+Alexis+
“This is nice,” Max said, his voice in my ear. His hands were at my waist, as I leant against him, my eyes closed.
“It is.”
My eyes were closed, and we were both swaying to the beat of some random song. This was perfect, right? This was like a fairytale, totally perfect.
Okay, the hall might not be perfect – like most public schools, they couldn’t afford to hire anywhere proper, so they had to make do with their own hall. However, they tried to cover the place with balloons and banners with cheesy slogans on like, “Let’s Get Dancing!”, and even stuck a “DJ” (clearly our science teacher, except in a really big shirt) in the middle of the hall. But it didn’t change much.
Still, I was happy.
After the song was finished, I told him I had to go out for a minute. The second I stepped into the restroom, the door slammed shut, and I jumped.
“Hailey? What are you doing?”
“What did I tell you, Alexis? Didn’t I tell you not to talk to him?”
I rolled my eyes. “Hailey, stop it. You have no right to –”
“But you slept with Carter!” she yelled. Her hair, which had been coiled into an elegant bun for tonight, was loosening, as she glared at me. “You slept with Carter, and you can’t –”
“That was a mistake! It only happened once, and I didn’t even like it! I’m not going to listen to this anymore, okay?”
I turned, and walked away.
But the scary thing is, as I opened the door, and saw her reflection in the pane of glass…she was smiling.
***
=Hailey=
Tiffany stepped out of the toilet cubicle, her eyes shining with anticipation.
“Did you do it?” she asked.
“Yes, I did, but…Are you sure we should do this?”
“What do you think? After what Max did to you?”
“Yes, you’re right,” I said, with as much conviction as I could muster. “You’re so right.”
But I thought about the way Alexis would look…she’d hate me for life, right?
We were meant to be friends.
***
+Alexis+
“There’s a rumour that you’ll be made Prom Queen.”
My eyes widened. “Really? After everything that’s happened? I thought everyone hated me!”
“Don’t worry about that,” Max says, smiling. His hands are sneakily inching lower. My breath catches in my throat. “That was all Tiffany, making up stupid rumours. I got it all cleared up for you.”
“Thanks,” I said, pulling his hands up to my waist again. “Not in public, Max!”
“But it’s so hard keeping my hands off you,” he whispers, leaning in again. I let him kiss me gently, before I push him away again, giggling.
“Stop it!” I muttered.
Suddenly, there was a music change. Both of us looked up, at the “DJ”.
“Yo, peeps!” the fifty-something-year-old said, in a desperate attempt to be cool. “We is here to announce the three nominees for Prom Queen, and the three nominees for Prom King!”
