VERONICA’S POV
“Come on, Mason, it’s just ten minutes,” I beg, tugging at his shirt.
His eyes stay glued to his phone, and I have no doubt he’s busy sexting one of his many fan girls—girls I still don’t understand, because what exactly do they see in him? He’s notorious, a bully half the time, and generally insufferable.
Even now, he can’t spare me ten minutes.
I tug harder.
He finally looks up, irritation written all over his face.
“You said ten minutes last time,” he snaps. “And what happened? You made us sit there and pick dresses for you.”
He tries to shrug me off, but I hold on tighter.
“Go away.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I protest. “And I’ll tell Dad you were behind that very mysterious debit from his card. Let’s see what he says.”
This time, he actually shoves me off an
