Bookish Princess Read online

  His kiss.

  The way his lips melted into mine.

  That same sense of home I’d felt the first time he’d kissed me, even if it had been against my will. It was what kept my feet welded to the ground, my lips locked on his, and my head writing poems.

  Word after word invaded my thoughts the way I had wished they would for months. My writing has been struggling more than I want to admit, and enough for Mr. Mculloch to point it out to me in class, but since my encounter with Hunter, whether I want them to or not, the words have been flowing again.

  Or at least they were. It’s been two weeks since the kiss and trying to write my most recent assignment is like pulling teeth.

  In said two weeks, I have made it my personal mission to ignore Hunter as much as possible, and so far, I’ve been successful. Aside from the return of my childhood dream of pale green eyes and dancing barefoot in a forest, I’ve managed to avoid him altogether.

  Addy has been the perfect gentleman, always attentive, and the more time I spend with him, the more I can see this going somewhere. He’s flirty and fun and showers me with compliments all the time, as well as showing me off to his friends. Harlow and Gav are stepping things up a notch. The four of us have been hanging out after classes, and we spent last weekend at the beach together.

  Tonight, Harlow’s coming over, and we are heading to Addy’s place for a huge party, as both his parents are away. It sounds like a recipe for disaster, but I am tired of being the sensible one who skips parties for study time and hangs out at the library rather than Jumping Joe’s with everyone else.

  Addy brought out a new side of me that I’m slowly falling in love with. Bella was shy and always overthought everything. Imogen jumps in feet first and thinks about the consequences later. It’s liberating and allows me to experience everything anxiety usually forces me to miss out on.

  Slipping into the tiniest of black dresses, I bend forward and shimmy my boobs into position. It’s asking a lot of my new push up bra to enhance my tiny boobs, but I’m surprised when I stand upright and take a look in the mirror to see cleavage staring back at me. The dress has a plunge neckline and long sleeves. Harlow lent it to me as I didn’t own any party clothes.

  Pinching the fabric at my thighs, I attempt to wriggle it down a bit to add a few extra inches of coverage, but there isn’t much room for negotiation in the skin tight, clingy ensemble. A secretive smile touches my red glossed lips.

  Dressed like this, Addy isn’t going to be able to resist me. I never gave much thought to my looks; on the scale of one to ten of things important to me, looks are about a two. Of course, I take time to think about my appearance now I’m at CamU, but usually, I’m a gym leggings and hoodie kind of girl.

  I prefer books over looks any day of the week.

  Hearing the car horn beep, I ruffle my fingers through my hair one last time to add extra volume and grab my black envelope clutch. It’s a little dramatic for a house party, but it matches my dress and shoes perfectly and I haven’t had a chance to use it yet. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready,” Harlow yells, appearing in the bathroom doorway in what looks like a bondage version of my dress. Its black, short, and fit her like a second skin.

  “Harley!” I gasp at the sight of her.

  “I know, I just thought I’d go all out. It’s been a long week.”

  “You definitely did that.” I giggle, and she chuckles as she slips on her shoes and our uber driver texts to let us know he is outside. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “Doing what? Going to your boyfriend's house?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend! I told you, we haven’t labelled things.”

  “Yet,” she adds with a cheeky glint in her eye.

  “And you know what I mean, I’ve heard Addy’s parties get pretty wild when his parents aren’t in town.”

  “I know,” she shrieks with excitement and slaps my ass as she teetered past me, hurrying us along. “I can’t wait to count his bathroom’s, I heard he has five. Five bathrooms! No wonder he lives at home with his parents rather than on campus. It’s an easy choice when your parent’s live in a mansion.”

  “I guess. If it was me, I’d still rather be on campus.”

  Harlow shoots me a look of exasperation, “Why?”

  “Well, for one thing, you’re nearer to the library.” She couldn’t argue with that.

  After climbing into the back of the uber, we spend most of the ride speculating about all the ways Addy might ask me to be his girlfriend. Apparently, the lead guy on Bliss Island set out a huge heart shape made out of candles and stood in the middle with a rose in his mouth.

  I laugh at the image of Addy doing the same thing and wonder what the hell I’m going to do if he does ask me to become official. I’m already so much more than official with Hunter, and so much less at the same time.

  We pull up at the party, and I regret coming almost instantly. There are bodies everywhere. A girl in barely more than a bikini and heels lets us in and mumbles something I don’t have a chance in hell of hearing over the blaring sounds of Post Malone. A cocktail glass appears right under my nose, closely followed by Addy. Dressed in his standard Polo Ralph Lauren Shirt and jeans he’s the perfect depiction of a Hollywood Heartthrob, which instantly sends my thoughts sailing to Hunter—a perfect heartbreak. One of those men girls got involved with under no illusion that he would break their heart in two, maybe ten pieces but they wanted him anyway. Because he was mysterious with his weird eyes and fixed forlorn expression that made him look like a lost boy trapped in a man's body, waiting to be found.

  “You came.” Addy smirks with a confidence that tells me he knew I’d be here.

  Was I that obvious?

  When I don’t take the glass from him, he circles me with it until he is standing behind me with the glass right in front of my face.

  I push it away. “Addy, you know I can’t drink. I’m only twenty.”

  “Soon to be twenty-one,” he points out. “Relax, there’s hardly any alcohol in it. It’s not like your parents are around to tell you off. Besides, you’re with me.”

  It is a comment added to reassure me, but it doesn’t make me feel any safer, despite his intention.

  “It’s one drink. No one ever got hurt from drinking one cocktail. Plus, it’ll help you relax. You look a little tense.”

  Do I? I’m trying my best to present as calm, cool, and as though my shit is one hundred percent together. Can he read me so well he senses my anxiety about being here, about being with him?

  Grabbing the glass, I take a long sip to prove him wrong and shudder as the sharp taste slips down my throat. The aftertaste is slightly sweeter, and I fake a smile.

  “That’s my girl,” he whispers in my ear and grips my waist, grinding against me in tune to the music.

  His hips push into mine, his cock pressing against me, semi-hard and a stark reminder of what he wants from me. What I am not prepared to give him.

  Or maybe I am. I feel ready for a man; I thought about it a lot when I was at home, but the thought was never followed by Addy. It was always Hunter’s face I imagined underneath me, on top of me, taking what didn’t belong to him.

  The one thing I have to give him once we are married, even though I can’t think of anything worse. Maybe it’s because I’ve dreaded the thought of sex with Hunter for so long my mind had adopted the visual as its default position every time, I became aroused in the slightest.

  I take another long sip on my cocktail, closing my eyes to relish the unusual taste, and force the recurring daymare out of my mind.

  “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Imogen. The things I could do to you…”

  His voice trails off, leaving me with no doubts on his thoughts. Try as I might to make mine follow, I’m consumed by a feeling of dread.

  “I’ll be back in a sec; I best go and check on Harlow.”

  “She’ll be fine; she’s with Gav.” He holds onto my waist possessively, but I i
nsist.

  “I won’t be long.” I can’t make sense of why I want to get away from him. Hadn’t I wanted this? Isn’t that why I’m wearing this tiny dress and dancing with him?

  “I’ll grab another drink and come find you, ‘kay?”

  “Mmhmm,” I mumble already backing away from him and scanning the room for Harlow.

  She’s not in the living room or kitchen, so I wander outside to see if she’s out there. Circling the ocean of bodies that edge the pool, I feel like the odd one. They don’t seem to notice, though. Scantily clad girls throw me smiles and approving glances as I meander through the crowd, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the glass of the sliding door.

  I might not feel like one of them, but based on my appearance, I fit in perfectly.

  Am I becoming one of them? The more time I spend with Addy and my friends at CamU, the more pieces of myself I seem to lose. Once, I would have thought that was a good thing, but now, I’m not so sure.

  Culture is like that. Good or bad, it kind of sticks with you no matter where you run. A familiar scent. A certain meal. Core beliefs. Mine comes in the form of a thick accent, olive skin, and hair as wild as a horse’s mane. Along with my beliefs of course, whether I like them or not, they are imprinted on my heart and soul. Arranged marriage. Good Catholic values. Dedication to my family. All of the things that make me who I am also force me to question whether I should stay or go home and never see Addy again.

  Feeling dizzy and faint all of a sudden, I lean forward and steady myself on the window with two flat palms. My head feels as though it’s full of cement, thick and heavy. The blaring music and voices of my classmate’s blur to a fog as I struggle to gain composure.

  “Everything okay? You don’t look so good,” Addy says as he returns with a blue cocktail in each hand.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, just about able to find my sense of humor somewhere in my clouded brain.

  “Another drink?”

  The thought turns my stomach over, and my face must portray just that because the next thing I know Addy has draped his arm around me and is shuffling us inside. “Let’s go somewhere a bit quieter, so you can get it together,” he suggests.

  “Can I use the bathroom?” I rasp out, every word a forcible effort.

  “Sure, I’ll wait right outside. Just shout me if you need anything. Unless you want me to come in, too?”

  Was he really offering to come and watch me pee?

  After we stumble up the stairs, he shows me where the bathroom is, and I stumble inside, grabbing onto the sink with both hands and hovering over it, debating whether or not I’m going to throw up.

  “Everything okay, babe?” Addy yells.

  “Yeah, I won’t be a minute,” I shout back. The room keeps spinning and I splash some cold water over my face in an attempt to slow it down. I need to get out of here, go home, and sleep this off… maybe I’m coming down with a bug or something.

  “There she is,” Addy announces when I finally step outside of the bathroom. Thankfully, he doesn’t have a drink in his hand this time. I’m just about to tell him I’m not feeling well when he throws me one of his devilish grins. “You look so hot, you know?”

  “I do,” I reply with shy confidence. Despite not feeling quite myself, I know I am still rocking my tiny dress and heels in true JLO fashion.

  “Stunning,” he murmurs back, his eyes alight with want.

  Oh, crap! He’s going to want to… and I can’t… where the fuck is Harlow? I need to get out of here before the awkward train arrives at the station, and we both jump aboard.

  Before I get a chance to vacate my hot mess of a predicament, Addy’s lips are on mine, and he’s walking us backward, lips locked, into a bedroom. It doesn’t look like I imagine his space to look, so I’m guessing it’s some kind of guest room.

  Kissing him back with my eyes wide open, I feel slightly turned on, a bit in the wrong, and a lot like I need to get out of here. My head whirls in a fresh onset of dizziness and everything fades to black.

  Chapter Eight

  Hunter

  I’m wide awake when the phone rings. I’m always awake at this time of night. Morning. Witching hour. When the world sleeps, that’s when I do my best thinking. Except tonight.

  Tonight, I’m doing a shit job of making sense of anything, except how to level up on Candy Crush. When her name pings up on my phone, I wince in frustration as her call disrupts my game and loses me valid points.

  I debate whether to answer for a minute— let’s be honest a millisecond— because Bella. As if I’d ignore her call when I have spent the entire night wondering where she is, who she is with, and worst of all, what they are up to.

  “Bella.” I try to say her name like I’m expecting her call. Like she could be anyone in the world, a casual friend. Work colleague maybe. Except my voice comes out all weird and shaky, more like I’m answering the phone to a ghost.

  “Are you awake?” she whispers down the line.

  Frowning, I keep my answer to the point. “I am now.”

  “Can you come and get me? I’m at 42 Roseheath Way. I really need a ride.”

  My entire body tenses, and I fling off the duvet, my feet landing on the carpet. “Is this a wind up?”

  “Just hurry Hunter, and don’t beep or anything. Text me when you’re here, ‘kay?”

  “Are you in some kind of trouble?” My heart turns to ice as I wait for her reply.

  “No. Maybe. Are you coming?” she whispers back so quietly I can barely hear her.

  “I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

  She disconnects without saying another word, leaving me to get to her as quickly as I could. Throwing on my black Champion sweater, not bothering to find a T-shirt for underneath, I slide into my Hugo Boss sneakers and take the stairs two at a time.

  The road disappears so fast underneath my spinning tires that when I arrive at the huge row of houses overlooking the beach and search out 42, I feel like I just teleported myself here, and now I don’t have time to decide my next move. She said to text, but if she’s in trouble, then of course I’m going to smash the door down and rip some mother fuckers’ heads off. Deciding on the latter, I step out of the car and stride toward the door only to notice Bella running toward me.

  My Bella.

  It wasn’t how I’d planned my knight in shining armour moment— the time she finally realizes I’m the good guy and runs into my arms, only to stay there for the rest of eternity. She is clearly not sober, looks like she’d been dragged through a hedge backward, and is not so much running to me as running from whatever was in that house, but I’ll take it all the same.

  Catching her in my arms, I don’t hesitate to pull her in toward me, my fingers tangling in her hair as I land a soft kiss on top of her pretty head.

  “Hey. You’re okay. Get in the car, I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Whoever had gotten her all riled up like this was about to fucking pay for it.

  “Hunter, don’t. I just want to get out of here.”

  Dammit when she says my name it fucks with my mind— moves something inside me, like it always has.

  Not letting go of her, I lead her around to the passenger side of my truck and help her inside before glaring back at the house. I know what I need to do. For the first time, Bella Buckland is asking me for something: me.

  I get her out of there as fast as I can, slowing down only when I hit the highway and put a fair bit of distance between 42 and us.

  She doesn’t say anything and can barely keep her head upright. Eventually, she gives up trying and leans her head on my shoulder. Her waves of chocolate brown give off an intoxicating scent of vanilla and blackberry. It’s a struggle to focus on the road ahead with my future wife exactly where she should be and the way her hand keeps bouncing on my thigh every time we hit a bump in the road is distracting as fuck.

  I settle for silence since it is the easiest option. Plus, I’m scared to break this new thing between us wi
th words or anything else.

  Knowing full well I can’t take her home at this time or in this mess, I settle on my place.

  When we pull up, I carefully tilt her sleeping head off my shoulder and back against the headrest, before jumping out and making my way around to her side of the truck.

  Although I’ve had plenty girls in the back seat, there is only one I’d allow to ride upfront next to me. At my side.

  The seat is reserved for her, even though she never chose to ride in it.

  Until tonight.

  I scoop her up easily in my arms and carry her inside, crossing the threshold. The irony brings a smile to my lips.

  Not quite knowing what to do with her, my eyes scour the room for somewhere to put her down. The sofa is out of the equation, my sweaty gym clothes are piled high all over it. There is only one place for her. So, I carefully carry her through to my bedroom and lower her onto my bed. She moans out softly and snuggles her head into my pillow.

  My pillow.

  She frowns, and I quickly reassure her, “It’s okay. I’m here, Bella.”

  She reaches out to me, and I cover her hand with my own, the touch sending lightning bolts through to my core and awakening my cock, which until now, has been on its best behaviour, especially since there is a half-naked brunette stunner lying in my bed.

  For once, I’m not going to think with my dick. Not that I don’t want to climb in next to her and do all the things I’ve dreamed of doing to her perfectly formed body, but things are different this time.

  She turns over, her knees curling up to her chest, pretty peach ass on full display as her dress has rides up over her hips. Her thong is black, lacy, and believe me when I say, barely there.

  Fucking hell.

  I want to look away and look all at the same time. But look away, I cannot. She takes me back to one of her favorite childhood stories, Thumbelina. I feel like the mole who wants to lock her away in the darkness forever and keep her all to myself. But really, what I want is to be the bird who rescues her, carrying her to safety.