knives and other weapons; cleo & presley . clue

When it came to music, Cleo preferred something she could feel with her body. A beat, an infectious rhythm that made her move. The cello had a similar effect on her. A deep hum that sang in her bones, made her sway. It wasn’t as punchy as her favorite club mixes, but it still spoke to her. There were certain situations that required a sense of elegance anyway.

“Hey you, music boy. Preston,” she spoke with a note of playfulness. It wasn’t his name, and she knew that, but she also didn’t care. Presley reminded her of Ally. He was a follower. Someone who couldn’t say no, even when he should. Wanted people to like him instead of expecting them to do so. The type of student who pointed and laughed on cue, but otherwise spent all his time in his head.

He was weak. But then, so was Grady, and it was usually easy to convince Grady to do what she wanted. Except for the times he was being a little bitch and wouldn’t talk to her.

Why were boys like them so infuriating?

She sat down in the chair next to him and listened until he finished, her shoulders moving with the sound. “I was thinking there was something you could do for me.” She said when it was quiet examining her nails. “When I win prom queen, and I will,” she stated. I’m going to need a special song to dance with Grady to.” She batted her eyelashes. “Do you think you can write that? I'd be ever so grateful." 

They were friends. Sort of. They traveled in the same circles, went to the same parties. Knew who each other was. That was close enough.

It wasn’t as if he was going to say no. He just couldn’t help himself.