Page 118 of The Ruthless Note

“I look like a flight attendant,” I murmur when we get to Redwood Prep’s fancy music theatre.

“No.” Breeze fixes the little scarf around my neck. “You look like asluttyflight attendant. There’s a big difference.”

I roll my eyes. Breeze looks adorable in a Playboy bunny costume, complete with the ears and the silky pink outfit. Her hair is straight around her face and her big blue eyes glisten with sultry innocence.

“Are you nervous?” she asks.

Not about playing piano. I know I’m good at what I do.

Plus, I’m safe from having to perform as Cadence Cooper. Tonight’s concert is Halloween themed. It’s agiventhat I’m going to play dressed up as something other than myself.

I guess that’s kind of a blessing in disguise.

What has me shaking and feeling flustered is the fact that the last time I was backstage, it was the end-of-summer showcase.

My first night in Redwood Prep.

My first text from Jinx.

The first time I laid eyes on Dutch.

I turn slightly, reliving the moment when his amber gaze cut sharply through me. If I had any idea how deeply that look would wreck my life, I probably wouldn’t have been so giddy about locking eyes with the gorgeous prince of Redwood Prep.

“Are The Kings playing tonight?” I ask Breeze as casually as I can. I didn’t see them on the event list.

“Not that I know of. The Kings had arealclub event last night. They’re bigger than these school events you know.” Breeze quirks an eyebrow. “Why are you asking about The Kings?”

“Just wondering,” I mumble.

Her expression gets even sterner.

I’m glad when one of the organizers comes to tell me I’m next in the lineup. After I nod my understanding, he wanders off. I crane my neck, wondering if Serena is working today. But I guess not.

Taking out my phone, I text her.

Me: Are you still going to the dance?

Serena: No, something came up.

Weird. She’d seemed so excited when we spoke about the dance at lunch. Is this thing with Miller making her feel defeated before the war even starts?

I chew on my bottom lip. Through the wings, I see a violinist playing her heart out for the crowd. No one is paying attention, poor thing.

I can see now why the organizers forced students to attend the concertbeforethe dance. At least then, us music majors would have an audience.

It looks like the horde that attended the end-of-summer showcase that night was because The Kings were on the docket. Without them, it’s hard to draw a crowd.

Dropping my eyes back to my phone, I check if Sol responded to any of my messages.

He hasn’t.

“What are you looking at?” Breeze asks, bouncing on the tips of her toes.

“Nothing.” I turn my phone off and shove it into my side pocket. “Can you hold my purse?”

“Sure.” Breeze accepts the bag.

I shake my fingers out at my sides, struggling to get my mind in gear for the performance, but my thoughts are rushing too fast. I’m stuck with a puzzle to put together.

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