More Than This Page 8

   I heard my name, but I didn’t catch anything else. Megan nudged my side, and I looked up at her. Her eyebrows were raised, and her head jerked toward James. I slowly looked at him. “Huh?” I was so eloquent.

   He cleared his throat. “It was nice meeting you, Mikayla. I have to get back to unpacking. Hopefully I’ll see you around school or something?” He said it more like a question than a statement.

   Before I could answer, a kid no more than eight years old came barreling toward us. He ran so fast, I didn’t think he could stop in time. Both Meg and I put our hands out to stop his crashing into us, but he stopped mere inches away. He glared at Megan then at me.

   James put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And this is my brother, Bradley.”

   Bradley smiled. “Hey, have you seen my baseball?”

   Megan and I couldn’t help it. We laughed.

   Two weeks later, James and I were dating.

 

   “You okay there, Miss Mikayla?” Heidi asks from across the limo.

   I must’ve zoned out. “Yeah,” I sigh. “I just can’t believe I didn’t see it coming.” I pick imaginary lint off my dress.

   “No one suspects the people they love of douchebaggery.” Heidi looks at me sympathetically.

   “Or slutbaggery,” Lucy adds.

 

 

SIX

JAKE

   We get to prom within seconds of the announcement. Heidi, the new Prom Queen, changes from the girl we know to the girl everyone expects her to be. Prancing onstage, she smiles and gives a short speech. The Prom King is Doug, the quarterback, of course.

   They pose for photos, but it’s awkward as hell because Doug knows Dylan’s watching, and you don’t fuck with Dylan. There’s only one thing Dylan loves more than basketball, and that’s his girl. Physically, they’d be a decent match, but to Dylan there’s a huge difference between sports and Heidi. Doug would probably not survive that fight. We’d give Dylan shit if he weren’t so serious about her. He’s not the hearts-and-flowers kind of guy—he’s the heart-and-soul kind, and fuck if every girl would rather have that than the flowers.

 

   We’re all watching the stage when I see Casey sauntering toward me. Casey is my crazy ex. I panic and step closer to Mikayla. It’s a dick move, but it’s instinct. Mikayla looks up at me, eyebrows drawn in. I guess she must sense my panic, because she follows my eyes to Casey. I think she understands. She wraps her tiny little arms around my waist, her side pressing into mine. I put my arm around her shoulders, and she rests her head in the crook of my arm.

   “Hey, Jake,” Casey says, inches away from us. “Who’s your little friend? I haven’t seen this one around before.”

   I flinch at her words and feel Mikayla tense next to me for a second. “Casey, this is Mikayla.”

   Mikayla laughs. “Baby, you don’t have to be so formal.” She reaches a hand out to Casey. “Jake calls me Kayla. Do you go to school here, Lacey?”

   “It’s Casey.”

   “Oh.” Mikayla nods, smiling at her. Then she looks at me with her big brown Bambi eyes and runs her hands up and down my chest. “I’m thirsty, babe. Let’s get a drink then head to the hotel,” she says, loud enough for Casey to hear. On tiptoe, she whispers in my ear, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

   I don’t know if Casey could hear that, but I know she can see my eyes widen in surprise. What she can’t see is my dick twitch at the thought. I’m such a guy. I look down at Mikayla, who smiles innocently up at me.

   “Well, have a good night,” Casey interrupts, backing away.

   “Was that Casey? What did she do to you this time?” Heidi approaches us from the stage, watching Casey return to the dance floor. She points her finger at me then Mikayla. “And what’s going on here?”

   We realize we’re still locked in each other’s arms and abruptly let go. I’m a bit more hesitant than she is, though, because I can’t help trying to look down the back of her dress to see if she really isn’t wearing any underwear.

   I’m an asshole.

   “Let’s go. I’m bored,” Cam says as Logan walks up to the group, his hair disheveled and his tux all out of sorts.

   “I’m ready,” Logan says as we stare at him. “What? I just gave some band geek a night she’ll never forget.”

 

   We’re in the limo driving through some heavy woods. I can tell Mikayla is getting worried because her eyes dart between the window and her phone.

   I nudge her. “Don’t worry. I told you, I’m not a psycho. I’m not going to kill you. We can drop these guys off, and you can take the limo home if you want.”

   “It’s okay.” She smiles. “I’d rather be here than anywhere else.”

       MIKAYLA

           The limo stops at a clearing in the middle of nowhere, and we all file out. I see an old truck that surely doesn’t run anymore and a bonfire pit. Logan and Dylan light a fire, while Cam and Jake jump into the bed of the truck and pull down three chairs and a cooler full of beer. They pass the bottles around after the girls set up the chairs around the fire.

   Cam and Lucy sit on the bed of the truck. Dylan’s in one chair with Heidi on his lap, and Logan’s in the other. Jake is holding the back of the third and last chair. “Here,” he says to me. “Take a seat. I’ll stand.”

   “Sorry.” Heidi holds up her beer. “We weren’t expecting company. Not that you haven’t been a great surprise, though.”

   I face Jake. “No, it’s fine. I’ll stand. It’s your chair, your bonfire, your—”

   “I got a place for you right here, sweetheart,” Logan says from behind me, patting his lap.

   I scrunch my nose at him. Lucy notices and laughs. Don’t get me wrong—Logan is a good-looking guy. If I were any other girl, I’d be swooning over him. But the fact that he spilled beer on me, screwed some innocent girl at her prom and left, and generally has been acting like an ass . . . Well, all that kind of downgrades his swoon-worthiness.

   Before I can react, Jake wraps his arm around my waist and sits me down on his lap. I lean against his chest, my legs to one side. “I think she’d rather not,” he says to Logan. His accent makes it sound like “ruh-thuh nawt.”

   I have to admit that accents turn me on. James has a sexy accent—a nice, not-too-dirty Texan drawl. I used to love how he dipped his cap forward a little and said, “Yes, ma’am,” when I asked him to do something. He knew it turned me on, so he did it as often as possible. Fuck James. I really do love him.

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