Page 46 of The Revenge Plan (Forbidden Descendants 1)

He glanced around in confusion. “Who? What? Where?”

“Her,” I insisted, my finger jabbing more insistently in her direction.

Who else could I be talking about?

Her!

Finally seeming to pinpoint the source of my attention, Rush squinted a moment before shaking his head and murmuring, “Well, I’ll be damned. I think that is her.”

“No shit, it’s her,” I countered. I’d know her anywhere.

“Holy fucking hell, man,” he cheered, shaking my shoulder aggressively. “What’re the odds? What are the fucking odds? You know what this means, don’t you? Tonight is your night. You are unstoppable. You have to go talk to her. Right now.”

When he pushed me her way, I stumbled forward, only to catch myself and backpedal in reverse, returning to his side.

“Are you kidding me?” I cried, gaping at him as if he’d lost his mind. “I can’t talk to her now. I’m so drunk no one can understand a word I say.”

“Dude.” Rush shook his head, disagreeing. “You’re not that bad off; I understand you just fine. You’ve had just enough juice to be primed and pumped full of liquid courage. Plus, you just took Baxter’s spot. You are on fire tonight! You can’t lose. What better time would you wait to talk to her?”

He had a point. It was pretty much now or never. But when I looked over at her, things swelled and grew inside me until, fuck, I freaked out.

“Still not drunk enough,” I said, shaking my head insistently.

“Just a few more, then. Come on, son. Chug!” Waving at the others to get their attention, he hissed, “Hey, guys, Henry needs more alcohol. He just spotted his dream girl across the room.”

“Dream girl?” a clarinetist asked, her eyebrows arching high. “You mean, the one he’s been talking about since the beginning of school?”

“Yes,” I announced, grinning goofily. “Her.”

“Oh my God!” the clarinetist shrieked, hopping up and down. “I got this round. I can’t believe we’re actually going to witness you finally introducing yourself to her. This is so exciting.”

“I got the next round after that if you still need more alcohol,” a flute player offered. “I want to see you talk to her too.”

And just like that, everyone around me grew so eager and expectant that there was no way I was going to be allowed to leave the bar until I approached my dream girl.

My stomach gurgled. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or all the alcohol swishing around in my gut; I just hoped everything stayed in there until I made my big walk of courage.

But I better do it soon, or I’d be crawling instead of walking.

Wow, dizzy. Now I was seeing two dream girls.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I said, shaking my head and lifting a hand to stop my friends when they tried to ply me with another drink. “I think I’m ready.”

“He’s ready!” Rush announced, causing the others to roar in approval.

I turned to him. “How do I look?” I wiped my hands down my face, then rubbed my palms on the hips of my jeans.

“You look good, man. A little glassy-eyed, but good.”

“Ooh, wait,” the clarinet player said, stopping me when I started to move in the direction of my dream girl. “I like it when that one piece of your hair spikes out just…like…that.” She tugged at a chunk of my hair before smiling and stepping back with an approving nod. “There. Perfect.”

“Just be you, Henry,” the flute player encouraged. “You’re a total sweetheart. She’ll love that.”

“I…” Overwhelmed by the compliment, I blushed and nodded. “Okay. Thanks. Anything else?”

A few more people tossed out suggestions, some of them instantly shot down by all the females in the group. And then Reuben stepped forward, asking, “Wait. Which one is she again?”

“That one,” I told him, pointing her out. “The blonde in the blue and white polka dot top.”

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