“You’re going to the after party, right?”
It was Mark, hounding Halle who turned to look at me, lip pressed between her teeth. She liked him and, from the look of things, he was pretty fond of her too. “I’ll go if Gigi goes,” she said, giving me a hopeful smile.
Shoot.
Why put this all on me?
Shifting my weight, I heard, “We’ll all go, right Roy?”
“Not really my thing,” he said with a non-committal shrug.
“Um, I’ll go if Roy goes,” I said, glancing up at him.
His dark eyes roved over my expression and I hoped he could see it, the pleading in my eyes, to say he’s not going, to hold firm to his disinterest despite the peer pressure pushing him to do otherwise—“Okay. I’ll go.” He gave a light shrug.
No.
Horrified, I turned forward, noticing tha
