Page 43 of The Prom Queen Project
“Hey!” I stood up from my chair. “What are you doing?”
“This.” He pulled a copy ofThe Tell-Tale Heartout of my bag while flashing me his pearly whites.
I stared at him, waiting for an explanation as to why a book about feeling guilty after committing murder was relevant.
He seemed confused by my confusion. Looking down at his hands, he frowned. “Wait…not this.”
He rummaged through my purse again.
“Dude!”
“This!” He held up my journal.
“My journal? What, you wanna snoop through my innermost thoughts again?”
He shook his head while tapping the cover. “You’ve got a foolproof plan here. This is exactly the inspiration we need to create some dating rules.”
Elliot was right…again. But there was no way I would say that out loud after the smug reaction he had the first time. Couldn’t have his head getting too big. The one thing I still didn’t understand was why he seemed so hellbent on making our fake relationship seem genuine. Why did he care? I knew what was in it for me, but what was in it for him?
“Why are you even going along with this in the first place? Weren’t you the one who thought the whole fake dating thing was a stupid idea?”
“That was before I saw the bigger picture.”
“Which is?”
“That you need me.”
I scoffed. “Oh, get off your high horse, Prince Charming.”
“But…” He held up his forefinger. “I need you, too.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You need to escape your toxic friends and still win Prom Queen, and I need to get a ‘B’ in Mrs. Hawthorne’s class, so I can graduate.”
“Okay, so you’re going to help me campaign, and I’m going to keep tutoring you?”
“No.” Elliot smirked. “I’m going to make you more likable to the normies, and you’re going to do my homework…all of it.”
“I’m perfectly likable already.” I crossed my arms. “And you really think I’m going to do your homework like some nerd?”
“I hold the key to the one group you can’t crack, and you hold the key to my high school diploma. Like it or not, we need each other.”
I frowned at his words. Even though it pained me to admit it, Elliot was right.God, I seem to be thinking that a lot lately.We needed to work together. Besides, this was my genius idea in the first place. I couldn’t expect him to go along with everything without wanting something in return.
“Fine.”
Elliot put my journal on the table. His lips curled into a smile. Flipping to an open page, he started writing.
I leaned closer to him, trying to peek over his shoulder. When I read what he wrote, I couldn’t help but laugh.Totally-not-real relationship rules. It only took about ten minutes of brainstorming until we finally had a fully compiled list.
Elliot stuck his tongue out while reading over everything we had written, humming in approval. My eyes scanned the page as I combed through each rule, triple-checking for any gaps or inconsistencies. Seemed pretty solid to me.
“Okay, so now that we have rules, we need to create a backstory,” I stated matter-of-factly. “How did we meet?”
“Easy. We just use the real story. We met in AP Lit.”
“Yeah, but why would I talk to you?”
