Page 25 of Broken Princess

I force myself to remember the sound of Bella laughing at me, and conjure up visions of the sculpture, the pictures, the looks of horror on everyone’s faces. I embrace the pain I felt when Bella mocked me, saying my relationship with Logan was built on a lie, and I feel the betrayal once again when I think of Logan cruelly admitting that I meant nothing to him.

Those memories slice through me, reopening the jagged cuts that have only just begun to heal. I don’t mind bleeding today. It’s a safer alternative than succumbing to my body’s demand to be satisfied. I let the memories come and for once there are no tears. My hand ghosts over my tattoo, drawing strength from the ink on my body. I’ll need it for what comes next.

I walk into the cafe alone and order my coffee and bagel before finding a table in the corner at the back of the shop. It’s still part of the larger seating area, but secluded enough that you can tell the people sitting here don’t want to be disturbed.

Bold opening moves. That’s what Pepper said, and this is mine. I smear the butter, cream cheese, and jelly on my bagel, pretending not to notice the customers staring. This is the first time I’ve come here alone since the semester started, and even when Kassidy and I come here before class, we don’t stick around to eat. I spread my sketchbooks on the table and flip through one, as if lost in thought. The bell chimes and from the chatter I surmise the BP’s have just walked in. Good. They’re right on time. I ignore them and the daggers I feel boring into the side of my head.

Five minutes after they show, there’s another round of chatter. I look up, in time to see Noel cutting the line to grab his order. He stops in the middle of the space, looking around. I smile and wave when he spots me. He takes time to speak to people as he makes his way over to me. Instead of sitting across from me, he slides his chair close. Peeking over his shoulder, I see we’re being watched.

“Ignore them.” He says, pointing to the sketchbook in my hand. “Is this the stuff you worked on over the break?”

I pass it over, trying to ignore the peanut gallery, like he said. “I have to warn you, it’s pretty dark.”

“That means you were being expressive, which is good, because it shows you weren’t holding back.”

Propping my chin in my hand, I consider his words. “Maybe I should have.”

He pulls my hand away from my mouth, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. “No. You should never feel like you have to be anything other than who you are in the exact moment and space you’re in.”

“I was such a disaster last semester with my painting.”

“And I watched you conquer that. Your work for the art symposium and auction was amazing. I’m just sorry you didn’t win.”

“It wasn’t all bad. Someone loved the painting.”

“I heard.” When I raise a brow, he explains. “I know the purchases are anonymous, but because I’m Grace’s TA, I know which student’s work was the most well received. She likes to make a list and be on the lookout for new talent to foster in each of her classes. It helps her guide their submissions.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to interact with her in person.”

“Me too, but there’s always next year.”

I haven’t thought beyond this year. And once I take down Logan and his crew, there won’t be any reason for me to come back here as a senior.

Noel closes the book he’s holding and reaches for another, giving me suggestions on what he thinks I could do to incorporate more use of shadow and light in my work so my sketches will have more of a 3D feel. I giggle when he mentions puff paint.

“I’m serious. Some people are tactile art lovers. You could do a series with puff paint entwined with your acrylics or watercolors. Just try a myriad of things and create your own unique signature.”

“Like Logan’s sculpture.”

“Not quite that ambitious, but yes.” He taps my chest above my heart. “Push a little harder. I know there’s more in there, and I can’t wait to see it.”

We talk a little more and when I’m done with my coffee he says, “Ready to go have some fun?”

I nod, waiting for him to move his chair so I can get out of mine. He helps me with my coat, and I wrap my scarf around my neck as he scoops my sketch pads up from the table. “After you,” he says, his hand resting on my lower back as he guides me to the door.

Kassidy sent me a text saying she’s spending an extra day in The Hollows, on a shopping trip with her mother, because her professor cancelled class tomorrow. That means I have the television to myself and can stand under the hot water for as long as I want. I took a yoga class yesterday, and delayed muscled soreness is setting in. I need the steam and heat so I’ll be able to walk tomorrow without looking like I have a stick stuck up my ass. And because I’m enjoying this moment of pampering so much, I deep condition my hair.

I shut off the water when my fingers start pruning. Stepping onto the bathmat, I swipe the excess water off my feet before walking over the tiled floor to my bedroom, absentmindedly grabbing my towel off the back of the door. I’m humming to myself as I step into my room, pulling the corners of the towel around me. I startle and drop one end when I notice I’m not alone.

Logan’s sitting on my bed, flipping through the pictures I plan on sorting through this evening. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“I can get into any building or room any time I want to. This ismyschool, Jordy.”

“This ismyroom, and I didn’t invite you in, so get out.”

He’s staring at a spot on my left. I lift the towel, pulling it tighter around me.

“Is that a tat?”

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