They are the group no one dares to mess with, with a school that stands behind them.
She is the girl who opposes them, and the girl who might just lose everything.
─────────── · ★ · · ──
Beaumont Academy, a prestigious school housing only the m...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
With the hour of the party approaching, Alaina readied herself, slipping into the dress and strapping the shoes into place. She clipped her hair back with a small buckle, fixing the two strands at the side of her face. Adjusting the sleeves, she looked at the reflection, once again Victoria's choice in dresses proved to be perfectly aligned with her taste. She wiggled around in the pumps, the cushion was way more comfortable than she thought. She expected nothing less from Victoria, she was versed with fashion.
Deciding against calling her cousin for a ride, Alaina called a cab to take her to the hotel. It was just as grand as she remembered, however the amount of vehicles coming by were less, so she was one of the few selected guests to join the celebration. Entering the doors where she had been embarrassed before, she found her way to the dining hall.
The hall was very dimly lit, just a few warm glowing candles at each table. There weren't any extensive decorations, it was all simple and cozy. There were about twenty people attending, wearing their elegant dresses and suits, mingling and clinking champagne glasses. Soft harp music played in the background of the chatters, staged at the center of the room.
"Why didn't you call me during your last exhibition," a young lady questioned.
"You said you were going to call me back as well but you didn't," another whined. "I left you several messages."
"You said that to me too," a third chimed in, punching the male's shoulder gently.
Brendan rubbed his temple in annoyance, giving a smile to balance it. He'd been in this situation multiple times before, but he never learned. The playboy in him would always get too carried away with agreeing and accepting girls as his dates to events. After all, he could never reject a pretty girl when she was batting her and begging him to be their date. That compliant nature was what had landed him in this position. He was trying to figure out how to resolve the dilemma, once again. Choosing one girl from all the pretty faces here was like asking him to choose his favorite Versace shirt, he simply couldn't pick one.
A girl crossed her arms. "Who did you come with tonight?"
"You haven't said yes to be their dates, so be mine," the other told him.
"What do you think you're doing? I've already got dibs," the third girl said, latching onto Brendan's arm.
He chuckled, half enjoying this, half not. It was flattering, really. It was a dream many men possessed, to have women fighting over them, it was the easiest way to inflate their already massive ego. It was the clinging part that he wasn't too fond of, he didn't want to be in the middle of a full on game of tug of war, not when he was wearing one of his expensive silk shirts.
"Hey! Let go," one bickered.
"Don't lay a hand on him! He's mine!"
His eyes moved up, catching sight of a familiar face. Relief overcame him. "Oh, hold on. I'm sorry. Excuse me," he said, moving away from them and walking towards a dark haired female at the entrance. "Honey, what took you so long? Why are you so late?"
