I rubbed my dry, gritty eyes, stifling a groan. A kiss from Bryce likelywouldlead to my downfall. I shouldn’t have lied to him by faking the stupid sex dream. This was karma. The beauty of our relationship was its honesty. I was a scumbag, worse than a breaker of pinkie promises. Encouraging Bryce tobotheronly got me bothered in all the wrong ways. It was a reckless idea, and I needed to undo it. If I told him it was all an act, he’d be furious, which would effectively un-seduce him, and, as a result, un-seduce me.
I pulled out my phone. I’d turned it off to save the battery, but I figured powering it on for a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. Bringing up my Notes app, I tapped out a message. I owed Bryce the truth. He’d been honest and had to endure six hours of embarrassment for it.
I faked my sex dream.
Before I could chicken out, I slid the phone onto Bryce’s thigh.
I fiddled with the edge of the cold stone table as he glanced down and read the message.
Only a moment later, he gave the phone back.
Say it isn’t so.
I mean it. I faked the dream.
His knuckles brushed my hand as he passed the phone.
I know you did.
What, how?
He paused. Then typed for a long time. Paused. Typed. Paused. Typed. When he finally passed the phone back, six words stared up at me.
Why else would you hug me?
Hug? Did he mean after the dragon got loose? Bryce thought there was no scenario in which I’d genuinely want to hug him? Not even after he came to rescue me from adragon?
My insides began to soften like Jell-O left out too long.
Shoving my traitorous Jell-O innards back into the metaphorical fridge, I typed:
For the record, the hug was real, but I cansee where the confusion came from. You’re probably so used to people faking things around you that you’ve grown to anticipate it.
When he read that, he chuckled so low I didn’t think anyone else heard.
Have I ever made you feel like you had to fake anything?
My stomach twisted. No. He never had. And I lied anyway.
Well. I just thought you should know. I didn’t want to take advantage of you, if you thought the dream was real.
I showed Bryce the message before tucking my phone away as the discussion around us shifted to General Thimblepop’s disappearance. I didn’t dare note his expression; I didn’t want to see if he was disappointed, or worse, relieved.
I focused instead on listening intently to the debrief on the kidnapping situation. Once again, there were no clues to lead us to the victim’s whereabouts. General Thimblepop had gone out to patrol the outer edges of the city and never returned. Before the meeting adjourned, I suggested a buddy system, so that no guards would go out on their rounds alone anymore. The temporary solution was a feeble Band-Aid slapped over a hemorrhaging artery, but it was all I could think of to do.
At last, the meeting came to an end, and everyone started standing up and saying their farewells. They all trickled out, giving us nods and telling Bryce to let them know if he had any more visions. Then they were gone, and it was just Bryce and me seated at a long, empty table.
A weighty moment humming with tension passed between us. I glanced at his lips. He noticed, eyes hooding, jaw ticking.
I had other things I should be thinking about, like discovering exactly what the king had been up to last night. I stood, banging my knee on the bottom of the table.
Before I could beeline for the door, Bryce hooked a hand around my elbow, spinning me back. Though it was still afternoon, the council room didn’t have windows. The only light came from flickering sconces recessed into the walls. The dim fire and the aristocratic angle of Bryce’s cheekbones slashed seductive shadows across his face, but his eyes were soft and unsure, flitting as they struggled to maintain contact with mine. He was just awkward enough that I didn’t think he knew how damn pretty he was. “For the record, you can take advantage of me. That is, if you want to.”
A heavy wave of heat coursed through my veins. Maybe I should be concerned about how much I liked this gorgeous, fragileman telling me I could take advantage of him. I cleared my throat, trying to get ahold of myself. “No, I’d never—”
“Take advantage of me,” he said softly, taking a step closer. I couldn’t tell if he was begging or daring.
Gently, I pressed my fingertips against his stomach. He paused, stomach flexing tight under my palm as he sucked in a sharp breath. “You don’t want—”me, I thought, but didn’t say. “You don’t want that. I’m the worst, remember?” I whispered, because hemusthave forgotten. “I… I don’t RSVP to weddings.”
