Trish's POV
"Are you going to ask him?" I whisper to Trent at the dining table.
"I don't have a date," he grumbles.
"You can ask Monica," I smirk.
"Over my dead body."
"What are you two gossiping about?" Simon asks, placing his glass on the table.
"Well, you know next week is Valentine's and there's a da—"
"You can go," he cuts me off.
"Really?" I gasp.
"Yes, but I'll be out that weekend, so someone will pick you up by midnight."
I don’t care; I’m going.
I pull out my phone and text Grace:
Me: I'm going to the dance next week.
Grace: Yes, we're going shopping this weekend!
"I have to go shopping for my dress on Saturday," I announce.
"Can I come? No way I'm staying here bored to death," Trent asks.
"Sure, if you want to carry my bags," I shrug.
"No problem."
Simon's phone
