Prince Charmings (BOOK ONE)

34

"You're gonna burn a hole if you're not careful," I warned Tommo, calling his attention away from his phone long enough for him to realize he'd stopped moving his molten hot iron.

"Damn it," He hissed, flustered as he pulled the iron off his gown, eyeing the material for damage. I chuckled to myself, turning my own phone off to enjoy the rare sight of a flustered Theodore Moorg. His cheeks tried valiantly to stop from turning pink, fingers jabbing at the hot spot. "You smell burning plastic?"

"I smell a distracting influence," I teased, nodding toward the phone in his hand. "Who're you texting that's got your head in the clouds?"

Tommo crossed his arms, looking the least menacing he ever had leaned against his mom's pastel green ironing board. When he'd pulled it out of storage I bursted out laughing at the sight. The board screaming jaded '70s housewife, not at all matching my friend's usual aesthetic of stoicism and bored judgment. "Who're you texting that's got you smiling brighter than a glow stick with every passing notification?"

"Fuck off," I replied, rolling off his bed. Standing in front of the ironing board I glanced down at his graduation gown. I picked up the thin black fabric and tried to gauge whether or not we'd have to make a last ditch attempt at buying Tommo a new one.

"It's passible," I said, squinting to make out the brown, semi-oval burn mark on his gown.

"I can't look passible, Beau." Tommo's entire face contorted into a look of anguish and I gripped the ironing board in fear he might flip it over in his panic. "Unlike you, my photo's going to be plastered all over the school halls–"

I rolled my eyes, cutting in. "Again, ever so humble."

"– I need to look perfect. Give me your gown, we'll trade."

"No fucking way." I scoffed, punching his arm when the guy made a pass for my backpack. "Plus it wouldn't even fit you. Some of us don't have tree trunks for limbs."

"Ugh, of course this would happen today." He groaned, pocketing his phone so he could rub both hands over his face. "How much time we got left?"

"Graduation isn't until tomorrow," I reminded him then jutted a thumb at the clock on his wall. "Donnie's is still open. If we leave now we can catch the bus in time to get there before traffic kicks in."

"Can't convince your boyfriend to drive us?" Tommo questioned, hands dropping as he arched a brow. I vehemently tried to keep my face neutral.

"Spencer's at work," I said, still unused to hearing the word 'boyfriend' in the context of my own romantic life.

Tommo stuffed the gown into his backpack, shouldering it hastily. "Move your ass, Minders."

"Bossy," I mumbled, grabbing my stuff and trailing behind my frantic friend. Not daring to slow Tommo down, I kept my laces untied as we jogged to the bus stop at the end of his street. Although exams were finally over, school long since out of session, the everyday work lives of our parents went on so we couldn't count on Tommo's dad to drive us. Thankfully the bus was quick, rolling up to the pavement only a few minutes later. I paid both our fares, Tommo barely functioning enough to get his student ID out for the discount. Settling into the back I dropped a hand down onto his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

"Calm down man," I said, squeezing the spot harder when all Tommo did was thunk his head against the window.

"I can't believe this is happening. And the day before graduation. My mom's going to kill me when she finds out I just threw ninety-five dollars down the drain," he groaned, sending me a look that obviously meant to signal a sympathetic response.