Page 34 of The Brat: Prequel

Honestly, I get it.

Chortling, she waves as I take off on the hunt for my uncle.

As part of my internship, I had to be the gofer for the staff who organized this fundraiser.

I can’t say I hated the task, but it taught me one thing—I’m not made to be Camille or Inessa. They’d be in their element here. Me, I can do it. Would probably do it well if I were on my own and had to sink or swim, but ugh, I understand why Uncle Conor needs me to prop him up.

Rich people are so fucking tedious.

When I spot him hiding over by a potted plant with Liam Donnghal, his cousin and a star on the team, plus his girlfriend, Gracie Bukowski, a hand snags mine.

I jump when I’m dragged onto the dance floor, and only when I catch sight of the guy in question do I groan inwardly.

Moron alert.

Ciaran Kirkland has the worst breath I’ve ever encountered and he speaks in half-sentences with a pause in the middle. It’s sooo annoying.

“I thought—” Pause. “—it was you.”

I frown at him. “It’s polite to invite someone to dance, Ciaran.”

“How are you doing? You must be graduating soon, right?”

Ciaran was in the year above Shay and me at Midland. Shay says he never suffered a concussion while playing for the school football team, but I don’t believe him. Nobody can be this dumb without experiencing head trauma at some point.

“This year.” I rear back to avoid his breath and watch him glance at the lapel on the Nehru collar of my lacy shirt dress.

“Eighteen and never been kissed?” he prompts.

“Why would you bring that up?”

“The boys and I used to talk about you. How you never put out. Cory Ryland said he got to second base, but I don’t believe him. Then, of course, my cousin Ronan told me about Homecoming. Said he fingered you on the dance floor. I didn’t believe him, either. You always were an ice queen.”

“And how’d you know? I barely spoke more than two words to you, Ciaran. They tended to be fuck and off,” I tell him, proud of my even tone.

Ronan’s still in traction because of me, after all. As far as I know, his family thinks it was an accident.

His nose scrunches. “You should be nice to me.”

My smile’s genuinely amused. “Oh, and why’s that?”

“Because Poughkeepsie’s a small place and we’ll both be going to Oakwood⁠—”

“How do you know that?” I bite off, hackles rising.

“Overheard your conversation with that weirdo in the jeans.”

“That weirdo is the fiancée of the Stars’s governor so watch your tongue.”

He shrugs. “I know people.”

“I’m sure you do,” I dismiss, turning my head away to avoid the smell.

“Powerful people.”

I refuse to tense up. “How much of our conversation did you overhear?”

“Enough.”