The Princess and The Jester - A.D. McCammon Page 0,47

I like it. It’s cool that you were sticking up for someone. Girlfriend?”

I shake my head. “Just a girl who’s a friend.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes,” she huffs, giving me a knowing look. “You wouldn’t risk fighting someone twice your size for a girl you weren’t in love with.”

If my cheeks weren’t already flushed from running, they would be now. I should deny it, the same way I always do. But something tells me this girl would see right through it anyway.

“Nah,” Thatcher replies for me. “She’s more like a sister. They live together and everything.”

Arwen eyes me, a smile tugging the side of her mouth. “All right. Whatever.”

My long legs take the stairs two at a time, the buzz from my fight with Shane still pumping through me. Gwen is going to die laughing when I tell her that Arwen kneed him in the balls. If only I could’ve gotten it on video.

Gwen’s bedroom door is closed, but I don’t bother knocking before walking in. My brow creases when I find her room empty, and then I hear commotion coming from her bathroom.

“Princess?” I call, approaching the door.

She doesn’t reply. Sounds of her upchucking get clearer as I get closer, and my chest tightens with worry.

I knock and try again to call to her. “Princess, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she sniffles. “Go away, Cole.”

She’s crying and throwing up, there’s no way I’m leaving her.

“You don’t sound okay.” I chuckle, trying to sound less concerned than I am. “Let me in so I can help you.”

“No!” she shouts. “It was just something I ate.”

I try the doorknob, but it’s locked. “Well, I’m not leaving until you come out,” I say, propping myself on the frame of the door.

“Seriously?” She groans.

At least she knows me well enough to realize I’m not fucking around. I’d break into the bathroom if I had to.

The toilet flushes then it sounds like she brushes her teeth. When she opens the door and sees me standing right there, her eyes widen. There’s guilt written all over her face, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” I press my palm to her forehead. There’s not even a hint of a fever, but her puffy eyes are a dead giveaway she’s been crying.

“I told you I’m good,” she grumbles, pushing my hand away. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Gwen stomps over to her bed and plops down, her eyes avoiding me as I come to stand next to it. Something’s off with her. She’s been extra moody the past few weeks. Angry one minute and crying the next. Though I’m usually exempt from her wrath.

“You were throwing up, Princess. What’s wrong? Mom said you barely touched your dinner tonight, too.”

She shrugs, twirling the ends of her hair around her finger. “Yeah, well…missing a meal or two will probably do me some good.”

My jaw tics from the sharp pain in my chest. It kills me that she’d say something so hurtful about herself. And that she believes it.

“What the hell did you just say?” I grit.

Her eyes flicker up to me, unsure. “Nothing. Forget it.”

I take a seat on the bed with her, grabbing her chin. “Were you in there making yourself throw up?”

A panicked expression stretches her features, and my heart sinks as tears cascade down her cheeks. “So what if I was?” she asks, before hiccupping and jerking out of my hold.

“Are you kidding me right now?” She flinches at the fury in my tone, and I take a deep breath before continuing. “You can do some serious damage to your body.”

“Who cares,” she sobs, her chin quivering. “I hate my body. I’m sick of being the fat girl.”

“You’d rather be the dead girl?” I snap. The very thought makes me want to vomit. I’m not sure I could ever survive losing her.

Her face pales. “You don’t understand. You eat whatever you want and never gain a pound.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “And I get made fun of for being too skinny. People are assholes. It doesn’t make it okay for you to hurt yourself.”

She swipes at her tears, anger bunching her brow. “It’s not the same for you. Your size doesn’t keep girls from liking you.”

I take her hands in mine, crouching down until she’s forced to meet my stare. “Any guy who can’t see how beautiful you are is blind, and they don’t deserve you.”

“Please don’t do that,” she whispers. “Don’t pretend like you think I’m