Page 48 of Ruthless Rose

Chapter 28

Why, oh why does this have to be the day I’m stuck selling freaking homecoming tickets? After the incident with the douchebags in the locker room, I’d headed directly to the girls bathroom just up the hallway from the homecoming ticket sales tables.

I pull paper towels from the dispenser, wet them, and hold them to my cheeks and press them to my eyes. I’m all blotchy and pink and completely embarrassed. The fact that those boys felt entitled to treat me that way makes me physically ill. I don’t want to be here, much less have to sell tickets or go to class.

If I wasn’t such a goody-goody, I’d skip and go home.

At the sound of the first bell, I cringe. I’m supposed to be selling tickets for the next twenty minutes, and I’ll be damned if I’m a no-show and give Alora more ammunition against me. Staring at myself in the mirror, I sigh, toss the paper towels into the trash, and pick up my bag. I’m a veritable mess.

Down the hallway at the ticket sales table, Alora and Farrah are already seated with tickets and money boxes, just beginning to sell tickets. There are three lines of students stretching all the way down the hall to the main office. Guilt swamps me. I hurry over. “Sorry.” I pull out the final seat and slide into it.

Alora rolls her eyes at me and hands me the third money box and a stack of tickets. “You’re always late. How nice of you to not miss the entire thing this time.”

Beside her, Farrah snorts but tries to hide it as she sells another pair of tickets.

“I didn’t do this on purpose and I’ve already apologized.” I huff, “And as for the meeting last week, that was your fault and you know it.” I accept money from an underclassman and hand him a pair of tickets.

“What’s wrong with you? You look like shit.” Alora gives me one of those pitying looks she likes to cast at those she thinks aren’t worthy of her time.

I turn in my seat. “Would you please just let me sell the tickets?”

She shrugs and rolls her eyes at me. Again.

We go on like this for a while. I’ve just handed over another pair of tickets when suddenly in front of me, Micah appears with Beau, Xander and Scarlett just behind them. He rests his hands on the table and leans across and murmurs, “You will tell me what happened in the locker room.”

Beau steps to the side of the table. “What were you doing in there, anyway, sweetness?”

I frown at the nickname he’s now used twice for me, but then remember Beau tends to use terms of endearment with girls—I’d heard someone say before that it was because he can’t keep track of which girl is which because he’ll bang anyone with a vagina—but then I’ve also heard him use “pretty girl” with Scarlett, and I have to wonder how much of the talk is actually truth and how much is just another bit of Rose folklore.

My shoulders rise and fall, and I give my head a quick shake. “I’m busy right now, guys. Do you all need tickets? Because if you don’t, I need you to step aside.”

Micah reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. “Two please.”

Alora smirks at me. Her catty expression says, See? He’s mine.

I fully admit my heart twinges and twists as I hold out my hand for Micah’s money, put it in the box, and hand him his tickets.

He immediately passes one to Beau.

“Thanks for spotting me, man.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Alora’s mouth has just dropped open and she’s staring hard at Micah. She mutters something under her breath that sounds like What. The. Fuck.

Micah takes one last look at me. “We’ll talk later. And don’t forget to get my test score from Roudebush.”

I wet my lips. “I won’t.”

“And I’ll see you tonight.”

I nod, but a gasp from beside me pulls my attention toward Alora, who is staring at Micah like he has two heads. “Micah, I need to talk to you.” She stands quickly, scoots behind my chair, and tugs Micah by the elbow down the hallway where it’s quite obvious from their body language that they’re about to argue.

Oh. Oh boy.

A rumble from the crowd of students in front of us makes my eyes go wide. There is a whole lot of whispering behind hands, and a few people who don’t bother being quiet with their astonished comments. Tuning into the various snippets of conversation, I almost feel badly for Alora.

“Fuck, did Alora just get dumped?”

“She’s not dating him, dummy. They just fuck.”

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