Cruel Prince (Royal Hearts Academy, #1)(35)

“How could you? You’ve been glued to Jace’s side since fifth grade.”

He’s not wrong. “So, what exactly does this mean? What do you want?”

“I want whatever you want.”

“I have no idea what I want.”

That’s not quite true. I know exactly what, or rather, who I want, but he doesn’t want me.

His eyes search my face. “Are you going to the dance?”

“Um.” My mouth goes dry. “I’m not sure.”

I’d thought about it, but I don’t want to go alone. Especially now that Jace is going with her.

I nervously pick at my cuticles. “What about you?”

“I don’t know.” There’s a provoking note in his voice. “It depends.”

“On?”

He grins coyly. “Whether or not you’ll be there.”

“Is that your weird way of asking me to go with you?”

I’m shocked when I realize there’s a small part of me that wishes he would.

The way I see it, if Jace is going with my nemesis…I have every right to show up on the arm of his.

I can’t decode his expression. “No.”

Embarrassment heats my cheeks and I look down at the floor. I feel so stupid for assuming.

“Dylan.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m no one’s second choice. When I ask you out, it will be when I’m positive you’re no longer pining over some idiot who chose the wrong girl.”

With that, he takes off.





“I’m s-s-sorry.”

I’m surprised to see Liam when I walk out of the band room, but I’m even more surprised he’s apologizing to me.

“For what? You have nothing to be sorry for, Liam.”

I shoulder my backpack and start the journey to my locker.

He follows after me. “I’m s-s-sorry Jac-c-ce is a jerk. I heard w-w-what he did.” He looks so dejected; you’d think he was the one his brother hurt. “It’s n-n-not r-r-right. Brit-t-tney is a bitc-c-ch to you.”

Yeah, she is. “No argument here.”

He drags his feet as we approach my locker. “I w-w-was thinking. Since you’re not going t-t-to the danc-c-ce, and I’m not going, maybe we c-c-can hang out? W-w-watch a movie or s-s-something.”

I spin the dial to my combination and ponder his question.

Usually I’d have no problem hanging out with Liam, but I really don’t want to see Jace getting ready for his big date with Britney.

Or worse, see him after their date.

“I don’t know. It’s nothing against you, I just don’t want to be around your brother.” I take a few books out of my locker and toss them in my bag. “But don’t let our feud stop you from going.”

If anyone deserves to have some fun, it’s Liam. Between the accident, losing his mom, and constantly being picked on for his stutter and scars—the kid can’t seem to catch a break.

“I d-d-don’t have anyone t-t-to go w-w-with.” His face lights up like a Christmas tree. “W-w-what if w-w-we go t-t-together?”

My apprehension must be written all over my face, because he looks down at his shoes and says, “Forget it. That w-w-was s-s-stupid. Of c-c-course you don’t—”

“Sure,” I interject.

I might hate his brother currently, but it’s not Liam’s fault.

Besides, going to the dance with him is better than sitting home on a Friday night watching Friends reruns with a gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream in one hand and a remote in the other.

His eyes widen. “R-r-really? You’ll go w-w-with me?”

“Why not?” I slam my locker shut. “We’re friends, right? Friends can go to dances together.”

A huge grin is plastered on his face when I look up at him. “Yeah.” His expression falters for a second. “W-w-we don’t have to t-t-talk to Jac-c-ce if you don’t w-w-want to.”

“Sounds good to me.” I reach over and give him a pound. “It’s a date.”





Chapter 18





Dylan





I’m going to die in this closet.

They’re going to find my body bound to a storage shelf by a pair of white cotton panties, while my equally plain, boring bra is on full display.

And let’s not forget the mascara streaks staining my cheeks thanks to Jace—the royal asshole—Covington.

I blow out a breath, attempting once more to unknot the undies holding me hostage. No dice.

Whoever discovers me will probably think my assailant took off due to my spectacular taste in comfortable, but lackluster underwear.

My only options are to either scream my lungs out and hope some poor soul walking by hears me, or wait for someone to notice my absence and start a search party.

In which case it will be at least another twenty-four hours because the only person who will realize or care that I’m gone is my aunt Crystal, and by then school will be closed for the night.

My only hope is Sawyer.

However, we don’t know one another well enough yet so she’ll probably assume I went home.

My stomach sinks. Option A is not just my last resort, it’s my only resort.