Page 22 of Innocent Princess

"Do you realize that you never gave me your number?" He carefully places his satchel on top of the desk.

I scrunch up my face. "Uh. I didn't even think about it. You're right, but you could have gotten it if you really wanted to, right?" I mean, it's his thing.

"Blondie." He places his hands upon his chest and stumbles back a step. "I'm hurt that you'd think such a thing. I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy. I'll wait until you're ready to give it to me."

I shake my head but smile. "You're exactly the kind of guy who would find a girl's number by hacking into the school directory."

His eyebrow dips. "You wound me."

"Is this your way of asking for my number?"

He walks toward me with his hands in his jean pockets. "Nope." He pops the word as he says it.

"Uh, huh." I cross my arms. "Would you like my phone number, Ryker?"

He's standing next to me, staring out the window when he shrugs. "Nah. I've already got it."

I can't help it. I reach up and push him. From my angle in the seat, I know the force isn't strong, but he pretends it is as my hand moves away from his upper arm. He's got a huge smile on his face when he looks down at me.

That smile is real; it's not the smolder he pulls out when he's trying to get me to swoon. But a real smile, one I cause by just being me. It does things to me. Mostly, it causes warmth to pool deep in my belly.

I cock my head at him. "Do you really already have it?"

His return smile tells me all I need to know. "Nah, I wanted you to be the one to give it to me." He lifts a shoulder as if his reply isn't one of the sweetest things ever.

I smile up at him. Trying to tamper down my inner girl, who's doing a happy dance and squealing over him wanting my phone number.

He nods to the large sketch pad in my lap. I look down to study my work, a charcoal drawing of the inside of this very tower. I'm actually quite pleased with it.

"Will you draw me like one of your French girls?"

When I look up at him, his eyes are sparkling and he's sucking in a smile. My face scrunches, and I mentally try to figure out why the line sounds vaguely familiar.

"Please tell me you were able to watch movies back home. I know you were sheltered, but..." he trails off and scrubs a hand over his chin.

I can't fight back my laugh. He's cute.

I did watch movies all the time, and I remember what movie he's quoting now.

"As long as you promise to never let go." The relief on his face makes me roll my eyes good-naturedly.

I shake my head. "O ye, of little faith."

He smirks, but then something happens. We stare at each other, grins on our faces, saying nothing. My heart starts to beat harder as the moments tick on. He's smiling at me, I at him, and I couldn't be happier than at this moment. My body is drawn to his, though I don't let myself move. My fingers itch to reach for him, but I slide them underneath me, sitting on them and trapping them.

He snaps out of it first, his grin disappearing. Before my own can falter, he flashes me an all-knowing smirk. Whatever is about to fall from his mouth will probably be entertaining. He's so darn charming even his arrogance makes me smile. I'm almost always smiling when I'm around him.

"I came up here to find you for a reason." He balls his hands into fists at his sides.

"Yeah? What's that?" I place my sketch pad to my side, so it's no longer in my lap.

"Brace yourself, Sweetheart."

And I do, I grip the edge of the window beneath me, waiting patiently for his news.

He smiles slowly as he says, "I found your parents."

My eyes widen. I take a second, and then another, and then another to process what he said. "You mean..." I trail off, unable to let myself believe it.

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