Page 8 of Pretty Girls Never Lie (St. Mary’s)

The girl staring back at me is the one I remember from my memories. Isla’s blonde hair frames her face, and her innocent smile is so bright it sends a rush of warmth through my body. I drop the photo, like it’s going to burst into flames in my hand, and stare at it from up above.

Her father looks a lot better in the photo than the last time I saw him. There’s life in his eyes as he cradles his son in one arm with his other wrapped around his daughter.

Fuck.

I spin around and pinch the bridge of my nose.

The Rebels joke that I’m cold. I’m the stoic one of the group, in control and restrained, but the only reason I’m able to act that way is because I’ve honed the skill to block it all out.

Except, now there’s a giant neon sign pointing in my direction and destroying every last wall with subtle reminders of the very beginning and everythingafter.

I freeze when the door pushes open and in walks my own personal ice princess.

The bun on top of her head that’s full of her thick hair bounces when she stops abruptly. Her blue eyes harden, and I can’t help but notice the way she crosses her arms over her perky breasts as a defense mechanism.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?”

Just like old times.

I lean back on her desk and cross my ankles. Pain bites my fingertips with the force I’m putting on the wood to hold myself back from storming over to her and demanding she tell me her reasoning for being here.

My voice is level and controlled, though I’m full of madness while looking into her eyes.

“Why are you here, Isla?”

Her face twitches with refusal. I prepare for a lie, but she takes me by surprise.

“To find my brother.” Isla shuts the door behind her, and suddenly, I don’t like that we’re alone. “And I’ve decided that you’re going to help me.”

The fuck I am.

She’s a foot away from me, and I fall right into her trap because my body feels something unfamiliar but addicting at the same time.

Shit, get away from me.

“After all, you do owe me, Brantley.”

FIVE

Isla

His jaw ticks, and he leans away from me. I note the amount of space between us, and confusion lingers when I realize he is trying to add to it. I guess he only likes to be close to me whenhe’sin control.

“I owe you?” Brantley shifts with a roll of his eyes. “You’re out of your fucking mind, Ice Princess.”

Ice Princess?I could handle him calling me Goldilocks, but princess is a hard no from me.

I instantly recoil. “I am the furthest thing from a princess.”

Brantley is back to being sure of himself–hot, smug, confident. He talks with ease, and each syllable is smooth falling from his lips. “Let’s see,” he starts. I follow his slow movements and zero in on his thumb rubbing slowly over his chin. “Orphan,check. Damsel in distress,check. Needs a prince to help her,check.” I freeze when he reaches up and hooks his finger underneath my hair tie. I jerk forward when he pulls on it, allowing my hair to fall down in onewhoosh. “Thick, beautiful locks of hair,check.” My cheeks flush, and I shove his hand away. “You seem like a princess to me.”

“Fuck you.”

Brantley smirks, and it should be illegal. I hatethat my stomach bottoms out from the sight. “Wants to fuck the prince,check.”

My jaw flings open, and a hot gasp rushes from my mouth. “Oh my god. That is not true!”

I step backward when he leans on my desk again. He shrugs, and I become more unhinged the longer we’re in my room together. The thought of scrapping the whole plan of him helping me is there, but my brother’s fate is more important than my dignity.

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