“She made it clear that you are the property of Charlotte Howland,” I explain, “Someone will probably have taken a photo of us sitting together and sent it to Charlotte before I finish this sentence.”
Bryce glances around to see who’s watching us, but there aren’t that many people at the study table, and those who are don’t seem to care who we are. That’s how I want things to be.
“Let’s go upstairs so we can talk,” he says.
I scoff so loudly that we get a few looks. I cover my mouth with my hand as I swallow down my laughter. “To talk? We can talk here,” I reply, “Not that you have anything to say to me. Go talk to your girlfriend, Bryce.”
“Charlotte is not my girlfriend.”
“Stonehaven thinks she is.” I put my stuff away. “Look, it’s okay. You and I aren’t in the same league. You like the finer things in life while I have to make do. I’m not saying this to be insincere or for pity. I hate pity. I’m really fine with how the dice landed. So go off with her and make perfect babies.”
He glares at me while taking in what I’ve just said. “Let’s go and talk somewhere private.”
I shake my head. “Right here is good enough, and plus, we really have nothing to discuss.”
Bryce sits back in his chair and stares off into space. Obviously, he’s the one who says no. He doesn’t hear negative replies that often.
“Charlotte is not my girlfriend,” he explains, “True. People have linked us together since the first day we met on campus, but we aren’t an item. When you attend Stonehaven, you’re not only expected to achieve academically, but you’re also expected to make a good match. Whether you remain together after a year of marriage is another matter.” He sighs, looking at me. “I never had any interest in anyone, including Charlotte, until you showed up.”
“Touching,” I reply coolly, “But if you want to get more, you’re going to have to give more.”
Bryce nods thoughtfully. I start to read my tablet while the silence stretches into minutes. He startles me when he speaks again.
“You’re right,” he says, “How are you supposed to know how I feel about you when I do nothing to show it?” He turns to face me. “Will you go out with me?”
I stare at Bryce as if he’s poked me with a pin.
“A real date,” he explains. “Not that gross inn or the café downtown but a proper date—me in a suit, and you in a dress.”
“Rawlins would have a fit,” I reply, “Plus, you rich kids have a weird take on relationships.”
“Fuck Rawlins,” he whispers, “and this is about you and me. No one else matters.”
His voice carries, and we attract the attention we have avoided so far. Bryce gets up from the table and starts walking toward the doors. I watch him while he stands there waiting for me. The librarian doesn’t scowl at him for cursing in her temple of silence. She smiles sweetly, delighted that Bryce Shelton would stand near her. I grab my stuff, and we walk out together under the watchful glare of the librarian.
We walk along the path side by side. Anyone who cares about our private life can see us together, but for a wonderful moment, we don’t care. I glance over at Bryce, and fuck it, I allow my heart to melt a little for him. It’s hard to keep it ice cold when a guy that good-looking smiles at me. Sure, Bryce can be an asshole, but he’s got his shit together. He’s in control of his life while I’m figuring this one out. It’s not his looks that attract me; it’s the knowledge that he possesses. How he has it all figured out. His confidence is what attracts me.
Bryce looks at me and smiles. And I must’ve been staring. He takes my hand in his as we walk along, announcing to anyone who’s watching us that we’re not hiding. His name may be linked to Charlotte’s, but he’s mine. Or rather, I’m his.
“You’re right, Astrid,” he says. “Why hide how I feel?” He stops walking as we approach the crossroads. A little patch of ground where the walking paths intersect. Bryce turns toward me until I’m facing him, and he kisses me. It’s not a kiss full of heat. It’s gentle and sweet as his hands cup my cheeks. The kind of kiss that someone who really cares gives the person they love. Why can’t I have more? Why can’t I have love?
“Will you go out with me?” he asks again, not letting go of my face.
A little giggle escapes me when I whisper yes.