Page 43 of Royally Rivalled

Astrid descended further into tears. “I’ve earned this as much as any other student, but everyone wants me to fail. My entire life, I have been told I was stupid and to keep quiet, but that's not who I am. And no Dickish Duke is going to ever, ever tell me my self-worth! I don’t even get it. You fancy me. Iknowyou fancy me! And yet, you make me feel so small! You’d have half a chance if you just stopped acting like an asshole!”

Astounded, I stared at her, mouth agape.

“Astrid, I'm... I'm sorry if you thought that. I do admit I was probably harsh on you, but... there was a reason.”

“You are not my supervisor! It is not your job?—”

Oh, she thought I was hazing her?

“No, Astrid. Um... no. The text from Jeremy distracted me. It was awkward, and I didn't know what to say.”

Astrid cocked her head. “Um... okay? But, like, why be a dick? And that was only one instance?—”

I raised my voice, annoyed and defensive. “Astrid, if you want to fuck that guy, then do it. If you want to be a glittering fucking trophy to him, go for it. You’re one on a long, long list of conquests. He will treat you poorly as soon as he’s bored. You aren't special, either. He does it to everyone!”

“I'm... not special! A glittering trophy? Who the fuck are you, Parker Westfall? Jesus Christ!”

I said nothing. My words came from a place of insecurity. I regretted them instantly, as always when she’d gotten my ire. The difference? She couldn't run away. This was supposed to be a good thing—a silver lining where I told her all my happy thoughts and doted. Instead, she was trapped in here with my constantly fumblingarse. Astrid crawled to the corner and sobbed louder. Astrid's hyperbole would have annoyed me if not for how sad she sounded. She deflected with anger—from a place of fear. I must apologise. I must overcome these nerves!

“Astrid, I am so sorry; I didn't mean that. I... Jeremy is a knob. A dog. He treats women like utter shite.”

“Yeah, and you're so much better, Parker!?”

Ouch.

“I know you think he's good for you, but he's not. All he wants is to get laid and?—”

“Maybe that's fine!” She clapped back. “Maybe that's all I want—all I need right now? But who knows? I'm going to die in here an idiotic, sad, pathetic virgin!”

I assumed her statement had to do with my confession about the party. Why did she care? Was she just being malicious? Why did she make everything socomplicated? I fancied her. I longed for her. I thirsted about her naked in my bed more than I cared to admit, but why say it if she was going to act like this?

I grumbled, annoyed again, “You won't die in here, Astrid. I promise you. I am sorry. And you're right. It's your prerogative. If he wanted to date my sisters, I wouldn't allow it.”

She looked over. “So you're a misogynist just like you claim he is?”

The woman was good at argument. It only made me want to bring her back around more. I longed to kiss the smirk off her face.

“Oh, Astrid, please. Can we stop the arguing, competition, and loathing? I don't want it that way. If you must know, you're brilliant and annoyingly perfect—heads and tails above my performance in my first postgrad year. I am jealous, not hateful. Can you not see that?”

Astrid's scowl faded slightly, and she sat up, looking towards me.

“It's... you wouldn't get it!” She shook her head. “I can call a truce again, but you nevergetit.”

There was a ding, and the speaker came on.

“They're going to be round soon. Should be in the next few hours.”

Astrid erupted in more tears. This was not the night planned. Ishould be alone, sleeping in my bed in my big, nice suite. I should be listening to my audiobook—zenned out—not enduring the sound of a woman sobbing. And no matter how much I resented the situation, it was the sound of her sadness that upset me the most. I didn’t want this for her.

twenty-eight

ASTRID

I’m goingto die here! I’m going to die here!

“Astrid, I know it looks bleak, but it is a small period of?—”

“Shut up! Shut up!” I sobbed.

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