Page 9 of Princess of Hawthorne Prep

The game and watching Austin dominate on the field. And then deciding to go to Kingsley’s, even though I should have gone straight home afterward. She’ll probably ground me for life. The woman has been all over my ass since the breakup with Jasper. All this will do is reinforce her opinion that I can’t be trusted to make good decisions.

When I remain silent, his voice softens. “Delilah?”

For a second time, I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and do a quick mental rewind.

I went to school.

Came home.

Watched the game.

Waited for Austin afterward.

We made out in the front seat of his SUV before heading to the party. We were only going to stay for an hour. The place had been packed and we headed outside.

That’s where it all goes dark.

There’s just…nothing.

Why can’t I remember?

My hand drifts upward to my temple as if that will help jar something. “My phone,” I mumble. “I need to text Mom. She’s probably freaking out by now.”

Or worse.

Much worse.

Duke leaps to his feet, eating up the distance that separates us when I spy my cell on the nightstand.

Just as I reach for the silver device, he barks, “Wait!”

My hand stalls midair as my gaze widens, locking on him as he snatches the phone before I can get to it.

An expression I can’t quite identify lurks in his eyes. “There’s something I need to tell you first.”

I search his face, startled by his strange behavior. He’s normally so chill. At least with me. Air gets clogged at the back of my throat, and it takes effort to force the word from my lips.

“Okay.”

“Are you absolutely positive that you don’t remember anything from the party?”

A heavy silence settles over us. I don’t understand where these questions are coming from.

Or what they mean.

“No matter what happened, I won’t judge you.” He studies me as if it’s possible for him to discern the answers without me giving voice to them. “You understand that, right?”

A sick knot blooms in the pit of my belly. The growing nausea no longer has anything to do with the pounding in my head.

“Yeah, but I still don’t remember anything.” There’s a part of me that wants to shut down this bizarre conversation so I can stay blissfully ignorant, but the more rational part understands I need to know what’s going on.

No matter how terrible it turns out to be.

A steady puff of air escapes from him as he glances away with a frown. “There are photos going around,” he mutters, gaze reluctantly settling on mine. “They’re…pretty bad.”

My mouth dries as I force myself to remain calm. “Okay. I don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

There’s another moment of oppressive silence as tension crackles in the atmosphere. “They’re of you, Delilah.”

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