I stop, my head tilted back, my eyes widening. My brain is still fuzzy and it takes a while for me to process both his retreat and his command.
Dutch abruptly pushes off the piano and the discordant notes make a sad, pitiful mewl.
He turns and gives me his back.
I scramble up, pushing my skirt down my thighs. The piano keys are moist and my hands slide against them when I try to hop off.
I’m getting whiplash. Just a second ago, he was groping me, playing under my skirt like a pianist in the throes of a climax. Now, he’s shut all the way down, leaving me breathless and wanting more.
The fact that I fell for him, fell for this beast once again, sends a surge of anger through me. “Dutch, what the hell are you doing?”
“Do you not understand English, Brahms?”
“You can’t just kiss me like that and then…”
“And then what?” He whirls around. Cold as ice. All hard lines and dark shadows.
My body quivers.
“You think that meant something?” His eyes slide down my body. “Don’t even dream about it. A guy like me has high standards.” He pauses. “Even when he chooses a whore.”
My nostrils flare. Anger burns to life in my chest.
I stalk right up to Dutch Cross and his beautifully wicked face and I slap him.
* * *
Jinx: Make Love Not Music
For all those who were looking forward with eagerness to the unveiling of the culprit behind Prince Charming’s rotten ride, I have good news and bad news.
The good news is that the perpetrator has been found. The bad news is that revenge is the last thing on Prince Charming’s mind when it comes to her. Sadly, we won’t get to see our Crowned Prince flex his dastardly claws and rain hell on his enemies, but here’s a tidy little consolation prize.
A little birdie hiding out in the theatre’s costume section heard quite the soundtrack on stage today. Apparently, the Crown Prince and his Cinderella found a creative way to fight out their differences.
Question: how do you clean body fluids from piano keys? Asking for a friend.
Until the next post, keep your enemies close and your secrets even closer.
- Jinx
CHAPTERTEN
DUTCH
My hands slice through the water, parting the clear blue liquid and propelling me forward. I slam my feet against the pool wall, twist and turbo in the other direction.
Above me, there are two figures, distorted by the view from underwater. One is Finn who, last time I surfaced for a breath, was reading a book on his tablet. The other is Zane who followed us because—unless it’s Ms. Jamieson’s Lit lecture—he’s as disinterested in attending class as I am.
When a third figure joins my brothers, I change directions and swim to the edge of the pool.
Sol’s eyes meet mine as I surface and draw in a deep breath. My lungs are burning. So are my legs and arms. Chlorine-water drips from the edges of my hair and slides around my goggles.
“This is new,” Sol says. Pointing to me, he asks Zane. “This is new, right?”
Zane looks up from his phone. “Is class over already?”
Sol nods and looks inquiringly at me.