Chapter 12 #2
“Nope!” I cut her off, launching another pillow at her. “How are you going to marry a prince when you’re clearly still in a Bobby situation?”
She just grins, unbothered. “You’re just jealous.
” She rolls onto her stomach, kicking her feet behind her.
“And I’ll tell you this once, so listen up.
If a prince proposes and wants to whisk me away to a castle, I’m not about to decline.
You only get one hall pass in life, and Bobby would definitely understand. ”
I arch an eyebrow, smiling. “Yes, I’m sure if a prince came knocking to make Bobby his princess, he’d be just as accepting.”
Rachel gasps, clutching her chest like I’ve personally offended her honor. Then she hops off the bed, snatching her phone with a dramatic huff.
“Testy this morning, are we?” I tease. “So, how is good old Bobby?”
The change is subtle, but I don’t miss the way something in her expression shifts before she schools her face into something unreadable.
“He’s… Bobby.” She mutters like that’s supposed to be an answer, but it’s not.
I wait, knowing she'll keep going.
She exhales, gripping her phone a little tighter.
“He’s mad at me, so we’re not speaking right now.
” She says it like it's not a big deal, but I know better. “I told him about our plans and made sure he knew not to worry if I wasn’t texting back right away. That I’d call him when we got back to the house. ”
She hesitates.
And then, quieter, she adds. “He told me not to bother.”
She tries to brush it off, tucking the hurt away behind a forced shrug. But I see the tightness in her jaw and the way she won’t meet my eyes.
What really gets me, though, is the flicker of something else that she tried to hide just before she looked away.
It looked a lot like fear.
It’s gone as fast as it came, but my stomach still knots. No. That can’t be right. What the hell would she be scared of?
A slow, simmering rage starts to rise in my chest, the kind that makes me want to drive straight to his place and tell him exactly how I feel about him. God, I hate that she looks like this because of him.
I force my voice to stay light. “Sounds like he’s being a jealous, insecure little bitch. Again.” I try to watch her for any type of reaction, but she stays quiet. “I also want you to know that I’m about one comment away from burning his house down.”
Her lips twitch, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “No need for arson… yet.”
We spend the next hour lounging in bed, dismantling every flaw and disappointment Bobby has thrown her way. And yet, despite the venting, she still defends him. It’s like she’s stuck in this loop, but unwilling to break it and there's nothing I can do.
But what gets me the most is, the guy she just met and isn’t even dating, treats her better than Bobby ever has.
I shake my head. “Look, as long as you’re happy, I'm happy. I just don’t want you to be sad because Bobby is being a douche.” My voice softens and I look right at her. “And if you aren’t happy… you don’t have to wait for the universe to intervene. You’re allowed to make that call yourself.”
She blinks at me, looking like she's carrying the weight of the world and sighs, laying back on the bed. “Ugh. Why are you so wise in the mornings? I hate it.”
I grin, nudging her with my foot. “It’s a gift.”
“Okay, let's get up! We need to start getting ready, they could be here any minute!” She injects enough urgency to light a fire under my ass.
I freeze mid-stretch and my eyes snap open. “Wait. Do you know when they’re coming? Are they almost here? Good hell, why didn’t you tell me?” I scramble up, practically tripping over everything in sight as I hunt for something to wear.
“Well, no, they’re not coming right now,” she admits, way too smug, “but I do know that if I said that, you’d get your ass in gear.”
I whip around, gaping at her. “YOU WOULD!”
“Hey, whatever works!” She giggles, disappearing down the hall.
I huff dramatically and stomp toward the bathroom, gathering my things for a shower. Honestly, that’s a process in itself. Regardless of when they’re coming, I’d better shower now so my hair has a decent chance of drying before midnight. Hair wash days are a ritual I can't skip.
The second I step under the hot water, Kane sneaks right back in. I groan, dragging my hands down my face. Ugghhh.
Do cold showers work for girls too? Because good hell, I might have blue-something.
Princess? Seriously? He probably calls everyone that. Or he just thinks I’m a spoiled brat. Whatever he can think what he wants.
I’ve had boyfriends and even one-night stands that I’m not exactly proud of, just like any normal person. But that kiss… was something else entirely, and I can’t stop thinking about it. My toes curl against the tile as the memory floods back in vivid, dangerous detail.
Kane kissed me like a man on a mission. Like he knew exactly what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it.
And then he backed away like I was on fire.
Epic kiss, followed by an epic failure. I still can’t figure out what that’s supposed to mean.
It doesn't matter what has his panties in a twist. Whatever he dishes out, I will give right back, because I'm not here to impress him. Kiss or not, I'm not interested.
The only downside to not being in a relationship is, there’s no one around to handle my needs. Sure, I can take care of myself, especially if it means avoiding assholes. But the problem is Kane. I can’t stop thinking about him.
Which means I’ve been turned on, way too much. And I'm sharing a house with my best friend. So right now, it's inconvenient as hell. I groan, tilting my head back against the shower wall, willing the intrusive thoughts away, but it doesn’t work. Because all I can think about is him.
The way his hands felt when they gripped my face. The way his lips molded to mine like they belonged there. The way his seductive voice said my name like he was tasting it.
It’s a problem that leads me to one inevitable conclusion. If I’m going to get through today, I need to take matters into my own hands or I won't be able to function. I reach for the showerhead, adjusting the angle as I let the stream of water hit exactly where I need it.
I shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s impossible not to. Just imagining what that man could do if given the chance is enough to unravel me.
It’s not quite the release I was hoping for, but it’ll have to do for now.
I barely have time to recover before Rachel bursts into the bathroom, music blasting from her phone.
I jump, quickly shoving the showerhead back into place like I wasn’t just defiling myself in the sacred waters of our rental. If she suspects anything, she doesn’t say a word. Bless this woman I call my best friend.
I grab a towel and get out of the shower.
She turns up the music while I go through the motions of getting ready, but really I’m just trying to wrangle my brain while towel-drying my curls into submission.
Rachel bounces out of the room, shutting the door behind her, and I slip back into my pajamas, while I finish doing my hair.
When I’m done, I wander into the kitchen, scrolling through my phone. My heart sinks just a touch when I don’t see anything from Kane. Just work stuff and the usual garbage texts from Chance.
Ugh.
I don’t even bother opening them. The last five are the same regurgitated I still love you, please call me nonsense. I am not diving into that mess right now. We are never getting back together. Like, ever. I should honestly just block him, now that I’m thinking about it.
I’m so distracted trying to block Chance, that I barely register a cough. A very male cough. I freeze, my pulse stuttering as my head snaps up.
Kane is casually sitting on the couch like he owns the damn place. And of course, this would be the moment I choose to parade around in the least amount of clothing possible.
Internally, I scream.
Externally, I remain frozen, staring at him like an idiot.
He licks his lips. Licks. His. Fucking. Lips. Then coughs again, like he knows exactly what’s going through my head.
I despise him… and I really wish I was wearing a snowsuit right now.
I scramble to recover, forcing my spine straight and plastering on a forced, unimpressed smile. “You really should get that cough checked out.”
His eyes flick back to mine, like I just snapped him out of something. His expression shifts so quickly that, for a split second, I wonder if I imagined the whole thing.
“Morning, Princess.”
His voice is deep and rough. And entirely too smug for my liking.
I hate that my body reacts before my brain does. My stomach dips and my pulse kicks up, and I swear I feel heat bloom across my entire body. I’m wet instantly.
I force an awkward wave. “Uhh, hi.”
Real smooth, Raven. ABORT.
I turn to go flee back into the bedroom, because clearly, I need to put on some damn clothes and take another cold shower. But before I can take another step, his voice stops me.
“What happened to your arm?”
I pause mid-step.
Something in his tone makes me turn around. It's not the same lazy rasp from a second ago. This is different. It’s edged with something cold.
I glance down, suddenly hyper-aware of the dull ache in my arm. When I twist it to look, my stomach drops.
There's a dark and oddly shaped bruise that I swear wasn't there last night. What the hell?
“Oh, that's nothing.” I quickly force out a laugh, letting my arm fall back to my side like it’s no big deal. Because it’s not. And the last thing I want to do is make something out of nothing.
But my luck sucks. So naturally, that’s the exact moment Rachel and Cam decide to walk back into the room.
Rachel’s eyes immediately lock onto mine, and then my arm.
“Is that from last night? Holy shit,” she blurts, walking over and grabbing my wrist before I can move. She turns my arm gently, looking at the bruise.
I shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”
Wrong choice of words.