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I accept the drinks.

The rest of my inbox is just as insane.

Tricks: CALLUM NOBLE?? Jesus, warn a girl, would you! And WELL DONE!

Jinx: Is it true? I know the media can be stupid. Tell me it’s true, pretty please. I want to live vicariously through your Cinderella story.

I laugh at both, and spontaneously decide to invite them for drinks with the other girls. They’re all in the same school anyway. Jinx and Tricks can’t afford the fifty-buck cocktails we’ll sip at my sister’s favorite club, but there’s no way I’ll let them pay.

I send the information to the girls, and Bella’s the first to answer.

Bella: Wonderful. I love J and T.

Grace: I don’t know them well. Let’s change that.

The others acquiesce too, if a little reluctantly: a thumbs-up and a “no problem.”

I muse at the different greetings; those four have been lovely to me, but I don’t really think they like my other dance school friends, except for Bella.

Then I think back to Jinx, who’s extremely awkward, to the point of weirdness, and Tricks.

Tricks…is loud.

I might love the attention, as Callum so likes to point out, but I don’t like it on me all the time. Just when I dance and do other, mostly naked things. Tricks was the most popular girl in our old middle school. She was never mean or a bully, but she did alwayslike to draw the eye, and well, it didn’t make her loved by other girls; especially when she batted her pretty lashes and flirted with their boyfriend.

We got close because we were the two principal dancers in her mom’s school; I ended up being favored over Jinx when we were about thirteen, because I took ballet seriously and Jinx preferred to attend comic cons and read manga. Tricks and I ended up spending a lot of time together for years. She never did anything to hurt me, but that doesn’t mean she was a saint.

I regret my impulse, but there’s nothing I can do about it now that the invitation is sent.

I tell Callum I’m hanging out with the girls tonight, and to my surprise, he doesn’t try to stop me or barge in. I half expected him to. He can be pushy.

Callum: I’ll pick you up. Text when you’re done?

Me: You could let me go home, you know.

Callum: We could do that…I remember how fun you can be when you’re drunk. Go home. Leave the door open. I’ll see you when you’re asleep ;)

And now my panties are ruined in the middle of the day. Great.

On my way to the bar, I’m worrying about what Tricks could possibly have done to earn their scorn, when a voice makes me stop dead in my tracks.

“Hey, Olivia! Wait up.”

Shit.

If I had to compose a list of the people I don’t want to see again, my father would have been number one. Yet, although it’s definitely not his part of town, there’s no denying that my drunkof a sperm donor is crossing the street, waving at me like we’re a happy, happy family.

Someone shoot me.

I’m almost at the bar, and all of a sudden, I freeze, not wanting to bring him any closer. Shit. Grace is there. She hasn’t seen his abusive ass since she was a toddler for a reason. It’s one thing for me to deal with him—I have my entire life—but I don’t want to bring his attention to her.

Squashing my instinct to run, get into the bar, and tell whatever security that he’s bothering me, I stay put.

“What do you want?”

“Is that how you greet your old man?” he drawls.

“Yes. What do you want—money?” I guess, knowing that there likely is no other reason why he would have approached me.