Paper Princess (The Royals #1)(64)

“She needs to use the bathroom.”

I frown at the intruder. Savannah Montgomery. What’s she doing here? Before I can protest, she drags me off to the closest bathroom and shuts the door.

I watch as she turns on the faucet and dips a hand towel under the stream of water.

“What the hell is going on right now?” I demand.

She turns with a cloudy expression. “Look,” she says bluntly, “I don’t like you much—”

“Gee, thanks.”

“—but I wouldn’t let even my worst enemy be sucked in by Daniel.”

My confusion triples. “What’s wrong with Daniel? Reed and Easton vouched for him. They said he’s a good—”

“You want some advice?” she cuts in. “Don’t take a Royal’s word for anything.”

That bitterness Easton had mentioned is now painfully obvious. It’s in the tight set of her jaw, the harshness of her words.

“I get that you don’t like them,” I say softly. “I heard about you and Gideon—”

She interrupts again, her green eyes burning with disgust. “You know what? I changed my mind. You and Daniel are perfect for each other. Have a great night, Ella.”

With that, Savannah throws the wet towel at me and it strikes me across the face, soaking the front of my T-shirt. Bewildered, I hang the towel up and pluck the wet fabric away from my chest. What the hell just happened?

Daniel is waiting outside the bathroom, concern etched into his face. “What’s wrong? You and Savannah get into it?”

“Not exactly. I don’t know what happened back there other than she got mad and soaked my shirt.” I point to the wet Astor Park T-shirt I borrowed from one of the twins and tied in the back to make it fit.

“Do you need another shirt? I can grab one from Farris’ room.” He points upward.

“No, that’s okay. It’ll dry.” I flap the fabric. It’s thin enough that it should dry fairly quickly.

He nods. “Look, I don’t want to say anything bad about her, but Sav isn’t a real happy person these days. Don’t let it rub off on you.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“They’re setting up a dart game in the other room. You interested?”

“Sure, why not.”

He hands me a water bottle. “Don’t know if you want this since you’re already soaked, but I thought you might like it. Those drinks Farris mixes are potent.”

“Thanks.” I twist the bottle open, noting that the seal hadn’t been broken. Daniel clearly falls in the good guy category, and I’d be really stupid not to at least give him a chance.

His arm bumps against my shoulder as we walk down the hall.

“You know, Daniel…” I take a breath. “I think we should go out.”

“Yeah?” He beams.

“Definitely.”

“All right then.” He pulls me to his side and kisses me on the temple in another nice, reassuring move. “But first, let’s go kick some ass in darts.”

The dartboard is a bar-sized thing in the pool house at the back of the Farris property. The sight of two other girls already lounging on a leather sectional eases my mind that Daniel hadn’t immediately assumed my agreement for one date meant I’m ready to get down.

“This is Zoe and Nadine. They’re from town.”

Zoe lifts a limp wrist. “We go to South East High.”

“Didn’t we just play your team tonight?”

“Yup,” she confirms. “And now we’re celebrating.”

I have to laugh. “But you lost.”

“Then I guess we’re getting consoled.” She and Nadine giggle again.

“Good thing we have Hugh here.”

Hugh is a wiry guy, a few inches taller than me, who takes a drag of whatever it is he’s smoking and merely nods.

Daniel winks at the girls. “Well, Ella and I have a date with the dartboard. You three want to join us?”

“Nope. We’ll just watch. Hugh likes watching, don’t you, Hugh?”

Hugh blows smoke in their faces, which makes them laugh even harder. Not hard to guess these girls are drunk or stoned.

“You want red or yellow?” Daniel holds up two darts.

“Red.”

He hands me the red darts, then pulls me over to the dartboard. Before I can throw mine, I feel a prick in my upper arm.

“Ouch!” I slap my hand over my arm. “What was that?”

He holds up his yellow dart, looking sheepish. “I poked you with my dart.”

“Jeez, Daniel, that hurt. Not even funny.” I rub the sore spot.

He frowns at the point of his dart. “I’m sorry. I must have pricked you too hard.”

I force myself to relax. “Just…don’t do it again, okay?”

He draws me into his arms. “It won’t happen again.”

I let him hold me for a minute because the contact feels really good. When he releases me, I have to catch myself on a nearby table. My balance is off. I must be still experiencing the effects of the drink. We play one round and then another. My aim is terrible and I hit the wall more than I hit the dartboard. Daniel makes a few jokes about how he hopes I never have to compete in the Hunger Games.