Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson
I look into the camera, testing a crooked smile before clicking the button. I lower my phone to assess the picture, deciding that it’s garbage. I try another, this one with my cleavage in the shot. Oh, yeah. That’s definitely it.
I add a caption:
Getting ready to crush these lame PhysEd credits. Should I do swim, bball, or track?
#PrestonStrong #killmenow #whyaretheserequiredcredits #SwimDevils #BallerDevils #RunningDevils
The bench in front of the gym is nice. It’s a warm day for March—warm enough that I’ve abandoned my sweater in favor of undoing a few buttons on my uniform. I get a couple instant responses from people who don’t even go here, so I’m scrolling down my ChattySnap when a group of people walk by.
I look up, realizing who it is.
It’s The Devils, capital T, capital D.
They ignore me, of course. As they should. I’m just a freshman, and they’re all juniors. Well, not just juniors. They’re some of the most popular people in school. Athletic. Smart. Rich.
Just then, one of them makes eye contact with me. Heston Wilcox. Oh, god. He’s so ridiculously handsome that my heart instantly starts pitter-pattering. It beats even harder when his steps falter, slowing.
“Hey, you’re Georgia, right?” he asks.
I nod, holding back an inner, girlish squeal at the fact he knows my name. My name! “Uh, yeah. Hi!” I feel a little cringe at the excitement in my voice, but he just walks back a step, facing me.
Heston’s lips tilt into a wry smirk. “You busy tonight?”
I feel a hot blush creep up my cheeks. “Er… me?” A couple of his friends wait nearby, and my eyes dart over. They’re all Devils. Hamilton Bates, Ansel Davenport, Emory Hall. There’s a girl tucked under Hamilton’s arm. Her name is Campbell, but I’m not sure if that’s a first or last name.
“Yes, you,” he says with a little laugh, amusement dancing in this ocean blue eyes.
I push my shoulders back, trying to adopt a facade of perfect cool. “No, I’m not busy tonight.”
He lifts his chin. “I’m having a party. You should come.”
Holy shit! Heston Wilcox is inviting me to a party! I stammer out, “To your house?”
Blush deepening, I admit, “I don’t have a ride.”
He glances over at the guys, eyes zeroed in. “Campbell can give you a ride. Isn’t that right, Cam?”
Campbell scowls, obviously not pleased at someone telling her what to do, but Hamilton leans down and whispers something into her ear. Whatever he says is enough to smooth her expression. She gives me a look and calls out, “Meet me by the parking lot at eight.”
“S-sure,” I stutter, trying to look casual as I cross my legs. “Yeah. Sounds great.”
They walk off, just like that—as if Heston Wilcox hadn’t just socially anointed me.
The ride with Campbell is awkward. I try to strike up a conversation three times, but it falls flat. She barely answers me. I give up, spending the rest of the drive staring at my phone, full of excited nerves. I’ve been to parties before, but nothing like one thrown by the Devils.
When we arrive, Campbell all but leaves me to scurry after her in my heels. About the only thing that makes me feel a little less like an out-of-place loser is the way Heston looks at me when his eyes find me.
He smiles. “Hey. You made it.”
Breathlessly, I say, “Yeah. Hi.”
His eyes have that little gloss to them, like maybe he’s already a bit buzzed off something. I don’t blink an eye when he hands me a beer, a hand landing on my lower back to lead me into a room with a billiard table.
We spend a long time like that; him leading me around the party, talking to people here and there—people I know of, but don’t actually know. None of them really pay attention to me, but sometimes, Heston will bend down to say something into my ear, like, “You have nice legs,” or, “See that guy over there? That’s Carl. He can get you anything you want,” or, “Want another drink?” Every time he does, I get a small shiver, and the hand resting on the small of my back rubs a little, like he knows.
I wasn’t totally expecting it, so it’s surprising to find that I’m definitely the girl on his arm for the night. The other girls seem surprised at the way he keeps me at his side too, throwing me the occasional confused or jealous glance. Even when he starts up a game of pool with his boys,