Page 19 of Because I Liked A Boy
Princess
My phone won’t stop buzzing.
For a second, I think it’s him again—the number that’s been threading ice down my spine since dawn—but the name flashing across the screen is Ruby.
I debate letting it ring. After the circus at the diner and the town already whispering like I’m Maplewood’s newest scandal, I want nothing more than to disappear into the sofa.
But Ruby doesn’t give up. The call cuts out. Starts again. And again.
With a groan, I swipe to answer. “What?”
“Don’t what me, Belle.” Her voice is sharp with amusement. “Spill. I want details. And by details, I mean everything. And by everything, I mean you’re not getting rid of me today.”
I press my palm over my eyes. “Ruby—”
“No excuses. It’s my day off. You and Hunter Hayes waltzed into the diner like it was a damn movie scene, and I refuse to let Maplewood gossip get the story before I do.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Mm-hm.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “Be ready in twenty. We’re going out.”
The line goes dead before I can argue.
I drop my phone onto the cushions and mutter to the empty flat, “I hate her.”
Except I don’t.
And now I have twenty minutes to make myself look like I haven’t just been steamrolled by Hunter Hayes and half the town’s curiosity.
I throw open my tiny wardrobe, flicking past hoodies and worn jeans until I land on something that at least looks like I’ve made an effort. High-waisted black shorts, a cream blouse tied at the front. Simple. Neutral. Doesn’t scream look at me. Black Converse. Hair scraped into a low ponytail. Mascara and lip balm—just enough to fake being composed.
By the time a horn blares outside, I’m clutching my tote like a shield.
Ruby’s car gleams at the curb, top down despite the chill, her oversized sunglasses covering half her face. A cropped denim jacket hugs her shoulders over a floral sundress, and her lipstick is the kind of red that makes statements before she even opens her mouth.
“Belle!” she shouts, waving like we’re in a parade. “Get in. We’ve got work to do.”
I roll my eyes, but I climb in anyway.
Ruby peels away from the curb with the kind of confidence that dares traffic to stop her. “So,” she drawls, flicking me a sideways glance, “you andHunter Hayes.”
I groan. “Do not start.”
“Oh, I’m starting. You show up at the diner with him looking like you’ve just stepped off the cover of a scandal and sit there letting him stare at you like you’re his favourite bad idea—and you expect me to stay quiet?”
“You sound ridiculous.”
“I sound invested.” She smirks, merging into traffic. “Besides, I’ve seen the way he looks at you at the Bean. Like he’s either about to start a fight or kiss you across the counter. Honestly, better than Netflix.”
A laugh scrapes out of me before I can stop it. “You need better entertainment.”
“Maybe. But you’ve just made my week.” She taps the wheel with bright red nails, grin curling. “And speaking of weeks… Millie Carson’s already sharpening her knives.”
My stomach knots. “How bad?”
“Bad.” Ruby’s smirk sharpens into something almost wicked. “Which means we’re not hiding. We’re hitting the shops, we’re getting drinks tonight, and you’re walking in like Millie’s nightmare.”
I groan, but she only grins wider, sunglasses flashing in the sun.
