Page 10 of Underground Prince

“All clear, I hope?” Verily asked.

Breathing through my racing heart, I said, “You’re safe.”

“Do they ever get to stay past dropping trou? For a drink? A smoke?” Throwing her book bag on the couch, she propped a knee on one of the pilled green cushions and wrenched open the window. “An ice cream cone?”

“Nope.” I adjusted the towel across my chest. “Well, maybe a popsicle.”

She laughed. “And you’re probably not even joking.”

Verily rifled through her bag. A piece of bright crimson hair fell out of her bun and she tucked it behind her ear before resuming her search. Verily was my roommate of one year, my first friend in college, crisply clean and frustratingly floral. Everything about her was ordered. Her pens. Her products lining our shower. Even the dimples on either side of her lips. The only thing crazy she could lay claim to was her hair, a monthly project that each year had seen all the colors of the rainbow at least twice.

“Got it out of your system?” she asked.

“For now, anyway.”

“I assumed as much.” She pulled her laptop out. “So…do you think you’re ready to get back to classes? It’s only September.”

“Your not-so-subtle plea is noted,” I said, and headed past her. “But I’ll stick to waitressing for now. Both of them.”

“Sure.” Verily knew not to push it. “Does that mean you’re prepared for tonight?”

I paused halfway into the bathroom. “Absolutely.”

She dropped her laptop on the couch with a muffled thunk. “You weren’t scared off two nights ago? Scared shitless?”

“No,” I said, surprised by my answer. Thinking back to those men—when I had to punch my way through their flailing limbs, and Theo, slamming into the thick of the fight—I felt…I felt…

Stirred.

That night wasn’t mere seconds of adrenaline. I went home with Verily, and hours later my breaths were still short. My heart kicked up every time I remembered the forbidden undercurrent in that basement. The unexpected, explosive action. The sheer capital and the player’s willingness to lose it.

My blood turned hot at the remembrance, firing up my pulse, sparks of fireworks rocketing into my veins.

“Well, good,” Verily said, staring at me strangely. I worked to school my expression to something resembling vague interest. “Tonight’s the same place, but different outfit.”

“Don’t tell me it’s lingerie night.”

“Nope, that’s Thursday. Monday is sexy librarian night.”

I thought back to my closet and all the suits I’d bought last year, in anticipation of internships, interviews, and badass executive meetings. Dust now coated those outfits, but this was the perfect excuse to shake the mothballs out.

“I can work with that,” I said.

“Great.” The pitch to Verily’s voice indicated that she was a little dumbfounded over my earnest replies.

Like she could talk, with her textbook 3.9 GPA, flawless New York City street fashion, and a spacious SoHo loft that she graciously let me live in. And yet, she was the person to introduce me to the gritty underbelly of the city. The girl who was nervous to talk to boys.

“You really need to explain how the hell you discovered this job,” I said.

She batted her lashes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I go to the public library to study four times a week.”

“You’re the sweetest liar I know,” I said, smiling.

Her reaction was much the same as Matt’s. Her brows furrowed and she pressed her lips together.

Grinning wider, I made sure to show more teeth before I waved and shut the bathroom door.

Under the peaceful sound of falling spray, I dropped my towel and stepped under, drowning out my thoughts, those memories, her, and welcomed the fragile escape.

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