49. A Real Friend Wouldn't

Elena

“Ugh, you simply must, Elena,” Isaac says yet again in that Scottish accent of his that I love so much. He was currently trying to convince me to come to the MacGowan Biannual family gathering. “I already told you I hate these things!” I say, yet again, but he only rolls his eyes, then smirks devilishly. Oh, no. I know this smile all too well. This smile got me in trouble in my second week here at Exeter when he made me ask a professor for their number just to slip it to him. Did I forget to mention that he was a naughty bastard?

“Well, Edgar Cooke will be there, but I guess you hate these things too much to come,” He says and turns to walk away. But I grab his wrist and pull him back. “Excuse me, tart?” I ask him and see his grin growing to super villain levels. “Yes, Edgar Cooke will be there. You know, your favourite author and all. Did I forget to mention that he’s my godfather? And