Off in the distance, a lone jogger races down the path back toward campus. Otherwise, the park is quiet.
I glance back at Charles, and his face is completely impassive as he looks at Tate and me. I can’t tell whether he’s mad at me for kissing Tate, or if he’s completely indifferent. He could be happy, for all I know—not that he is, obviously. Not when he just caught me making out with his roommate.
My chest is still rising and falling quickly, and I can feel my nipples pressing against the fabric of my dress. I want to blame the cold, but I know that it was all Tate.
“Roonie...” Charles stares at me, taking me in, and my cheeks flush scarlet. I want to cross my arms over my chest, but Tate still has my hands pinned to the railing, leaving me completely vulnerable to the Beast’s gaze.
Charles sets down his umbrella in the middle of the gazebo and strides toward me. His dress shoes echo across the wooden floor while my heart pounds wildly in my chest. When he gets closer, I nearly stop breathing.
I swallow hard, suddenly nervous and excited and confused, all at the same time. I also can’t stop thinking about our first kiss. The way the guys swiveled the barstool, so I was kissing them each in turn. I can still feel Tate’s lips covering mine—soft, sweet, seductive. I still remember the feel of Charles’s beard as he consumed me with hot, wild kisses.
I know it’s wrong to be thinking about both guys like this, but I can’t seem to help myself. Maybe Angela was right, and this sort of thing is normal in college. As long as Tate and Charles are okay with it, why shouldn’t I kiss them both? It’s not like I’m hiding anything from them, except the fact that I also kissed JJ.
“M-Maybe we should head back,” I tell the guys.
“You’re shivering,” Tate says, and I realize that he’s right. He lets go of my hands, sets me down from the railing and wraps his arms around me in a warm embrace.
“This should help,” Charles adds, holding out one of the paper cups. “It should still be warm, and we’ll head back as soon as you’re done.”
Chapter 12
The guys and I decide to spend the rest of the day watching last year’s a cappella competition. Charles, Tate, and I snuggle on the couch with a warm blanket and hot cocoa to keep us warm, while JJ settles on the soft carpet with a bowl of ice cream and a laptop to cue up videos on the flat-screen TV.
We’re only about half an hour in when there’s a knock on the door, and JJ gets to his feet. “That’ll be Silas.”
Silas? my mind screams, but I can’t seem to get a word out past the panic.
Then the Dark Prince steps into our sanctuary, his anger like a living, breathing thing, replacing the air in the apartment. I look him over, and his arms and face are covered in small scratches. It’s like he got attacked by an army of woodland creatures defending their princess... or in this case, by a row of thorny rose bushes.
His clothes are still torn from earlier, like he never bothered to go home and change... like he spent this whole time waiting to come after me.
I’ll get you for this, Roonie Hill! His shouted words echo menacingly in my head, over and over again. That’s why he’s here. He’s here for revenge.
“What happened to you?” Tate demands, reminding me that I’m not alone. I have my Prince Charming, my Beast, and my Knight in Shining Armor. The three of them won’t let Silas hurt me, unless he manages to convince them that it’s all my fault.
“Nothing happened,” Silas snaps, his eyes boring into mine. “Are we going to analyze competition videos or what?”
“Well, hello to you, too.” JJ shakes his head as he closes the door behind him. He reclaims his seat at my feet, protecting me, and I release a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
“You need another couch.” Silas shoots me an angry glare, like the lack of seating space is somehow my fault.
“Good idea. I’ll order another one,” Charles says smoothly, pulling out his phone. If it were me, I’d tell Silas not to be rude or tell him to leave. Oh, who am I kidding? I’d never be able to say any of those things. I still haven’t managed to say more than a single word to the Dark Prince.
I watch Charles shoot off a quick text while Silas brings over a barstool and sets it next to the couch. He settles astride it like it’s a prized stallion and he’s galloping across the living room like a prince straight out of a fairy tale. I can picture him racing across a meadow, leaping over logs, not once looking anywhere but at the path ahead.
“What are you staring at?” he snaps, and I realize that’s what I was doing. Staring.
“Don’t be rude,” JJ tells him as he cues up another performance.
Silas grunts.
“It’ll be here in the morning,” Charles adds.
Huh? It takes me a second to realize that he means the couch. Which he apparently ordered by text message from some underground couch market. Or wherever it is you can text to get fancy furniture delivered within hours.
The guys don’t seem surprised, and I wonder if they all have people they can text to get couches at a moment’s notice. Maybe they do.
“Ready?” JJ asks, and when we all nod, he hits play.
We watch video after video, analyzing performances—gasping, cheering, and criticizing each of the singers in turn. We talk about parts we loved, notes they could have hit better, and places where there’s room for improvement.
Soon, I even manage to forget Silas is there. Or if not forget, then at least get so lost in the music that I find myself contributing as much as the guys. The Dark Prince even agrees with my opinion from time to time, and I start to feel like I really belong.
We get takeout—Chez Caviar, since Charles orders it while we’re busy analyzing a video—and when it’s time to call it a night Silas somehow ends up in a sleeping bag on the floor. Then, the TV’s off, the lights are dimmed, the guys start getting ready to bed, and I feel my first wave of panic since Silas got here. Because, suddenly, I don’t feel so safe anymore.
The moment Charles offers to take the couch, I rush into his room and lock the door. I don’t even brush my teeth. I then spend the time it takes me to fall asleep hoping I won’t wake up in the middle of the night and have to pee.
In the morning, I listen to the sounds of the guys getting up and moving around. They talk in hushed voices, one of which is distinctly Silas, and I pretend to be asleep until I hear the front door open and shut several times. Until I no longer hear Silas. Until I’m sure he’s finally gone.
Moving on tiptoe, I cross Charles’s room and slowly unlock the door. I don’t dare breathe as I inch it open, but the living room is empty and the apartment remains blissfully silent. I’m safe.
I run to the bathroom—more out of desperation than fear—then head back to Charles’s room to get dressed for the day. I decide on jeans, a tank top, and my now dry flats—comfortable and casual, and then head to the kitchen to grab some breakfast.
“Morning!” The greeting, spoken from directly behind me, makes me shriek. I spin around, eyes wide, heart pounding, only to come face-to-face with JJ.
“What’s the matter?” he asks, frowning at me.
“N-Nothing,” I tell him, my hand pressed against my chest as I wait for my wildly pounding heart to slow. “You just startled me.”