Page 32 of The Prom Queen Project
“They’re only my friends because I need them to be, okay?” I exclaimed with fire in my eyes. “Does that make it better for you, Abercrombie?”
“Need them to be?” he repeated. “What does that even mean?”
The streetlights bathed the car in light as we crept along the tranquil, empty streets.
I stared at him, biting my lower lip hard enough to draw blood amidst my drunken stupor. Still, I tugged at the tender skin with my teeth, the metallic taste dancing on my tongue.
“Are your friends so entitled they only like to hang out at whoever’s house is the biggest? Are your friends so fake they will kiss up to people they don’t even like? Are your friends so shallow they avoid everyone below their social standing like the plague?”
“Umm—”
“I’m not done! Are your friends so toxic that they will tear apart anyone who tries to get in their way?” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, I’m done now…”
“So, you clearly hate them…why do you hang out with them?”
My voice came out just above a whisper. “Prom Queen. I have to win.”
Elliot groaned. “Dude. What is up with you and winning this stupid popularity contest?”
“It’s just important to me, okay?” I said while flinging my arms in the air and letting out a sigh of frustration. “Trust me, if I could be myself and just hang out with losers like you and still win Prom Queen, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“Okay, ouch.”
My eyes widened in horror at the words that had just escaped my lips. Booze really did make the brain-to-mouth filter go away. I genuinely meant that in the kindest way possible, but it just didn’t sound that way…
“Ugh. I’m sorry. I swear I meant that as a compliment.”
“No, no.” He smirked at me. “Loser is way better than asshat, so I’ll take it as an upgrade. But seriously, though, have you ever considered making new friends?”
“What?” I threw my head back while rolling my eyes. “Do you really think the people you say ‘hate me’ will just accept me with open arms?”
“Just be yourself and give them a chance to know the real you.”
And give the jocks and cheerleaders ammunition to hate me?Yeah, right.There had to be a way that I could accomplish both. I still needed the outcasts to like me…but how? How could I get into their good graces without dissing my current friends?
“Wait!” I yelled, pushing myself upright in my seat.
Elliot slammed on the brakes, causing the car to jerk violently. His head ricocheted against the headrest as he clenched the cigarette he was smoking between his teeth.
“What?” he screamed as if a spider had dropped right onto his lap.
“Shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean the car.”
He rubbed the back of his neck while wincing. “Jesus, Clarke.”
“Sorry. I just had an idea.”
“Well, spit it out already.”
“What if your friends were forced to get to know me?”
“Are you going to lock them in a room with you or something?” He eased off the brake and began driving down the road again.
“No. I’m not fucking insane, Elliot.” He raised an eyebrow as if he wanted to challenge my words. I flared my nostrils. “Just…what if I was dating someone close to them? That way, we would all have to interact. Someone like maybe…you.”
“Are…” He stared at me blankly. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”
“Fakeboyfriend.”
