Read Online Winning by Lara Deloza - Free Book Online

crass about writing your own name on that dotted line.
    But this year’s different. There’s someone who needs my vote even more.
    It took me hours to select the just-right outfit for today: ivory lace minidress over heather-gray tights and worn, reddish-brown boots, all tied together with a soft charcoal cardi and a fluffy, floral infinity scarf. It’s a little bit soft, a little bit pretty, and a little bit sexy, without looking like I was trying to be any of those things. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to pull off a combination like that?
    Natalie does. She was awake uncharacteristically early this morning, having one of her rare “up” days. As I headed out for school, I found her reorganizing the kitchen and guzzling black coffee out of an antique shaving mug that used to be my dad’s. It makes my heart drop into my stomach, seeing her clutch that mug. She’s never gotten rid of any of his stuff.
    â€œGood call on wearing your hair down,” she said, nodding approvingly. “You look warm. Approachable.”
    â€œThat’s what I was going for.”
    She set the shaving mug down and walked toward me. For a second, I almost flinched. But then my mother—in a move she hasn’t made in more than a year—leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.
    â€œGood luck today, honey,” she said. “Not that you’ll need it.”
    I hate how good that made me feel.
    The absolute best part of today is this: I don’t hear a single person mention Erin Hewett until AP English, when Mr. Banerjee says her name during roll call.
    Like I told Sam before: it wouldn’t take long for that shiny, New Girl smell to wear off. Matt’s Homecoming proposal just helped get rid of it a little faster.
    Frick won’t post the Homecoming candidates for another forty minutes, so I don’t know for certain that my thunder has completely drowned out the Erin Hewett Fan Club. But I’m sure I’ve silenced it enough to matter.
    In Spanish, the clock hands move along at a glacial pace. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
    After what feels like an eternity, the final bell rings. Students pour out of the classroom, but I take my time packing up. I can’t just run to the bulletin board outside of Frick’s office. Better to have Sam do that and report back to me.
    I go to my locker. I trade out the books I need for homework. I wait to get a text from Sam.
    It doesn’t come.
    My pulse quickens. I’m not worried about making the ballot—I know my name will be on the list. But will hers? This is what I need to know.
    I type a single question mark into iMessage and press send. Sam reads the message.
    Still no response.
    I’m about to head over to play rehearsal when I feel Matt’s thick arms around my waist. He nuzzles my neck and gets a little side boob action with his forearm. “Congratulations, my future queen,” he whispers into my ear.
    I grin despite myself. “What about you?” I ask over myshoulder. “Are you my future king?”
    He presses closer. “You know it.”
    Matt spins me around and pins me against the locker, kissing me long and deep, with a hunger that’s not entirely familiar. It’s kind of hot, actually. Too hot. If Matt doesn’t cool down soon, we’re going to end up getting naked right here in the hallway.
    â€œYou might want to slow down,” I say. “You’ve got practice. I’ve got rehearsal. This—whatever this is—has to wait.”
    â€œWhat if I don’t want to wait?” he growls.
    I’m tempted to pull him into the janitors’ closet, but that directly conflicts with my personal rules of engagement. I’m actually debating whether or not I need to relax those rules when I hear the sharp bray of Frick: “That’s enough, Miss Miles.”
    Matt pulls away a bit, but not entirely. “Sorry Ms. Frick,” he says, and gives her one of his