough for Tiffany to see it glitter. “I just want to hang out,” I say, putting as friendly a smile on my face as I can manage. “You in?”

Her eyes dart to the joint. For a moment, I get a feeling she’s one of those teetotallers that doesn’t smoke, drink, or fuck during school. But then she sets her mouth to the side and gives me a nod.

“Sure.”

She shows me a cool little sesh spot by the bleachers, mostly blocked by a supporting wall and the mesh of steel framing. We light up and pass the joint silently between us. It’s half done before I speak.

“Anyone else in that group know you smoke?”

Tiffany shrugs. “Some. Not the bitches, obviously.” Her words escape with wisps of smoke. “Did Addison send you to talk to me?” Tiffany asks as she hands back the joint.

“What makes you—?”

“Cut the shit.” She squints at me. “India, right?”

“Indi,” I say.

She shrugs as if she’d gotten close enough for it not to matter. “That chick’s got a fucking bug up her ass about that whole thing with Jessica.”

“So you don’t think anything freaky happened at the party that night?”

I’m leaning with one foot up behind me on the wall, she’s perched on one of the bleacher’s struts. After another shrug, she squints into the distance, twisting her fingers around each other. “Freaky things always happen at parties. It’s kinda the point.”

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