Page 52 of Wicked Prince

After scrawling a few meaningless pages of doodles in my notebook to at least attempt looking busy, class ends. I resist the urge to get up and flee for the door as soon as it does. I don't need him to think I'm running.

I'mnot the one who did anything wrong.

I'm not the one who cheated on my girlfriend with another girl who was oblivious to just what a snake I really am until last week.

My stomach is tangled up in knots, and it's harder to remember how to breathe than I want to admit. I know there's no way I'm going to be able to make my next class without falling apart, but I think better of ducking into the bathroom since it's clear that's not something that deters Lorenzo.

Then again, it's probably wishful thinking that he would bother following me at all this time.

Everything is so messed up and confusing. I don't know what I want anymore. I don't even know what Ithinkanymore.

And I definitely don't know if I can do this.

I thought I could just carry on with my life, going to class and pretending like I give a damn about any of it while simultaneously pretending like he doesn't exist, but that feels naïve now.

Maybe it always was.

Instead, I duck into a somewhat private hallway to collect myself until I can figure out what my next move is going to be. If I skip my next classes, it's going to be clear I let him get to me.

If I don't, though, hewillget to me.

Either way, I lose.

I'm still contemplating when I realize a dark shadow is looming over me.

I look up to find it's none other than the devil himself.

ChapterTwenty-One

AMELIA

Once I've managed to process the fact that Lorenzo is actually here, I'm at once relieved and annoyed, cornered and wanting to run into his arms.

His expression is as unreadable as usual, but the way he corners me against the wall is familiar enough.

"Always running away, little fawn," he mutters under his breath, his tone a strange combination of affection and irritation.

I narrow my eyes, instinctively backing up against the wall. I'm not afraid of him, but I'm afraid of my instincts when I'm with him.

"Me? I'm not the one who disappeared without warning for an entire week."

"Without warning?" he echoes, cocking an eyebrow.

I roll my eyes. It figures that would be what he seizes on. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, but what you say is so much more interesting," he muses. Before I can respond to that, he continues, "Did you miss me?"

He's right in front of me all of a sudden, sweeping away a strand of hair from my cheek. The touch makes my heart race, both in annoyance and for the usual reasons.

I push his hand away, just not with the vigor I usually would.

"Miss what, your smartassed remarks or your lies?"

He smirks, undeterred. "If I'd known it would upset you, I would've said something, but the last time we spoke, you were pretty clear about wanting some space."

"Since when do you give a shit about what I want?" I challenge. This is not the way I want this conversation to be going. I know better, and yet, my curiosity and hurt feelings win out over logic and pride. As usual.

He's still much too close for comfort. I should’ve pushed him away even further a long time ago, but I can't say I'm surprised at myself.

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