Page 32 of Bad For A Weekend

“I was instructed to leave a bottle of chilled champagne. It’s not my business what they do with it.”

“You’re okay supplying minors with alcohol?”

“Dude. It’s one bottle. I don’t know if you went to prom, but I did, and a bottle of bubbly should be the last of your concerns. Things can’t have changed that much in the last twenty years.”

I know he’s right, but it doesn’t stop me from watching to make sureFinndoesn’t slip anything into her drink and that she sticks with the bottle provided.

Thankfully she does, and forty tense minutes later, we pull up to the front of the venue. I must admit, it’s a cool place for prom. The outside still looks like a cathedral, but the interior has been transformed into a beautiful hall. The theme isEuphoria, so every inch of the space is covered in all shades of pink and purple with hints of green.

There’s a wall to the left covered in balloons and neon lights where the photographer is stationed, a fog machine is running, and strobe lights strike the dance floor in a rhythmic pattern. I tuck my hands in my pockets as I scout out a hidden place to keep watch.

Baylor, Finn, and their friends claim a table, chatting it up with other kids who walk by. It’s obvious they’re the popular students, something I previously assumed but hadn’t witnessed. Finn extends his arm to the back of Baylor’s chair, fingers dancing along her bare shoulder.

I storm over and grab the offending arm before snapping it like a twig over my thigh. Okay, not really, but fuck, how I wish I could. My logic kicks in, telling me it’s good she’s with him. I’m not the only one who’s felt the charge between us, and it’ll make my job much easier if I’m only fighting off my own urges. I don’t know if I’d be strong enough to fend hers off too.

A half-hour in, servers emerge, and a dinner with multiple courses is served. Is that normal for proms these days? Ours had a table with a bowl of punch and trays of desserts the PTA donated, most still in the plastic clamshell from the store, not even homemade.

A server brings me a plate with what I can assume are leftovers, and I thank him.

“No problem. The chaperones’ meals were included in the rental agreement,” he says.

“I’m not a chaperone.”

“Oh.” He looks confused about why I’m here.

“Never mind.” I wave him off, and he’s all too happy to go.

The song changes, and apparently, it’s a banger because all the kids jump up and run to the dance floor. Baylor looks hesitant, stealing a glance my way. Why doesn’t she want to go? I’m lucky to have already seen her dance during cheer practice, and she’s incredible.

Eventually, Finn coaxes her, and they step onto the black-and-white checkered floor. I don’t have a good vantage from my corner, so I inch closer and immediately regret my decision. Finn stands behind her as they bounce to the beat, his hands firmly placed on her hips. There isn’t an inch of space between them.

Through the corner of my eye, I see a woman approach. “Which one is yours?”

“What?” I shout over the music.

She motions at the dance floor. “Which kid is yours?”

“Oh. None of them. I’m personal protection.”

Her brows raise. “Wow. Are you allowed to tell me who for?”

Word getting around that Baylor is protected won’t hurt, so I tell her.

“Oh, right. That was unfortunate what happened to her,” she replies.

I don’t know what to say to that because it’s way more than unfortunate. The girl was drugged and beat the hell up. If that isn’t one of the worst things to happen to a kid, I don’t know what is.

She knocks her shoulder into me. “I’ll bet Corey wasn’t disappointed with the boost in headlines, though. I’m sure he’s aging out of a lot of roles.”

My face scrunches in disgust. “Baylor’s his child. It was the most nightmarish moment of his life, not a popularity stunt.”

She realizes how insensitive she sounded and tries to recover. “Right. I just mean, no press is bad press.”

“Owen?”

I turn away from the woman to find Baylor standing inches away. How did I not notice her approach? I need to fucking focus.

“What’s up?”

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