This was not the Grant she knew.
Grant.
Minutes trickled down.
Oh God, how long could this last?
They didn’t stop fucking. She couldn’t stop watching.
Grant.
WHEN A KNOCK SOUNDED on her bedroom door, Fawn continued folding her clothes as she called out, “Come in. It’s not locked.”
So many things to pack, she thought worriedly, and she only had a few days left before summer camp.
When she heard the door open a moment later, she asked, “What is it, Mom?”
“It’s me.”
Recognizing the voice, she whirled around in shock, and it was indeed Grant.
He was leaning against the doorway, looking exquisitely handsome in his usual collared shirt and pants. Most teenage boys wouldn’t even know what to do with a collar but Grant – it was like he had been born to impress, and for as long as she could remember, he had always seemed more mature than his age.
It was, she thought helplessly, one of the things she loved most about him.
“So…” He grinned at her. “Can I come in?”
“Of c-course.” As he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, she realized too late that there wasn’t actually any place in her room that he could sit. Her clothes and books were scattered everywhere, taking up every inch of space.
When she looked up, Grant’s gray eyes were twinkling in amusement. “No need to panic, Fawn. I actually came here just to tell you something.”
She frowned. “What is it?”
His grin widened. “You mean that, don’t you? You really have no clue.”
She bit her lip as she racked her brains for something that could have required him to come to her room. When she came up empty, she slowly shook her head. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I just can’t think of anything—-” As she spoke, Grant had started walking towards her, causing her voice to trail off nervously.
Clearing her throat, she tried to start again, saying, “If there’s something you need—-”
Grant was standing in front of her now. “There is.”
Fawn gulped. “W-what is it?”
“This.”
And then he was cupping her face, and as she gasped, his mouth had covered hers.
Her first kiss.
Grant’s tongue slipped inside her mouth.
Make that her first French kiss as well.
Fawn found herself clutching at Grant’s shirt as the kiss deepened.
When he lifted his head, all she could do was gaze up at him, unable to understand what just happened.
“Will you be my girl, Fawn Cornwall?”
She burst into tears.
“Fawn?” Grant’s voice was worried.
“I n-never thought this c-could ever happen.” And as he pulled her into his arms, she found herself sobbing against his chest.
She felt him kiss the top of her head. “You’re too cute, Fawn.”
“Y-you’re cuter.”
She felt his lean body shake against hers in silent laughter.
“You haven’t answered me yet,” he whispered.
She looked up. “You r-really still need one?”
He nodded.
With a teary smile, she said, “Yes. I want to be your girl.” Her voice muffled against his chest, she asked, “W-what made you do this?”
“Summer camp,” Grant admitted ruefully. “It’s the first time you’ll be spending that much time away from me, and I hated the thought of another guy making a move on you.”
She hugged him tightly. “I’ve never seen any guy except you, Grant.”
“It’s the same for me.”
She pulled away, looking up at him doubtfully.
He chuckled. “Yes, I did date. But did any of them become my girlfriends?”
She slowly shook her head. “No.”
“I told you. You’re the only girl I’ve had eyes for.” Bending down, he whispered against her lips, “And that’s how it will always be.”
SO MANY MEMORIES, Fawn thought numbly. Almost seven years worth of memories, and he had thrown them—-
No.
He was fucking them away, each and every memory she had once cherished as her most priceless treasures.
Grant, why?
Inside the room, the girl cried out Grant’s name.
The pain was so much, crippling her, strangling her—-
Oh God.
I can’t do this anymore.
And then hands suddenly covered her eyes.
And she knew.
She knew without him speaking, without her seeing – she knew it was him.
She knew, but right now she just couldn’t even make herself ask the questions she should ask.
Why are you here? Did you know about this? Do you think I deserve this? Do I have the right to feel hurt?
Those were the questions she should ask. And there were more she should ask, but right now all she could think of was—-
Grant.
Tears stung her eyes, and she tried, God, she really tried to keep them from falling, but she couldn’t.
The prince’s hands pressed harder against her eyes, and as the tears flowed faster, she also found herself seeking shelter in the black, unseeing world he offered.
He really was the Prince of Darkness, she mused numbly, and right now it was what she needed.
Behind her, she heard the prince ask in a quiet, neutral tone, “What do you want to do?”
A shudder went through her at the words.
What do you want to do?