Broken Kingdom (Royal Hearts Academy #4)(79)

Which is exactly why I need to leave. I refuse to spend another second with her.

Smiling tersely, I point to my face. “Sorry, I’m not undoing all the work my professional esthetician Stella does with your cheap little face masks.”

With that, I start to leave, but Oakley’s intense gaze holds mine.

‘See you later,’ he mouths as Sawyer and Dylan venture into the living room.

Pretending to think about it, I give him a small shrug.

Blue orbs darkening, he leisurely brings his finger to his mouth.

The same finger that was inside me moments ago.

My cheeks heat and I want to smack the shit-eating grin I catch on his face as I close the door behind me.

He knows damn well I’ll be back.





I’m walking up the staircase when I hear it.

“Hey.”

I turn around at the sound of Jace’s voice. “Hey. I didn’t know you were here.”

“I dropped Dylan and Sawyer off for their girls’ night with Oak.” He shrugs. “I figured since my trip to New York is coming up soon we could hang out and catch up.”

Am I mad that Jace, Dylan, Sawyer, and Cole are all going on some kind of couples vacation to New York in two weeks? No.

Am I hurt that no one asked me if I wanted to tag along to the big apple? A little.

However, I’m not one to be a bitter Betty. Well, not anymore.

Especially since my dad has another work trip scheduled around that time, which means I’ll have tons of alone time with Oakley and we won’t have to sneak around.

“Yeah, sure. I think there’s a new zombie horror movie out if you want to go.”

I loathe horror films—particularly ones featuring zombies because they make me jumpy—but Jace happens to love them.

And truth be told, I miss hanging out with my brother. We grew even closer after Liam’s death, but lately it feels like we’re light-years apart.

I’m not sure what to make of the look on his face, but whatever it is… it’s not good.

“Bianca.”

“Yes?”

I really wish I knew why he was acting so weird. Almost like he’s mad at me.

A small wrinkle forms between his brows. “We need to talk.”

Sensing what he’s probably angry about, I quickly utter, “Look, if this is about Dylan—”

“It’s not about Dylan.” He’s quiet for a beat. “It’s about Oakley.”

“Oakley?” I all but screech as nerves bunch in my stomach. “What’s up with Oakley?”

“You tell me,” he snaps. “You’re the one who’s been off gallivanting with him all summer.”

“Gallivanting?” I repeat with a sardonic laugh. “What are you, eighty?”

Jace’s cheeks hollow in frustration. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” I deadpan. “I don’t.”

If this is his way of trying to ask if Oakley and I are a thing, he needs to put his big boy pants on and come right out with it instead of giving me the third degree.

He digs inside his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Then explain this.”

I snatch the paper from him. Both my heart and stomach flip in succession when I realize it’s the letter I wrote Oakley for his birthday.

“Where did you get this?”

He crosses his arms. “I found it on Oakley’s kitchen table the other night.”

I was wondering why Oakley never said anything about it.

I was starting to think what I wrote was horrible, but as it turns out, he never got a chance to read it.

Because Jace stole it.

And now he thinks there’s something going on between us.

My stomach knots. I have to fix this.

I know how much Oakley cares about his friendship with Jace and Cole. Hell, he considers them his actual brothers.

I quickly straighten my spine, armed with a glare. “Okay, first of all—you had no right to read this letter, because it’s not yours.” My lips purse. “Secondly—this isn’t what you think. Oakley and I are friends.”

He snorts. “Bullshit. Oak is my best friend and I’ve never said some shit like that to him.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah, well, maybe you should.”

He narrows his eyes. “Tell me what the hell is going on between you two. Right fucking now.”

“Nothing is going on between us.” Realizing I have to give him something more than that, I add, “Yes, we’ve grown close this summer, but it’s not like that. He’s been…a really great friend. Not only did he teach me how to drive, but he listens to me talk about my problems. And best of all? Unlike you, he never judges me.”

His face falls. “I don’t judge—”

I sharpen my gaze.

“Okay, fine,” he relents. “You have a point.” He blows out a heavy breath. “I just wasn’t sure what to think between him teaching you how to drive, and you always hanging out at his house all the time lately, and then finding this letter…it doesn’t look right.”

“We’re just friends,” I reiterate.

Friends who like to tear off each other’s clothes and can’t seem to get enough of one another.