“Aww, he likes you,” she says. “I guess you’re forgiven for being a dick-whipped traitor.”
I open my mouth to protest, but then I see the corner of her smoky grey lips lifting in a grin, and I relax. She’s only joking with me, the same way she does the others.
“As long as you come to the party,” Manson says.
“What party?”
“The Sinners Bash,” he says, widening his eyes at me like I’m missing the obvious. “It’s the biggest party of the semester, besides maybe the graduation parties, and those are really only fun if you’re a senior.”
“Yes, because parties are only fun when you’re the star of the show,” Ronique says, rolling her eyes.
“Exactly,” he says. “Which is why the hockey party is the best party. Do you think I should get my eyebrows threaded for it?” He sweeps his hair back from his forehead and turns to us.
“I prefer the feral, wild look,” Annabel Lee says, nudging Brandon Lee Jr. with the toe of her black boot. “But then, I’m not sure I’m your target audience.”
“You’re always my target audience, babe,” Manson says, blowing her a kiss before turning back to the mirror and heaving a dramatic sigh. “I really am the fairest of them all.”
“Hottest guy on campus, hands down,” Annabel Lee says. “Maybe in all of Faulkner.”
“Oh my god, we should make a list,” he says, pulling out his phone and sitting cross-legged on her throw rug. “Top ten most beautiful men in town. Hit me.”
“Saint Soules,” Ronique says.
“Shouldn’t count if you’re horny for them, but he’s pretty dreamy, so I’ll allow it,” Manson says, tapping on his screen. “Next?”
“Colt Darling?” Ronique says.
I startle, remembering the way the guys acted like Dynamo was famous or something. I wonder how many times I’ve heard his name mentioned before and never noticed because I had no face to put with it.
“So you like the broody, long-hair thing,” Manson says, nodding. “Makes sense for a metalhead.”
“You,” Annabel Lee says. “That’s obvious. Royal Dolce. Greyson Sincero. Walker Delacroix. Colin Finnegan.”
“You definitely have a type,” Manson says, grinning. “Mercy?”
I open my mouth and then close it, glancing at Annabel Lee. “I don’t know,” I mumble, squeezing a fist around my cross.
“Oh, spit it out,” Annabel Lee says, lounging over her wingback chair. “I know, I know. My family is full of beautiful men.”
“In that case, add Maverick,” Ronique says.
“Yes, please,” Manson says. “Such a loss that he doesn’t do relationships. Want me to add Angel?”
He looks up at me, and all three of them wait for me to confirm.
“Objectively speaking, his dad is the best-looking guy I’ve ever seen in real life.”
The others all hoot and howl with laughter, teasing that they’re going to tell Angel. But I only said the truth. Angel is hot, but his dad is next-level gorgeous.
“And Father Salvatore,” I say, my face warming.
“Come to Daddy,” Manson says, wiggling his brows as he adds the name to his list. “Apparently you have a type too. Okay, we’ve got our top ten list. I’m sending it in the group chat. Your assignment is to ask one of them to the Sinners Bash.”
“I already have a date,” Annabel Lee says. “I asked that blonde from history.”
“Aww, so cute,” Manson says. “She’s the perfect Enid to your Wednesday.”
“Uh, yeah, and there’s no way Saint is going to that,” Ronique says.
