Page 14 of Ella's Masquerade
And I growled.
“You can’t make me attend a dinner and a dance just to pass this assignment.”
His silence said otherwise.
I glanced around to see half the class observing our discord with keen interest; even Charlie appeared amused. “Cindersoot doesn’t know how to dance, Nacht. Hell, she probably doesn’t even know how to wear a dress.”
That elicited several snickers and caused me to roll my eyes. “I’m wearing a skirt right now, Charlie Joe.”
“Not the same as a dress, Ella Sewer,” he returned. “But we all know it’d have to be a charity case from your sisters anyway.”
“Stepsisters,” I corrected. “And mind your own business.” I kicked Tray’s shoe, resulting in him opening one eye at me. “Dinner at six. No dance.”
“Nope,” he replied. “Dinner and the dance, and I want a list of questions tomorrow morning.” He went back to his nap.
I muttered an obscenity in response just as Professor Montgomery flounced into the room, her gaze twinkling with excitement. “Good morning,” she greeted us in a singsong voice, already taking over the class and forcing me back to my seat.
By the end of her hour-long lecture, I wanted to kill Trayton Nacht. The stubborn asshole was not going to leave me with any choice other than to accept his outlandish request. Otherwise, I’d forfeit the assignment grade, and I couldn’t afford to do that.
I needed to maintain my grade point average to achieve my college goals of moving across the country and living far, far away from my evil stepsisters and stepmother. As all of my applications were currently under review, the last thing I needed was a failure on my record.
My teeth ground together, my stomach twisting in knots.
All right, I’d play his game.
I’d agree to dinner and the dance, and I’d make his life hell the entire time. Starting with my wardrobe choice. My lips tugged upward. Yeah, I had the perfect outfit in mind. If I was lucky, he’d finish our interview at the house as a result of not wanting to be seen in public with me.
“All right, Tray,” I said to him, standing and pulling my bag onto my shoulder. “You win.”
“Do I?” he asked, having paused midstep when I said his name. He glanced over his shoulder. “Six o’clock?”
“Six o’clock,” I agreed.
“And the dance?”
I forced a smile. “Sure, Tray. We’ll go to the dance.”
His gaze twinkled. “You won’t regret it.”
I nearly snorted and instead just shook my head, leaving him behind me. Because yeah, he was right. I wouldn’t regret this weekend at all. But he definitely would. I’d make sure of it.
“Don’t forget your questions tomorrow,” he called after me.
I flipped him off in response.
He’d get his interview questions.
And a hell of a lot more.
Chapter Six
Tray
Isabella stood waitingfor me at the front of her long, winding driveway in a pair of black ripped jeans and an oversized, ink-stained sweatshirt. Her blonde hair was tousled up into a messy bun, and her face was sans makeup.
My lips kicked up at the sides, amusement warming my chest.
If she thought this homeless look would turn me off, she had another think coming.
