The Princess and The Jester - A.D. McCammon Page 0,72

have the chance to get it open.

He sniffs my hair, and bile burns the back of my throat. “When you let him between your legs tonight, I hope you think of me. I’ll certainly be thinking about you and all the things I wanted to do to you in this room.”

I shiver with disgust, fleeing the room as soon as he removes his hand from the door. My vision blurs from the tears filling my eyes, my breathing shallow as I sprint down the hall.

Feeling safer, I stop right outside the gym to catch my breath. If Cole sees me this way, he’ll know something is wrong. I blink to dry my eyes, dabbing away the moisture. Then I smooth my dress and hair, hoping there’s no sign of my struggle.

Cole comes strolling out of the gym just as I’m getting ready to head inside, a bright smile lighting his face when he sees me. “There you are. I was getting worried. Arwen said they didn’t see you on their way back from the bathroom.”

Shit. How do I explain that?

“Oh. I—” My lie catches in my throat, and I clear it. “I was feeling a little cold and decided to stop by my locker to see if there was a jacket in there.”

Cole’s brow creases while he studies me, his palm pressing on my heated cheek. “You’re cold? Are you feeling all right? Because you definitely don’t seem cold.”

I inch closer to him, placing a quick kiss on his lips to try to distract him. “I’m fine, just got all hot and bothered when I saw you again. You look so handsome in this suit, but I can’t wait to rip it off you.”

My diversion works, and lust fills his eyes. “Well, what the hell are we waiting for? Let’s get the hell out of here.”

I giggle as he grabs my hands and drags me toward the door. “Wait. Shouldn’t I go say goodbye to our friends.”

“Nope. You can text them on the way to the hotel.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

15 years old

GWEN

The reflection in the mirror smiles back at me as I wash my hands, lost in thoughts of Cole. He told me last night that he has a plan—a way for us to come out as a couple to our parents. We’ve been sneaking around for well over a year, and secretly in love with each other for a lot longer than that. I’m so ready to come out to the world.

It’s torture being at school, unable to hold his hand or kiss him in the hallways like every other couple here. What’s even worse is having to stand back and watch as other girls throw themselves at him, my insecurities eating away at me.

Things are so much different for Cole now. His days of being the skinny poor kid are behind him. Now, he’s Cole Masterson, part of the infamous Westbrook Three. He doesn’t talk about the things he does with Thatcher and Arwen, and I don’t ask. I’ve learned not knowing is better for both of us.

I dry my hands and run my fingers through my hair, freezing when an eerie feeling comes over me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention, my body stiff as I turn.

Someone rushes me, placing a hand over my mouth before I have a chance to scream. My back slams into the wall as Shane’s smug face comes into focus. There’s still a cut above his eye and faint bruising around his mouth, the only remaining evidence of what happened to him.

Rumors swirled two weeks ago when he was absent. Whispers that Thatcher and Cole had taught Shane a lesson. One that left him too ashamed to show his face at school. When he returned, he was noticeably quieter.

I never asked Cole if the rumors were true, part of me unwilling to believe he could do something like that. The other part, one I’d never admit out loud, was glad Shane finally got what he deserved.

“I’m going to remove my hand,” he whispers, his breath hot and putrid. “Don’t scream.”

My eyes narrow as he removes his hand from my mouth, my hands shoving at his chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He smirks, as if my fury amuses him. “We need to talk.”

“We really don’t,” I scoff. “And we certainly don’t need to do it in the girls’ bathroom.”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, stepping closer again. “Trust me, you want to hear what I have to