Page 21 of Prince of the Palisades

Also, when did Reiss go from cute tobeautiful?

On cue, I hear a familiar laugh. My eyes are drawn to thenoise. It’s Reiss, hand on the shoulder of a lanky boy with terra-cotta skin and swoopy black hair. He’s relaxed, cracking up. So different from the party.

Meanwhile, I’m breathing hard like I just ran a marathon. Reiss doesn’t notice. But someone else does.

Morgan smiles wickedly, mouthing,Really?

I snatch my messenger bag from the ground, puffing my chest out. “Forgot something in my…locker,” I say with only a small stammer. “So. See you!”

Problem is, I can’t get to whatever imaginary item I don’t need. Because my locker is jammed. I try the combination three times. Kick the door. Slam my shoulder against it until there’s a dull throb moving through my muscles.

Still, nothing.

The warning bell rings. No one stops to help me. I have no friends here. Shiny New Prince Jadon is having zero effect since I’m still the scowly, silent, chin-high Jadon I was before coming to Willow Wood. I’m two seconds from calling Ajani to leave school early, when someone steps in.

The heat hits me first—his long frame fitting into the sliver of space between me and the locker. Next, an earthy, almost smoky scent. The burst of pink waves. It’s him again, shoulder pressed firmly to the steel door while his long fingers jiggle the handle. He’s all practiced motions and not pathetic, petulant whining over defective craftsmanship.

As he works, the wings of his shoulder blades brush my chest. I inhale sharply. Should I move? Give him more room?Why is my body so content being this close to Reiss?

The door pops open. “Lift, then nudge,” he advises coldly.

I finally step back, awed. “How did you—”

My words die in my throat. Reiss is already walking away.

He didn’t wait for me to finish. Didn’t give me thirty seconds to explain my reaction from the other night. Three words is all I get.

That and a clear view of his backside—which I’m pointedly not staring at—as he strides down the hall.

My face flushes. Anger flickers in my chest. Climbs past my tonsils. Who is he to ignore me? Swoop in like some pink-haired, fairy-tale hero and not even let me thank him?

I yell, “I could’ve handled it on my own!”

I didn’t need him. I almost had the damn locker open.

Reiss barely pauses to shout, “Whatever you say, Your Royal Arrogance!”

Headmaster Parker’s head pops out of the main offices, searching for where the disturbance is coming from.

I wave sheepishly, pasting on a camera-ready smile.

And Reiss is…gone. Not another word. Disappearing like whatever hopes I had of making this plan to win the world over work.

“Have you been to the pier yet?”

On my phone screen, Mom’s tightening her favorite purple-and-emerald silk scarf over her graying curls. I feel bad for video calling her so late. It’s a little after 4:00 p.m. here, which means it’s closer to midnight in Réverie.

I just—I needed to see her. Despite how we left things after Papa banned me, hearing her voice and staring into her deep brown eyes loosens the corkscrew coiled in my chest.

“Not yet,” I reply.

“You should,” Mom says.

Judging by the pale indigo walls and pieces of gilded-accented furniture in the background, Mom’s in her private sitting room. The low lighting can’t hide the exhaustion in her shoulders. Or the laughter lines I know are from years and years ago, when life was less complicated.

When everything she or Annika or I did wasn’t scrutinized down to the shoes we wore.

“I always wanted to take you,” she laments, a faraway look on her face as if she’s imagining it. “To Santa Monica Pier.”

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