Chapter 28

I take a sip of the punch and then raise my eyebrows. It’s clearly sp*ked.

Setting it aside, I rise to my feet, palms on the table. “Do either of you want to dance with me?”

“I’m not drunk enough yet!” Miranda moans, and Andrew laughs as I yank her to her feet and drag her to the dance floor. Zayd’s already out there, grinding up against Anna. On the opposite side of the room, I see Tristan with his hands all over some third-year wearing a yellow dress. Creed is just lounging at one of the tables, but he’s got a captive audience all to himself.

I ignore them and try to have a good time with Miranda, even when Harper du Pont purposely moves over beside us so she can elbow me and whip me with her hair. Petty crap like that doesn’t bother me anymore. Between the essay and the butchering of my hair, I almost crumbled, but instead I stood tall. Something as silly as this means nothing.

After a while, I trade places with Andrew and grab a bottle of water from the c