I also kept my mouth shut about how I spent those first few times listening at the door for any cries for help, ready to help those women.
But they never came.
Those women hadwantedto be there.
Chapter 5
Mystic~
“I’m so nervous.”
I looked over at Margot, dressed in a stunning green baby-doll dress and nude heels, with her hair pinned up and her makeup looking flawless, and asked, “Why on earth are you nervous? You’re the most people-est person I know, Margot. You do crowds just fine.” The corner of her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and I was pretty sure she was going to chew the damn thing off. “Margot?”
She rolled her eyes and let out a tiny huff. “I’m nervous because of Chance,” she admitted.
I schooled my features the best I could. “You really like him, don’t you?”
Margot dropped on the foot of her bed. We were in her room as she finished getting ready for her party. I hadn’t wanted to dress up, but she had begged and so we had compromised. She backed off on my makeup and hair as I gave in to wearing a skirt with heels. I had nothing against dressing up, I just felt more comfortable in jeans and hoodies.
“I don’t know, because I haven’t ever really hung out with him, but he gives me butterflies, Mystic,” she continued to confess. I almost groaned at her admission. I knew she was serious when she used my real name. Margot really wanted to start something with Chance McQueen.
“That’s a good thing, right?” I knew all about butterflies, but mine were more like locusts taking their rightful place in the line of the Seven Plagues than cute butterflies of attraction.
She went back to chewing her lip before she asked, “What if it’s a joke, Mys?” I sat down next to her when I realized she was truly worried about Chance’s interest in her. This shit was serious. “What if...I don’t know. Chance McQueen hasneverasked a girl out. I’m just not sure what this is.”
I grabbed her hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “You’re asking the wrong person these questions, Mar,” I told her. “Only Chance can answer those questions.”
Her pretty green eyes were full of self-doubt, and I hated that. “I just don’t want to be the butt of a joke again,” she whispered, and I wanted to kick Timothy’s ass all over again. That sonofabitch will never know what a good thing he threw away in Margot Cross.
“You’ve never been the butt of a joke, Margot,” I insisted. “The only person who looked like an ass when you and Timothy broke up was Timothy. Everyone sided with you.”
“I know,” she breathed out. “I know that, but...I still felt like a fool when I found out he was cheating.”
“I know, Mar.” And I did know. I was there as she endured her first real heartbreak and it had sucked. It had given me a new appreciation for people who have endured having their hearts broken and have had the courage to open themselves up for love again.
She shook her head and took a deep breath. “You’re right,” she said. “I just need to ask him, point blank, what this is. We’re graduating soon, so if it’s a fling, I can do that. I just need to know that it’s a fling.”
I wanted to argue that I doubted it very much that she could leave this as a fling if she was already tying herself up knots over it, but I didn’t want to bring her down and ruin her party vibe. “It’ll be fine,” I lied. “You could do worse than a fling with Chance McQueen.”
She gave me a sly smile, and I knew she was back. “I bet he’s great in the sack.”
I tried not to grimace. I didn’t want to think about what Chance McQueen was like in bed. It was already bad enough that I might have to actually befriend the dude, I didn’t need to know him any deeper than I might already have to.
Margot hopped off her bed and was giving herself one more onceover in the mirror as she said, “Oh, by the way, Dillon Mills is coming to the party and he asked me about you yesterday in Algebra.”
What the hell?
“What?”
She turned to face me and threw me a saucy wink. “He asked me in class if you were going to be at my party. I told him you were, and he got this really huge grin on his face.” She turned back towards the mirror. “You know, it’s not the first time he’s asked me about you.”
I could feel my palms start to sweat, and I felt guilty for rubbing them all over Margot’s comforter, but better her bed than all over the skirt she forced me to wear. “I...I’m not...interested in Dillon,” I told her.
Margot whirled around to face me again. “Mystic, you’re never interested in anybody,” she tossed out exasperated. “What’s wrong with Dillon Mills?”
She was wrong.
I was interested in someone.
