Page 55 of The Princess and the Paparazzi
This is not good. But it’ssogood. I can’t stop. It’s like I’ve ripped into a big, old bag of chips.
“So just to be clear, you’re attempting to lure me back to your dungeon with promises of hot beverages?”
“Just to be clear, Kenna”—his voice drops an octave and feathers in my ear—“if and when I invite you into my dungeon, it won’t be for tea.”
“Or cocoa?” I swallow.
Noah nods, smiles slowly again, and straightens up. He taps his walking stick and points at his stack of books.
“Honestly, I was just here to pick up a couple of these map books, but I was planning on working at home on the map for theMidsummer Night’s Dreamcampaign module. I sure wouldn’t mind the company, if you don’t mind me working. My couch is a lot comfier than these chairs, and the cocoa’s a lot cheaper.”
I glance down at my phone. I still haven’t replied to Kenna, and Georgia has texted me again as well, probably reminding me to call her.
Not now, Kenna. I am not switching back with you now!
“Well … okay,” I agree. “I just have to answer a text from my friend.” Quickly, I type a message to Kenna.
Sorry, it’s been so busy, but everything is GREAT. Talk later today?
Kenna writes back immediately.
Xander just got here. Not sure when I’ll be free. You have some explaining to do on that.
I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s not demanding an immediate switchback. I still have a little time as a free woman.
No prob. Talk tonight?
Sure.
“Okay, I’m good to go.” I smile at Noah and toss the phone and Wally back into my bag.
“Was that a real friend you just texted or an imaginary one?” Noah looks from my phone to the stuffed animals.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I couldn’t help but notice you were answering a lot of texts that were coming from someone named Kenna.”
“Maybe I’m just leaving a trail, in case you try to lock me in your dungeon.”
“Probably smart. It’s always the nerdy English teachers,” Noah says.
kenna
I finally getthe chance to learn Rafe’s mother’s name when I mention I’d like to cut some of the peonies.
“Peonies!” she exclaims. “Oh, we must cut some! Give me a moment, let me grab my shoes!”
Rafe, who has just polished off two generous servings of my fairy pancakes, scoots closer to me at the kitchen counter and pushes back a curl to whisper in my ear.
“I’m sorry I doubted you. You’re really doing great. I don’t think she suspects anything. You should call my mom Naomi, by the way.”
Then he nudges me with his shoulder and squeezes my leg before jumping up to watch a video on the couch with his daughter. It gives me a moment to sit there and recover from the effects of his unexpected affection. Such a little nothing, but it has me buzzing.
“You’re doing great.”He didn’t have to say it. I’m not sure I believe it. But it sure was nice of him to toss me that bone. I keep expecting him to tell me I’m getting it wrong. That I can’t do this. To reprimand me for creating this unnecessary chaos in his life. Thismess.
I keep expecting him to be Cody. Cody hadn’t used the word mess. He’d used the wordcomplicated. With Cody, everything was simple, or it was complicated. Black and white. Simple was good. Complicated was not. Simple was my decision that college was not for me. Simple was me hanging with him and his friends while they got stoned and played video games practically every night. Someone had to fetch the snacks.
Complicated was me wanting to take photos of the Milky Way in the desert, when Cody wanted to go dirt biking. Complicated was me wanting more support when I tried new things. And then there wasthirsty. That was what he called it when I complained about how withholding he was with physical affection. By the time we broke up, I was like a twisted plant that had withstood a drought. Awkward. I didn’t know how to get or give hugs anymore.
