Page 10 of Cruel Prep (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 1)

Cora is on the dance floor with a muscular guy with dreadlocks almost as long as her own hair, and by the way they are rubbing against one another, I don’t blame her for forgetting about me. I’d forget about me too if a man’s thigh was pressed firmly between my legs.

I turn and head for the balcony.

When Finn finally does turn around, I want him to realize I wasn’t standing there waiting for him. I want him to know I’m not pathetic.

Even though I am. Because the only reason I’m moving outside instead of staying close to Cora is because I don’t want Finn to think I’m pathetic. It isn’t for my own dignity, since clearly I don’t have any.

I find a half-finished water bottle on the patio table, unscrew the top and take a drink. I don’t even care about the germs. I just need some water in my system.

“If you like putting your mouth on my stuff, I’ve got something better for you to suck on than my water bottle.”

I jump, spewing half of the water out of my mouth as I turn to see Dallas standing behind me in the same leather jacket he had on earlier today, despite the warm Texas night.

“What did you just say?” I splutter.

“You heard me,” he drawls. He’s clearly drunk, and I don’t like the way he keeps licking his lips suggestively. “That water bottle was mine. But if you wanna suck on…”

“Enough,” I interrupt, grimacing. “I get the idea. No thank you. I just couldn’t find any water.”

“Water is for the weak,” Dallas says with a bitter laugh, running a hand through his blond hair. It almost glows in the patio lights.

My head has been fuzzy since I started drinking champagne hours ago in Cora’s room, so I feel like I’m wading through mud right now. Thoughts of Finn and his feelings about me aren’t helping, either.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

I shrug. “Enjoying a party.”

“You really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you?” he cackles. “Jesus. Babe, this isn’t your crowd. Trust me.”

I like his tone less and less with every passing second. I also don’t like the way he’s slowly inching towards me, cutting off my angle of escape back into the party.

“What does that mean?” I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling exposed. “They have all been nice to me.”

“Thatis why this isn’t your crowd,” he says. “Because you think these people are nice. God, they are going to chew you up and spit you out. Come to think of it, maybe I oughta take a bite first…”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but I feel myself growing hot and angry. Usually I’m able to brush off rude comments. I’ve certainly had enough practice at it.

But I don’t like Dallas’ assessment of me. He thinks I’m naïve and not good enough for these people, and part of my anger is probably because I know he’s right, but I don’t like that he thinks he knows me.

Nothing could be farther from the truth.

“You don’t know me,” I spit. “We’ve spoken once. That doesn’t make you the authority on me. Just because you’re a freak and everyone hates you, doesn’t mean they’ll hate me, too.”

He bites his full lower lip and shrugs. “For your sake, I hope you’re right. Actually, I hope you’re wrong. Because if these people like you, it means you are fifty shades of fucked up.”

“Why are you even here?” I ask again. “If you hate everyone so much, why come to the party at all? Were you even invited?”

Dallas pushes away from the wall and stalks towards me, putting one foot in front of the other until he is standing directly in front of me, close enough I can see the green flecks in his brown eyes and the bloodshot veins surrounding his irises. He is definitely already drunk.

“I’m here,” he breathes, the smell of alcohol almost making me gag, “because I like to keep tabs on the wildlife. I’m like Steve fucking Irwin. Now, enough talking. Why don’t you come here and show me what that mouth can do?”

He leans forward, eyes hooded. One hand paws at my hip, hot and heavy and disgusting. The other one is clamped on the back of my neck, and he’s pulling me forward like he wants to kiss me, but the waves of liquor stench rolling off his breath are so gross, so nauseating that I nearly throw up right on him.

Instead, I shove both hands into his chest, hurl his water bottle at him for good measure, and storm back into the house.

That sick fuck. How dare he?

The second I’m through the kitchen door, I run smack into someone. Before I can stumble, warm hands are wrapped around my biceps, and I look up into Finn’s aqua eyes.

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