Page 62 of Spearcrest Prince

“Look,” he says in a serious voice, sitting up suddenly. “Let’s just go to this stupid dinner thing. We’ll get a night out, their treat, eat great food, get pissed, and have a good time. It’s not like we have anything to lose by going, right?”

I can’t help it. I smile. “Fine. I’m going to order one of each dessert.”

“That’s the spirit, trésor.” His grin returns to his face. “I’m going to get the most expensive bottles. Pass out in the limousine on the way back.”

I nod. “I’ll ask the driver to carry you to your bed.”

He laughs. “Don’t be a dick.Youcarry me to my bed.”

“Like a fairy tale princess.”

“Yeah?” He leans into me. His face inches from mine, he pouts. “Will you kiss me awake, then?”

I put my palm on his mouth, creating a safe barrier between his pouting lips and me, and push him away.

“No. You might turn back into a toad.” He licks my palm, and I snatch my hand away. “Ugh! Maybe you alreadyarea toad. You’re as slimy as one.”

He stands up. “You’re mixing up your fairy tales, trésor.”

“Didn’t know you were such an expert,crapaud.”

“Don’t call me that,” he says with a wince. Then he points an accusing finger down at me. “And don’t you dare try to draw me as a toad.”

“Now I want to do nothing else. Maybe I’ll use it for the exhibition.”

“I warn you. Don’t do it.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll kiss you and turnyouinto a toad, too.”

I shudder. “Disgusting.”

He flips me the finger. “See you later, toad kisser.”

I return the gesture. “Dress to impress, pretty princess!”

Later,Istandinfront of the narrow mirror next to my bedroom door, putting the finishing touches on my look.

The fact Séverin is always so fussy about clothes—and his blatant disdain for my style—has the opposite effect than what he wants. Instead of wanting to impress him with a sleek, stylish outfit to complement his own moody rich-kid aesthetic, it makes me want to displease him even more.

If I get him to physically wince at my outfit, then I’ll consider this evening a victory.

To that purpose, I’m wearing my brightest clothes—the clothes I would’ve worn for a beach party.

A mesh top embroidered with big silver stars, a velvet dungaree dress, ochre socks and my battered white Converses for comfort. I wear my hair the way I always do since it’s too straight and thick for anything else, but I put extra effort into my face.

Blue lipstick, thick silver glitter lines under my eyes and on my eyelids, thick yellow sun rays.

Before I set off, I glance at myself in the mirror. My heart tightens.

I like how I look. I like who I am.

But I can’t help, for a second, wondering what I would look like if I was wearing a pretty sparkling dress, high heels, lipstick. If I looked sophisticated and sexy, like Kay.

I shake my head at my reflection. I like who I am, and I have nothing to prove to anyone, especially not Séverin Montcroix.

Chapter 23

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