I probably shouldn’t be a chaperone at a high school dance ever. Oscar is going to flip. I turn to Beckett. “Don’t go there again,” I say. “All of SFO have warned you. So now I’m warning you.” “She instigated that one.” Beckett grabs a pastry off a server’s tray, a smile toying at his lips. “Plus, she basically called me a slut.”
