Page 52 of A Royal Menace

CalliopeB: I can’t today. I have a ton of papers to grade that I was supposed to get to this weekend. #sorrynotsorry

RoyalMan: I get it. I should probably catch up, too.

CalliopeB: See you after school.

RoyalMan: Can’t wait.

I’m still smiling as I close the app, but it quickly fades. Something is going on here. Something I can’t quite grasp.

And I know exactly who I can ask.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Royal

Elle:I need a man’s perspective. What does it mean when a guy you like doesn’t want to give you his phone number and only wants to chat via DM’s on social media?

Fuck me.

Callie is Elle. Elle is Callie.

The second Callie rattled off her phone number, I recognized it. Obviously. It was Hope’s number for years, and I’ve been texting “Elle” daily for weeks now. What are the fucking odds of that happening? Miniscule. Infinitesimal.

But here we are.

In the moment, I panicked. If I’d given Callie my number, she obviously would’ve made the connection just like I did. My brain flooded with visions of her accusing me of catfishing her. Of getting her number and starting this “anonymous” text exchange just to mess with her. That’s not something I would ever do, of course. But Callie’s opinion of me has only improved over the last couple of weeks, and prior to that, this is exactly the kind of thing she’d think me capable of.

I don’t know if I’ve proven myself well enough to prevent her from slipping back into those old thought patterns.

It’s been eating at me all morning, knowing I should tell her the truth. I tried to distract her with some harmless flirting on Cackle, and it seemed to work, but this text message proves she’s still dwelling on the fact that I squirmed my way out of giving her my number. I read the text again, and a rock settles in my stomach.

I need to tell her now. Responding to her text as “Emmett” would only make things one-hundred times worse when she eventually finds out. Because shewillfind out. I can’t keep my number from her forever, and short of changing it to a different one, there’s nothing I can do. And I won’t do that. Not only is it extreme, it’s extremely wrong. This relationship is new, and starting it with a big fat lie between us would be awful.

It would be the coward’s way out, and I’ve never been a coward.

No, the best thing I can do right now is ignore “Elle’s” text until I can figure out how to tell Callie the truth while convincing her I didn’t know it was her I was texting this whole time. I close the texting app and set my phone down. Leaning back in my chair, I stare up at the ceiling with a low groan.

I hear the swishing sound of my classroom door opening, and I go rigid when I see Callie slipping inside. I force my spine to relax and my lips to curl up as she approaches, a determined look on her face.

“Hi,” I say. “I thought you were grading papers.”

“I was. Iam,” she says, leaning a hip against the edge of my desk as she stares down at me. “I just wanted to come by and make sure you’re okay. You were acting a bit…strange this morning, and my brain won’t stop spinning. Do you…do you regret this weekend?”

“What? No,” I bark, pushing up out of my chair to stand close to her. Reaching forward, I brush my finger over the back of her hand in a smooth, secret caress. “I don’t regret a single thing that happened. I loved every second of it, and I really like you, Callie.”

Looking toward the door, I make sure no one is peeking through the window before I lean in and press a firm, quick kiss to her lips. When I pull back, I dip my chin and meet her eyes as my finger curls around hers where her hand is hanging at her side.

“Want to come to my place for dinner tonight?”

Callie’s breathing accelerates, and she nods. “Sounds good. What time?”

“Six o’clock?” I ask, and she nods again, so I add, “I’ll message you my address.”

“Okay,” she breathes, tightening her finger around mine as her gaze drops to my lips for a millisecond before flicking back up to my eyes. “I can’t wait.”

“Me, neither,” I whisper.

Then, she clears her throat and disengages our fingers. Giving me a short nod, she spins around and heads for the door. I watch her go, my heart in my throat as I both anticipate and dread our dinner date tonight. I want to see her, of course.

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