What?
What did I say?
Oh God.
I think I’ve shocked myself. I’ve never ever said that word before, never.
I’ve heard it though. A million times. I have four brothers, of course I’ve heard it. But I’ve never said it.
Not until tonight.
Not until he made me say it.
The guy who has gone slightly still. Like he wasn’t expecting me to take the bait.
Well, good.
There. That’ll teach him not to underestimate me.
“Is that the first time you’ve said that word?” he asks mockingly, with his eyes narrowed.
I hate that he makes me feel so breathless and young. “Why, are you proud that you made me say that word for the first time?”
His jaw moves, that stubbled, sharp thing. It tics for a moment before he says, “Not particularly, no.”
“Well –”
“Don’t ever say it again.”
“What?”
“It doesn’t suit you.”
I’m so confused.
Did he just… tell me not to say the F word?
He did, didn’t he?
But that’s…
Who is he to tell me that? Who is he to tell me anything?
“Yeah, I don’t think you can tell me what I can or can’t say,” I tell him, raising my eyebrows, which only makes his jaw tic even more. “And while we’re at it, you shouldn’t have talked about me with your friends like I wasn’t here. That’s bad manners.”
“What about crashing someone’s party? Does that also fall under bad manners?” he shoots back.
My lips part.
Okay, he got me.
I am crashing his party. I wasn’t really invited, was I?
“I wasn’t… I was leaving,” I say. “I just got lost.”
“Lost.”
“Yes.”
His eyes glow again and something flashes through his features that I don’t really understand. “You do that a lot, don’t you? Get lost.”
“I don’t… what?”
“In the woods. In the hallways…”
He leaves that sentence hanging but I get his meaning. I get it and oh my God.
He knows.
He knows it was me. That I saw him. Months and months ago, on my first day at Bardstown High.
He knows.
A rush of heat fans over my cheeks. My throat, my entire body actually, and can I just dissolve into this tree?
Can I just please disappear?
“I’m… I didn’t think you…”
“Knew?” He smirks. “I did.”
“But I was… quiet.”
“You weren’t as quiet as you think you were. Besides…”
“Besides what?”
He leans forward slightly, the strings of his hoodie swinging, as if confessing a secret. “I didn’t mind. Being watched by you. The Thorn Princess. And if you hadn’t run away, I would’ve gotten rid of her.”
“You would have?”
“Yeah.”
“W-why?”
“So I could focus all my attention.” Then, with a lowered voice, “On you.”
My heart bangs against my ribs, bruising them. Battering them, making them throb.
In fact, my whole body throbs.
I can feel it. I can hear it even.
Even so, I try to hold on to my composure. I try to hold on to the authority in my voice. “As if.”
“As if what?”
“As if I would’ve… let you or even stayed.”
“I think you would’ve.” He keeps his gaze steady and unwavering, both intense and slightly amused. “And I think you would’ve enjoyed it too. Girls love it when I give them my attention. They’re known to even beg for it. On their knees particularly.”
My knees tingle at that as if zapped by a current. They buckle too.
As if they’re going to bend. As if I’m going to fall.
But I won’t.
“I’m not like other girls,” I tell him. “I don’t beg.”
Something about that makes him smirk. “Every girl begs. She just needs the right thing to beg for.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “My brothers would kill you.”
I’m the Thorn Princess, as he said.
That’s what they call me. I’m the princess, the little sister of four legendary soccer gods who so completely hate him.
“I think I can handle myself,” he says, all casual like.
“You should be afraid of my brothers, you know.”
“Why is that?”
“There’s four of them and only one of you.”
“So?”
“So you shouldn’t talk to me this way.”
He gives me a once-over before asking in an amused voice, “Why, does it make you want to beg me for something?”
“It doesn’t –”
“You shouldn’t worry about me too much. As I said, I can handle myself.”
I think so too.
He looks so cavalier, so fearless. Reckless.
My brothers could crush him if they wanted to.
My brothers could crush any guy if they wanted to and everyone in this town knows that. Everyone in Bardstown is afraid of them.
Not him though.
Not Reed Roman Jackson.
He never was and he never will be.
I mean, look at what just happened on the field. What happens every time on the field and also off it. And before I can stop myself, I ask, “Why do you hate Ledger so much?”
“Who says I hate him?”
“You’re always fighting with him, provoking him. Like you did today. On the field.”
“So you were watching, huh?” he murmurs instead.
“Of course. I watch every game. For Ledger. And for Con.”
He stares at me for a beat before chuckling softly. “Of course. Well, your brother makes it easy. To provoke.”